tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16440361528050476322024-03-16T14:05:13.511-07:00Record of a Baffled SpiritMike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.comBlogger851125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-4798601052883979772024-03-16T06:56:00.000-07:002024-03-16T08:27:39.619-07:00An Elegant Sprawl<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">One of my Christmas presents was a night at one of my favourite places: Lower Slaughter—not on its streets, nice though they are, but at at even nicer inn. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf86k250UQhjJWLZiXiWahzd3lm-yam3_8Bqg2BEqRTpjFYvet5-laVtNgFW4fFQlHc5bCkU0KXeNbVKBEX8NeY84ui_WHTCtulgXMu49EC2-7-yE7Ogpw51gtLsV9Mnsny3YmnILFKLSabBfBBjkUa7BRMw1-dzodPj7py16sltgc5hrjk4tYxtpTSq-G/s4032/IMG_9636.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf86k250UQhjJWLZiXiWahzd3lm-yam3_8Bqg2BEqRTpjFYvet5-laVtNgFW4fFQlHc5bCkU0KXeNbVKBEX8NeY84ui_WHTCtulgXMu49EC2-7-yE7Ogpw51gtLsV9Mnsny3YmnILFKLSabBfBBjkUa7BRMw1-dzodPj7py16sltgc5hrjk4tYxtpTSq-G/s320/IMG_9636.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg66ATeYOX2CjqfkznVLcJh0S4Mpu3ReNWy4L3tZl8NgDS-1mgq257BIabJbP2Odtl11BK3Y5afHoF5sO2aLaHsvYwUjVSjSAT3jNOosU6hDCXdoo_Rh0jpM1FyUdf4dPmmCC3U6Abw20vdwwZpZyqoSustYYiU8XN6DrbvvFnv2jMXz1Q2PjMEzlJBYWrC/s4032/IMG_9637.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg66ATeYOX2CjqfkznVLcJh0S4Mpu3ReNWy4L3tZl8NgDS-1mgq257BIabJbP2Odtl11BK3Y5afHoF5sO2aLaHsvYwUjVSjSAT3jNOosU6hDCXdoo_Rh0jpM1FyUdf4dPmmCC3U6Abw20vdwwZpZyqoSustYYiU8XN6DrbvvFnv2jMXz1Q2PjMEzlJBYWrC/s320/IMG_9637.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCyaXw7Qreuycbrl6KtQ6NPleckGxke7_KbM-xpgGAb5fsZ9J12Mu_5-2Wp1nWVRdg6Jk6p-yTRKoWS8_GIbmRsUlyM5mmsdtaBHAcvbvfpV4xULabkAI_YI5Y6SvAL8aOROC8GbKyBBwGmjZvLIhE7Ukzh_tpUNUrC4nxpas94Iy6IPIwI3nrkuSgaAN_/s320/IMG_9641.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I love the name, Lower Slaughter which suggests one of the many bloody battles in the War of the Roses. Just up the road is Upper Slaughter where, presumably, a better class of people met their end. The origin of the word is more mundane*<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">We explored those Cotswold villages we hadn’t been to before; the three villages in the Wychwood area were neat and prosperous but with little more to them. Chipping Campden was much more interesting, with the wonderful gardens of Hidcote within walking distance—if you’re that way inclined. But the real joy lay in exploring lanes that led to nowhere, and driving across green but desolate uplands offering vast skies and panoramic views. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">It was on our way home that we came across the magical Swinbrook and the church of St Mary the Virgin. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMTgdnpP2d77f5eP13mShd4e2hRKOEqkwDFstPlMnetvKmtaOnuhLlaCV0SWIrEENEpLbf4moM_l3BYCL2T04mQ7gCpVZlRvT6LCpTnzX8e_LMlt7QkSiBUuC1zXOB9DOLox7lwmrt4bj-xTDV1s6QdcEev4sm0C9dpRjdiJRXQEbQr_Dx9zQzohuQJIkM/s4032/IMG_9667.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMTgdnpP2d77f5eP13mShd4e2hRKOEqkwDFstPlMnetvKmtaOnuhLlaCV0SWIrEENEpLbf4moM_l3BYCL2T04mQ7gCpVZlRvT6LCpTnzX8e_LMlt7QkSiBUuC1zXOB9DOLox7lwmrt4bj-xTDV1s6QdcEev4sm0C9dpRjdiJRXQEbQr_Dx9zQzohuQJIkM/s320/IMG_9667.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG9kb7sKYXxKSU_btx0hD6Qz3WVFD5kccQMIDppVMLMXgbpCQv4pDOi0M-l2lfnpm3vw246np7OUReIma7mDigceDsbpBRuVK5SsZF_mYEX8MEmzBLfOoTsB2TD3t-7TkgChfeR59AZi7FN4WYzrXD-lVT-hCu9gE-vc4qWbee8j3uWVthaKPCXZOqFN4n/s4032/IMG_9669.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG9kb7sKYXxKSU_btx0hD6Qz3WVFD5kccQMIDppVMLMXgbpCQv4pDOi0M-l2lfnpm3vw246np7OUReIma7mDigceDsbpBRuVK5SsZF_mYEX8MEmzBLfOoTsB2TD3t-7TkgChfeR59AZi7FN4WYzrXD-lVT-hCu9gE-vc4qWbee8j3uWVthaKPCXZOqFN4n/s320/IMG_9669.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdWmPA3ff4AR7vzFklX_X1gBEqoxYa7MU7uiJmwFdE0JHCjuAiwtCx5YUKKOny-FK0FdPtQghf1EAHzwIUyYj9pqISjkPDLXRgDKpFbbAxstUsCTOIfEhxz3yIpRDgfsHeS91u_0OTNje1-lURPn2olAu7uakiTdwLEsjoh8CPATMCLtBh2BELFh9QbKcH/s4032/IMG_9668.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdWmPA3ff4AR7vzFklX_X1gBEqoxYa7MU7uiJmwFdE0JHCjuAiwtCx5YUKKOny-FK0FdPtQghf1EAHzwIUyYj9pqISjkPDLXRgDKpFbbAxstUsCTOIfEhxz3yIpRDgfsHeS91u_0OTNje1-lURPn2olAu7uakiTdwLEsjoh8CPATMCLtBh2BELFh9QbKcH/s320/IMG_9668.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I've never seen this type of grave before, or know whether it is peculiar to the locality</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7noKcs6M7earE-WfQYcrStLvdkjcPxZmgOKX8D2Vq4yqPyx_rLU1JRfesQB2mLGvfleQ3IUs7htez3RffYwX1z_hOcxLoOuNA-5TyrqkyJJxF03npn3rBH72pbvcoVZD3Xpb4hgAZbai-FLpzC6iqYjxVMhg_uA8R8y_wnJmdWv5b38wqDptcGtoVdrm/s4032/IMG_9670.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; 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line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">But I find it fascinating that three of the four Mitford sisters (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nancy_Mitford">Nancy</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unity_Mitford">Unity</a>, and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diana_Mosley">Diana)</a> are buried so neatly together. Pamela, for some reason, is buried northwest of the church tower. Their brother <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom_Mitford">Tom</a> who died in Burma during World War II has a plaque inside the church.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The church itself is thought to have C11th origins because of is Romanesque central arches, but most of it is C12th and C13th. An interesting addition is the tower built in six weeks in 1822. Puts our procrastinating culture to shame.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The choir stalls are C17th along with the wooden pulpit, which rests on a modern stone base.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">But what makes the church unique is in its devotion, not to the Lord but the once powerful Fettiplace family that dominated the area and owned estates in 15 counties. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8aYxMs5mxrZQXUSaF_g0dnhw3mHGClRKTE_Y0vJL1Fa_WN6wNSEZmUyxrCToAW6aOrJItj1gxXU4fY6TZyglrUGwfdKTOLqPunloMVbRTDT6NfDurlC74UPe_s-DiVY79ycr6pRY5Wckna5_pF4Rjffj3ya3tKxthUldxwhDsiyVhPjHXWn8sZRV3bk_q/s4032/IMG_9658.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8aYxMs5mxrZQXUSaF_g0dnhw3mHGClRKTE_Y0vJL1Fa_WN6wNSEZmUyxrCToAW6aOrJItj1gxXU4fY6TZyglrUGwfdKTOLqPunloMVbRTDT6NfDurlC74UPe_s-DiVY79ycr6pRY5Wckna5_pF4Rjffj3ya3tKxthUldxwhDsiyVhPjHXWn8sZRV3bk_q/s320/IMG_9658.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigKbQUO8Wb4NLK4rz2PoOCIayDWfn7S1wbVW4LeFo5tX2GUdUaK_tvqfdqsj6gdoDUuSfpDVxmOVXrQw5NsyzWz4iRbMQFp_FiXBpv64eWopb6J_P2WMfF6fdZTB39jOBxF2xWdHN-zx-WTZC59mvVUuTiZK_s56IbX78Sdg13Ufu3fSpdczd8OsHPUURg/s4032/IMG_9659.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigKbQUO8Wb4NLK4rz2PoOCIayDWfn7S1wbVW4LeFo5tX2GUdUaK_tvqfdqsj6gdoDUuSfpDVxmOVXrQw5NsyzWz4iRbMQFp_FiXBpv64eWopb6J_P2WMfF6fdZTB39jOBxF2xWdHN-zx-WTZC59mvVUuTiZK_s56IbX78Sdg13Ufu3fSpdczd8OsHPUURg/s320/IMG_9659.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJu25Uz-Q_5nDl1cQTkDEUpqLXpGYL_X5pe1WEYKiPriG04jkYawOGH_PgB1Txy5CqZpMJ5ccQEO-bEjmrQt2AlwhmuiOQgVVxXLay6Ot8nWJCEkm9EfQutPzTD2KfKP-FC8SVKlkJL6YfHwISR8AD33KynXbBkNW0rBL91RGCKTYNWulT43B10C5ubvKr/s4032/IMG_9660.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJu25Uz-Q_5nDl1cQTkDEUpqLXpGYL_X5pe1WEYKiPriG04jkYawOGH_PgB1Txy5CqZpMJ5ccQEO-bEjmrQt2AlwhmuiOQgVVxXLay6Ot8nWJCEkm9EfQutPzTD2KfKP-FC8SVKlkJL6YfHwISR8AD33KynXbBkNW0rBL91RGCKTYNWulT43B10C5ubvKr/s320/IMG_9660.HEIC" width="240" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: left;">As you walk on and around the altar area you’re aware of the corpses lying beneath you—that is if you can wrest your gaze away from the magnificent Fettiplace memorials.</span></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I envy their elegant sprawl and hope, when my time comes,</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> for a tomb as richly ornate. </span></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoNtInZwiVFn198Q5PAuSLaEVwwtc4hiNcxICVGA8Ih6Wh8Y-4uoYZS0-BOIS01ojjlAVPaRtc8efdLeuCUeWG3O9jHUTlJkRWoChFicF8PxhSeC9S6-wiHjoKh2eOVhsCvE2BDFt2EOJLllzzf9udWHleVo_tHsV-5FWDSUPcUtkBu1HcNJzOl9tQ6yW0/s4032/the%20early%20fettiplaces%20.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoNtInZwiVFn198Q5PAuSLaEVwwtc4hiNcxICVGA8Ih6Wh8Y-4uoYZS0-BOIS01ojjlAVPaRtc8efdLeuCUeWG3O9jHUTlJkRWoChFicF8PxhSeC9S6-wiHjoKh2eOVhsCvE2BDFt2EOJLllzzf9udWHleVo_tHsV-5FWDSUPcUtkBu1HcNJzOl9tQ6yW0/s320/the%20early%20fettiplaces%20.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is the earliest tomb which dates from 1613, the oldest Fettiplace at the bottom wearing an Elizabethan ruff. The middle one is his son Alexander, and at the top is William Fettiplace</div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The tomb below was built in 1686 and is even more ornate. At the top is Sir Edward Fettiplace d. 1686. Under him is Sir John Fettiplace d. 1672 and on the bottom is John Fettiplace d. 1657</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92o7h-E-EkaqbDC2q_UAIj-AWMpmm3nqSaRwWCJgEeqCaprHp4jX583YeaCwtjdd9CFvLSqTa_hXIIjq6lwHr2FJMoDLKGd_KG6GGGTgamh6PQvD5ZvDiLKvF6mzxlG8hcwQBrm3oweQZ7QVetlTAiaReJ-ddU3FSM8DSdmhIrzXieL8TRI9h17y8mzJi/s4032/the%20later%20fettiplaces%20.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92o7h-E-EkaqbDC2q_UAIj-AWMpmm3nqSaRwWCJgEeqCaprHp4jX583YeaCwtjdd9CFvLSqTa_hXIIjq6lwHr2FJMoDLKGd_KG6GGGTgamh6PQvD5ZvDiLKvF6mzxlG8hcwQBrm3oweQZ7QVetlTAiaReJ-ddU3FSM8DSdmhIrzXieL8TRI9h17y8mzJi/s320/the%20later%20fettiplaces%20.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The first recorded Fettiplace is Adam who was one of seven townsmen imprisoned in 1272 for injuring clerks of the university of Oxford in a 'town and gown' incident.. It did him no harm, as in later life he became Mayor of Oxford for eleven terms between 1245 and 1268. From that point on, their prosperity grew through marriage and luck. They even impacted America. In 1607, two Fettiplace brothers, William and Michael, are recorded in Jamestown with Captain John Smith, though their relationship with Pocahontas is unknown.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">There is also a Hampshire branch of the Fettiplace family who settled in Portsmouth, Rhode Island in 16771,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Overcome by a surfeit of Fettiplace</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">s, we repaired to The Swan Inn a little farther down the road and mulled their place in history over a pint and a bag of vinegary crisps. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">*Saxon for a very muddy place. <i><b>Slõhtre,</b></i> It has an onomatopoeic sound to it, I think</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-64213997339915771142024-03-07T12:14:00.000-08:002024-03-09T03:16:42.506-08:00Gallup.<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I’m a sucker for old English churches, villages and folklore. I’m also in love with the Old West and the technology that allows me to explore it from home. In a previous book,<a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Phage-Michael-Keyton-ebook/dp/B08H2HDBZN?ref_=ast_author_dp&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.jv_ghgOZX6QO16a1nBL3grf4TzLQ0w0c7n6Kev635R410qw6BFU1X_a4zV9yUCPyuI4ihqoh2fScu6IQHIjtcE2-o6xZMOHP30R3__Cn9NFTBBMsCwOJ5IjTPhmE1e5sMDL6M_gJ5V-uNsfrTv9rq_buwHNsa4tiPn5rR0aleIXI35sn5ANDErcemt_M1txqtIoZ_-LhkZCfd2vu3z5aFyHqsKAAagatGB7o5jHasiI.K60zyBhdz8QfcfTBZCOgF701K8WnQpwPn7tSl7Zoi3A&dib_tag=AUTHOR"> <i>Phage</i>,</a> I became an expert in navigating myself around Phoenix and the surrounding mountains via Google Earth to the extent I wanted to go there and drop in to two or three of its more interesting bars. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Gallup New Mexico is currently exerting a similar hold and for the same reason, a book—tentatively named <i>Final Battle</i>— that will hopefully surface in two years’ time. Set some time in the 2030’s, it features John Grey and Elizabeth McBride, first seen in the Gift Trilogy. Along with Elizabeth’s dark sister, Elsie they are characters too good to waste, and as Adepts with abnormal lifespans they allow me considerable scope to play with time. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">So why Gallup, New Mexico? A minor character is Chenoa, a Navajo* Shaman who leads a double life as Gill Darrat, a renowned psychotherapist, who for obvious reasons operates from the Navajo nation. On any map, Gallup stands out as the only serious contender, and that was where the fun began. Research is a compelling black hole, and I now know more about Gallup than most people—at least those living outside of it. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">There were three essential things I had to work out. Where did Gill Darrat live in Gallup? Where was her office? And where would her alter ego, Chenoa, be based?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The first question was answered by researching local estate agents, scanning charts showing the good and bad neighbourhoods, demographic profiles and crime statistics. Estate agents proved wonderfully compulsive, allowing me to wander through the interiors of their videoed properties until I almost became a serious buyer—like someone in the TV programme ‘Escape to the Country’—though a far cry from the bucolic English countryside. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhAGu5LoTGNT4RfXIX1_SfNokALHOE4QN1J4ET_TNymxl0fIQFwImUPqhT_iEWl6G6ThMvmF4J7yfnJmygacRDhqGOYd35oRAiJ3o8daLMKCFgSl7u6p1fcUZ8WOs390DVOKHsPnIa7pFOXpicRyT8hpLLl6p2AOvgm39xNQptYtLOBvKG76JDO9sppug9/s4032/estate%20agents%20and%20mapIC.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhAGu5LoTGNT4RfXIX1_SfNokALHOE4QN1J4ET_TNymxl0fIQFwImUPqhT_iEWl6G6ThMvmF4J7yfnJmygacRDhqGOYd35oRAiJ3o8daLMKCFgSl7u6p1fcUZ8WOs390DVOKHsPnIa7pFOXpicRyT8hpLLl6p2AOvgm39xNQptYtLOBvKG76JDO9sppug9/s320/estate%20agents%20and%20mapIC.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3-K1yScB_WIF2XzygfZq0FNt2jwc21imSSmmvCctZJhBu2JKxHq1CX0jczbYb26HJzXt-4R7J5EgjiYEZBSGV72iA_GIroFF6Q5yROn85Fqy64rg8YJvG87UBG8l0ddfSQyBDe4egClp8y9V147xcn_-8x0fl5Ktt9xdkM-_VrVC7PlF11nAkJ3cpA6Bb/s4032/socio%20economic%20chart.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3-K1yScB_WIF2XzygfZq0FNt2jwc21imSSmmvCctZJhBu2JKxHq1CX0jczbYb26HJzXt-4R7J5EgjiYEZBSGV72iA_GIroFF6Q5yROn85Fqy64rg8YJvG87UBG8l0ddfSQyBDe4egClp8y9V147xcn_-8x0fl5Ktt9xdkM-_VrVC7PlF11nAkJ3cpA6Bb/s320/socio%20economic%20chart.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Does Gill </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Darrat live here?</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicniVkRv3vLfN4lqevybBFb_2GmMtqQxGA9UgLRpDJ7DFd3row-lSxC27GKARYb560_Wg6EYtmIvwnwhSoq9CxynqixE1BDjvBBO12L1XfKsGDZa5mMHOIWy6wxFkvjot3fiD6FN0GrgjRacpB0DGc_chrWUDYizDF2wQK-Bd_htTwMfp-QKktm5nMbP6q/s4032/Does%20gill%20live%20here%3F2.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicniVkRv3vLfN4lqevybBFb_2GmMtqQxGA9UgLRpDJ7DFd3row-lSxC27GKARYb560_Wg6EYtmIvwnwhSoq9CxynqixE1BDjvBBO12L1XfKsGDZa5mMHOIWy6wxFkvjot3fiD6FN0GrgjRacpB0DGc_chrWUDYizDF2wQK-Bd_htTwMfp-QKktm5nMbP6q/s320/Does%20gill%20live%20here%3F2.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>Or here?</b></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw1FDs-TCrofKye5o9TWVktNb9WTbq1IRkW0SpfGXYSxSB-LWd4boeRr_JNqcyXdFQHMQAulvOjKeflyBlKhlrfRI02L7mCDpEmd13X48_Ab3xhyaf_Kpm_rLoRvXJBfk9DTT10Zfnk7CLQz59bouKQN7bAG-i7dvYfR8bLP08V4C_54_rEgijCUAjlKmr/s4032/Does%20Gill%20live%20here%3F.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw1FDs-TCrofKye5o9TWVktNb9WTbq1IRkW0SpfGXYSxSB-LWd4boeRr_JNqcyXdFQHMQAulvOjKeflyBlKhlrfRI02L7mCDpEmd13X48_Ab3xhyaf_Kpm_rLoRvXJBfk9DTT10Zfnk7CLQz59bouKQN7bAG-i7dvYfR8bLP08V4C_54_rEgijCUAjlKmr/s320/Does%20Gill%20live%20here%3F.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Google Earth allowed me to prowl the streets of Gallup in search of office space. I eventually settled on somewhere along the NM 610 between a Taco shed and an Indian Cultural Centre five miles farther down the road.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL29LKPn98lItdfPXsSP61qCBjLbMOOHT93P_-HzzEvKIAcvqFdwLd1DbKEysSgrVJeu58W5U2F6TIDXFeMrX3pUpSc8ORkxmCVTKyhHgVBvOEx4-xqPIt6FoCm3kOKrYSRj31mwCzDDRcK0gSxiydWp_y7AFzAjeal337gvoJ0kQ3eQQ4cgVLFX_3hwlC/s4032/NM610.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL29LKPn98lItdfPXsSP61qCBjLbMOOHT93P_-HzzEvKIAcvqFdwLd1DbKEysSgrVJeu58W5U2F6TIDXFeMrX3pUpSc8ORkxmCVTKyhHgVBvOEx4-xqPIt6FoCm3kOKrYSRj31mwCzDDRcK0gSxiydWp_y7AFzAjeal337gvoJ0kQ3eQQ4cgVLFX_3hwlC/s320/NM610.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>Highway 610 and things to see</b></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqCRXSsA-U3oETB-IRHXt3mH1dhMvEZZnuLAgyhjKF5onA9qd7lSIwfSQ9_aFZNUfZZIYTjj68BE2O8_oc178AkCHyXBSBJS1-g458FkuV8p64XzinXIEpLwdUALa9Xy501Mbj28iEP8ltsRQwN_GroG6wGE43ruIAXGNnyzjQYV95M1gslR7RabhyHy6i/s4032/Crazy%20Joes.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqCRXSsA-U3oETB-IRHXt3mH1dhMvEZZnuLAgyhjKF5onA9qd7lSIwfSQ9_aFZNUfZZIYTjj68BE2O8_oc178AkCHyXBSBJS1-g458FkuV8p64XzinXIEpLwdUALa9Xy501Mbj28iEP8ltsRQwN_GroG6wGE43ruIAXGNnyzjQYV95M1gslR7RabhyHy6i/s320/Crazy%20Joes.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">And finally, Chenoa, her sanctuary—a far harder call. I had a cave in mind, its walls filled with ancient petrographs, but where? Two obvious contenders stood out: Pyramid Rock and Church Rock; not too far away from Gallup, but perhaps too close. Surely there’d be a convenient cave there, one that Chenoa could call her own? There was though the further problem: tourists, too many of them.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgITnFrgkyOJoXzjkzMHqUAEz1KG8kvbWpSCNSQr_z-FVzIxGlxtkhTrt5_dhkE4hXdUKoBiBTHnkCwH1ThOBDFKcwemXvDxrxS_Ik7Zr6Tg56zeEfPzTp70He20G7CogGa6tt-1-AGNSwvUf31B09Ko_kUhKp_dj4K_6l7M1rO7YDGCerhIrWlRI1bIeEZ/s403/church%20rock.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="268" data-original-width="403" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgITnFrgkyOJoXzjkzMHqUAEz1KG8kvbWpSCNSQr_z-FVzIxGlxtkhTrt5_dhkE4hXdUKoBiBTHnkCwH1ThOBDFKcwemXvDxrxS_Ik7Zr6Tg56zeEfPzTp70He20G7CogGa6tt-1-AGNSwvUf31B09Ko_kUhKp_dj4K_6l7M1rO7YDGCerhIrWlRI1bIeEZ/s320/church%20rock.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Church Rock</b></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJFmCmX1yZ_WHz18wrQKM0Wjf0FHGOhQWd5Pv5TVYHFTPt6Ou0mSpi87PP58w8NeNij9Fw2mxhuc0lcFu1JO4aWdYBe50BqAQBortsT3sotXq_rdDlfo5gQueAZTfVQoTrk7hRyNfzMCqDcAGxyd7piNEC8NK267goLZQxx5IESF5YixB3EGhLWqGya9r9/s4032/Pyramid%20rock%20and%20church%20rock%20terrain.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJFmCmX1yZ_WHz18wrQKM0Wjf0FHGOhQWd5Pv5TVYHFTPt6Ou0mSpi87PP58w8NeNij9Fw2mxhuc0lcFu1JO4aWdYBe50BqAQBortsT3sotXq_rdDlfo5gQueAZTfVQoTrk7hRyNfzMCqDcAGxyd7piNEC8NK267goLZQxx5IESF5YixB3EGhLWqGya9r9/s320/Pyramid%20rock%20and%20church%20rock%20terrain.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJeKP51U4owZdbylj55KVMZ-guqhLnefXy87KXhfgPgrcnL83C4Nimbw1uZjNVCCoSq8CxXUrnmFfQ8pFWibSM9qQ_mWfrxw9mKsEDiaQO6hKoHQPZHGGzPYYoKMwQ15Nvc7JrVs1plAOGQf6uClPi9Uc8N4tTH4CV8fCYA2Wu028HfBos_6uxDLx1CHWJ/s640/pyramid%20rock.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJeKP51U4owZdbylj55KVMZ-guqhLnefXy87KXhfgPgrcnL83C4Nimbw1uZjNVCCoSq8CxXUrnmFfQ8pFWibSM9qQ_mWfrxw9mKsEDiaQO6hKoHQPZHGGzPYYoKMwQ15Nvc7JrVs1plAOGQf6uClPi9Uc8N4tTH4CV8fCYA2Wu028HfBos_6uxDLx1CHWJ/s320/pyramid%20rock.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>Pyramid Rock</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGEFog__dtGk6m3iHz740bhsQPWS8SzidP-CAeICDKl-wC4zKNsEKVv3DDhDk8hktE2UZK_o0ap-bZdtuC16FH8nmZt3l_dv_P2DSmqXWGhSkcqPvu9INSOsbB4pLDMlauPPija322hRi0WYpi0xPT6Z5XV7Pzqewb63Pj_lI0DLuU2ZrS07i_CAs5HwkH/s4032/Indian%20Route%201%20to%20Lukachukai.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGEFog__dtGk6m3iHz740bhsQPWS8SzidP-CAeICDKl-wC4zKNsEKVv3DDhDk8hktE2UZK_o0ap-bZdtuC16FH8nmZt3l_dv_P2DSmqXWGhSkcqPvu9INSOsbB4pLDMlauPPija322hRi0WYpi0xPT6Z5XV7Pzqewb63Pj_lI0DLuU2ZrS07i_CAs5HwkH/s320/Indian%20Route%201%20to%20Lukachukai.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The search continued deeper into Navajo country along Indian Route 12 which snaked into Arizona. I glided over such evocative names as Window Rock, Fort Defiance, Sawmills, Wheatfields until finally I came across it—Lukachukai. By this time, I <i>was</i> Chenoa. This was my home.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDhfcttyUjp2aKK4lANd9xo1SarM96hpSSpZLmpPrIgpRiCj7V0Xyq5u8EcAmnXZI8nP6aKK6dbVWVRKQRshozla0IEB3QWqHTtgdW_4ZUGN9pXoMe4KmLjcgELmBprQgEkC_uQYXPTf5NCnRKfWAhQK62Et-eRIdEyrbD-395Qtwuf3HGO2yurRFmV8wU/s4032/Lukachuka%202.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDhfcttyUjp2aKK4lANd9xo1SarM96hpSSpZLmpPrIgpRiCj7V0Xyq5u8EcAmnXZI8nP6aKK6dbVWVRKQRshozla0IEB3QWqHTtgdW_4ZUGN9pXoMe4KmLjcgELmBprQgEkC_uQYXPTf5NCnRKfWAhQK62Et-eRIdEyrbD-395Qtwuf3HGO2yurRFmV8wU/s320/Lukachuka%202.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSZcfWO92kh1o-PH4bpwfHaJE4jN3JzqjRlPCrfVLLXCYfCOoj_KgcWSW5oXXAtmzSP46m1l7yvUR6YR84a_03XTj9gOxO-YQGnth4Ep07do5sw4Avt9lX_jyyY-F6xntNzOuI1KhHL9QzgZ9FNnaYwrAqQuKU_IclUaFwO3IIe31KgRudFMCxsfe0qjRy/s4032/Lukachukai%203.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSZcfWO92kh1o-PH4bpwfHaJE4jN3JzqjRlPCrfVLLXCYfCOoj_KgcWSW5oXXAtmzSP46m1l7yvUR6YR84a_03XTj9gOxO-YQGnth4Ep07do5sw4Avt9lX_jyyY-F6xntNzOuI1KhHL9QzgZ9FNnaYwrAqQuKU_IclUaFwO3IIe31KgRudFMCxsfe0qjRy/s320/Lukachukai%203.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCuzzCvM-QXWlQj-PSolQ28xbqHH4Gy5BHLcdPZ29UESBS0hq8YI8kxVKTH0gZuDzzh4Opy8AcDFfopxRlo1NlVL8E1uDcNx28So3nkT5MLLOcvEgEOVK3b4u1xh2vX0iCThlb3mreM_iVp4A83VlO4mUakUf788Mnpl2Ta6LdAujeoPdR0WmR3YjteW7i/s4032/Lukachukai%204.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCuzzCvM-QXWlQj-PSolQ28xbqHH4Gy5BHLcdPZ29UESBS0hq8YI8kxVKTH0gZuDzzh4Opy8AcDFfopxRlo1NlVL8E1uDcNx28So3nkT5MLLOcvEgEOVK3b4u1xh2vX0iCThlb3mreM_iVp4A83VlO4mUakUf788Mnpl2Ta6LdAujeoPdR0WmR3YjteW7i/s320/Lukachukai%204.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpNmNEzZOw5A5sbsgWGYs616qSx4rGwBt0QO7lc_819BnIh_Gh-24ZS_2bAcKUZQA9SkP0R5YY2D6EsAPzwnFpKKsxr1_-7js7yLwOrGrOS26wi9Z51eaHtZlVWHXUGSradNP6wwNmC_3wKUkqlcPLnc9hQouMzjS-mvYsRI85OM3kJ0icmyZT95XhtVip/s4032/Lukachukai%205.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpNmNEzZOw5A5sbsgWGYs616qSx4rGwBt0QO7lc_819BnIh_Gh-24ZS_2bAcKUZQA9SkP0R5YY2D6EsAPzwnFpKKsxr1_-7js7yLwOrGrOS26wi9Z51eaHtZlVWHXUGSradNP6wwNmC_3wKUkqlcPLnc9hQouMzjS-mvYsRI85OM3kJ0icmyZT95XhtVip/s320/Lukachukai%205.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5Y8mtMorI9FM1YnGiU0KmZl1Hzexqqqb3VRC59W08-9-CFH34CF1vJ5JT2emfjKiwB9L4xkmSzvZ_Vs7hH-wf6zHiQhQM95uWYho_W5SDN033S0qKyk-4isAX20nfWmrYaM8-DTuW8rELk62qo7FljoNJjl82CSGLfjD1YkM6JZXdCmoGhx0xEUCj2Ra/s4032/Lukachukai.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5Y8mtMorI9FM1YnGiU0KmZl1Hzexqqqb3VRC59W08-9-CFH34CF1vJ5JT2emfjKiwB9L4xkmSzvZ_Vs7hH-wf6zHiQhQM95uWYho_W5SDN033S0qKyk-4isAX20nfWmrYaM8-DTuW8rELk62qo7FljoNJjl82CSGLfjD1YkM6JZXdCmoGhx0xEUCj2Ra/s320/Lukachukai.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">But what about the extraneous, the research not used but tucked in a folder just in case? The fact that Route 66 passes through Gallup. That Errol Flynn once rode into one of its bars for a drink—I’m guessing whisky, and water for the horse. The event is now part of Gallup folklore and advertised on Route 66 as you approach the town.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5pzI93FsacPMCpZmgOUe80Jji2ArjAzpMz9MZF69B8BBlr5lIbEOsBd_z8S4v1_sDtXncX-ZdIdLQ2ZrKISd92nD7S95vxoNc2bbiPdkAKl40xO_G5WY-DONvnCZ6DlM4VPTx-bjWjyz2hVif94YePhYPBcECeLmo-nweYEh4q2U51d8mgb6FC-NoRnN/s4032/IMG_9682.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5pzI93FsacPMCpZmgOUe80Jji2ArjAzpMz9MZF69B8BBlr5lIbEOsBd_z8S4v1_sDtXncX-ZdIdLQ2ZrKISd92nD7S95vxoNc2bbiPdkAKl40xO_G5WY-DONvnCZ6DlM4VPTx-bjWjyz2hVif94YePhYPBcECeLmo-nweYEh4q2U51d8mgb6FC-NoRnN/s320/IMG_9682.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;">Driving through Gallup</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi01skZq39TorSRn2y-99ZabvgKLsu8iVHdkmcYD3FH9vHwSIXAUz26-ttRbKNcuYvctrcPgpc9alOVmzBdLfYxQ_k_8QHHNnfTrJWXOMoravuz-48NzFbKV-Yifb80vmtKjfKTyKhXJCVkZG_fSfhLc-cOO1F5PLSO6Ps_DtvRNz2r3B95WMiDz62B0Aqu/s4032/driving%20throguh%20gallup%203.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi01skZq39TorSRn2y-99ZabvgKLsu8iVHdkmcYD3FH9vHwSIXAUz26-ttRbKNcuYvctrcPgpc9alOVmzBdLfYxQ_k_8QHHNnfTrJWXOMoravuz-48NzFbKV-Yifb80vmtKjfKTyKhXJCVkZG_fSfhLc-cOO1F5PLSO6Ps_DtvRNz2r3B95WMiDz62B0Aqu/s320/driving%20throguh%20gallup%203.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiao00F7_xRLIqmXFbMZOxofF3ewQKVVqunhx4adxk9y6n9zrGIm_yvb2tSo7iZDc5UT2QmEYN082dmEnsGRfcm-x9AUmnPh40DU9vbTJQAwuuySJBweTHAOnATAnOkFowfIwNAL9ir-T2xbIoIHFxRQIRuBOMOCDRWXMu1qd0YtJr7cIUG6VhY4020A6eb/s4032/driving%20through%20gallup%202.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiao00F7_xRLIqmXFbMZOxofF3ewQKVVqunhx4adxk9y6n9zrGIm_yvb2tSo7iZDc5UT2QmEYN082dmEnsGRfcm-x9AUmnPh40DU9vbTJQAwuuySJBweTHAOnATAnOkFowfIwNAL9ir-T2xbIoIHFxRQIRuBOMOCDRWXMu1qd0YtJr7cIUG6VhY4020A6eb/s320/driving%20through%20gallup%202.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHjf0Jf94LYc57KdG0-2VfKiMOzkV4QKJb0OlplPoAgjkeQC7XogBEhtHEOwLnScMqWO0r9jxvne1ZdgX9hWPpcPP_UNtXC26M0E36jY3PIiNrzMPvHXE1YdP8T6iQpV7MkL4_cjfV4pmekBc39O2B0CVWi35j47acrLQNG4O5trlIKvaw3wPCcxcBTvBi/s4032/exploring%20Gallup.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHjf0Jf94LYc57KdG0-2VfKiMOzkV4QKJb0OlplPoAgjkeQC7XogBEhtHEOwLnScMqWO0r9jxvne1ZdgX9hWPpcPP_UNtXC26M0E36jY3PIiNrzMPvHXE1YdP8T6iQpV7MkL4_cjfV4pmekBc39O2B0CVWi35j47acrLQNG4O5trlIKvaw3wPCcxcBTvBi/s320/exploring%20Gallup.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6KFdd0-VHvNHIkWKitC7wmMp_jOZ1auJmN229NLbbGowsCJ4eNBxQGcyV8ArUMxFyXLu2zZh4ymcHCl9kIeg0h4MbWCEQ6M4ufp2EyCFuikLzDhyZM_HEO5bbyVIq4FxfG6bF2_MTfJ6uTDrF607JnpDvM5r6bJx2cAz_nZGKmWHyW1pDImf8lSyQB0aC/s4032/historic%20el%20rancho%20Pool%20but%20no%20Errol.%20Can't%20have%20everything..HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6KFdd0-VHvNHIkWKitC7wmMp_jOZ1auJmN229NLbbGowsCJ4eNBxQGcyV8ArUMxFyXLu2zZh4ymcHCl9kIeg0h4MbWCEQ6M4ufp2EyCFuikLzDhyZM_HEO5bbyVIq4FxfG6bF2_MTfJ6uTDrF607JnpDvM5r6bJx2cAz_nZGKmWHyW1pDImf8lSyQB0aC/s320/historic%20el%20rancho%20Pool%20but%20no%20Errol.%20Can't%20have%20everything..HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>El Ranchero with an inviting pool but no mounted Errol Flynn</b></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> By this time I had become acclimatised, memories of the New Mexico I’d visited many years ago flooding back—deserts, mountains and sky, dry and invigorating heat. There are few architectural gems in Gallup, but several interesting bars, some of which I might be wise to avoid. But do I want to go there? You bet—especially Lukachukai.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">* The Navajo refer to themselves as 'The People' or Dine. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-9325122554703808032024-03-01T04:10:00.000-08:002024-03-02T04:05:54.501-08:00The Mad Gasser of Mattoon<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/OwaEPTSRcSw" width="320" youtube-src-id="OwaEPTSRcSw"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> The Phantom Raspberry Blower of Old London Town. (complete story at the very end.)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif">In the process of writing about Spring Heeled Jack, I discovered America was also haunted by the weird and absurd. Eighty years ago (1944 for the mathematically challenged) the small city of Mattoon in Cole County, Illinois was subjected to a deadly peril, a Mad Gasser or to be exact, the ‘Mad Gasser of Mattoon.'<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4KFghpGncE1lNqv_Anpl6pt-ehh0USkf6JgiGeEtRhUkknCCoYJ1-SCkKSjd4oX6TMljXX_1s3e4LfS_hqCF5aQkYDSe-jvPeLIl56oBwwFdmZDJO6pPap6MpZEflr1J3xBuf07eZCApYSelGPZGFltqleML201ywjivTqFjHpHDpy_qbFDmaOAVHntU/s1280/madd%20gasser.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4KFghpGncE1lNqv_Anpl6pt-ehh0USkf6JgiGeEtRhUkknCCoYJ1-SCkKSjd4oX6TMljXX_1s3e4LfS_hqCF5aQkYDSe-jvPeLIl56oBwwFdmZDJO6pPap6MpZEflr1J3xBuf07eZCApYSelGPZGFltqleML201ywjivTqFjHpHDpy_qbFDmaOAVHntU/s320/madd%20gasser.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span face="-webkit-standard, serif"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif">It began in September when Aline Kearney noticed a ‘sickening sweet odour.’ Within moments her legs became numb and then paralysed, her throat abnormally dry. Alarmed, her sister Martha called her husband who saw a man outside lurking near a bedroom window. The brother chased the man away and later described him as tall, dressed in black and wearing a tight cap. Within the hour Aline’s legs returned to normal. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif">The following day the local paper reported the incident with the headline ‘Anaesthetic Prowler on Loose’ and thus launched a flood of other stories. Orbon Raef and his wife reported a similar thing had happened the day before the Kearney incident. Both had been asleep but had awakened to a strange and noxious smell. Both were paralysed for an hour and a half.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif">Olive Brown claimed she’d been attacked even earlier, she too experiencing a dry throat and temporary paralysis. On the same night as the Kearney attack, Mrs George Rider recorded a similar experience. For whatever reason, she’d been up late that night drinking ‘several pots of coffee.’ She heard an unexpected ‘plop’ followed by a noxious smell that made her dizzy and tingle all over. A neighbour reported a strange smell that made her children vomit. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif">On September 5<sup>th</sup> Beulah Cordes picked up a small piece of cloth from her porch. For some reason, she sniffed it, staggered, and screamed. She reported ‘a feeling of paralysis like an electric shock’ and was sick for two hours.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif">Not to be outdone, Edna Jones, a local fortune teller, smelled something suspicious in her boarding house. On running out, she saw an ‘ape-like man with long arms reaching out, holding a spray gun.’ He fired three rounds of gas at her causing her to go numb all over. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij9dIwEitGmH8zp4w6yIjzRAvYlg8_S-btI34qkdGhq9_h0EtA9Td_vVJVgrd67ijNgh9pYeTF4nwqrwuvdjcfeh_iVkmflcZDppOPazmqJvF8QI3z2MjVX9ezBpD-_ejmt0uYnTTNUtz73bYbwF5BTxYL1PfcYsIAQCAnN1LfIJLIubozywNekVgC4BTH/s290/madgasser.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="279" data-original-width="290" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij9dIwEitGmH8zp4w6yIjzRAvYlg8_S-btI34qkdGhq9_h0EtA9Td_vVJVgrd67ijNgh9pYeTF4nwqrwuvdjcfeh_iVkmflcZDppOPazmqJvF8QI3z2MjVX9ezBpD-_ejmt0uYnTTNUtz73bYbwF5BTxYL1PfcYsIAQCAnN1LfIJLIubozywNekVgC4BTH/s1600/madgasser.jpg" width="290" /></a></div><span face="-webkit-standard, serif"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif">Hysteria set in. Armed vigilantes roamed the streets hunting the ‘Mad Gasser.’ A woman loading her gun in readiness for the Gasser accidentally blew a hole in her ceiling. Chemical experts suggested a popular rat poison—chloropicrin, a sweet smelling poisonous gas but the symptoms didn’t match and no actual traces of it were found. Police theories ranged from a rogue chemistry teacher, Japanese terrorists, an escaped or recently released lunatic. A town had become unhinged. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif">When no culprit was found, other theories came to the fore. The Chief of Police suggested it was chemical run-off from a local factory: the Atlas Imperial Diesel Engine Company. The company made the obvious point that none of its employees experienced any kind of symptoms. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif">The final, most popular theory was that it was a classic example of mass hysteria. A similar incident in 1972 amongst data workers in a Midwest university was similarly dismissed as a manifestation of generalised discontent. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif">No conclusive evidence was ever found for a similar incident in Springfield Missouri. In 1987 Springfield was terrorised by ‘Ether Eddie’ who broke into fifteen homes, knocking out women with a formaldehyde cloth pressed to their noses. None of the women ranging from an eight-year-old girl to a mature 56-year-old were sexually molested and nothing was stolen. Even so, the town went berserk, few walked the streets alone at nights, and shops sold out of deadbolts. The following year a woman shot a burglar prying open her window. The wounded man was arrested and served ten years but police found no direct link between him and ‘Ether Eddie.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif">I won’t go into the <i>Hopkinsville Goblins</i>. Time doesn’t allow. </span><span face="-webkit-standard, serif">But for those who enjoy anodyne explanations for the weird and peculiar,</span><span face="-webkit-standard, serif"> it’s hard to beat the American government’s explanation for recent ‘attacks’ on U.S diplomats summed up in the term ‘<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Havana_syndrome">Havana Syndrome,</a>’ where it was first experienced. These unexplained symptoms are now officially classed as AHIs or Anomalous Health Incidents.</span></p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Opql3Kwfrek" width="320" youtube-src-id="Opql3Kwfrek"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">For any who wish to enjoy or endure the full story of the Phantom Raspberry Blower of Old LondonTown.</div><p></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-24052022220726439032024-02-23T06:45:00.000-08:002024-02-23T12:28:58.915-08:00Spring Heeled Jack<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">My father would have been four, my mother's father fourteen on the last reported sighting of Spring Heeled Jack in Liverpool. It may have been the very last sighting of a character* that haunted not only the Victorian imagination but the dreams of small children growing up in the 1950s, such is folk memory—to the extent I’m still aware of him in the 21<sup>st</sup> century, though I no longer have bad dreams he might carry me away for being naughty.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">What makes these sightings relevant to my father and grandparents, was that they occurred in their neighbourhoods when they were children or adolescents, so the experience would have been directly or indirectly lived.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The first reported sighting of Spring Heeled Jack was in the outskirts of London in 1837 when a young Mary Stevens was out walking late one evening. Suddenly a tall dark figure leapt out at her, blocking her path. He was tall, cloaked, with sharp features and clawed hands. His eyes were red, his grin wide and unsettling. The final straw was when he spat out blue flame. Mary screamed. The figure turned, and with unnatural agility, leapt over buildings and walls. He struck again a few days later causing the terrified driver of a horse drawn carriage to lose control and crash. Soon all of London was talking of Spring Heeled Jack.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">His final appearance in London took place on February 19<sup>th</sup> in 1838 when a young Jane Alsop opened the door to a man claiming to be a police officer and asking urgently for a light; they had captured Spring Heeled Jack in an adjoining lane!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">She ran for a candle but on returning to the doorway he ripped off his cloak to reveal a monstrosity: fiery red eyes, a nightmarish grin and tight white clothing that looked to her to be oilskin. Blue fire billowed from his lips, and he ran at her with clawed hands. He caught up with her, clawing her neck and arms. Her screams alerted her sister who came running to her help, and the monster escaped leaping over hedges and walls. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNL2ZRjE5I5Lvdha-9r3jAjG1k1pz8KbxCDl7e32CWx1Q3S90E3-v5N9Unl-gFIXJ_HdIuqZBYR1pHYhLsH4HtF9ZNYu9KceMYg2eo_AEJH0CAuCDKNLGrHF1oR39fA8lnz1JzYW9PzfVcDPiEGdkMHd6i8pMbLOjtZYsNAONjFM2afiK8gSctUM27CNOu/s1910/Jack2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1910" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNL2ZRjE5I5Lvdha-9r3jAjG1k1pz8KbxCDl7e32CWx1Q3S90E3-v5N9Unl-gFIXJ_HdIuqZBYR1pHYhLsH4HtF9ZNYu9KceMYg2eo_AEJH0CAuCDKNLGrHF1oR39fA8lnz1JzYW9PzfVcDPiEGdkMHd6i8pMbLOjtZYsNAONjFM2afiK8gSctUM27CNOu/s320/Jack2.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgprnJbyZExkiusY-WsMydT26yUF8DW9b4boiMeRqBbtdrCPfvGPgPhi7Dhpv4iXh9BNlDSKBNaxycw485tzGT-uDzusoaMw0oJPEOrXBHfntC07tpaTi0icIXMw6IHbVzsGP9K_mou4-WyWOkNdHa61b8onoF4-UHr2eObYV836f_yYah0IfpI7nkYtjir/s889/Jack4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="889" data-original-width="626" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgprnJbyZExkiusY-WsMydT26yUF8DW9b4boiMeRqBbtdrCPfvGPgPhi7Dhpv4iXh9BNlDSKBNaxycw485tzGT-uDzusoaMw0oJPEOrXBHfntC07tpaTi0icIXMw6IHbVzsGP9K_mou4-WyWOkNdHa61b8onoF4-UHr2eObYV836f_yYah0IfpI7nkYtjir/s320/Jack4.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrD2DCivzXxLpozgzmYq20q0vjlredRUmJx5JGuZ1esmZV9EiVgMb41esxkxj2lf1FV48b_ghM1IeoATCkXvs4vlWgJ5UZDrdBn85ilx5RA5zcjN3fwL3sKe2vaAZkhejPyP50ybBQZB46ihyphenhyphenDRtOrdYQ8UNC_-Arsf4xtfPPaD82wGN-HakPyDif5Nv7/s1917/Jack6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1917" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrD2DCivzXxLpozgzmYq20q0vjlredRUmJx5JGuZ1esmZV9EiVgMb41esxkxj2lf1FV48b_ghM1IeoATCkXvs4vlWgJ5UZDrdBn85ilx5RA5zcjN3fwL3sKe2vaAZkhejPyP50ybBQZB46ihyphenhyphenDRtOrdYQ8UNC_-Arsf4xtfPPaD82wGN-HakPyDif5Nv7/s320/Jack6.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Sightings were rare after that though he became a staple in comics and ‘Penny Dreadfuls’. In the 1870s he appeared again. In 1872 The News of the World reported that Peckham was “in a state of commotion owing to what is known as the ‘Peckham Ghost’ quite alarming in appearance.” He appeared again in Sheffield later that year, and in 1877 was shot at by troops garrisoned in Aldershot. He was seen in Lincolnshire that same year.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlrb384tkHnEUWXpMURfRH3qjujUmuzZd5RCfoXitmQgmfUql4nP0OrsQbIqH-H7aw9JmJ6dl8hVaTrjJ-6RV_fGHnOYisdiQd5IbhSmg7lns0rJLaK5fA4goD-OM5RKOTvR2d35nIOaduoWML93GNqcqnmczDkYghjZ3ZL_HS_Uvr2_qyxgqTiDuCltNJ/s1200/xavier.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="707" data-original-width="1200" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlrb384tkHnEUWXpMURfRH3qjujUmuzZd5RCfoXitmQgmfUql4nP0OrsQbIqH-H7aw9JmJ6dl8hVaTrjJ-6RV_fGHnOYisdiQd5IbhSmg7lns0rJLaK5fA4goD-OM5RKOTvR2d35nIOaduoWML93GNqcqnmczDkYghjZ3ZL_HS_Uvr2_qyxgqTiDuCltNJ/s320/xavier.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><div style="text-align: center;">St Francis Xavier church in Salisbury Street.</div></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">In 1888 he appeared in Everton, North Liverpool where he appeared on the roof top of Saint Francis Xavier church in Salisbury Street, and again in 1904 where he performed an encore in William Henry Street. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAmTZJ2jSP0rKd1y14womPDee5sEKobmMXmuTRVnjkb_8GmOv06UA4QSQldzQXx5NnOpal0X0RnIAlTcCmrggGmlHcrBORBXT82QVP08M9QEpDImpBDxv3LV5Pon4uGPSSINvFX5axzhudFZwcwreWZSV5qKhxDAlXZ9UAgmz0Ec23dH8PD0NcTzRCiWgM/s1200/Spring_Heeled_Jack-penny_dreadful.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAmTZJ2jSP0rKd1y14womPDee5sEKobmMXmuTRVnjkb_8GmOv06UA4QSQldzQXx5NnOpal0X0RnIAlTcCmrggGmlHcrBORBXT82QVP08M9QEpDImpBDxv3LV5Pon4uGPSSINvFX5axzhudFZwcwreWZSV5qKhxDAlXZ9UAgmz0Ec23dH8PD0NcTzRCiWgM/s320/Spring_Heeled_Jack-penny_dreadful.png" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">It was in William Henry Street, one moonless night, that a twelve year old boy called Tommy crept out from his house like adventurous boys are wont to do. Wandering through the dim, gas-lit streets he heard an eerie cackling sound then, turning a corner he bumped into a tall, cloaked figure with fiery red eyes. Luckily for Tommy, the apparition leapt out of sight, bounding over chimneys and roofs to effect his escape—though to my mind it should have been Tommy bounding over roofs to effect <i>his</i> escape.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhVf4aZdNOynyjLkEDnd07QlQaMX19fhrhOGoN__p8Idcz4G2RjMTAFEG91uyUz4KAQK4TC9kCIgnrk7QFo8KAB7rsyABUfe75sPre6EpvzCUjYvt5SnEPsUFVAOFFqi9qZJVtmUxY3WitS2SLv1QdNJg0yXoydDs30_LixWeF6TqvL3CHPa9MlQTlciTZ/s1132/WilliamHenryStshops%20Ken%20Rogers.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="1132" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhVf4aZdNOynyjLkEDnd07QlQaMX19fhrhOGoN__p8Idcz4G2RjMTAFEG91uyUz4KAQK4TC9kCIgnrk7QFo8KAB7rsyABUfe75sPre6EpvzCUjYvt5SnEPsUFVAOFFqi9qZJVtmUxY3WitS2SLv1QdNJg0yXoydDs30_LixWeF6TqvL3CHPa9MlQTlciTZ/s320/WilliamHenryStshops%20Ken%20Rogers.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><div style="text-align: center;">William Henry Street**</div></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Soon all of North Liverpool was talking about Spring Heeled Jack. There were more sightings. People were afraid to go out at night. Again, it made the News of the World.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>Spring Heeled Jack – Ghost with a Weakness for Ladies</b>:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“Everton (Liverpool) is scared by the singular antics of a ghost, to whom the name of Spring Heeled Jack has been given, because of the facility with which he has escaped by huge springs, of his would be captors to arrest him. William Henry street is the scene of his exploits . . . So far, the police have not arrested him, their sprinting powers being inferior.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaUC2q0JWeKUMTfaLHCy-5ZJYfbzo__3NSY6k4HRuAddSQMDDAn_yTG_sdowx3Wnm0RU5HpueFgKJt88t1c15b9KsquMLQk_jQEz8eh3lRAe6_2XElpY0Y1gYvjS0sCqkbhFxvRutM089_mn5mRY0SL950JHafUgpRsWQKjDRiLT9ZCQ8dS31L_wD3SzWY/s591/Springheel_Jack.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="509" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaUC2q0JWeKUMTfaLHCy-5ZJYfbzo__3NSY6k4HRuAddSQMDDAn_yTG_sdowx3Wnm0RU5HpueFgKJt88t1c15b9KsquMLQk_jQEz8eh3lRAe6_2XElpY0Y1gYvjS0sCqkbhFxvRutM089_mn5mRY0SL950JHafUgpRsWQKjDRiLT9ZCQ8dS31L_wD3SzWY/s320/Springheel_Jack.png" width="276" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Despite the poor sprinting powers of Liverpool’s finest, the locals were more agile.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">One legend has it that on the final sighting of Jack, an angry mob chased him as far as Toxteth where he leapt over the reservoir and was never seen again. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The end of the story.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">*Or is it? He was most recently sighted near the border between Herefordshire and Monmouthshire during the 1980s. A Mr Marshall was slapped by a strange jumping figure that bounded away across open countryside, his eerie cackling echoing across the fields. In my defence, I wasn’t living in Monmouth at the time, though I remember experimenting with springs tied to my shoes as a boy. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">**With</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px;"> thanks to this excellent <a href="https://losttribeofeverton.com/street/william-henry-street/">site</a></span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://losttribeofeverton.com/street/william-henry-street/"> </a></span></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-emoji: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-emoji: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-emoji: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-2241756633413626772024-02-15T12:04:00.000-08:002024-02-15T14:14:41.769-08:00Mr Sludge<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The following short passage is taken from one of my ghost stories set in late Victorian England. All of the characters but one are fictitious. The ‘reveal’ directly follows:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">…. Miss Fiske nodded her head as one accustomed to doubt. “Ah we have a Voltaire amongst us; and yet had you been privileged to witness, as I have, the incomparable Daniel Dunglas Home floating from an upper-story bedroom window, passing with complete equanimity across a street seventy feet above—he raised his hat, sir, before re-entering his house by a sitting-room window.” Miss Fiske stared at each of them in turn. “A mystery most profound as is the Lord who allows such things.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“The problem is, <i>which</i> lord?” the bishop muttered in an audible whisper. Eleanor </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">sighed, sensing</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">another sermon coming on. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“This restless doubting; this endless search for meaning in a world capering on the edge of lunacy, truly reflects the emptiness of our Godless time. Where has our puerile faith in technology, progress and profit for profit’s sake left us? Our sweet Lord who for our sins died on a pagan cross is to be replaced by…table rapping?" The bishop sighed deeply. “This Gaderene rush towards that bleak precipice called progress…how many poor souls have been left behind, crushed beneath the wheels of mammon? How many souls, of the lower orders now find themselves embracing any and every ideology that may alleviate their situation…? How…” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Laura cut him off. “I have always tended to side with Mr Scrooge on such matters. It was he— correct me if I am wrong my dear Septimus— that dismissed the spirit of poor Marley as a piece of undigested beef.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The bishop considered the theological implications for a moment and allowed himself a tolerant smile. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“Is it only through trance that the spirits can be contacted?” Eleanor asked. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“The less gifted can of course avail themselves of the Planchette.” Miss Fiske shuddered delicately as if to suggest that such devices were little more than ethereal carving knives. “They are I believe quite popular amongst those for whom the other world is but a parlour game. Indeed, I do believe that there is now published ‘Spirit Rapping Made Easy.’” She shuddered again. “Can you imagine?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> “Consecration in Five Easy Steps, perhaps?” Eleanor smiled sweetly at the bishop then turned again to the still shuddering medium. “Yes, indeed I do sympathise, Miss Fiske.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Miss Philippa Fiske, though I wish otherwise, is fictional. Daniel Dunglas Home is not fictional, neither by all accounts was his ability to levitate at the drop of a hat.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid2lW_dqjsnuPRTICanWkbLgvlJBawrTlug12Ccc7kRkucKTRm-GYDgXBAhCI4HzqM12U83QGkaR_q4SeeBaJ26zqBjJDTjL_ncJrCzz1O0LDhl1d22ZRv4rFZQlp4gztfMBrM_9M7BmKM_S42C_a1acovvu5mO9CsOO7a8BM2LwnsVIRwFCd1wspGpESI/s313/home+1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="313" data-original-width="161" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid2lW_dqjsnuPRTICanWkbLgvlJBawrTlug12Ccc7kRkucKTRm-GYDgXBAhCI4HzqM12U83QGkaR_q4SeeBaJ26zqBjJDTjL_ncJrCzz1O0LDhl1d22ZRv4rFZQlp4gztfMBrM_9M7BmKM_S42C_a1acovvu5mO9CsOO7a8BM2LwnsVIRwFCd1wspGpESI/s1600/home+1.jpg" width="161" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">An intimate account of his powers was given by Princess Pauline Metternich in 1863 when with fifteen guests they sat around a table in a richly furnished room. “He was very pale,” the princess later wrote, “with light china-blue eyes, reddish hair thick and abundant but not inordinately long.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Sitting on an armchair, someway from the table, Home sank into a trance. Soon after, taps were heard, sounds came from the chandelier and a chair moved across the room. A posy of violets drifted across the room from the piano and landed on Princess Pauline’s lap.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Some guests felt unseen hands and sensed movement beneath the table. The lights were switched on, the tablecloth removed, and table and floor thoroughly examined. Nothing was found. Suitably impressed, they adjourned for afternoon tea. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://caasbrey.com/daniel-dunglas-home-magician-or-psychic/">Daniel Home </a>came from a family of seers but as a small boy emigrated to America in the care of his uncle and aunt. His gifts were quickly recognised, so much so he was kicked out of his aunt’s God-fearing home and thereafter spent his life moving from place to place. In August 1852, at the home of a Connecticut silk manufacturer, he levitated several times during a séance, on one occasion touching the ceiling. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFVU73QGAF1907EvfkVcw5f6eaoSZZV1aWQxc9umlWu-aygV3HwpqbdWzBQ0LLD0lmSWSWK6uo-NYXg-13Bh2gbOOzxw-NwEePDaA8S5rmjPjwREhRB9mNnn7pJ4I41UxGCU2H7OiOdeqbSl8U8LG1SjXO9PuoP_KPtvB6foDCGLxeMVJA583SWNfUS4x_/s347/Daniel-Dunglas-Home-levitation.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="347" data-original-width="245" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFVU73QGAF1907EvfkVcw5f6eaoSZZV1aWQxc9umlWu-aygV3HwpqbdWzBQ0LLD0lmSWSWK6uo-NYXg-13Bh2gbOOzxw-NwEePDaA8S5rmjPjwREhRB9mNnn7pJ4I41UxGCU2H7OiOdeqbSl8U8LG1SjXO9PuoP_KPtvB6foDCGLxeMVJA583SWNfUS4x_/s320/Daniel-Dunglas-Home-levitation.jpg" width="226" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Shortly after, he moved to England where he became a sensation. Lord Brougham, a former Chancellor and the scientist Sir David Brewer, witnessed a table lifting off the floor, an accordion and a handbell sounding without being touched. Despite a thorough investigation no trickery or rational explanation was found.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Between 1871 – 1873 the British scientist Sir William Crookes investigated Home’s ‘powers.’ On one occasion, he placed an accordion within an electrified cage to prevent tampering or fraud. The accordion sounded without Home touching the keys, and Crooke concluded that Home had genuine power.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Charles Darwin, too, was intrigued by Daniel Dunglas Home but was content to sit on the fence: “I cannot disbelieve Mr Crooke’s statement, nor can I believe in his result.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">One of his earliest fans was the poet Elizabeth Barret Browning. Both she and her husband, Robert Browning attended one of his seances in 1855 where ghostly hands placed a wreath of clematis on her head. Robert Browning, on the other hand despised the man, forbidding “this dungball” from his house and later writing a poem about him: “Mr Sludge, ‘The Medium.’”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Despite Robert Browning’s disapproval, <a href="https://www.americanhauntingsink.com/ddhome">Daniel Dunglas Home</a> was famous throughout Europe, conducting seances for Napoleon III of France, Tsar Alexander II and a ‘veritable who’s who of Victorian society.' He died in Paris in 1886 and was buried in the Russian cemetery in that city.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqOW0d3T5PHH2V9vjsQUZIRzyOuhnmO4gZpf9rn9e2SUXC8zEqdHYl9ivY-P2KLoeOQzm7wnJXZg46eWgwN-353VaDE0Zg949A0hvvHXlECovEFZnjnVvD7anmXzrq7K722svEmwFiBRsCU7BdrnYGOpkkgWCz5Kbcy5GAm67VN9XZcNBRTMg_GCCd4ZT3/s250/home%20grave.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="189" data-original-width="250" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqOW0d3T5PHH2V9vjsQUZIRzyOuhnmO4gZpf9rn9e2SUXC8zEqdHYl9ivY-P2KLoeOQzm7wnJXZg46eWgwN-353VaDE0Zg949A0hvvHXlECovEFZnjnVvD7anmXzrq7K722svEmwFiBRsCU7BdrnYGOpkkgWCz5Kbcy5GAm67VN9XZcNBRTMg_GCCd4ZT3/s1600/home%20grave.png" width="250" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-29532930281685226912024-02-09T04:29:00.000-08:002024-02-09T06:41:43.272-08:00Burford. Ghosts and Saints<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The A40 is one of my favourite roads, based in parts on an old Roman road and once <i>the </i>link between London and Fishguard. The stretch I find most attractive cuts through the Cotswolds en route to Oxford. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">We travelled it often and were always intrigued by the village of Burford twenty miles west of the dreaming spires. Recently, we took the left to Burford and spent an hour or two exploring it. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The village is typically Cotswold, one long street with some interesting pubs (could spend a happy day there) gift shops and tea rooms. Off the main street are several interesting lanes, a car park that floods when the river Windrush overflows, and a very impressive church: St John the Baptist.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbMMsyHD1FLRN2N0HGPXGgUL736sbl0FEGcSvYt12zmPWsUtYwjhdXNu_mT580IoEd6xYi6U0w5GJmjQ7SP0cl7DKasiHHtpWBmfIfZ0dPatWayx6IatPE8VuPXg81p5bX_8gL7-GAJZeX_LENiwm_Xa1QVqwxFAMitsLHOhINf-nJA9CIYe7D6S0dvXnh/s4032/burford%20road.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbMMsyHD1FLRN2N0HGPXGgUL736sbl0FEGcSvYt12zmPWsUtYwjhdXNu_mT580IoEd6xYi6U0w5GJmjQ7SP0cl7DKasiHHtpWBmfIfZ0dPatWayx6IatPE8VuPXg81p5bX_8gL7-GAJZeX_LENiwm_Xa1QVqwxFAMitsLHOhINf-nJA9CIYe7D6S0dvXnh/s320/burford%20road.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7evxrWs6nQDOCaj7Wza1_iMSY9d4-f0dX-_AhLJ1MZyrRA8sdjjHPqP_EMueEmJGZyPlL-X2FoNfFEf8eT4cKo64j-kFL5VPCQtjdTzWCNbT63l9XtSuomARGCXYMOCxUCogjZMyTdNsbWKDKijXCSohr-JDjZv2go-ve8xz9sx81fZOZjwnRjarP-9tU/s4032/empty%20burford%20road.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7evxrWs6nQDOCaj7Wza1_iMSY9d4-f0dX-_AhLJ1MZyrRA8sdjjHPqP_EMueEmJGZyPlL-X2FoNfFEf8eT4cKo64j-kFL5VPCQtjdTzWCNbT63l9XtSuomARGCXYMOCxUCogjZMyTdNsbWKDKijXCSohr-JDjZv2go-ve8xz9sx81fZOZjwnRjarP-9tU/s320/empty%20burford%20road.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7VsMnKzBvd86CK7JaPMPNDf_fAtAvkC4F7Btb38kml5zvjl_zTGYjYfbbXzAtZVjhNq7YOnfIc2mzfEu4BfNkKfAnAA40J6TqJDh3GvgYKRNVBRzv6z2w6MgjTg2x-uVB_9N6zi22b77T4Ij-2oNch3DwYuCx1rKGOJYh6VFDtMdRVX9uw_nMbZyNwGxF/s4032/church%20no%20lamp.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7VsMnKzBvd86CK7JaPMPNDf_fAtAvkC4F7Btb38kml5zvjl_zTGYjYfbbXzAtZVjhNq7YOnfIc2mzfEu4BfNkKfAnAA40J6TqJDh3GvgYKRNVBRzv6z2w6MgjTg2x-uVB_9N6zi22b77T4Ij-2oNch3DwYuCx1rKGOJYh6VFDtMdRVX9uw_nMbZyNwGxF/s320/church%20no%20lamp.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6yPr2hYUuYQgcA6QO95BmlhdwDRMrEtTuFfgDz1_ElYxI9SPJbr_hS5U8cV-jkdiFr21Q5mViuzVDLVo3KNi80Gs_dD0olFEHEHmM7j_rV_8_GqCTDzpyg_PVVeltBDRCsl6-9kjoxjaKtzdsnQovJYokJCUEWLbmSBo5c0skkiKJD9lxVyy9vkXr4Q6n/s4032/churchyard.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6yPr2hYUuYQgcA6QO95BmlhdwDRMrEtTuFfgDz1_ElYxI9SPJbr_hS5U8cV-jkdiFr21Q5mViuzVDLVo3KNi80Gs_dD0olFEHEHmM7j_rV_8_GqCTDzpyg_PVVeltBDRCsl6-9kjoxjaKtzdsnQovJYokJCUEWLbmSBo5c0skkiKJD9lxVyy9vkXr4Q6n/s320/churchyard.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Inside the church is a tomb, which illustrates the beautiful complexity of history—that of the 'establishment' as opposed to folk history. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> The picture below shows St Peter's Chapel, once the private pew of the local Tanfield family. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJfyYLAZGELAzicXpyT-Yys4F_-fXBvnIURSZFxR_IfIXBQpRKpddj39447kSAwwVSEp4VmhSVtprJyrntIwRcD95_2-rcZWVPSC953n6L7yH2bCvqbaWGBlFFeH5HYmfCGgiWrvQzvNVVlGTjPUZ1dpaJ5pzVSE8EV0z2xs_xUGkmzfcl1d7UQ8hyphenhyphen01El/s4032/crib%20scene%20in%20former%20privae%20chapel.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJfyYLAZGELAzicXpyT-Yys4F_-fXBvnIURSZFxR_IfIXBQpRKpddj39447kSAwwVSEp4VmhSVtprJyrntIwRcD95_2-rcZWVPSC953n6L7yH2bCvqbaWGBlFFeH5HYmfCGgiWrvQzvNVVlGTjPUZ1dpaJ5pzVSE8EV0z2xs_xUGkmzfcl1d7UQ8hyphenhyphen01El/s320/crib%20scene%20in%20former%20privae%20chapel.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">here hosting a Christmas Nativity scene</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQEf3KgIGsbrzY6wp4t-vC7-Ni2wxJY_pFOgqxV9cXTb2LgsmNNMj8vnOA-9KnKhR2leBsoXMZRpF6QgH6RFeJLgA-mES_uh-UN9fajz2jG7WZnCCtl8_blodU-bArbGt2T9TH1pFx4azMmFlKaKBoyL9MVxEqXkhQz2cprnEE3Ieq4BbLEBgG5TOv12JR/s4032/st%20doorthy%20close%20up.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQEf3KgIGsbrzY6wp4t-vC7-Ni2wxJY_pFOgqxV9cXTb2LgsmNNMj8vnOA-9KnKhR2leBsoXMZRpF6QgH6RFeJLgA-mES_uh-UN9fajz2jG7WZnCCtl8_blodU-bArbGt2T9TH1pFx4azMmFlKaKBoyL9MVxEqXkhQz2cprnEE3Ieq4BbLEBgG5TOv12JR/s320/st%20doorthy%20close%20up.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">A close up of the chapel altar, </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Hmx-XmLddJqbuQU87WRYHdvcrVM5xOtrfIhirMB56qkokJwdzIjljVNP-A7lTukTvhfNBg0176PP7VBfDFIp1GSyWXxq_9KNHcRrPytOJV75tsH_707gxs10knXfo59cRrZ47ia8bCRTl8OG07LkgG_ICby6kpSBAaCctbhdOs5E_uRuNteQtBnj4rj7/s4032/Infor%20st%20dorothy%20iand%20St%20perer's%20chaperl%20.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Hmx-XmLddJqbuQU87WRYHdvcrVM5xOtrfIhirMB56qkokJwdzIjljVNP-A7lTukTvhfNBg0176PP7VBfDFIp1GSyWXxq_9KNHcRrPytOJV75tsH_707gxs10knXfo59cRrZ47ia8bCRTl8OG07LkgG_ICby6kpSBAaCctbhdOs5E_uRuNteQtBnj4rj7/s320/Infor%20st%20dorothy%20iand%20St%20perer's%20chaperl%20.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="text-align: center;"> And a fascinating history of St Dorothy, whom I'd never heard of before.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">For me, the centre piece of the church was not the high altar or the strangely arranged chairs in place of pews</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvNT5VnhFIVsFUXpEcX7SzCae0G8Eymgu7NDfC4zHCG7XPQOgGlLyl4hfeeGq9Fh5yZ3Q2QFqiTPJ1yjuJHfg4Aqlo5MafYEdmsL5VaII7Ig_cHnwqF3bnU7peHONOUJuZ_5UqHCrmM7xJDlSLJcz-_9RTADUBYomcmzBETvXN2n3zSS0o4xNrqmc3CRS_/s4032/nave%20disjointed%20and%20altar.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvNT5VnhFIVsFUXpEcX7SzCae0G8Eymgu7NDfC4zHCG7XPQOgGlLyl4hfeeGq9Fh5yZ3Q2QFqiTPJ1yjuJHfg4Aqlo5MafYEdmsL5VaII7Ig_cHnwqF3bnU7peHONOUJuZ_5UqHCrmM7xJDlSLJcz-_9RTADUBYomcmzBETvXN2n3zSS0o4xNrqmc3CRS_/s320/nave%20disjointed%20and%20altar.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">but the gorgeously ornate tomb of Lord and Lady Tanfield. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOt65u1FnG_TghhndtcHCUsSk-VzlF8SHaBpraA2cNlgtNBeZhiltXgzJlmqlybSa1sHjnehx76g6aldau7HINNbEwuaoXlVkl40BffzEwI8bzURtI9j3-1YIlBwiJg92HIvnbhaBh1BkCYQgnelM9mSRrP-R1g-3M9RsyKXVFVZQELlQPKl8veSC4iNaR/s4032/tomb%20and%20label.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOt65u1FnG_TghhndtcHCUsSk-VzlF8SHaBpraA2cNlgtNBeZhiltXgzJlmqlybSa1sHjnehx76g6aldau7HINNbEwuaoXlVkl40BffzEwI8bzURtI9j3-1YIlBwiJg92HIvnbhaBh1BkCYQgnelM9mSRrP-R1g-3M9RsyKXVFVZQELlQPKl8veSC4iNaR/s320/tomb%20and%20label.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">At the head of the tomb is a coloured sculpture of their only child, Elizabeth Tanfield. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXtjOv0DxiCBT4mqzpT9R49Djqht9GwghuThBBK8GdgNLWnwag4xImEEpqVZKG7XobOjFMOkFYQC9LsV1UfNTsZ4XUdDgyCzv3oFFFTqn_j27r5WMrG-ar9BFtV9zgOCRL47_CbEUF9RjJwbWHgd0ZnZTCd4-_LgspV5WIR-jMJfNQwWpUVQ64sIi9dd6J/s4032/Tomb%20head%20and%20child.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXtjOv0DxiCBT4mqzpT9R49Djqht9GwghuThBBK8GdgNLWnwag4xImEEpqVZKG7XobOjFMOkFYQC9LsV1UfNTsZ4XUdDgyCzv3oFFFTqn_j27r5WMrG-ar9BFtV9zgOCRL47_CbEUF9RjJwbWHgd0ZnZTCd4-_LgspV5WIR-jMJfNQwWpUVQ64sIi9dd6J/s320/Tomb%20head%20and%20child.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5bcVAPF9dZQ2Soql6nLVP0QR6fFLF4tEXssJlrqvtOm6X2GzJxvDPCRhFiTrY0UBy-SJHT8h-ymZptGs9Q-t-W01f5sfKFQvZYPb_qaZ8gkSLa4jbJmiowm3fSReqy-7U1QOkJXcegzYrAtLZNBljlSN80DKgXMlmz3M02ZyL4VV8-stHtGIgZmsWnaWe/s4032/tomb%20profiles.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5bcVAPF9dZQ2Soql6nLVP0QR6fFLF4tEXssJlrqvtOm6X2GzJxvDPCRhFiTrY0UBy-SJHT8h-ymZptGs9Q-t-W01f5sfKFQvZYPb_qaZ8gkSLa4jbJmiowm3fSReqy-7U1QOkJXcegzYrAtLZNBljlSN80DKgXMlmz3M02ZyL4VV8-stHtGIgZmsWnaWe/s320/tomb%20profiles.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">At the foot of the tomb is Elizabeth's son, Lucius Carey</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd0yAU-Dcxsb32WOIEGzJMpJxCs2qneqbl50Q33epg4iluMR2OTugg0eGMAzOFky6MguiCooxZDs0jZZl9JjyuAcLOV7qTIyf9gENYYRmDihPf0nnLBOT1zm8YbCQsVLQcSiWP5tS-uIe_wZsRSnkWiknN3vomeFbLTrH4k6irhisae8ui6ZvCed1eL-Yt/s4032/Tomb%20%20feet%20and%20child.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd0yAU-Dcxsb32WOIEGzJMpJxCs2qneqbl50Q33epg4iluMR2OTugg0eGMAzOFky6MguiCooxZDs0jZZl9JjyuAcLOV7qTIyf9gENYYRmDihPf0nnLBOT1zm8YbCQsVLQcSiWP5tS-uIe_wZsRSnkWiknN3vomeFbLTrH4k6irhisae8ui6ZvCed1eL-Yt/s320/Tomb%20%20feet%20and%20child.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">And here is what the tomb says of Lawrence Tanfield</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgckJ-08oTA57H5-kk4CC0a6AqqfGGTUIhXAW4tKKAI09VL1zvrWgeM9u8evt98PMa1ZH5_oz-iTM8lr9EtK-pi13oa8UHc2dFlZAkm9Vwift5jAFvW-TDt8dTEyVfObq_LvMKA_AjX3WOdUSLlh8g38OS6qbJV5Nkj_aZS0Ue4aCqVvnQfceouqf6PNjse/s4032/INFO%20as%20picrure.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgckJ-08oTA57H5-kk4CC0a6AqqfGGTUIhXAW4tKKAI09VL1zvrWgeM9u8evt98PMa1ZH5_oz-iTM8lr9EtK-pi13oa8UHc2dFlZAkm9Vwift5jAFvW-TDt8dTEyVfObq_LvMKA_AjX3WOdUSLlh8g38OS6qbJV5Nkj_aZS0Ue4aCqVvnQfceouqf6PNjse/s320/INFO%20as%20picrure.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Clearly, the man was a saint—</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">an establishment panegyric that would however cut little ice with St Peter. In reality, as a leading Treasury official, Sir Lawrence Tanfield was notoriously corrupt, and both he and his wife were hated as harsh and exacting landlords. Not a whiff of that here.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Soon after their demise, according to<a href="https://www.darkoxfordshire.co.uk/explore/the-wicked-tanfields-of-burford/"> local folk lore</a>, a fiery coach carrying the two of them could sometimes be seen flying through the streets and lanes of Burford—those unfortunate enough to see it cursed on the spot. The legend may have arisen years after an earlier tradition that began after their death—the burning of their effigies by the local people. Mercifully, the curse of the fiery coach carrying the two malevolent sprites ended after an exorcism. During it, the local vicar captured the ghost of Lady Tanfield and placed it into a bottle, which he promptly corked and threw into the river Windrush. During droughts, so desperate were the locals to prevent the bottle ever surfacing, they would attempt to fill the diminishing river with buckets of water. The question though arises, what recourse did they have when the river flooded?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEIzKPOr0tukq6Ze-mjHuhCoLvo4F_ysfPc2ig4Q1Uo8qFBLA-yZpM_yjj4JokmHcZMRWWyQM652Np0DTjiXcOqWHeEnCtYifIdgLgtkV0IrjGj__39GkfTw5goCP4optTI1h1Nb9CSw1lU9uTCbUQk3dZ8yOFUqfvCTO-K4l9jDzGm4qt-wQWRZJLEQLf/s640/windrush%20flood%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEIzKPOr0tukq6Ze-mjHuhCoLvo4F_ysfPc2ig4Q1Uo8qFBLA-yZpM_yjj4JokmHcZMRWWyQM652Np0DTjiXcOqWHeEnCtYifIdgLgtkV0IrjGj__39GkfTw5goCP4optTI1h1Nb9CSw1lU9uTCbUQk3dZ8yOFUqfvCTO-K4l9jDzGm4qt-wQWRZJLEQLf/s320/windrush%20flood%201.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As it did when we were there. Our car is out of picture to the right, and we had to paddle out of the carpark.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAyP16mIPNzHTn_OFZC8oHItOGLnocI5FBn5jfPurSauUi-7sRrX5utOvEgE_t1F7VSmpGiIvDoJKt1RyWGaFW1L4LFH1rr4ckyBbfGSWl1MQCpGQ-pxtjiQ7-7rDTxNSHMYfVl9Egn3Y_oLehO3GyrcaZLqYlvFcHBpxEVObfy9Vk_7s8S0vTUc1Xfi-h/s640/windrush%20flood%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAyP16mIPNzHTn_OFZC8oHItOGLnocI5FBn5jfPurSauUi-7sRrX5utOvEgE_t1F7VSmpGiIvDoJKt1RyWGaFW1L4LFH1rr4ckyBbfGSWl1MQCpGQ-pxtjiQ7-7rDTxNSHMYfVl9Egn3Y_oLehO3GyrcaZLqYlvFcHBpxEVObfy9Vk_7s8S0vTUc1Xfi-h/s320/windrush%20flood%202.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Not everything about the family was bad. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Their only child,<a href="https://www.monstrousregimentofwomen.com/2015/09/elizabeth-cary-poet-and-playwright.html"> Elizabeth,</a> was something of a prodigy, her talent nurtured by her parents. She was forbidden candles, unless it was to read by night; a French tutor was hired when she was five years old and in just over a month she was speaking fluent French. From there she went on to learn Spanish, Italian, Latin, Hebrew and Transylvanian. At fifteen, she was contracted in marriage to Sir Henry Carey, and when her new mother-in-law told her she was not permitted to read, she developed a gift for poetry instead—in between having eleven children. When, in Ireland, her eldest daughter Catherine saw a vision of the Virgin Mary on her deathbed, Elizabeth converted to Catholicism shortly after. As a result she was banned from court, her father disinherited her, her husband tried to divorce her, and when her four daughters also converted to Catholicism, they were taken from her. Elizabeth however fought back. The boys had been put in the care of her eldest son, Lucius, a staunch protestant. She instigated their escape and led by example. By the time of her death in 1639 six of her children had followed her into the Catholic Church, four of them becoming nuns. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Elizabeth's son, Lucius was a gifted intellectual who took an active part in the turbulent politics of the day. He fought for the king, whilst despairing at the intransigence of both sides and was killed at the battle of Newbury. There, his body was stripped and left until recognised by a servant and taken home and buried in an unmarked grave in the village church yard of Great Tew—which we have yet to visit.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-6537278170515404732024-02-02T09:19:00.000-08:002024-02-02T09:40:31.382-08:00'I am marrying a womb'<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Josephine appeared in Napoleon’s life in 1795 when he was starting off as a soldier. Six years older, she was looking for a man with prospects. It’s fair to say she struck gold with Napoleon; the future Emperor of France, perhaps, less so. It was, in the early days, a love match—for Napoleon at least. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Separated by his invasion of Italy, Napoleon makes his feelings clear: “Since I left you, I have always been sad. My happiness consists in lying with you. I constantly recall in my memory your kisses, your tears, your kind jealousy.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">During their marriage, and in between conquering most of Europe, Napoleon wrote 265 letters to Josephine. Josephine’s letters are in single figures—perhaps because as some argue, she was never in love with the man. Having got what she wanted, Josephine was too busy enjoying life, whilst her husband was fighting for the glory of France. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Eventually Napoleon suspected that all was not right:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> “I had hoped to receive a letter from you, and your silence plunges me into a horrifying uneasiness. I beg you, do not leave me any longer in such uneasiness . . . How can you forget the one who loves you so ardently? For three days, I am without a letter from you, and yet I have written to you many times. The absence is horrible, the nights are long, tiresome, and insipid.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Discontent turns to anger. 1796:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> “I no longer love you. On the contrary, I detest you. You are a wretched, clumsy, rude woman. You do not write to me . . . you do not love your husband. What do you do all day, Mademoiselle? What important business takes up your time to write to your good lover? What affection suffocates and makes you forget the love, the tender and constant love that you have promised him. Who can be this prodigious new lover who absorbs all your moments?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Campaigns in Europe and Egypt saw them drift farther apart. Josephine continued to ignore him, and Napoleon’s love turned to indifference. When Josephine realised she had all but lost her meal-ticket she sought her inner ‘Stepford Wife;’ it was too late. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj70YjXPYwrGb9eSyVP1omt-urledNogIfiIp7SiT5AbYC3TzC3hokpuQm-AIfFJmBhTko30E1OI3Cqeqfl0U8p1hEZe9JC_8l6L19uXOFD5chwgWLCA2fehpXlHHjIvZqji4KD4nJyJG-aESknAaGX8e-55kN73i_3ySL3kcJXUkVC-oA-JdHu8uS72dR5/s2599/josephine.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2599" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj70YjXPYwrGb9eSyVP1omt-urledNogIfiIp7SiT5AbYC3TzC3hokpuQm-AIfFJmBhTko30E1OI3Cqeqfl0U8p1hEZe9JC_8l6L19uXOFD5chwgWLCA2fehpXlHHjIvZqji4KD4nJyJG-aESknAaGX8e-55kN73i_3ySL3kcJXUkVC-oA-JdHu8uS72dR5/s320/josephine.jpeg" width="236" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Josephine, looking less than happy with her new title of Empress. </span><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The tragedy behind the </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">expression is that by this time, she couldn't have children andgive Napoleon the all important child. In 1796 she contracted either chlamydia or gonorrhoea and developed salpingitis which led to infertility.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Irrespective of fertility, Josephine's behaviour as described above gives context to Napoleon's rather cold letter shown in the previous post, and possibly shows Napoleon in a more sympathetic light. Having said that, Napoleon sacrificed both Josephine and the Countess Maria Waleskwa in the interests of real-politick. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">In 1810 he divorced Josephine and put Maria on hold in Italy—in some degree of luxury—in the interests of a dynastic and more ‘respectable’ marriage. In his own words, 'I am marrying a womb.' </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The lucky woman was Marie Louise, daughter of the Holy Roman Emperor and, ironically, the great niece of Marie Antoinette. Napoleon proved an attentive and considerate husband but the marriage was relatively short.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-GnXn4xYXuNQmXwx_o80Imba6jkV9bVugMhpm5ktZNrnKxmCUC16rEJPoBJOeHYARWpN0duhONlTOS_zFuAKENIS02UALwfOiZoE7l3uYt8tOqGe1dXOY-cvhyeRXfsRgONF_-xpM6E4Bb3MbfwPoUe3T_9clRxTb7bHvP4pYwiJt4433RnbFm7_qkfQV/s547/Marriage-of-Napoleon-Marie-Louise-Rouget-detail.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="547" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-GnXn4xYXuNQmXwx_o80Imba6jkV9bVugMhpm5ktZNrnKxmCUC16rEJPoBJOeHYARWpN0duhONlTOS_zFuAKENIS02UALwfOiZoE7l3uYt8tOqGe1dXOY-cvhyeRXfsRgONF_-xpM6E4Bb3MbfwPoUe3T_9clRxTb7bHvP4pYwiJt4433RnbFm7_qkfQV/s320/Marriage-of-Napoleon-Marie-Louise-Rouget-detail.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: left;"> The wedding of Napoleon and Marie </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; text-align: left;">Louise</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVn1mi7M1qEv9TJeqSbBoS2JeE36dJ6tkPMzp8W4i1XwLrvKAUQVBPG9hNJXUapJiINWx8Ne6wxbWZvuEKb-ksG0VBCMcsuyczHJNwBkZ48QtEht82Jl2RmuhmqenkI_rWmBiZ4mKCzvb_yApnpJD42YVfH0hRWmHLNVbee_7ZeDfm8VjIvqiL9gy2rMF8/s994/Marie_Louise_von_O%CC%88sterreich_Napoleon_Zweite.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="994" data-original-width="855" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVn1mi7M1qEv9TJeqSbBoS2JeE36dJ6tkPMzp8W4i1XwLrvKAUQVBPG9hNJXUapJiINWx8Ne6wxbWZvuEKb-ksG0VBCMcsuyczHJNwBkZ48QtEht82Jl2RmuhmqenkI_rWmBiZ4mKCzvb_yApnpJD42YVfH0hRWmHLNVbee_7ZeDfm8VjIvqiL9gy2rMF8/s320/Marie_Louise_von_O%CC%88sterreich_Napoleon_Zweite.jpg" width="275" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><div style="text-align: center;">Marie Louise, Duchess of Parma after Napoleon's exile, with her son. He had 'married a womb' and she had delivered, and thereafter had a better life than Napoleon.</div></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">When her family saw which way the wind was blowing after his first exile to Elba, they made every effort to separate them. His defeat at Waterloo clinched the deal. Marie Louise, daughter of the Holy Roman Emperor and great niece of Marie Antoinette, did not accompany him in his St Helena exile. Her family made sure of it. Husband and wife never saw each other again. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">For me, the end of a journey from a random page in The Letters of Napoleon The rabbit hole continues, if you find yourself intrigued by the relationship between<a href="https://courses.lumenlearning.com/suny-hccc-worldhistory2/chapter/napoleons-marriage-to-marie-louise/"> Napoleon and Marie Louise. </a> Alternatively try <a href="https://shannonselin.com/2016/04/marriage-napoleon-marie-louise/">here. </a>Wishing you a safe and happy journey. <o:p></o:p></span></p></div>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-83153724445086123962024-01-26T07:01:00.000-08:002024-01-26T10:50:27.798-08:00Not tonight Josephine<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I was dusting some books and, as though mysteriously directed, pulled out an old Everyman edition of the <i>Letters of Napoleon</i> bought in a Swansea second hand bookshop some fifty odd years ago. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDrdy4omCad6iYrry9cgHHbjSm-9eGXfOODUFkAnRsgXKrjKyVaGjdFurCEQmlfVvCUyoSI5YXdWDyKgB0ALxIedCfPpr-9cAV1XHZ7URUUhYukhC-SlE5xgr7ldFceMUffWBWx5EcQpGAKR63fpf8CfROcxx-8EA3iB_a6we69WUiN5wEWKfHfVWWCXe4/s4032/IMG_9527.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDrdy4omCad6iYrry9cgHHbjSm-9eGXfOODUFkAnRsgXKrjKyVaGjdFurCEQmlfVvCUyoSI5YXdWDyKgB0ALxIedCfPpr-9cAV1XHZ7URUUhYukhC-SlE5xgr7ldFceMUffWBWx5EcQpGAKR63fpf8CfROcxx-8EA3iB_a6we69WUiN5wEWKfHfVWWCXe4/s320/IMG_9527.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFoekblwFnezWkKu3yrpT3Iiv9gI-XsSX9xo_BqQqjAlu1sKrjeDaL_Z4cWFWsH37AL886VxCBaTBzN_Inx1ySoJh6RTnkcBXtfw3idyGkuGf6O7SX3VOSQIW8624VvFAiCU_SHr6CszJfyhZtbnSQ5CBmmGTLRXMCJU5_OeSx3a0hdzyILaYltCAgq0a6/s4032/IMG_9526.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFoekblwFnezWkKu3yrpT3Iiv9gI-XsSX9xo_BqQqjAlu1sKrjeDaL_Z4cWFWsH37AL886VxCBaTBzN_Inx1ySoJh6RTnkcBXtfw3idyGkuGf6O7SX3VOSQIW8624VvFAiCU_SHr6CszJfyhZtbnSQ5CBmmGTLRXMCJU5_OeSx3a0hdzyILaYltCAgq0a6/s320/IMG_9526.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I turned a random page and was hooked. Is it just me, or does is this small sample make for compulsive reading?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>To the Empress (His wife, Josephine)<o:p></o:p></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>Warsaw23rd January 1807</b><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I have received your letter of 15 January. I can’t possibly allow a woman to undertake the journey here. The roads are too bad —unsafe, and deep in mud. Go back to Paris; be happy and cheerful and perhaps I will come soon. Your remark that you married a husband to live with him makes me smile. I thought, in my ignorance, that the wife was made for the husband, and the husband for the country, the family, and glory. Forgive my ignorance. There is always something you can learn from the fine ladies of today. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Good-by, my dear. Remember how much it costs me not to let you come. Say to yourself, it shows how much he cares for me.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><b>N</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">There is so much to unpack in this letter, none of it entirely favourable in today's present climate. What do you get from it?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">And if you read <i>this </i>letter, written at the same time, you begin to understand Napoleon’s reasons for discouraging a marital visit. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>To Madame Walewska<o:p></o:p></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>Warsaw Jan 1807</b><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I saw no one but you, I admired no one but you. I want no one but you. Answer me at once, and assuage the impatient passion of<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>N</b><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Didn’t you like me, Madame? I had reason to hope you might . . . Or perhaps I was wrong. Whilst my ardour is increasing, yours is slackening its pace. You are ruining my repose! Ah! Grant a few moments’ pleasure and happiness to a poor heart that is only waiting to adore you. Is it so difficult to let me have an answer? You owe me two. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>N</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">There are times — I am passing through one now—when hope is as heavy as despair. What can satisfy the needs of a smitten heart, which longs to throw itself at your feet, but is held back by the weight of serious considerations paralysing its keenest desires? Oh, if only you would!. . . No one but you can remove the obstacles that keep us apart. My friend Duroc will make it quite easy for you.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Ah! Come! Come! You shall have all you ask. Your country will be dearer to me, once you have had pity on my poor heart. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>N</b><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Marie, my sweet Marie, my first thought is of you, my desire is to see you again. You will come again, wont you? You promised you would. If you don’t, the eagle will fly to you! I shall see you at dinner—Our friend tells me so. I want you to accept this bouquet; I want it to be a secret link, setting up a private understanding between us in the midst of the surrounding crowd. We shall be able to share our thoughts, though all the world is looking on. When my hand presses my heart, you will know that I am thinking of no one but you, and when you press your bouquet, I shall have you answer back! Love me, my pretty one, and hold your bouquet tight!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>N</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoQNK_04ljduX7ZbMHtAcm4QiNnh4vyOgjrZC8VsBSgWFtXPxmLmWD_J6ARAZcqcCbK3q0IAHyBMbzLbUKZtH04XERtsn-NoBFRWKq9QnX0BxNMLXzka8le1NFiKTg4mQNPFFL8NewH81OXsfJHYHMs4PF5n5KdOuR5-UsNn_-Q64lnxtP_9Q0HBgzZEt1/s1919/Marie_Laczinska_(1789-1817)_comtesse_Walewska,_puis_comtesse_d'Ornano.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1919" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoQNK_04ljduX7ZbMHtAcm4QiNnh4vyOgjrZC8VsBSgWFtXPxmLmWD_J6ARAZcqcCbK3q0IAHyBMbzLbUKZtH04XERtsn-NoBFRWKq9QnX0BxNMLXzka8le1NFiKTg4mQNPFFL8NewH81OXsfJHYHMs4PF5n5KdOuR5-UsNn_-Q64lnxtP_9Q0HBgzZEt1/s320/Marie_Laczinska_(1789-1817)_comtesse_Walewska,_puis_comtesse_d'Ornano.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>Maria Walewska</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Maria Walewska was the young wife of an elderly Polish noble, and in some lights, she might be seen as a sexual pawn. After the death of her father, Maria’s seven debt-ridden brothers along with their mother faced poverty and ruin. At eighteen, she was <i>persuaded</i> into marriage with the 68-year-old Count Athanasius, Count Colonna-Walewski and all was well, prosperity was restored.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkH2_JQyzapHbz12VrY2ggtRD6sIzsAWN_B5T5-QOhrYNnpbl3jMu0ErTY-Q-xTiN4pKFOX1lACStvIwzeJBgJp3ka3kPhTw3GrxdbtD6J1rq1NLV_7GNRAXLBQF7aK3OrwD_JK37YDxU3Au4JigmM-oREFje3S6yPPG9uPsudLVOHpo1OhlUYDgphgqzx/s1076/Napoleon_I_of_France_by_Andrea_Appiani.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1076" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkH2_JQyzapHbz12VrY2ggtRD6sIzsAWN_B5T5-QOhrYNnpbl3jMu0ErTY-Q-xTiN4pKFOX1lACStvIwzeJBgJp3ka3kPhTw3GrxdbtD6J1rq1NLV_7GNRAXLBQF7aK3OrwD_JK37YDxU3Au4JigmM-oREFje3S6yPPG9uPsudLVOHpo1OhlUYDgphgqzx/s320/Napoleon_I_of_France_by_Andrea_Appiani.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>Napoleon </b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">She met Napoleon for the first time in 1806 – a brief encounter during a change of horses at a coaching inn. So impressed was he with her conversation, he engineered a reunion at a <a href="https://www.google.com/search?sca_esv=601739216&sxsrf=ACQVn0-PRzzdPLER45B07VMtUulJeRe9ow:1706281093884&q=countess+walewski&tbm=vid&source=lnms&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwi3jvOzqPuDAxUfVUEAHX2lAXgQ0pQJegQIDBAB&biw=2131&bih=1021&dpr=2#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:9348fcd6,vid:9-m9bpGoH_c,st:0">Warsaw ball</a>.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">History then repeated herself, perhaps more significantly. This time, instead of seven cash-strapped brothers to help out, it was the future of Poland—depending upon who you believe. Certainly, a section of the Polish aristocracy, seeing Napoleon’s growing attraction for her, encouraged Maria to play along. Within weeks she was all but his mistress, was with him at Finckenstein in 1807, Paris in 1808 and 1810, at Vienna in 1809, and she even visited him in his first exile at Elba. The two were blessed with a son, Count Florian Walewski, born May 11<sup>th</sup>, 1810. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">After Napoleon’s exile to St Helena in late 1815, she married her lover Count Philippe Antoine d’Ornano in 1816 </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPfRJRO36qymWFzpYGpCkZBf0_qfLm8vnvcozeTeNo0sKriQOjctR6oWdGI-ot8eBK0A8pQrnnsdvmkQPmgSA8IWtykqukp6OubHMThmZuV9H4u_Sh-1eaAZ6mjXZIT3b4SCHPPM919WEgj_R7knMzvaDvU9dhyphenhyphenRnaXjlFYtq_rzi7KxoMbnwKHjTzDbdH/s604/Philippe_Antoine_d'Ornano_(R._Lefevre).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="604" data-original-width="493" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPfRJRO36qymWFzpYGpCkZBf0_qfLm8vnvcozeTeNo0sKriQOjctR6oWdGI-ot8eBK0A8pQrnnsdvmkQPmgSA8IWtykqukp6OubHMThmZuV9H4u_Sh-1eaAZ6mjXZIT3b4SCHPPM919WEgj_R7knMzvaDvU9dhyphenhyphenRnaXjlFYtq_rzi7KxoMbnwKHjTzDbdH/s320/Philippe_Antoine_d'Ornano_(R._Lefevre).jpg" width="261" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">and died in 1817 after kidney complications following the birth of their son. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">In her memoirs, she sought to put the record straight and thus restore her respectability. Writing about her relationship with Napoleon: ‘The sacrifice was complete. It was all about harvesting fruit now, achieving this one single equivalence (convincing Napoleon to support Polish independence) which could excuse my debased position. This was the thought that possessed me. Ruling over my will it did not allow me to fail under the weight of my bad conscience and sadness.’ <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Being a romantic, I’m persuaded it was more than that. She wasn't just lying back and thinking of Poland.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Even so, it adds weight to Napoleon’s observation …. ‘Battles against women are the only ones that are won by running away.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCRRDQR65Ft5hBPZqrl28XF53tCCTWJ4lU-LrCdLbV3uOPL_-h-CC3QvhmJgxRGlD_TTFxguDJZJJz-LWv53mQ9JeKV9gAPf_uJeDiF587JywS5x0v-EeKHrAZsCxDfdQTTnnrgl4MrR7NWLOnFztiqLgKyHKGhstNF7_0ESiSwPRhbLfpsqRhXCzNr21-/s1666/napoleon%20on%20hourse.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1666" data-original-width="1400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCRRDQR65Ft5hBPZqrl28XF53tCCTWJ4lU-LrCdLbV3uOPL_-h-CC3QvhmJgxRGlD_TTFxguDJZJJz-LWv53mQ9JeKV9gAPf_uJeDiF587JywS5x0v-EeKHrAZsCxDfdQTTnnrgl4MrR7NWLOnFztiqLgKyHKGhstNF7_0ESiSwPRhbLfpsqRhXCzNr21-/s320/napoleon%20on%20hourse.jpeg" width="269" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> Josephine coming up next week.</span></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-6343857913315221422024-01-18T04:16:00.000-08:002024-01-19T11:40:47.113-08:00The Prisoner<p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The Old Woman and the Mystical Whale did me precious little good in Saguenay. It was there I came down with Covid. I tried to brush it off, I’ve had worse – a small, dry cough and an over-moist nose: irritating but that’s all. Yes, okay, tired too. But the brains of the outfit insisted something was wrong when she noticed I had lost my appetite, too. I bent to her instincts and more to prove her wrong than anything else, contacted the medical centre.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Within moments I was diagnosed and the ship went into security over-drive (with one obvious weak link.) Our cabin door was sprayed from the outside, mercifully no cross daubed with dripping red paint. The Prisoner in Cabin X. If there had been an iron mask somewhere, I'd have been in it. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">There was a thin silver lining: free wi-fi and a vague promise that I might be allowed out for a spot of fresh air if masked and properly supervised. Little did I know what that entailed.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The day following, I had something worse than Covid: cabin fever. I was drowning in prison movie cliches, pacing my cell to maintain optimal fitness, doing press-ups, shaving my head, investing in tattoos, practising hard stares and the occasional dead-pan snarl. Gradually a more chilling vision dominated. This is what a care home would be like, an elderly Keyton responding with Pavlovian eagerness to room service bringing in food. My worst fears came true when I found myself watching a Spice Girls documentary on TV without knowing why.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I tried the stiff upper lip thing— “Worse things happen at sea, as my dad used to say.” —only for my wife to point out that we were at sea. I’m still trying to think of a rejoinder. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">A day later, my wife who up until then had been allowed her freedom (the weak link mentioned earlier) also came down with Covid. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">More forceful than me, she demanded access to fresh air. Hours later there was a furtive knock at the door. Two masked men stood outside, one with a disinfectant spray and a large cloth. We were ushered out into the corridor, one leading the way the other conducting a bizarre balletic dance behind us with spray and cloth. It put me in mind of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uj-U45zUxP4">‘Curling’ </a>— the back to front version. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">They led us to an empty luxury cabin with its own balcony where we were allowed to breath in buckets of North Atlantic air, as we headed for Belfast and ultimately home two or three pounds heavier.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-24864198433456064382024-01-11T08:15:00.000-08:002024-01-12T12:15:58.139-08:00Myth and Religion<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVUTleY6_3gz2nXlRP5FhyphenhyphenKc0VffJ8P9SB-gamxXvnhTL9x0rWEIGaY_h2lgjPSgwUUjzECJ-iFdD677-vb19miEsXyxgUMX85Z-tbxsrdonAx0nKH3Iy6OL7i6iWBm0I124molcbygtmG_MBD13NWfOV33G6ahRc6iL9nebjWVsLftRnQlaPjcUvT_1lP/s4032/sag%20good%202EIC.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVUTleY6_3gz2nXlRP5FhyphenhyphenKc0VffJ8P9SB-gamxXvnhTL9x0rWEIGaY_h2lgjPSgwUUjzECJ-iFdD677-vb19miEsXyxgUMX85Z-tbxsrdonAx0nKH3Iy6OL7i6iWBm0I124molcbygtmG_MBD13NWfOV33G6ahRc6iL9nebjWVsLftRnQlaPjcUvT_1lP/s320/sag%20good%202EIC.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVu4uQVA_iT5Xj_g2mYHhGw5UASbs278FV0JVt6ioVH12RRMGcHV6K7h94Ljhb9Y9Qi0iZ08OPceK7G110iged1qjbGYMw9XOB_O2V83elzYL2emuchUnUxo4mIM9Y5Sr-gF064rE7U5AL3pRI1fay-z57b4uYoGjMRg6Yfq6MoJcCqdqq73Ho36ker3Q2/s4032/sag%20good.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVu4uQVA_iT5Xj_g2mYHhGw5UASbs278FV0JVt6ioVH12RRMGcHV6K7h94Ljhb9Y9Qi0iZ08OPceK7G110iged1qjbGYMw9XOB_O2V83elzYL2emuchUnUxo4mIM9Y5Sr-gF064rE7U5AL3pRI1fay-z57b4uYoGjMRg6Yfq6MoJcCqdqq73Ho36ker3Q2/s320/sag%20good.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The St Lawrence was beautiful. Squint and you might glimpse red coats and blue coats still fighting it out.</span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">But we were about to enter</span> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Saguenay Fjord, and the weather mysteriously changed. </span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGBc61MslKRoWPmO1MR8HQ2_6vv0_8W49qZc1NG1qfdh2R9ioYLnQPYeGJw9Sr9xkCLDZjPoxJmduMNMEdozyv2Gfp5ijFODZ61RPAeI5Eot9IuyDK8IFea0bA1U1UQ37MT8GLHr4NX_lWpulYVu0LnwImlovJbmCaVkftuCWj7Zewr2yoyjxqJ_Mul3Z2/s4032/IMG_9175.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGBc61MslKRoWPmO1MR8HQ2_6vv0_8W49qZc1NG1qfdh2R9ioYLnQPYeGJw9Sr9xkCLDZjPoxJmduMNMEdozyv2Gfp5ijFODZ61RPAeI5Eot9IuyDK8IFea0bA1U1UQ37MT8GLHr4NX_lWpulYVu0LnwImlovJbmCaVkftuCWj7Zewr2yoyjxqJ_Mul3Z2/s320/IMG_9175.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGmue_hxVdQUtc0w6l1FDNQCx9pd_yiuNReOwNXl4MVK0I8c0Z9sdlqJ2SAnQgoIb7yXUvnkNHVNWND5U42tilEi2XwIIgOOrJPFj1q8ihK6gJdK4m5J29G4_39EOnCDxqFi70FM2fQCgyn_nz8PhnZP-1Oospl4Dp3fZuCZL2d5iCMODyHuCTS77pbmUD/s4032/IMG_9201.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGmue_hxVdQUtc0w6l1FDNQCx9pd_yiuNReOwNXl4MVK0I8c0Z9sdlqJ2SAnQgoIb7yXUvnkNHVNWND5U42tilEi2XwIIgOOrJPFj1q8ihK6gJdK4m5J29G4_39EOnCDxqFi70FM2fQCgyn_nz8PhnZP-1Oospl4Dp3fZuCZL2d5iCMODyHuCTS77pbmUD/s320/IMG_9201.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7PZREe0kDaZJxo0S8pY8Geyx_yqP7QE5LFJRb5bbb_OPc0yVlQo3OiE5d06p34CH4ECkZ7OXfTyVif6qp9f8NucjSZiI3MId64DZRnNKNdhfwByIE8TIQtF67vdJhILX2j25-oD_ik6BvANJq6X29pN-fhZrLCl6XG_iG8t2AnUSDkA2GGk-ercJv9yjR/s4032/sag%20dark%20ominous.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7PZREe0kDaZJxo0S8pY8Geyx_yqP7QE5LFJRb5bbb_OPc0yVlQo3OiE5d06p34CH4ECkZ7OXfTyVif6qp9f8NucjSZiI3MId64DZRnNKNdhfwByIE8TIQtF67vdJhILX2j25-oD_ik6BvANJq6X29pN-fhZrLCl6XG_iG8t2AnUSDkA2GGk-ercJv9yjR/s320/sag%20dark%20ominous.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">As we sailed along Saguenay fjord, which is just off the St Lawerence, I was struck by its emptiness, even monotony. How many photos can you take of forested cliffs with no differentiating features? I tried and was each time disappointed. None would pass muster in an identity parade. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikGkzoD_OajTWmw-1jcsy425uftzJFb2WNXpo0xcPl-eSHaab8Vr9cT0x7KxHZ-2quEwV6AXFCwwz6YnITAlGvasPavwOTxPFNVW7b2jh191HaClMNl4mMXGfLEXwsCbiK7cb_D2So2fobpTfhx7FbF3aKTQHMnL8YIbzlPPvPRhVyJjdJZ0kCiRYBoVWi/s4032/empty%20sag%203.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikGkzoD_OajTWmw-1jcsy425uftzJFb2WNXpo0xcPl-eSHaab8Vr9cT0x7KxHZ-2quEwV6AXFCwwz6YnITAlGvasPavwOTxPFNVW7b2jh191HaClMNl4mMXGfLEXwsCbiK7cb_D2So2fobpTfhx7FbF3aKTQHMnL8YIbzlPPvPRhVyJjdJZ0kCiRYBoVWi/s320/empty%20sag%203.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvY_GOpktLdUZRIvqT4QzknQ2r75Opv0ZwXHRP0Wt-UGlkZhMCGO4OFLXKXm6dh08mxVWxX1ONoOiASfMRH1ddt6QVO4UPVwbvvTp53CQx-gNh9rU-ToprLdUPQyBmIZ9qSfoSw_5D_gMOBvTUtF06Vp1PZ_sicvvSx-zlMl_R8sJPbgMJhUicTWN0OIF_/s4032/empty%20sag%20perfectIC.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvY_GOpktLdUZRIvqT4QzknQ2r75Opv0ZwXHRP0Wt-UGlkZhMCGO4OFLXKXm6dh08mxVWxX1ONoOiASfMRH1ddt6QVO4UPVwbvvTp53CQx-gNh9rU-ToprLdUPQyBmIZ9qSfoSw_5D_gMOBvTUtF06Vp1PZ_sicvvSx-zlMl_R8sJPbgMJhUicTWN0OIF_/s320/empty%20sag%20perfectIC.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoqaOa3Ss9U1BqZrjyc0qTPzDVNlqHkVbItjN6iA2DTOMOVP_XPWoGDmY2yyZ0gQhaTpdlE-6A-RTU_w4_urbE_P1aPA06lgT6ov9Mth7J0tapuN-YUa9zfhLAlwQmpr_0EyAWg_UX6HWWxU1jB_qnals4XNBjZSnsXgD2apWIwUjZYR1p6zwYACmWZEuY/s4032/cliff%20face%20good.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoqaOa3Ss9U1BqZrjyc0qTPzDVNlqHkVbItjN6iA2DTOMOVP_XPWoGDmY2yyZ0gQhaTpdlE-6A-RTU_w4_urbE_P1aPA06lgT6ov9Mth7J0tapuN-YUa9zfhLAlwQmpr_0EyAWg_UX6HWWxU1jB_qnals4XNBjZSnsXgD2apWIwUjZYR1p6zwYACmWZEuY/s320/cliff%20face%20good.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Below, I tried to convince myself that the water in someway mirrored the rock</span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGj42sUp9_Nzp9ywQkbO7gR8i0YuGQHKV73CPAxw_F00-YHUT-zQsNKHyw2JCAxPJ7Jh-p3m7zf32w8ghvalsQ1dSL_SrTXv8au1bUWCPzFTC5wGcrFIDbdN74vGOqC_qszMdjfMb2jUpGRRvNqTp2WtbIo7iFHr1Ltmn5QC7S8VbGJ0clC2ls8BXYuTcD/s4032/rock%20reflected%20in%20water.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGj42sUp9_Nzp9ywQkbO7gR8i0YuGQHKV73CPAxw_F00-YHUT-zQsNKHyw2JCAxPJ7Jh-p3m7zf32w8ghvalsQ1dSL_SrTXv8au1bUWCPzFTC5wGcrFIDbdN74vGOqC_qszMdjfMb2jUpGRRvNqTp2WtbIo7iFHr1Ltmn5QC7S8VbGJ0clC2ls8BXYuTcD/s320/rock%20reflected%20in%20water.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Port or starboard, the same overwhelming emptiness.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJxpQXed2BTmTI2KG6VVXSAkQQvbo97lgadZQlvOfaxG7sv3QKHqd-L9G-WheqVcVKep_MakRoB-HgYSD4ctZKhr98uQEopk5yiCFWS_zkZZjcLnheSkdBGOk0ULKhb9T7xQdQij6bPOCJiCFFIMI9uo5W1rxexnRAJrv1pUM4WBsQAuNa5bskd2n8Rs3U/s4032/sag%20port%204r.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJxpQXed2BTmTI2KG6VVXSAkQQvbo97lgadZQlvOfaxG7sv3QKHqd-L9G-WheqVcVKep_MakRoB-HgYSD4ctZKhr98uQEopk5yiCFWS_zkZZjcLnheSkdBGOk0ULKhb9T7xQdQij6bPOCJiCFFIMI9uo5W1rxexnRAJrv1pUM4WBsQAuNa5bskd2n8Rs3U/s320/sag%20port%204r.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEVmFecxZwBlmmQfhinw3-GCgfaBxgjDOdO7ySweMGDyRAZI32bo7SQFfkREdwN7tTwnHCJOJr16Lf8KWRHKBvXXarWubraEhwV6v1mLeAOr2k6yVlXF478ACChwFDLFCTBQjK5sjbEAQZLoCjAIcccQ2bTkBHkII_UIvDXw9iVojNJCBb4NU_2qrGtYj2/s4032/port%20good.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEVmFecxZwBlmmQfhinw3-GCgfaBxgjDOdO7ySweMGDyRAZI32bo7SQFfkREdwN7tTwnHCJOJr16Lf8KWRHKBvXXarWubraEhwV6v1mLeAOr2k6yVlXF478ACChwFDLFCTBQjK5sjbEAQZLoCjAIcccQ2bTkBHkII_UIvDXw9iVojNJCBb4NU_2qrGtYj2/s320/port%20good.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">And yet.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Nature abhors a vacuum, as does the human spirit. The Saguenay fjord teems with fish, its shores densely forested and rich in game, but the overwhelming impression is of a vast and virgin wilderness – one filled with native myth, overlaid later by French colonisation and an imported religion.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">An early native legend is that of the White Whale, one that housed a powerful and benevolent spirit. Those who reported seeing it talked of a majestic and otherworldly creature, serene and pure white. For them, it was the spirit guardian of the river and surrounding forests. It’s been seen many times over the years, each sighting supposedly marking a significant event.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSg0AbUKrVn8MplhFJeAFn1dViWWL52x275yirU911VczALxRHIkW-JDHgesB6CPoXE5OqnKHP-gGTeKb6ASiQ2TaGyixmgWmdAqeLvNkF-EkCHPdfdrht8fgOb3b1agdFBCjWP5YqwtfHvSbuA3_Dbkeetj-3OfzTxEUWMO5fVX0go7J6UO1QF6ZhNDid/s4032/omionus%20alloofEIC.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSg0AbUKrVn8MplhFJeAFn1dViWWL52x275yirU911VczALxRHIkW-JDHgesB6CPoXE5OqnKHP-gGTeKb6ASiQ2TaGyixmgWmdAqeLvNkF-EkCHPdfdrht8fgOb3b1agdFBCjWP5YqwtfHvSbuA3_Dbkeetj-3OfzTxEUWMO5fVX0go7J6UO1QF6ZhNDid/s320/omionus%20alloofEIC.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Here was a likely spot for a whale, even an old woman in a canoe</span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">A related spirit is that of the ‘Old Woman of the Fjord,' depicted as a wise and elderly woman who, like the whale, guards and preserves the purity of both wildlife and wilderness. Both myths reflect the native reverence for a natural world that sustained them.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Some years after the French arrived the tradition was continued, though in religious form and epitomised by the Statue of Our Lady of Saguenay. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX37eFi8Yjjt8KxzPJV3m_GuWsiCGncbzsdgz8fRPsp5QZeByPNPJwGqJSCZDInz6hsolSeBIbxAlKk7Z58ofT2rrP4pJByC-5LepIs1ibgCmpBvYG5RfhEAlp-pFl4zq4_FcbsZDFHjwUZWxDLfRl3HW7gjBhZJfZuVw_ys1Su0dh1Zs25NaH2SrDzdjG/s4032/OUR%20LADY.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX37eFi8Yjjt8KxzPJV3m_GuWsiCGncbzsdgz8fRPsp5QZeByPNPJwGqJSCZDInz6hsolSeBIbxAlKk7Z58ofT2rrP4pJByC-5LepIs1ibgCmpBvYG5RfhEAlp-pFl4zq4_FcbsZDFHjwUZWxDLfRl3HW7gjBhZJfZuVw_ys1Su0dh1Zs25NaH2SrDzdjG/s320/OUR%20LADY.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The statue is over thirty feet tall and shows Mary embracing the valley with her arms outstretched. It’s both religiously important as well as a tourist attraction, and has the added advantage of being more accessible than the Old Woman or the Whale. I saw it at least, but not, alas, the Old woman or the Whale.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Just lots of trees</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYnut3GndsabTtVgKry7N08viBeDvmMzq_-lazz1VR9OjhTF90ErMWmXOFKHeQGQEGzaxGcAYELnRPDj9V_2bkL7SYfaHF5kzsVNvRNegducn9L3rmTSkMPy86EbfHr11qCSypLb5MwHS_mgoETnM2T8hpSVj76KKN5GHATQYl2YbRTdfL143JHhkIWFTi/s4032/OUR%20LADY%20GOING%201.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYnut3GndsabTtVgKry7N08viBeDvmMzq_-lazz1VR9OjhTF90ErMWmXOFKHeQGQEGzaxGcAYELnRPDj9V_2bkL7SYfaHF5kzsVNvRNegducn9L3rmTSkMPy86EbfHr11qCSypLb5MwHS_mgoETnM2T8hpSVj76KKN5GHATQYl2YbRTdfL143JHhkIWFTi/s320/OUR%20LADY%20GOING%201.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw4O1khw064tBl1s1u2rEMNASZLoQQPnhOl8LscJBHjMf_2m6Fq6ZoryI_kjo3LUL96AmZYrsbZo2aFL4BVYtFaSK0ZI2tu8nrZKfSVIrbg5u1VKhK43DivoeUzJNgxeHYOCIYWIuZcenLyLM_zHuWI-OXsLmryBzQjrHSLA4WIgUTgTEHcAZ_Gfm5wY1C/s4032/OUR%20LADY%20GOINGIC.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw4O1khw064tBl1s1u2rEMNASZLoQQPnhOl8LscJBHjMf_2m6Fq6ZoryI_kjo3LUL96AmZYrsbZo2aFL4BVYtFaSK0ZI2tu8nrZKfSVIrbg5u1VKhK43DivoeUzJNgxeHYOCIYWIuZcenLyLM_zHuWI-OXsLmryBzQjrHSLA4WIgUTgTEHcAZ_Gfm5wY1C/s320/OUR%20LADY%20GOINGIC.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-35839557395575541632024-01-05T09:42:00.000-08:002024-01-05T11:35:59.209-08:00Life and Death<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">When I was a child I remember going to Blackpool on a number of occasions. To our left, as we walked along the front, was sky and sea, invariably drizzly and grey. To our right were long terraces of old-fashioned Boarding Houses, all with big windows. One in particular I remember. It revealed a cosy breakfast room and tables clothed in white linen and silver. The lighting was subdued, pink; and it appeared truly magical, like nothing I’d ever seen before. And it was this lure, I’m sure, that attracted ‘regulars’ to Blackpool, year in and year out. It was perhaps a northern thing, dating from a time when factories closed for holiday weeks; there were special trains, and holidays were almost a communal activity. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I was reminded of this on the ship with the realisation we had become part of a cult. The ‘cruise cult.’ There are cults within cults, in this case that of Fred Olsen or ‘Fred’—referred to in reverent whispers. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">People spoke in quiet pride of the number of cruises they’d been on, some happy to stay on the ship having been to these places before. Like the northerners that once flocked to Blackpool, they liked what they already had. Why change a good thing. We’re talking about people on their fifteenth or eighteenth cruise—far better than any care home alternative—speaking of which, they should just give the care home franchise to Fred. He’d make a far better job of it. Assign their pensions to Fred and be done.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">It's foolish to generalise or cast judgement. Every person has their own story. One lady in her eighties ruefully described her knee and hip replacements and upcoming shoulder surgery, the amount of metal in her, and how airport security alarms bleeped from a mile away. She’d booked five cruises for the upcoming year. In her case the impetus to cruise was not just making the best of things, before she became totally immobile. It also reflected a lifetime of adventuring. As a child she’d experienced the Liverpool blitz and grown up amidst bombsites. In 1957 she bought a Vespa and with a friend drove all the way to a Paris largely untouched by the war. The beauty of a foreign city had proved an eye opener and prompted a life-long wanderlust. Age shouldn’t, and in her case hasn’t ended an adventurous spirit, even if cruising is now the only way it can be released.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Another lady, from Kenya, had travelled all the way from Africa to Liverpool for this particular cruise because she had always wanted to cross the Atlantic to Canada. This lady came from what you would call ‘good stock.’ She had a thousand-yard stare, the kind that examined your soul as you talked. It’s one the of secrets of the Royal Family and the aristocracy in general, an ability to rivet you with a gaze as though what you were saying was the most important thing in the world at that moment. It’s a neat trick, even if at that <i>particular</i> moment we were talking about chocolate eclairs. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I’ve mentioned the feuding ukulele players, but I mustn’t forget the Irish travellers. They constituted of a patriarch who spent most of his time in the bar getting drunk, and glammed up young ladies, one of whom had a baby in tow. They never got farther than Newfoundland. One account has it that at St Johns they went on the rob, stuffing their loot into the baby’s pushchair. The police were waiting for them at the port and the ship sailed off without them.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">And then there was Fred Olsen himself—the actual Fred—a thin ninety-two-year-old man walking with the aid of sticks. He was on board, but I failed to spot him amidst the multitude of elderly gentlemen leaning on sticks. Even so, it was interesting that the owner or other members of the family regularly sail on their own ships and so sample customer experience first-hand.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Our final passenger was ‘Death.’ The first indication manifested itself in two nurses rushing a bent-up figure in a wheelchair down a long corridor enroute to the Medical Centre. <i>We</i> were enroute to the restaurant and our evening meal. A moment or two before dessert—pavlova, my wife had the apple tart—a tannoy switched into life, along with a sombre request for ‘a stretcher party’ to attend the Medical Centre. Speculation was rife, but we had seen the first manifestation, and there was of course only one destination after the Medical Centre when a stretcher is called for.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Being a simple soul, I assumed they’d commandeer a fridge and imagined how over the next few days they keep pushing the ice-cream and sorbets to make space. Later I discovered cruise ships necessarily have their own morgue capable of carrying up to three bodies, more on the very large ships. A cheery thought. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Though usually close to the medical centre, some can be situated near food fridges as the photo below shows. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVrTNNxekbdc1Jn5tBF1zvGeJu6Z2lGyIDvlgLBeeI7WcERgRcaivQX-GrceRasQDHHJvQCYbetGmotnX6AHlOSxDmiowNDtELEEmpA7w4PKvwWPW40KvtSEFV5rSIbHJFJAxOU-2WrsQOyEy53zsJ0T5MlM02mu2SmU93dYjEjSPqV0Yfjy588QWzBEnr/s1080/morgue%20and%20fridges.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="607" data-original-width="1080" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVrTNNxekbdc1Jn5tBF1zvGeJu6Z2lGyIDvlgLBeeI7WcERgRcaivQX-GrceRasQDHHJvQCYbetGmotnX6AHlOSxDmiowNDtELEEmpA7w4PKvwWPW40KvtSEFV5rSIbHJFJAxOU-2WrsQOyEy53zsJ0T5MlM02mu2SmU93dYjEjSPqV0Yfjy588QWzBEnr/s320/morgue%20and%20fridges.webp" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">There was of course life outside the ship—and also an absence of it. Whether it was Baie-Comeau, Trois Rivieres, or Saguenay, we were struck by the absence of traffic. Normally you have to wait some time before you can take a photo without the ubiquitous white van. Here you can almost walk on the road with your eyes shut, assuming there's room in the ship's morgue.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXsShzB20hl-BsI8oleWbV_VeVhKLKrXWByFsoKcVNF7IDJT6qPjHZvD_wXbt5ov_colarPGUipQYd0N1coE6kXcjsRMRa2e5ldelIAwSrV-WZByfUiggBFu_gSmeh20ZGJTox2zCJ41WqAJ1tqplYYQmZ44nQbNgxyj_0H35vwH92_VmeB3o-PWnANjhn/s4032/IMG_9127.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXsShzB20hl-BsI8oleWbV_VeVhKLKrXWByFsoKcVNF7IDJT6qPjHZvD_wXbt5ov_colarPGUipQYd0N1coE6kXcjsRMRa2e5ldelIAwSrV-WZByfUiggBFu_gSmeh20ZGJTox2zCJ41WqAJ1tqplYYQmZ44nQbNgxyj_0H35vwH92_VmeB3o-PWnANjhn/s320/IMG_9127.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiebJhdAXXxcBIp0sxldx0EXKWrSj0MA3a96ekW6YeII9MIWikMi5aDb8LN-DjolJPVdD8KIogaP3XrWRvh-sP-VFf-O_nkR8XmC4npNNiq8LfZdY_VzY1pFUEfNjHGAV1PMFVji8TrEALhCI3vVtkGUZY4IZXwm_1tzCKWtDI1MSv6nvZMD5qEkViX0cF/s4032/IMG_9129.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiebJhdAXXxcBIp0sxldx0EXKWrSj0MA3a96ekW6YeII9MIWikMi5aDb8LN-DjolJPVdD8KIogaP3XrWRvh-sP-VFf-O_nkR8XmC4npNNiq8LfZdY_VzY1pFUEfNjHGAV1PMFVji8TrEALhCI3vVtkGUZY4IZXwm_1tzCKWtDI1MSv6nvZMD5qEkViX0cF/s320/IMG_9129.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVm3k2Oi53QhGh74TlJYNohRa_tLfWJTt83w-xtqOeQPcU1nATu2XKhJBUlYCgGYkc9-SQsJAgYNGX6OpsjwcMeCND5ba64BiNqFXsuVV5shgu7iqfuQ9a33l8JUnQ1rMCUFxnbFnaPwqO8mO1I87p8M5Gx5hWKhH21zkOail07bOWriY46zrK9yaLp8fk/s4032/IMG_9130.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-6817804206997250332023-12-22T07:25:00.000-08:002023-12-22T13:26:42.060-08:00The Fall of Quebec<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNWKKoeH5a76yN5HVWCwLuyD0x4X7UpC8hgPtYPKWJ0nB3TDybCEPt0n2gRYfcD42-3wWbqss3b6pT_r-W-BPmKBU08UxQwCe6hyphenhyphenzZy3AHIR4t1BxV_h3tzlNTLTjMu0WAmHcZQttB81U0eksmFCqocAAtSlRNuOKSLNpKbtkv5_DptNov-nVOnOGuQzV-/s600/wolfe%20colour.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="600" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNWKKoeH5a76yN5HVWCwLuyD0x4X7UpC8hgPtYPKWJ0nB3TDybCEPt0n2gRYfcD42-3wWbqss3b6pT_r-W-BPmKBU08UxQwCe6hyphenhyphenzZy3AHIR4t1BxV_h3tzlNTLTjMu0WAmHcZQttB81U0eksmFCqocAAtSlRNuOKSLNpKbtkv5_DptNov-nVOnOGuQzV-/s320/wolfe%20colour.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>James Wolfe</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I was taught by history teachers who knew a good story would hook small boys and girls. It worked with me and those I subsequently taught. Though no longer fashionable, History abounds in stories of great men; occasionally women, but that then was the nature of things. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">My heart sank whenever I had to teach economic history. It was hard to get excited about the Spinning Jenny or Arkwright's Water Frame, and the exploitation of women and children, the grime and the smoke was just plain depressing. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS90oV-UCMtkc3bm9MkfYsg25Cu-sSayrdDYMWy0n6qPCS4PQpOW95yob203Jr_7JJYpfnK_N94gX6y-aLu2b0IaN4-UH-grQIWNQULqAib4yUGEbaHBK-CcMDw7DFf3PckC24zBAfWsKx8uezFsgbNMIg0_YmVpCwJqT0m4oH-oCKY88OLZfbmklua2Kw/s800/wolfe.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="800" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS90oV-UCMtkc3bm9MkfYsg25Cu-sSayrdDYMWy0n6qPCS4PQpOW95yob203Jr_7JJYpfnK_N94gX6y-aLu2b0IaN4-UH-grQIWNQULqAib4yUGEbaHBK-CcMDw7DFf3PckC24zBAfWsKx8uezFsgbNMIg0_YmVpCwJqT0m4oH-oCKY88OLZfbmklua2Kw/s320/wolfe.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><b><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>A popular engraving of James Wolfe. He was young, just sixteen when he fought at Dettingen, a bare nineteen when he fought at Culloden.</b></div></b><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">No. Give me adventure. And on a grand scale. The struggle for world domination between Britain and France. There was Clive of India of course, but we weren't in India. We were up the St Lawrence facing Quebec, and I was trying to imagine the red and blue uniforms of C18th soldiers; vivid pinpricks lost in the immensity of the Canadian landscape, forests and hills.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">James Wolfe was just 32 years old when, in 1759, he was put in charge of 5000 men and charged with taking Quebec from the French. Wolfe was an experienced soldier, having fought at<a href="https://www.nam.ac.uk/explore/battle-dettingen"> Dettingen,</a> (1743) Culloden, (1746) and Louisburg (1758). His opponent, Louis Joseph de Montcalm, led a significantly larger though less well-trained force. In June 1759 a British force sailed down the St Lawrence and set up camp on the Île d'Orleans directly facing the apparently impregnable Quebec. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlk2QF9rUcg-PtRiYEAGAM8kbmpeWAmMI9by8y83XOY63Src9sWQ1DbsKLp01EiZGqF6d_ri9jgWVbXqFvAuhYs6seAnQ9R41MnUH7qntbPeQeNagTieDihN_grNjmpWfqWwxxYdQaZes2bxAnlAeED6xUdhX204M-IYrlE8rmCYyKQ6vOiLxFgkQux0Wg/s1920/quebec%20painting.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1920" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlk2QF9rUcg-PtRiYEAGAM8kbmpeWAmMI9by8y83XOY63Src9sWQ1DbsKLp01EiZGqF6d_ri9jgWVbXqFvAuhYs6seAnQ9R41MnUH7qntbPeQeNagTieDihN_grNjmpWfqWwxxYdQaZes2bxAnlAeED6xUdhX204M-IYrlE8rmCYyKQ6vOiLxFgkQux0Wg/s320/quebec%20painting.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Painting of Quebec</b></div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: justify;">Wolfe’s first attack in July was repulsed with heavy losses. Wolfe next attempted to force Montcalm’s hand by attacking neighbouring French settlements and farms. The attacks seriously reduced French supplies but failed in their objective in luring out Montcalm, and time was running out for the British. Disease was rife, winter was approaching, and Wolfe himself fell seriously ill. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: justify;">In a letter to his mother, Wolfe wrote: “The Marquis of Montcalm is at the head of a great number of bad soldiers, and I am at the head of a small number of good ones that wish for nothing so much as to fight him; but the wary old fellow avoids any action, doubtful of the behaviour of his army.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4M97Rd8dPeuCLU51F9vFZJqZpZyySnzXdYt1LhjzSsUxScRfHeSZ69fAsjfDHp27YJepYhJ5xqOWIf1b1Lo_67zi8UIdb06KFvgxqq6S3wq2c7ZKOrBS_IUIJOlNPMXiwFcjQf34Ywn78xLPn-BNYbpMlMZr1WIU9bRaTGUXkBcJWTgFYxFlwU30Uvgd3/s4032/IMG_9177.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4M97Rd8dPeuCLU51F9vFZJqZpZyySnzXdYt1LhjzSsUxScRfHeSZ69fAsjfDHp27YJepYhJ5xqOWIf1b1Lo_67zi8UIdb06KFvgxqq6S3wq2c7ZKOrBS_IUIJOlNPMXiwFcjQf34Ywn78xLPn-BNYbpMlMZr1WIU9bRaTGUXkBcJWTgFYxFlwU30Uvgd3/s320/IMG_9177.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">At last, a hidden path was discovered up a170-foot cliff two miles upstream from Quebec.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Colonel William Howe crept up it at night, leading a small detachment of men and captured the small French garrison that guarded it. The way was now open for the main British force of 5000, men which deployed themselves on the Plains of Abraham. Wolfe organised them in a shallow horse-shoe formation about half a mile long and two ranks deep. The French rushed out to attack and made the mistake of firing when barely in range. The British waited until the last moment and fired. They advanced a few paces farther and fired again. The effect was devastating and the French fled in disarray. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Both Montcalm and Wolfe lost their lives in the battle but Quebec was taken—but for how long? Winter had set in forcing the British navy to retreat before the St Lawrence iced over. The now poorly supplied British garrison barely survived that winter but survive they did. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3SrTQNnlr9kOMEzdLRtVj51AdGzs4w4QiDmQ48JCaODd6sSwT-ezkSoP1leM6j82oPId-jri-ZoCnQlTqW-VQ4VMxhfoec2v4jJxJSMnNo6Ivjagkp2MSF_fnU6ypAgt6L_mdKVK2OO54PdZSBPrG-IGH3qHO1rU76ilRFzMJplj3-KqtOqaXRcFhjyfU/s600/wolfe%20death.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="600" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3SrTQNnlr9kOMEzdLRtVj51AdGzs4w4QiDmQ48JCaODd6sSwT-ezkSoP1leM6j82oPId-jri-ZoCnQlTqW-VQ4VMxhfoec2v4jJxJSMnNo6Ivjagkp2MSF_fnU6ypAgt6L_mdKVK2OO54PdZSBPrG-IGH3qHO1rU76ilRFzMJplj3-KqtOqaXRcFhjyfU/s320/wolfe%20death.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p>The dying Wolfe surrounded by his devoted officers. The cult of James Wolfe swept the nation illustrated by the jug below, one of many mementoes of the event purchased up and down the country. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ivtRXwzSp-Cr_volS9M8rEsNuzwSPxeGAnpf0anXlLWXUxp4QW-VMjXDuw4CtGmkGKxZSMDrr2vNlztUKDYhFV0OpKqLUmwblj6zkeeZBPgAGtLXtJ54SytPxClfz6_wJq4-ltBVCQ-8gxxB8cJ5YeeAqVty0UA3NVw4V-YcpKvVHLRh942_5RUzEhBJ/s600/wolfe%20jug.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="600" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ivtRXwzSp-Cr_volS9M8rEsNuzwSPxeGAnpf0anXlLWXUxp4QW-VMjXDuw4CtGmkGKxZSMDrr2vNlztUKDYhFV0OpKqLUmwblj6zkeeZBPgAGtLXtJ54SytPxClfz6_wJq4-ltBVCQ-8gxxB8cJ5YeeAqVty0UA3NVw4V-YcpKvVHLRh942_5RUzEhBJ/s320/wolfe%20jug.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The new British governor of Quebec, James Murray, pursued an enlightened policy, ensuring the good behaviour of his troops—to women in particular, and cooperating with the Jesuits in maintaining good relations with the French speaking populace. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6SGS0zHRt8zSDf2GVqYDhF2ET9eoFUhNyf7Bg_oW9vP6lZwI4lUZGF0Ul9SrX36F2J8jCxbIxbRgLVCUaYBHK0GucpHa4nBmNYJUVDbXDhMNqmuvRVk0YxDN40W7O6Ij7YWkBHu-Dv_wAf5ULuFJrqOCaQEa8AdkiJhbwz2e4uoucZy1p7p39oZmkogsN/s505/Portrait_de_Me%CC%80re_Marie_de_l'Incarnation.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="505" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6SGS0zHRt8zSDf2GVqYDhF2ET9eoFUhNyf7Bg_oW9vP6lZwI4lUZGF0Ul9SrX36F2J8jCxbIxbRgLVCUaYBHK0GucpHa4nBmNYJUVDbXDhMNqmuvRVk0YxDN40W7O6Ij7YWkBHu-Dv_wAf5ULuFJrqOCaQEa8AdkiJhbwz2e4uoucZy1p7p39oZmkogsN/s320/Portrait_de_Me%CC%80re_Marie_de_l'Incarnation.jpeg" width="253" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">The Ursuline sisters were equally cooperative</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">. Their monastery housed the new British regime and, in exchange, was supplied with food and supplies, which prevented starvation. The present day Quebec is very much a reflection of what took place a bare three hundred years ago</span></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-88431950252860213192023-12-15T04:09:00.000-08:002023-12-15T08:35:00.869-08:00Quebec<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">After a hearty breakfast of kippers and scrambled egg, we hit Quebec, exploring the lower town by ourselves in the morning and embarking on a more arduous organised tour in the afternoon. The lower town is distinctly European, a network of narrow streets packed with tourists. (A Viking cruise ship was berthed close to ours.) Dodging bodies and competing camera angles we explored as much as we could, </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">bought our souvenirs and looked forward to the organised tour, which proved excellent.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkn3k8g7koaKu-b9EzB7tGsfGce4GNcfGrIZBFHOplXB0s_nAxowXS6eqRg4bxfLpJvRdQkaHGzgyRDDex3S3pZGTrf4BUm0HYsMY0HLETWoq8C3oS_AyN5Zs2tr_uCKaJrukri2ehBoaMCb-I7XmEdN3JbQkYO4u7NZrRmp0X2bcryRIOA28teKvelJy/s320/quebec%20from%20harbour.HEIC" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 238); color: #0000ee; text-decoration: underline;" width="320" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Quebec, brooding, mysterious and waiting to be explored.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsWfB3jnJM0lk_Ov72pgAmiU-h3S96ib47q2Lwei3Y6CgVEiWid_nL5vG4C6swd8rm0nlCPqmqMMCzW1vlvTl26_7SFB1r9hywAMtdpeZQhOTPaI0lgMGj9m6O79XFfKx10FeEpmLZGc-V_fmp4TK5Awo1edEY6TWRlvIpsAmirvQ-qE_UyajcacuZN-Zb/s4032/lower%20town%20umbrellas%20and%20hotel%20no%20face.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsWfB3jnJM0lk_Ov72pgAmiU-h3S96ib47q2Lwei3Y6CgVEiWid_nL5vG4C6swd8rm0nlCPqmqMMCzW1vlvTl26_7SFB1r9hywAMtdpeZQhOTPaI0lgMGj9m6O79XFfKx10FeEpmLZGc-V_fmp4TK5Awo1edEY6TWRlvIpsAmirvQ-qE_UyajcacuZN-Zb/s320/lower%20town%20umbrellas%20and%20hotel%20no%20face.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A street in Quebec leading to . . . . umbrellas</div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1BlOLy6Dgt1O5ZQyJ1B79_WLZBWjbf-5MYxdC7pUoXni7ajEsc4vlQCbl_lDNRTm25OTswQ2Y2Frv5F6Ck1t83CyeGTqi6u_-Yym2QBPIN8Q5mKVMBwlOZLrkoPMCwhp68Mvl17_WuDHqs4gPecj_aPLFH4ZDdbXNC6GGQF_H2VDYtaEYXqH4FEFwFIyS/s1024/umbrella%20street.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1BlOLy6Dgt1O5ZQyJ1B79_WLZBWjbf-5MYxdC7pUoXni7ajEsc4vlQCbl_lDNRTm25OTswQ2Y2Frv5F6Ck1t83CyeGTqi6u_-Yym2QBPIN8Q5mKVMBwlOZLrkoPMCwhp68Mvl17_WuDHqs4gPecj_aPLFH4ZDdbXNC6GGQF_H2VDYtaEYXqH4FEFwFIyS/s320/umbrella%20street.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9loKrs4kH5oEAkgh-ue_iOaQarzSGTJuCPKbjj03hR4YTakE_C6bcYObI_ObdLmt4n9qwkTIOn5GHV8AYqzP_owTp2tQs7ZpzKn9IX6sSu4ndRqFQItdYxtSy6t7MDKJqcY6qimE6nekN_IQFON9o423hUTq5VZYlWkcYPk2ZNyv5KxlghF-5An8E83Cp/s4032/Steps%20leading%20to%20knowhere%20.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9loKrs4kH5oEAkgh-ue_iOaQarzSGTJuCPKbjj03hR4YTakE_C6bcYObI_ObdLmt4n9qwkTIOn5GHV8AYqzP_owTp2tQs7ZpzKn9IX6sSu4ndRqFQItdYxtSy6t7MDKJqcY6qimE6nekN_IQFON9o423hUTq5VZYlWkcYPk2ZNyv5KxlghF-5An8E83Cp/s320/Steps%20leading%20to%20knowhere%20.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;">Now this irritated me. Stairs leading to nowhere. The number of tourists who climbed up hopefully and walked down baffled. No wonder the bloody French lost Quebec. Quixotic only goes so far—along with Poutine.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9YX9Ym8eK-sFGSq30WEOpE6oAJ_FUaNaKbFw-R-AZjQN-yygyh7JXIYQ6_SVnkNrtQCW1t2siyj4DymIYq3ov4hCRgKdQOx9szUgURfd0QnIL1YO3U5P6GQKpjTwTb-aPY4kC5fqEiwXGwxYxXH1J14-qk6IIlpXl70NdbvVpaR_Jc62AVijsIuJko1Uh/s1024/Poutine.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9YX9Ym8eK-sFGSq30WEOpE6oAJ_FUaNaKbFw-R-AZjQN-yygyh7JXIYQ6_SVnkNrtQCW1t2siyj4DymIYq3ov4hCRgKdQOx9szUgURfd0QnIL1YO3U5P6GQKpjTwTb-aPY4kC5fqEiwXGwxYxXH1J14-qk6IIlpXl70NdbvVpaR_Jc62AVijsIuJko1Uh/s320/Poutine.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Quebec is distinctly French and in the afternoon our guide, excellent in every respect, reflected this as she took us through the lower town and up the startlingly steep funicular to the upper town. So much history packed into one place.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKDMpWtXndJLqdXK1Qs3RTh4RWUZ_J75lVznocDEC3iFcfvgVJXXs4Y6wW6fTQ-uWRatWI7IpmLDkj9JJWhfjSGGxpu-fDFNHYQf5zO5yyJuDXhb9984G1UIyVTE0k0lLuTjPRBJ74Y1NFmnZMwPu86ujljkkeTKFF2qeAk-38jtaX5eGEDg8ZGi5ik6V7/s4032/champlain%20good.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKDMpWtXndJLqdXK1Qs3RTh4RWUZ_J75lVznocDEC3iFcfvgVJXXs4Y6wW6fTQ-uWRatWI7IpmLDkj9JJWhfjSGGxpu-fDFNHYQf5zO5yyJuDXhb9984G1UIyVTE0k0lLuTjPRBJ74Y1NFmnZMwPu86ujljkkeTKFF2qeAk-38jtaX5eGEDg8ZGi5ik6V7/s320/champlain%20good.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Champlain, a true hero of France dominates the square of the upper town. It was Champlain who in 1608 created Quebec as the administrative centre of New France. These early French </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> colonists had hard and difficult lives, many dying early from the savage winters, disease and unsanitary conditions. In 1630 there were a bare 103 colonists rising to 355 in 1640.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Despite the dangers and suffering, it was men like Chammplain, and adventurers like Cartier who explored the great rivers, that all but handed North America to France on a plate. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Unfortunately the inertia of the over centralised bureaucracy back home, recognisable in our present 'Establishment' or 'blob' if you will, left these men of ambition and foresight stranded until it was too late. It gave the British their chance and they never let go.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaORBJxEDoZtCKbl_RB3xlb1BTYoQZj8nI25bQH-pOLwjOHDGfcuDJgTuaPNthmW1cZiiDVqpGPBMn_ccfVaU6c4oOdnFKrfKy9vlQKexdixdWHWr18rGKVSHORUWBw95-mh-5369NTr_v7qlP9dnr-67fvAsMEGe2KrJnYxeAhZ4QgN7feVvtz-RryRQB/s4032/chateau%20frontanec%20and%20lights.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaORBJxEDoZtCKbl_RB3xlb1BTYoQZj8nI25bQH-pOLwjOHDGfcuDJgTuaPNthmW1cZiiDVqpGPBMn_ccfVaU6c4oOdnFKrfKy9vlQKexdixdWHWr18rGKVSHORUWBw95-mh-5369NTr_v7qlP9dnr-67fvAsMEGe2KrJnYxeAhZ4QgN7feVvtz-RryRQB/s320/chateau%20frontanec%20and%20lights.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqT0JVl9py3m-nSiT6P37ZWH0bed5J9PY_yUOH46nTiSM-bjgjXn_EMs0CNqzrW99HworOvDyiNH3Wy2x9Q_48fD-6JxrAaxDz6l13IUfEHrA-Uo9MsbTNhl_JZt3yFjHG_hyIJMNaZKh7j4jBjGXY6mva9-CvCByrsBRrHZNruV_0u7qcaVOM1yi8zf6H/s4032/Chateau%20side%20view%20and%20lights.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqT0JVl9py3m-nSiT6P37ZWH0bed5J9PY_yUOH46nTiSM-bjgjXn_EMs0CNqzrW99HworOvDyiNH3Wy2x9Q_48fD-6JxrAaxDz6l13IUfEHrA-Uo9MsbTNhl_JZt3yFjHG_hyIJMNaZKh7j4jBjGXY6mva9-CvCByrsBRrHZNruV_0u7qcaVOM1yi8zf6H/s320/Chateau%20side%20view%20and%20lights.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The Chateau Frontenac</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard; text-align: center;">The Chateau Frontenac</span> is named after flamboyant and luxury loving Louis de Buade, Count of Frontenac and governor of New France off and on from 1672 – 1698.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"> The hotel is vast and took over a hundred years to build. It was also the site of two crucial war time meetings. The first Quebec conference 1943 was attended by Roosevelt, Churchill, and in a purely ceremonial role the Canadian PM Mackenzie King who hosted the conference. Stalin was invited. It was at Frontenac they planned the Normandy invasion and the demilitarisation of Germany, and it was there that the Quebec agreement was signed, spelling out the terms for the coordinated development of nuclear weapons. The room where the meeting took place can be easily seen from the outside—its lights are left perpetually on. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">It was there, also, that the Hitchcock film <i>I Confess,</i> was shot, one of its stars Anne Baxter impressing the staff by smoking fat cigars when off camera.<o:p></o:p></span></p></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsHvE0ArdtX80-MwWCfLHQKaTnB5o3gncsq1R8KAcLcoYEuLqfuZpqzt1-YikxueTnXWOUrf3jf-I8z5PbmaSHq7I9nahvwSSthwvB8nLakHwi6XjqwNQCgLfguW3Lh8fMbHQzJhNcQFlq7LQovsPebT8-6CX2VKBM1JU4oqndHN-4iaesEG-4FE3j9BSJ/s4032/urrsuline%20school.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsHvE0ArdtX80-MwWCfLHQKaTnB5o3gncsq1R8KAcLcoYEuLqfuZpqzt1-YikxueTnXWOUrf3jf-I8z5PbmaSHq7I9nahvwSSthwvB8nLakHwi6XjqwNQCgLfguW3Lh8fMbHQzJhNcQFlq7LQovsPebT8-6CX2VKBM1JU4oqndHN-4iaesEG-4FE3j9BSJ/s320/urrsuline%20school.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">In 1639 three French Ursuline nuns landed. One of their number was Marie de l'Incarnation who was to dominate the missionary endeavour in New France. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">The Ursuline nuns focused on the education of girls and the care of the needy and sick. In this new raw and hostile environment, they set about learning the languages of the Iroquois and surrounding tribes. They succoured the sick, and educated children—especially those of the many mixed marriages. In 1661- 1662, their monastery was attacked by the Iroquois and one of their chaplains was slain and devoured. It </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">was not</span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"> a happy time.</span><span face="-webkit-standard"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif0J44gos9XUCIwPDchX0k2HgqiENUzqoFFYE9TXp-2LL0Q0X3rhNR-A7P3vS7z38Ldk8dRNI5sZUBuiz8JgDd1ovvC3ziyRxbuSTzVkVJLw0XzdDNTo9SXN0bIQGkQzkA7dW4Lud4ZiGel44StLEil2l-MUYYHsyLm4Sjxdq1jPPe-lEWatLaXxIOa1o1/s4032/ursuline%20altar%20close%20up%20side%20view%20of%20nuns.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif0J44gos9XUCIwPDchX0k2HgqiENUzqoFFYE9TXp-2LL0Q0X3rhNR-A7P3vS7z38Ldk8dRNI5sZUBuiz8JgDd1ovvC3ziyRxbuSTzVkVJLw0XzdDNTo9SXN0bIQGkQzkA7dW4Lud4ZiGel44StLEil2l-MUYYHsyLm4Sjxdq1jPPe-lEWatLaXxIOa1o1/s320/ursuline%20altar%20close%20up%20side%20view%20of%20nuns.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Two stunning altars. The main one was not directly used by the Ursuline sisters who sat in a separate nave to the right just out of sight. </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg39mpdGYVYXHlAvn118ysza4IaC59ZaVuvcJMcScGTrMzJW9m2XZfJ88JxjGE01FCYDad_vfRGRLr06p_-F62ZEiB4LY3X2kyPB1ObmxkTVQIzcKnohKdpQWh8_qwgmxnbDWLF0G7p7RrTMqe0vuOH_RVhZljlP_Q_F8ZDYLqqBHCamsoY5vwv6mgV0bY_/s4032/what%20the%20nuns%20sawHEIC.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg39mpdGYVYXHlAvn118ysza4IaC59ZaVuvcJMcScGTrMzJW9m2XZfJ88JxjGE01FCYDad_vfRGRLr06p_-F62ZEiB4LY3X2kyPB1ObmxkTVQIzcKnohKdpQWh8_qwgmxnbDWLF0G7p7RrTMqe0vuOH_RVhZljlP_Q_F8ZDYLqqBHCamsoY5vwv6mgV0bY_/s320/what%20the%20nuns%20sawHEIC.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;">The smaller altar shown here on the left of the main altar was the one devoted to the Ursuline sisters.</span></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgooNnKaKeRK4zQsUUVFQa3crRDdBrFZc8-M1kwJgjoLVLX92gaBohDG3fhUGFrYa22dfwMdJVDA6CN6aFC3XZQjZbEt4hwkNy8_HVp2s6L2tLYjz02HrWQjmvHLFhBJd1YfKD4bbUK_fpLHvYR_kSZPbInjMJd3wPm7TwVCvaV-qcze7Ij-oZPZk8ngv0F/s4032/Marie%20de'lncartaion%20tomb.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgooNnKaKeRK4zQsUUVFQa3crRDdBrFZc8-M1kwJgjoLVLX92gaBohDG3fhUGFrYa22dfwMdJVDA6CN6aFC3XZQjZbEt4hwkNy8_HVp2s6L2tLYjz02HrWQjmvHLFhBJd1YfKD4bbUK_fpLHvYR_kSZPbInjMJd3wPm7TwVCvaV-qcze7Ij-oZPZk8ngv0F/s320/Marie%20de'lncartaion%20tomb.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">The tomb of the formidable Marie de l'Incarnation</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Kb0ffeM4yGLmtRYldZiqI6DgS25OqV2-31BEG_XNr5-W5eRDcHM0Y0tj5FUMrXc-xdv00qjztzP33WWeTsVSlvwJenVTinOi_dnBD9dcjpi8a133fpfDFHr_KMIizJMA_vXQmhHuweWui0SNOj9B9SQyzO7ichmxPuYziACe_sZPBaBoJoxEmundp8ZA/s4032/Montcalm%20memoriai.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Kb0ffeM4yGLmtRYldZiqI6DgS25OqV2-31BEG_XNr5-W5eRDcHM0Y0tj5FUMrXc-xdv00qjztzP33WWeTsVSlvwJenVTinOi_dnBD9dcjpi8a133fpfDFHr_KMIizJMA_vXQmhHuweWui0SNOj9B9SQyzO7ichmxPuYziACe_sZPBaBoJoxEmundp8ZA/s320/Montcalm%20memoriai.HEIC" width="240" /></a> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;">Montcalm's monument with helpful translation</span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhut_usBFa7mB5VaWvLDfLw3U-d4Zsv-E2UyfdPzy0ykms_COKcvdWPwjdANqZy027OPBTCRXUn3pMIq09EV9Fg-qEhFT_iSBXYtt-64BQqXFiu1UJTF8ZzPFCzoIaoYzx3XC_peQCqWXc0JKoSdS5M3Bam1PSHCt9lV5bDoQZyfqN3IiRPdtNF6WQzA7xd/s4032/translation%20of%20montcaol%20eulogy.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhut_usBFa7mB5VaWvLDfLw3U-d4Zsv-E2UyfdPzy0ykms_COKcvdWPwjdANqZy027OPBTCRXUn3pMIq09EV9Fg-qEhFT_iSBXYtt-64BQqXFiu1UJTF8ZzPFCzoIaoYzx3XC_peQCqWXc0JKoSdS5M3Bam1PSHCt9lV5bDoQZyfqN3IiRPdtNF6WQzA7xd/s320/translation%20of%20montcaol%20eulogy.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> Never speak ill of the dead, even so, the praise seemed excessive, and where was the monument to his nemesis, James Wolfe? Hmmph!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">As the tour neared its end, I realised our excellent guide had failed to mention Wolfe at all, the one topic that interested me most: Wolfe and the fall of Quebec. Deliberate omission or not, I couldn’t let it rest. I wasn’t going to.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“Where are the Plains of Abraham?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">She looked at me sharply. “Far from here. Too far to see.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I waited. A moment or two later. “But I thought a troop of British soldiers discovered an unguarded path up the cliff face and . . .”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“Ah yes, that.” And in fairness to her she gathered the group and gave a superb and succinct account of how the British captured Quebec.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Walking back down from the heights of Quebec, cannon illustrated what a formidable fortress it was.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzDFWb4vmyGTKX5ElebjN41PBitp3ZdcgcZ716_tAII3rJ79nRfSqBUBTAmpYQEG0xijpJOSrCUQ7ZtGGKXiPkIG_FUqWK_Uc1kADMyfzuEgeLvuCoymGQAPZ6kOI7ckvRjacj3am8nI-WOCNolsLI1Zj0DcfWfs7kpuKhj-LVIUFJXehTOz1HiNtLZfJd/s1024/cannons%20good.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzDFWb4vmyGTKX5ElebjN41PBitp3ZdcgcZ716_tAII3rJ79nRfSqBUBTAmpYQEG0xijpJOSrCUQ7ZtGGKXiPkIG_FUqWK_Uc1kADMyfzuEgeLvuCoymGQAPZ6kOI7ckvRjacj3am8nI-WOCNolsLI1Zj0DcfWfs7kpuKhj-LVIUFJXehTOz1HiNtLZfJd/s320/cannons%20good.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_bHGdOtYujhBU83vUFYsMyBDd6j60MV-mJ1v_q9o09lm7e_oYwMpMge3THnXq3TMgMGHEZfXMCHG1KSnK2FK-_hEIXFYzZaf-sx9DHm1GucaCMuaZkOi-xdZLXz5kM6TmPfNXvb3rlHFb5FWljL0nrji1YdaVFoiZlU-HwR3gi-pPtE3gdhnkexrEymxl/s4032/canon%20looking%20down%20GOOD.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_bHGdOtYujhBU83vUFYsMyBDd6j60MV-mJ1v_q9o09lm7e_oYwMpMge3THnXq3TMgMGHEZfXMCHG1KSnK2FK-_hEIXFYzZaf-sx9DHm1GucaCMuaZkOi-xdZLXz5kM6TmPfNXvb3rlHFb5FWljL0nrji1YdaVFoiZlU-HwR3gi-pPtE3gdhnkexrEymxl/s320/canon%20looking%20down%20GOOD.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT724Opu7-PeP1Du1fw2wKwS5h8cHeGKRm-at1B6PlDckDCGlnAV2WeKynXUAUVA_Mg32C3-ae5v8pH0eJpESUJLk7hH2ch_wWzKBBSJ4rDM9WkrehGhehcLjLM-Ax-BXuZl48GTWk_ApPtKATOCIduX8yeIJ0jAZ9bF9j_eL3XpUkaS47bvMase-5Dajz/s4032/canon%20single%20GOOD.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT724Opu7-PeP1Du1fw2wKwS5h8cHeGKRm-at1B6PlDckDCGlnAV2WeKynXUAUVA_Mg32C3-ae5v8pH0eJpESUJLk7hH2ch_wWzKBBSJ4rDM9WkrehGhehcLjLM-Ax-BXuZl48GTWk_ApPtKATOCIduX8yeIJ0jAZ9bF9j_eL3XpUkaS47bvMase-5Dajz/s320/canon%20single%20GOOD.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">And sailing away as twilight thickened into dusk, Quebec put on one last flamboyant show. So did the ship. I couldn't resist the phallic. Simple things appeal to simple minds. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcy0KHxw08FTxkWqQZugCiLz9UDgqht4g9UIavVMsZDAl5BH4eafEnoqj3FLcuNkDvfvCbmA_m1Pyu92BJw7KnCsHgYcz57bSMW60-AT65VvxQA0FM0dca9__vWD-oOYWSx0XCnaVQlmbOb5sV9wtnBmOVZTovoX0qmeL-Pon04fnUwPNlY1Z8s7UgzF5h/s4032/phallic%20.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcy0KHxw08FTxkWqQZugCiLz9UDgqht4g9UIavVMsZDAl5BH4eafEnoqj3FLcuNkDvfvCbmA_m1Pyu92BJw7KnCsHgYcz57bSMW60-AT65VvxQA0FM0dca9__vWD-oOYWSx0XCnaVQlmbOb5sV9wtnBmOVZTovoX0qmeL-Pon04fnUwPNlY1Z8s7UgzF5h/s320/phallic%20.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglj1UErK55RTNQvR02zz4cSNDHzLJNIU3pX-9RhYphX2ocYUTF2ijVzeS6JBj3kQ23a1h0oATXowvAIOrNW5wvyLaQVvoN4ap2IpH0aRfXW9v5SUOYKtSoZdK_KKHBVhBq2oT8gwHL4PoBH5rpeur-6vJpwP4sWgc3ZFJ124RN5Vg-dKrDygbBFVqxSuYL/s4032/quebc%20at%20night%20GOOD.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglj1UErK55RTNQvR02zz4cSNDHzLJNIU3pX-9RhYphX2ocYUTF2ijVzeS6JBj3kQ23a1h0oATXowvAIOrNW5wvyLaQVvoN4ap2IpH0aRfXW9v5SUOYKtSoZdK_KKHBVhBq2oT8gwHL4PoBH5rpeur-6vJpwP4sWgc3ZFJ124RN5Vg-dKrDygbBFVqxSuYL/s320/quebc%20at%20night%20GOOD.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlup_DXae5t-xVWoqOCLhQHPtch9NuY8DoVRcs9F-DLwb247xqjDHkLcpkiq9RPvrlg2O7iLNO4kiINQFd7R3AufmmBkUcCnrcFLGSjAFmMpw4UWhMBqr0brfF3CZy0kXijYmPVimgvY6s4YnR75E6ev416Fl0nQ5TI4GTce6AVQ2iSlMt3d_gG50YM6eu/s4032/sun%20thunder%20yachts%20GOODEIC.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlup_DXae5t-xVWoqOCLhQHPtch9NuY8DoVRcs9F-DLwb247xqjDHkLcpkiq9RPvrlg2O7iLNO4kiINQFd7R3AufmmBkUcCnrcFLGSjAFmMpw4UWhMBqr0brfF3CZy0kXijYmPVimgvY6s4YnR75E6ev416Fl0nQ5TI4GTce6AVQ2iSlMt3d_gG50YM6eu/s320/sun%20thunder%20yachts%20GOODEIC.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcob7ZO43XgjK4d1uKuPikgjWLp9Lv2XKYwlzagmtFmKhv4jnoz1IAjRtUomHrJ0VMnydrOqYLpMQGYHnBsMev5MeOKOvQnABCE8uD4kD8eUoPm3uC0RSuylKSjly1zLx0hMppYNboyco4m7iYQPLTk524Hl8wx_dv5PiiAg-xZgtGm7Bh8GggHBokxajc/s4032/lights%20in%20twilight%20better.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcob7ZO43XgjK4d1uKuPikgjWLp9Lv2XKYwlzagmtFmKhv4jnoz1IAjRtUomHrJ0VMnydrOqYLpMQGYHnBsMev5MeOKOvQnABCE8uD4kD8eUoPm3uC0RSuylKSjly1zLx0hMppYNboyco4m7iYQPLTk524Hl8wx_dv5PiiAg-xZgtGm7Bh8GggHBokxajc/s320/lights%20in%20twilight%20better.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAisA3m4mfhdSblkid6Bg4NVIQm8vxmuwCsbi5O7aXAQIA8GUYczMLukwFAy_f-XX9qV4FFuYtf8yCpGA5e80sB6nZCCGOKV29ifpkNMWlsUwVobQys7Es9_ne4EVlmCy0MmRgSdmL-G1GU0YUWKZczNysXO-EUBTkzbQACWTGWpG0JbmOiY74vRtMmGtd/s4032/Thun%20sunset%20GOOD.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAisA3m4mfhdSblkid6Bg4NVIQm8vxmuwCsbi5O7aXAQIA8GUYczMLukwFAy_f-XX9qV4FFuYtf8yCpGA5e80sB6nZCCGOKV29ifpkNMWlsUwVobQys7Es9_ne4EVlmCy0MmRgSdmL-G1GU0YUWKZczNysXO-EUBTkzbQACWTGWpG0JbmOiY74vRtMmGtd/s320/Thun%20sunset%20GOOD.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPkYH_pjReVlLDE_urowL5UEUmhDehtS3GpIybvPZvopykkWm_j6__hccn1zBhHol2xaOyaGNIWGyFal0milIKYmlMyJm6fom7-DDs_9g55G_eR0FccfmaN9bw3wMMxNNxyAHX7RhVFczCg6ej-K04O5C9pU8_MQa-NAqJ8B4ZOSbaXZ2keVqBU-RVh__U/s4032/Thun%20sunset.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPkYH_pjReVlLDE_urowL5UEUmhDehtS3GpIybvPZvopykkWm_j6__hccn1zBhHol2xaOyaGNIWGyFal0milIKYmlMyJm6fom7-DDs_9g55G_eR0FccfmaN9bw3wMMxNNxyAHX7RhVFczCg6ej-K04O5C9pU8_MQa-NAqJ8B4ZOSbaXZ2keVqBU-RVh__U/s320/Thun%20sunset.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoAGpFmn4UJp9RzqQm1zPzR3bxSQdF9RgmtubzenhIKKABmDR-gC1DMyBYhlh_jKN02FZzW1BXEyQirqCVKnsdV3c_OE1Pq9AF1yj4pKcUgfU6n_5fD1s5xHeZk6M9yiRSjZGylffwjK3Togd5rY-3kADhcWfPoLcwfzPkxs75XhKDX_9_1QPYJkloQA8y/s4032/thunderous%20sunset%20.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoAGpFmn4UJp9RzqQm1zPzR3bxSQdF9RgmtubzenhIKKABmDR-gC1DMyBYhlh_jKN02FZzW1BXEyQirqCVKnsdV3c_OE1Pq9AF1yj4pKcUgfU6n_5fD1s5xHeZk6M9yiRSjZGylffwjK3Togd5rY-3kADhcWfPoLcwfzPkxs75XhKDX_9_1QPYJkloQA8y/s320/thunderous%20sunset%20.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-2065290583093523232023-12-08T07:56:00.000-08:002023-12-08T09:50:26.599-08:00The Massacre at Fort William Henry<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGn47NReZ4-2JF31QSzpkqOf_ED9wMtEScpeq01mrr__ZJbw6dH4EqshPEQdOLKsIg2EEeW9gaZ6ozvq_5gtI7mEPRHNmsYu2yHRgoCR15-s3A-aXx-NrBVKCO5BznoWXOHTkZcfkwMMTWqwQGJ131oeJ5ZNCsXvqQ2oheLPuTeVRUVoCxJrmR_t3uIg_e/s4032/Bai%20como.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGn47NReZ4-2JF31QSzpkqOf_ED9wMtEScpeq01mrr__ZJbw6dH4EqshPEQdOLKsIg2EEeW9gaZ6ozvq_5gtI7mEPRHNmsYu2yHRgoCR15-s3A-aXx-NrBVKCO5BznoWXOHTkZcfkwMMTWqwQGJ131oeJ5ZNCsXvqQ2oheLPuTeVRUVoCxJrmR_t3uIg_e/s320/Bai%20como.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Our next stop was Baie Comeau, like all the towns along the St Lawrence, essentially French but developed by Colonel Robert R McCormick in 1936. McCormick owned the Chicago Tribune and needed a regular source of paper. </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Baie Comeau with its forests and lumberjacks, its proximity to the St Laurence proved ideal. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhijnTy01Q93mBVmTBXEZ1P83VlqUwNw3coeraneCBeWcorh-3DFMRCLDfpi3fLGqWpNE2R8eUcz9poZRNVwfa3MBH7xjohG__Pm60DIsPYh6trvnlsnzRhHXG1SDkZc9NMu1p3638kdojNYdL_j8oJbm3qjj1rNMavRfrkc7aObNahlC6UJIf6dElnAZEb/s1024/lumberjack%20camp:museum.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhijnTy01Q93mBVmTBXEZ1P83VlqUwNw3coeraneCBeWcorh-3DFMRCLDfpi3fLGqWpNE2R8eUcz9poZRNVwfa3MBH7xjohG__Pm60DIsPYh6trvnlsnzRhHXG1SDkZc9NMu1p3638kdojNYdL_j8oJbm3qjj1rNMavRfrkc7aObNahlC6UJIf6dElnAZEb/s320/lumberjack%20camp:museum.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">The open air lumberjack museum was interesting but perhaps over pretty, on the outside at least. Inside, the various buildings allowed glimpses of how hard life was for the lumberjack. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Another stop was the viewing spot allowing us views of vast tracts of forest and St Pancrace Bay</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6buym-K-UKJxg9d8pGB0YirwuVCUOh9GmmQFPYp_R07D-sX5PmHYTbb7yrNlVyNP9hSemjurotevOpeF3SQ9-SEZnF9Rc9D1H0gTQKAyz5n7iA3vNBljSuJI6sLi-YlFgD8zoJ3YRoudeU6vp7AM5ckM3RU7t_Jpi8uXaa27Hp5lG0N150zusQ5SHJ9R/s1024/St%20Pancrace%20Bay9e.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6buym-K-UKJxg9d8pGB0YirwuVCUOh9GmmQFPYp_R07D-sX5PmHYTbb7yrNlVyNP9hSemjurotevOpeF3SQ9-SEZnF9Rc9D1H0gTQKAyz5n7iA3vNBljSuJI6sLi-YlFgD8zoJ3YRoudeU6vp7AM5ckM3RU7t_Jpi8uXaa27Hp5lG0N150zusQ5SHJ9R/s320/St%20Pancrace%20Bay9e.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgmXDUXqqZMf7lafWIzvnosv-_DGSvCYrr2Hlqcb_yHRlpzb4DubpxApKTUZ5wItPJz6c8wTLfRfrYBugzTbjXWGYimOLrBAWem6irT_2Ugu-U9dje-vS7OiHA3OFT-HzKa6U78QQt4nxBZeAVW2oWYtoBo6UI9mPWFzhu6H4ZnhSdw2PicpIQQaaJ0_bo/s4032/St%20pancrace%20bay%20head%20on.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgmXDUXqqZMf7lafWIzvnosv-_DGSvCYrr2Hlqcb_yHRlpzb4DubpxApKTUZ5wItPJz6c8wTLfRfrYBugzTbjXWGYimOLrBAWem6irT_2Ugu-U9dje-vS7OiHA3OFT-HzKa6U78QQt4nxBZeAVW2oWYtoBo6UI9mPWFzhu6H4ZnhSdw2PicpIQQaaJ0_bo/s320/St%20pancrace%20bay%20head%20on.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZdsIZrwrG9xJK96s3a5dsG9TdtkMeDax3JlwtiF2GW_ZQ8GvQiTszvBt3ZX2GlqIuM2N-S5lCpd_fJUVqCtOGo2sdkh7JPunsGn5EM5hSTHgaaIvSS2Iglz888mvnFcgN1cppjkml8aEs6G6umVdn_TivcAIXNth8ba08OMmC1oE26FoaC9Gldgqu0Q6Y/s4032/forested%20terrain.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZdsIZrwrG9xJK96s3a5dsG9TdtkMeDax3JlwtiF2GW_ZQ8GvQiTszvBt3ZX2GlqIuM2N-S5lCpd_fJUVqCtOGo2sdkh7JPunsGn5EM5hSTHgaaIvSS2Iglz888mvnFcgN1cppjkml8aEs6G6umVdn_TivcAIXNth8ba08OMmC1oE26FoaC9Gldgqu0Q6Y/s320/forested%20terrain.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpQ_AMKbK1TyfyxXY1hDEzvGGAYE9ZnA9UPyaCE_kc1a5uYGbiSIPoh0dTIxK6PcoibvNP2gpPST2xN91yStqrcJEwOy6OtPYbiIbi_XEVL5s6U9BZEj_LWkPe6mA0BdqlnwQUmbbtrabhyphenhyphenDDbXNmVvy3CD-7RkOTE5oKza3yL1bTNBejJUEpLdYmuAcIm/s4032/forests.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpQ_AMKbK1TyfyxXY1hDEzvGGAYE9ZnA9UPyaCE_kc1a5uYGbiSIPoh0dTIxK6PcoibvNP2gpPST2xN91yStqrcJEwOy6OtPYbiIbi_XEVL5s6U9BZEj_LWkPe6mA0BdqlnwQUmbbtrabhyphenhyphenDDbXNmVvy3CD-7RkOTE5oKza3yL1bTNBejJUEpLdYmuAcIm/s320/forests.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p>It was here I had visions of Magua. It was easy to imagine Iroquois and Huron lurking in the trees surrounding us. For that blame Fenimore Cooper. I was ploughing my way through<i> The Last of the Mohica</i>ns and now I was immersed in its landscape. </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTEzn9kj2ZTexVxIeNtwtOhC0rh5jkAiMZxMJNjAuMmKSTdaogv-1oosIVHbWdbaoZftYxSdv0kQGGtfw99d1affVtAdNzEYXrOzqHHJJYa61dmPv6jU0AOjziDpR6vliTrJVD2Wb5leN6UlYKpUYwoAVqt9jeRhwbCIlkhr45xvYMadnv0dNan_DznLqp/s1919/M-Ft.-Henry-4-4C%EF%80%A2Aug06.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1919" data-original-width="1462" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTEzn9kj2ZTexVxIeNtwtOhC0rh5jkAiMZxMJNjAuMmKSTdaogv-1oosIVHbWdbaoZftYxSdv0kQGGtfw99d1affVtAdNzEYXrOzqHHJJYa61dmPv6jU0AOjziDpR6vliTrJVD2Wb5leN6UlYKpUYwoAVqt9jeRhwbCIlkhr45xvYMadnv0dNan_DznLqp/s320/M-Ft.-Henry-4-4C%EF%80%A2Aug06.jpg" width="244" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> Cooper is orotund but a remarkable chronicler of his time, recording near-contemporary events passed down to him from a previous generation. One event was described in vivid detail, and if I go on to quote long passages, it is to give you a flavour of writing fueled by outrage and moral fervour. The event in question is the ‘Massacre of Fort William Henry.’ And his judgement of the French General, Montcalm is damning. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtfEbgUdLAadmFK_XhATKA1Co_ltwSBtx6h61Yb9vG_q4Np1NzlqxrsOoOQaxmEHKblZ0_xEepjvoDheBhsy4GhyphenhyphendGdKSylNByA7o1E4Yvwc_dYPLTBnkct04B9tpOuE05mfoT9w9SoueA5k1KyFkpfVSFL5r30Yt6T9BycX3H_je0gr3GQQD5vp7T3ynD/s866/M-Ft.-Henry-Montcalm-4C%EF%80%A2Aug06.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="866" data-original-width="742" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtfEbgUdLAadmFK_XhATKA1Co_ltwSBtx6h61Yb9vG_q4Np1NzlqxrsOoOQaxmEHKblZ0_xEepjvoDheBhsy4GhyphenhyphendGdKSylNByA7o1E4Yvwc_dYPLTBnkct04B9tpOuE05mfoT9w9SoueA5k1KyFkpfVSFL5r30Yt6T9BycX3H_je0gr3GQQD5vp7T3ynD/s320/M-Ft.-Henry-Montcalm-4C%EF%80%A2Aug06.jpg" width="274" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Montcalm</div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Montcalm arrived in Canada in 1756 and immediately went on the attack. His first target was Fort Oswego, an isolated British post on Lake Ontario. There he won an almost bloodless surrender. The aftermath though was both vicious and bloody. Despite the surrender, Montcalm’s Indian allies broke in and slaughtered everyone there. Montcalm was embarrassed, using the excuse that as a newcomer to the Americas, he was unused to Indian customs and had been taken by surprise. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Unfortunately for the honourable Montcalm, the same thing happened a year later. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl9pHQUGQVXkIege5evF4y6mCMD8Oc0CTU5y7vYKtvD0FledFVniZw1Bm6xNaHP4qkbpLbtoE_hVh62PExoILCptu_kgIWZJm7ybIu-U8fB9ZjuhSp7SABayhRSOV6gEPmwE7pIpDYshxTJmh2A_68Mqp-9QdpVyDEcSbmo3ikf0Rkge9W8q7PAsayqmZL/s1741/M-Ft.-Henry-MAP-Aug06.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1741" data-original-width="703" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl9pHQUGQVXkIege5evF4y6mCMD8Oc0CTU5y7vYKtvD0FledFVniZw1Bm6xNaHP4qkbpLbtoE_hVh62PExoILCptu_kgIWZJm7ybIu-U8fB9ZjuhSp7SABayhRSOV6gEPmwE7pIpDYshxTJmh2A_68Mqp-9QdpVyDEcSbmo3ikf0Rkge9W8q7PAsayqmZL/s320/M-Ft.-Henry-MAP-Aug06.jpg" width="129" /></a></div><p></p><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Trois Rivieres at the very top is the farthest we travelled down before turning back. Fort William Henry is farther down.</span></p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Montcalm’s next target was Fort William Henry, defended by Lieutenant Colonel George Monro. Encouraged by the French victory and the booty that followed, the tribes flocked to enlist in Montcalm’s force—between 1500 and 2000 in all</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">—their appetite whetted.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Greatly outnumbered, Monro appealed for help from the nearby Fort Edward, held by Major General Daniel Webb. The appeal proved worse than useless. Webb’s letter explaining why help was impossible was intercepted, and Montcalm deduced from it that Fort William Henry was on the verge of defeat.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Montcalm urged the garrison to surrender and, impressed by Monro’s gallantry, he offered generous terms, Monro was forced to accept the inevitable. Running out of ammunition, cannons breaking from metal fatigue, and the fort now an open target for the French artillery, George Monro surrendered, once again assured of honourable terms. The garrison would not be taken prisoner. They would be allowed to retreat to Fort Edward with full battle honours on the promise that they would not fight the French for another 18 months. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">As the weary redcoats trooped out, Indian warriors rushed through the gates of the fort murdering the sick and the wounded, digging up graves for scalps and slaughtering all who fell into their hands. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Montcalm had again failed to control his Indian allies but was not short of excuses. He blamed the victims, arguing that the incident would not have happened if the British had not given rum to the Indians, in the context a strange and unlikely event. He also argued the British would have been safe if they had followed orders and not panicked and run. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">His final and perhaps stronger excuse was that his 8000 well-armed men were unable to restrain ‘3000 Indians of 33 different nations.’ Note the inflated number of Indians.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZeuwx8U47Y4bROS2QxBvCPeQB2NynJc2na6ndVHagA9Wl4mNdM-pJJoSDYKf9WW9-SS7ivO_SWsEtnnjjt9cp4-Q6_beMvIVCETnPGi0ku-pAecKP9OPjMSuljCwUO_YnTogC9CurjbphlVCIe9uKbuH6ZawEwlVxF8RtpwotF4awLxRH2U33ssvU9Wnl/s2500/M-Ft.-Henry-1-4C%EF%80%A2Aug06.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1887" data-original-width="2500" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZeuwx8U47Y4bROS2QxBvCPeQB2NynJc2na6ndVHagA9Wl4mNdM-pJJoSDYKf9WW9-SS7ivO_SWsEtnnjjt9cp4-Q6_beMvIVCETnPGi0ku-pAecKP9OPjMSuljCwUO_YnTogC9CurjbphlVCIe9uKbuH6ZawEwlVxF8RtpwotF4awLxRH2U33ssvU9Wnl/s320/M-Ft.-Henry-1-4C%EF%80%A2Aug06.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Early accounts perhaps exaggerate the massacre citing 1500 casualties. Later accounts downplay the bloodshed, suggesting that only 200 were killed. Tough for the ‘only 200’ but perhaps making Montcalm’s failings more acceptable—not though for Fenimore Cooper: <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“More than two thousand raving savages broke from the forest….and threw themselves across the fatal plain with instinctive alacrity. We shall not dwell on the revolting horrors that succeeded. Death was everywhere, and in his most terrific and disgusting aspects. Resistance only served to inflame the murderers, who inflicted their furious blows long after their victims were beyond the power of their movement. The flow of blood might be likened to the outbreaking of a torrent; and as the natives became heated and maddened by the sight many among them even kneeled to the earth, and drank freely, exultantly, hellishly, of the crimson tide…."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“On every side the captured were flying before their relentless persecutors, while the armed columns of the Christian king stood fast in an apathy which has never been explained, and which has left an immovable blot on the otherwise fair escutcheon of their leader. Nor was the sword of death stayed until cupidity got the mastery of revenge. Then indeed the shrieks of the wounded and the yells of their murderers grew less frequent until, finally, the cries of horror were…. drowned in the loud, long and piercing whoops of the triumphant savages…"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“Montcalm lingered long and melancholy on the strand where he had been left by his companions, brooding deeply on the temper which his ungovernable ally had just discovered. Already had his fair fame been tarnished by one horrid scene, and in circumstances fearfully resembling those under which he now found himself. As he mused, he became keenly sensible of the deep responsibility they assume who disregard the means to attain the end, and of the danger of setting in motion an engine which exceeds human power to control. Then shaking off a train of reflections that he accounted a weakness in such a moment of triumph, he retraced his steps to his tent.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">In Cooper’s view ‘the massacre' at William Henry “…. deepened the stain which a previous and very similar event had left upon the reputation of the French commander that was not entirely erased by his early and glorious death. It is now becoming obscured by time, and thousands who know Montcalm died like a hero on the plains of Abraham, have yet to learn how much more deficient in that moral courage without which no man can be truly great….<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">It is probable that (Montcalm) will be viewed by posterity only as the gallant defender of his country, while his cruel apathy on the shores of the Oswego and of the Horican will be forgotten.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Those words were in mind as we sailed for Quebec. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg0uJVqXQt8kyjFmF_LmP9AfJ6t8ZHJLeh9gwQdz1YRY4I7wFH7321Nj8RoBDpSLzhyukOv55Ll_XmtQaV9DK56_FWpnpC1Z0pQR0KxJ98gtpeD-CM2r7f1r5oa6AMaiSi9wfJUWIfKMJPcj8fJ3J8DszdVTxZEfKaF8C8yQD7iu8a2vMF-zGQlHMe2ZLw/s4032/Om%20way%204.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg0uJVqXQt8kyjFmF_LmP9AfJ6t8ZHJLeh9gwQdz1YRY4I7wFH7321Nj8RoBDpSLzhyukOv55Ll_XmtQaV9DK56_FWpnpC1Z0pQR0KxJ98gtpeD-CM2r7f1r5oa6AMaiSi9wfJUWIfKMJPcj8fJ3J8DszdVTxZEfKaF8C8yQD7iu8a2vMF-zGQlHMe2ZLw/s320/Om%20way%204.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><div style="text-align: center;">Leaving Baie Comeau</div></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">And a hypnotic sunset that had me entranced</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktOR3j5QWJ2x67yN8RNGRKir48Oz0tZ5A2gYCEFENFbBg2EECmCBzdmvPBncJ2W-eyyOwOdAouZPOxGStiGgC-Ni4VQtCIJJcnOj3gxhxK62nnWA3uln41yy4aTFVareTx4_keTurqiAKDZt_SFiJmxLX4MVbVEfib_Q-ziiPFylCGHG-lifOZMRT99R1/s4032/good%20bye%20baei%20comeaurC.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktOR3j5QWJ2x67yN8RNGRKir48Oz0tZ5A2gYCEFENFbBg2EECmCBzdmvPBncJ2W-eyyOwOdAouZPOxGStiGgC-Ni4VQtCIJJcnOj3gxhxK62nnWA3uln41yy4aTFVareTx4_keTurqiAKDZt_SFiJmxLX4MVbVEfib_Q-ziiPFylCGHG-lifOZMRT99R1/s320/good%20bye%20baei%20comeaurC.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfG0VphCEpPRCo8_iWPx1AKsW3M71D6DZdE52wUn_setZ9H-6ulQsJsdkZnWT_5Pk78PYQHUz9FfBYm47lq08zzM983oai9Ht9TTyQg1-OpoiI0pZOFbM8yeFN76uFW1do5F8ti6mW5DiE4vNePOT3PC_M1eWBtUYpDkHvN2O7rwE3c7J2fyzB7dpQ3iLb/s4032/IMG_9045.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfG0VphCEpPRCo8_iWPx1AKsW3M71D6DZdE52wUn_setZ9H-6ulQsJsdkZnWT_5Pk78PYQHUz9FfBYm47lq08zzM983oai9Ht9TTyQg1-OpoiI0pZOFbM8yeFN76uFW1do5F8ti6mW5DiE4vNePOT3PC_M1eWBtUYpDkHvN2O7rwE3c7J2fyzB7dpQ3iLb/s320/IMG_9045.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbi4IrLrafzbq0eqbU-8-tp0BcwC4oxG33qatOQBzKZiRnPNVSPJ6VcPnxTw7C5s-m2KWOQLBzDtJF2CkMPRs6EhULSWxORExKU08tzY37z9lIIFtgAFtiSV49xKSAcJlA5lXSaAyY2m1DKLfXBv3l83w_ulNp22aKLK_pyiMGWinuuO1SHvq922Irg5bK/s4032/on%20way%20to%20Quebe3.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbi4IrLrafzbq0eqbU-8-tp0BcwC4oxG33qatOQBzKZiRnPNVSPJ6VcPnxTw7C5s-m2KWOQLBzDtJF2CkMPRs6EhULSWxORExKU08tzY37z9lIIFtgAFtiSV49xKSAcJlA5lXSaAyY2m1DKLfXBv3l83w_ulNp22aKLK_pyiMGWinuuO1SHvq922Irg5bK/s320/on%20way%20to%20Quebe3.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6mP7yiCKMC9ZCr5p2edrza4OAJTYBxjo6UHCZQyPq4RvmrZDFpRXQ8xQI9vGDYR5A7k-fca_onBTC_N64BzDgKyCeZqRlBrTBiGU0fTOi_rwXes80EC5m9XT9PQqdmOsYbOSGBJbxSVoicD4Y8pansEXhsTE-FoDFU0_wmDLaGEuRTQP0Z54c5aIkf2zZ/s4032/on%20way%20to%20quebec%202.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6mP7yiCKMC9ZCr5p2edrza4OAJTYBxjo6UHCZQyPq4RvmrZDFpRXQ8xQI9vGDYR5A7k-fca_onBTC_N64BzDgKyCeZqRlBrTBiGU0fTOi_rwXes80EC5m9XT9PQqdmOsYbOSGBJbxSVoicD4Y8pansEXhsTE-FoDFU0_wmDLaGEuRTQP0Z54c5aIkf2zZ/s320/on%20way%20to%20quebec%202.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF8IEyhmg9oELwxz5mnGOm_K37RJFWvPx0X6xICUIvVkvjbFJI6sYhBRdaberKdkn4_IOXgJeJkq-eKPfVEtLdrIWa86Ln3Ss5T8l7zFxEtYlrjIzDqfTMs8mNKlRK8WWRpaj3-7s4LGFoAtxi4H5eQW43Z8XsGuc_ErnjpnlyV236-F0aP5tNZWDvW494/s4032/onway%205.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF8IEyhmg9oELwxz5mnGOm_K37RJFWvPx0X6xICUIvVkvjbFJI6sYhBRdaberKdkn4_IOXgJeJkq-eKPfVEtLdrIWa86Ln3Ss5T8l7zFxEtYlrjIzDqfTMs8mNKlRK8WWRpaj3-7s4LGFoAtxi4H5eQW43Z8XsGuc_ErnjpnlyV236-F0aP5tNZWDvW494/s320/onway%205.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-45094156358682607872023-12-01T03:37:00.000-08:002023-12-01T13:15:21.443-08:00The Mingan Archipelago<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Our first stop at the mouth of the St Lawrence was Havre St Pierre. It was cold, the rain unrelenting, but it was good to get off the ship, or so we thought at the time—especially since we had a destination: a Tim Hortons coffee bar. To be honest there was nothing else in walking distance. A mile or so along the waterfront and turn left. It seemed easy enough. And to be walking where the St Lawrence met the sea.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">The rain ultimately dictated otherwise. Nevertheless, we persevered for a time, trudging, heads bowed low, along a grey and dismal waterfront, a line of pretty looking bungalows to our left. Ultimately common-sense broke through along with the rain. We were sodden and had yet to face an excursion to the Mingan Archipelago in the afternoon. We never did enjoy a Tim Hortons coffee, (though ironically we drove past a branch in Warrington a few weeks later in the UK)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The journey to the archipelago was an adventure in itself, a twenty-five-minute boat journey through heavy seas and a thickening drizzle. Dressed in orange, fluorescent waterproofs, we looked formidable – The SAS on a mission, or perhaps a branch of the RNLI out on a jolly.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYJHNUpZN3j-BpW2m8OhyLQQQtKzE5iwmwEzheqZRO6pDrOk3H3OjkjT7d4TkSOitme2ZM1Qg6fIYSRkKeT4n6fU8ex-2xsqCdwaHVCMfntwuM7JZhACzbTfAbMCburL49aJRlXbFIPq5LW9yHzzPewn2fBQAKw-beBGkDJp2kf-OI3ojX1BzpbUjLq8hK/s4032/SAS%20on%20a%20mission.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYJHNUpZN3j-BpW2m8OhyLQQQtKzE5iwmwEzheqZRO6pDrOk3H3OjkjT7d4TkSOitme2ZM1Qg6fIYSRkKeT4n6fU8ex-2xsqCdwaHVCMfntwuM7JZhACzbTfAbMCburL49aJRlXbFIPq5LW9yHzzPewn2fBQAKw-beBGkDJp2kf-OI3ojX1BzpbUjLq8hK/s320/SAS%20on%20a%20mission.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The park ranger, a merry French woman, guided us over the island, speaking fractured English through loud bursts of laughter. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5rBxV7cV7nEwCZvFboLtMj4l-B2Ud012EtM2fbs8a6BwtJSM6WNFzJLWe0B2vkL8Nk9xVPzg3IGAbWGPRQ0ZjnwAEshCCswCNFwiZI7KX_5To-zF4ndEaDenFbJiaYhScGSEphbo1hwB0OEVqh25OnYm6qmsW2SCyIs4_AP5Egq9fDozNbfGPynDx-iYI/s1024/island%20and%20shore.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5rBxV7cV7nEwCZvFboLtMj4l-B2Ud012EtM2fbs8a6BwtJSM6WNFzJLWe0B2vkL8Nk9xVPzg3IGAbWGPRQ0ZjnwAEshCCswCNFwiZI7KX_5To-zF4ndEaDenFbJiaYhScGSEphbo1hwB0OEVqh25OnYm6qmsW2SCyIs4_AP5Egq9fDozNbfGPynDx-iYI/s320/island%20and%20shore.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The landscape was bleak, the merriment welcome </span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOkViUfwRoF1p1GcmIRGGUvDc5VBVTN8j0aSpaeyL2ZrnJhaiOmO922cBMcx6zEGS2s3ctU6YcD48mIb1ysWiXmHUsEUWc3o2K0BfdUSpioNGIGsgdesEMC_LY2cj6knMVjcm2Lg2VhXWNnzFitDGIG1rIAYw4eI9BM9MStMMXFup_tWzfdprJ1D76eQLl/s4032/island%20shore%20larger.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOkViUfwRoF1p1GcmIRGGUvDc5VBVTN8j0aSpaeyL2ZrnJhaiOmO922cBMcx6zEGS2s3ctU6YcD48mIb1ysWiXmHUsEUWc3o2K0BfdUSpioNGIGsgdesEMC_LY2cj6knMVjcm2Lg2VhXWNnzFitDGIG1rIAYw4eI9BM9MStMMXFup_tWzfdprJ1D76eQLl/s320/island%20shore%20larger.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhclLdCKVQOpyQciytkQ8OM46cp4ALd7HEq_pLy7jr0Akp80fiJ6XDZAr2SWwKZTxnXmNqjIUNM3cIIqNO1RhlNsMgFxlLr1fokZVnhADgzY-GtnrJ-58YPAocHpysNNTALBTqfUyEXBopbr89WcberE9aPxtPAjZJYsTtdTfN1Eos1b857UpJHp4nq8hoh/s1024/marshland%202.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhclLdCKVQOpyQciytkQ8OM46cp4ALd7HEq_pLy7jr0Akp80fiJ6XDZAr2SWwKZTxnXmNqjIUNM3cIIqNO1RhlNsMgFxlLr1fokZVnhADgzY-GtnrJ-58YPAocHpysNNTALBTqfUyEXBopbr89WcberE9aPxtPAjZJYsTtdTfN1Eos1b857UpJHp4nq8hoh/s320/marshland%202.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKvNvQzxb5IDfpVj41A1QLq5a69p-8SDiMVTACplrDBHzfAF1plLdg_jdZwQ7Ag78U_XICOXDTkFo7V11CIWdkr1VmNzvfR0fKLW-3YT0prWGW9yGsAQzr2Nb6PRB3hTXnPvViEsiO60PRaoztCaCRFGmxq4cletWt-zpVL8-nQhN-qw1ameITcP2_auIH/s1024/marshland.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKvNvQzxb5IDfpVj41A1QLq5a69p-8SDiMVTACplrDBHzfAF1plLdg_jdZwQ7Ag78U_XICOXDTkFo7V11CIWdkr1VmNzvfR0fKLW-3YT0prWGW9yGsAQzr2Nb6PRB3hTXnPvViEsiO60PRaoztCaCRFGmxq4cletWt-zpVL8-nQhN-qw1ameITcP2_auIH/s320/marshland.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The island oozed melancholy though she assured us it was beautiful in summer. I wasn't convinced—and there'd be midges.</span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDwuMBZ0JxELzPyWdsvjAlyMlSEsjm5jETQv_pkgj_-23tCVLD7nsCaZxb31x9CqOwpgsEV0tHosFaelfg2KQFLkLWqfxkWuY4Q_SjFXgOp8Uiv5RPQUUjsXJo09dqJx4sfOPOQCWWo4k_zGkEYFkFOT_-134hzk7MY92w0Zc_003vWhdJfr3Ajq5GX81I/s4032/marsh%20larger.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDwuMBZ0JxELzPyWdsvjAlyMlSEsjm5jETQv_pkgj_-23tCVLD7nsCaZxb31x9CqOwpgsEV0tHosFaelfg2KQFLkLWqfxkWuY4Q_SjFXgOp8Uiv5RPQUUjsXJo09dqJx4sfOPOQCWWo4k_zGkEYFkFOT_-134hzk7MY92w0Zc_003vWhdJfr3Ajq5GX81I/s320/marsh%20larger.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Eventually, we reached what I had been dying to see, and where, despite the drizzle, I could have stayed longer. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib4QdCbKskWvUpbuBWeOBUnkijVreYaH4BLpsNkCIDqjOfUSq44n_QjGrUDlGNH1PcSZ4RFbYRcZ0BoI6RS06lfmxsvvwaPoHyODT88R5Jbc-ERYOmBVoGG8sWQa6xO7AkQRSv3ky5xnN9ZvNil-dLS9igOlrmGOAi4nJ96V5zx00gT6qfJymGn6w3Mkyy/s4032/from%20a%20distance%20.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib4QdCbKskWvUpbuBWeOBUnkijVreYaH4BLpsNkCIDqjOfUSq44n_QjGrUDlGNH1PcSZ4RFbYRcZ0BoI6RS06lfmxsvvwaPoHyODT88R5Jbc-ERYOmBVoGG8sWQa6xO7AkQRSv3ky5xnN9ZvNil-dLS9igOlrmGOAi4nJ96V5zx00gT6qfJymGn6w3Mkyy/s320/from%20a%20distance%20.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqhgBp6ihr1pKMhbHDv57UJS2e0R3gpbERatoFc9P7uCW_F87WQdblk-pe8Ir1JwdR8Ffs_4x7ZK5ygnkH9J341FBFyFjo2CdxkN9PmeMZ47Nh7HyNNBd9XMEGK4Ze2TcFbuBUgkJKlq6w4ZIQiQUHn7mD5fE_QRLZRHF7gH2Jj4OviFBaC6PZrA6MScN0/s1024/monoliths%20from%20a%20distance.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqhgBp6ihr1pKMhbHDv57UJS2e0R3gpbERatoFc9P7uCW_F87WQdblk-pe8Ir1JwdR8Ffs_4x7ZK5ygnkH9J341FBFyFjo2CdxkN9PmeMZ47Nh7HyNNBd9XMEGK4Ze2TcFbuBUgkJKlq6w4ZIQiQUHn7mD5fE_QRLZRHF7gH2Jj4OviFBaC6PZrA6MScN0/s320/monoliths%20from%20a%20distance.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The archipelago we had sailed through and what we now walked on are mind bogglingly ancient. In the words of a botanist, I’d never heard of before: ‘…<i>the Mingan Islands are daughters of the sea; they are fragments, pieces of an ancient land slowly deposited in the bottom of the ocean</i>…’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The North Shore Canadian shield itself is nearly a billion years old. Vast rivers once crisscrossed the land, eroding and carrying rock particles into unknown seas. This sediment, combining with the remains of marine organisms, slowly formed a limestone sea floor. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Millions of years later the earth’s crust shifted, and this limestone seabed emerged as a large plateau. Limestone is friable and over time, the criss-crossing rivers carved deep into the limestone plateau. turning it into a series of discrete and separate entities—the Mingan islands. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The monoliths, now dominating the beaches are examples of time and erosion creating natural works of art.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">A mere 20,000 years ago, great icesheets, two and a half kilometres deep covered the whole of North America and the archipelago. The ice pressed the land down. When the earth grew warmer, the ice melted, and water levels rose, though slowly (ten thousand years ago the present archipelago was still 85 metres beneath the sea.)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">2,800 years, later the islands fully re-emerged and the erosion really took off. What we walked around are the results––monoliths of friable limestone carved by ice, rain and wind <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGARIkAXmBB86TWamRH3ANmPaLswKXW7VsvP7nakjetzu4NZ7mcrV-5RE6Muqe0HxG7I-V_jntBdUSrbsL4BVIsaeo7S1a9py6EAojc23WOcRCGUWyEJprX3g2iovU4IwgStghijqPy2QxlNzVznBZEw18I4ey6LICbvHNK7Cx5xOS8SMLkKqxO5eSjSBp/s4032/Nature's%20ozymandias%20.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGARIkAXmBB86TWamRH3ANmPaLswKXW7VsvP7nakjetzu4NZ7mcrV-5RE6Muqe0HxG7I-V_jntBdUSrbsL4BVIsaeo7S1a9py6EAojc23WOcRCGUWyEJprX3g2iovU4IwgStghijqPy2QxlNzVznBZEw18I4ey6LICbvHNK7Cx5xOS8SMLkKqxO5eSjSBp/s320/Nature's%20ozymandias%20.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p>The sea, here quite placid, has worn the land down leaving the limestone silent sentinels.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_O0a4-7SpkzEUPwUQCQgR0GlTPicyCjnyHtRf-wwCzJV7Bhv8l3luOXvMJzU3xlgJq_wdb-GJXIjG_CNfyrXIZ923oPdWtSj1eb5nzBwHhoKQqe4phrm3TCH1PnYmN03e1ajKRhAlZZnIGP1h5HYkkjzrghMozYF3iTsNim7A6viqohsRR-Fi1wZKjL9w/s4032/serene%20indifference.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_O0a4-7SpkzEUPwUQCQgR0GlTPicyCjnyHtRf-wwCzJV7Bhv8l3luOXvMJzU3xlgJq_wdb-GJXIjG_CNfyrXIZ923oPdWtSj1eb5nzBwHhoKQqe4phrm3TCH1PnYmN03e1ajKRhAlZZnIGP1h5HYkkjzrghMozYF3iTsNim7A6viqohsRR-Fi1wZKjL9w/s320/serene%20indifference.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB5oauSUlUQMrGSMMFiyOYfPeyPM6M4xH4XJoGulzZDE7TFrrt9DNjVyOrzmxhbxFsTILhOn0hRKnH2yYvs952BvC47JA4Dt7XuU128HVKc_M6HT8drontxRsoPx21ky-u2on12zxm1yFDMLqC6obO3fXhL-QHtqkp3_Yi9R9bGcS1a4Jd0kYw5KElXcQN/s4032/torseo%20and%20walls.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB5oauSUlUQMrGSMMFiyOYfPeyPM6M4xH4XJoGulzZDE7TFrrt9DNjVyOrzmxhbxFsTILhOn0hRKnH2yYvs952BvC47JA4Dt7XuU128HVKc_M6HT8drontxRsoPx21ky-u2on12zxm1yFDMLqC6obO3fXhL-QHtqkp3_Yi9R9bGcS1a4Jd0kYw5KElXcQN/s320/torseo%20and%20walls.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">An alien landscape like three dimensional Rorschach patterns, you see what you want to see: from a distance cyclopean ruins, closer up, unearthly monstrosities, alien beasts and alien runes. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">A dog, back of a giant cat, rhinoceros, gargoyles and monsters. I tried to imagine walking through them at night under a full moon.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj20GIe3BK_n_zghOir2iN6h6TtAybL7Gz37VWBENet9wLmbahqPPJwx27uFEauov8W6o5ZAfGub2GTa45VRJLJXmD1fWmCJedfNTOe3-Ts0KCtQOqA0W2ntYr_eMN3VvUsrWZY2_oP66Fd9FVB_sDeCxdECIgWELLOX-ydp_GShvrCk5vKxwGbMdbIflWK/s4032/gargoyle%20or%20rhinocerous.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj20GIe3BK_n_zghOir2iN6h6TtAybL7Gz37VWBENet9wLmbahqPPJwx27uFEauov8W6o5ZAfGub2GTa45VRJLJXmD1fWmCJedfNTOe3-Ts0KCtQOqA0W2ntYr_eMN3VvUsrWZY2_oP66Fd9FVB_sDeCxdECIgWELLOX-ydp_GShvrCk5vKxwGbMdbIflWK/s320/gargoyle%20or%20rhinocerous.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV8mNt75vipIOlfL3PEJR6Un5v5nfqBeprxPXcMyQKLC_ZhLQ1RdQ70FILm0AvGWPV7uYDc0WlcE1Oek6CiulbTW2LneK9YscjJCUurX9M_eUlBfRj2LI74liqwQnmB_S-059KEG2xONDHNQHzzTR2hUfvut4jqREQCBLKb4zUjJwXkrDov3JniufIxHwJ/s4032/IMG_9012.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV8mNt75vipIOlfL3PEJR6Un5v5nfqBeprxPXcMyQKLC_ZhLQ1RdQ70FILm0AvGWPV7uYDc0WlcE1Oek6CiulbTW2LneK9YscjJCUurX9M_eUlBfRj2LI74liqwQnmB_S-059KEG2xONDHNQHzzTR2hUfvut4jqREQCBLKb4zUjJwXkrDov3JniufIxHwJ/s320/IMG_9012.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAlWWXak0yiES3EfuaPghk0CqfcgYOmDfmH6h11dTgr-lpSbdtzeu5HqOgTO_nYVZoreZGHqXmzylCcE5aYq6nS5AbtLm4YnwulNdAVMUDDWI-uEDGc6D1s_1zQBKs_cuGkbV7_ygP38dRC9olwjGdxD3j0MKYy_RYi32i-xhijxBEdL9CMSpzzeKSotvf/s4032/IMG_9013.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAlWWXak0yiES3EfuaPghk0CqfcgYOmDfmH6h11dTgr-lpSbdtzeu5HqOgTO_nYVZoreZGHqXmzylCcE5aYq6nS5AbtLm4YnwulNdAVMUDDWI-uEDGc6D1s_1zQBKs_cuGkbV7_ygP38dRC9olwjGdxD3j0MKYy_RYi32i-xhijxBEdL9CMSpzzeKSotvf/s320/IMG_9013.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Bykl-L6CUfxvGyZwW7XPGm79IODoibIEPTKu2zhmmpbUo5A_sCH9nKS8ME-ZDgcgftfTv5JpxqMt7gp8bR5LrXzosFDVGtjwjyUNqq1YUDwREb6zTbmGh24v3jTRpTBJY7kjo3Sg7lDNm5-Yegd4tVjbCmMaQNqUeJBxtQB2sfnYgSTnSuQtLX3R95LV/s1024/mono%20garyoule.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Bykl-L6CUfxvGyZwW7XPGm79IODoibIEPTKu2zhmmpbUo5A_sCH9nKS8ME-ZDgcgftfTv5JpxqMt7gp8bR5LrXzosFDVGtjwjyUNqq1YUDwREb6zTbmGh24v3jTRpTBJY7kjo3Sg7lDNm5-Yegd4tVjbCmMaQNqUeJBxtQB2sfnYgSTnSuQtLX3R95LV/s320/mono%20garyoule.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVT5jCuQP0rWY0nSTN4V8a9HWifCu250EMmD2u_FALbH8RZygpYKZ35Jx2NsfStJ5SAYvxFQbmbHwsFEnKw1_6TRAzNjYN8jAuO4jKGo4LCefD5hDeClIxitkTma98i3OIAkUi6ww64IAfuUUYO1E99Aa54jfyd6ZRtMkyrN26M-d2JWCc8OHAuBVrnLFf/s1024/monllith%20freize%20base.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVT5jCuQP0rWY0nSTN4V8a9HWifCu250EMmD2u_FALbH8RZygpYKZ35Jx2NsfStJ5SAYvxFQbmbHwsFEnKw1_6TRAzNjYN8jAuO4jKGo4LCefD5hDeClIxitkTma98i3OIAkUi6ww64IAfuUUYO1E99Aa54jfyd6ZRtMkyrN26M-d2JWCc8OHAuBVrnLFf/s320/monllith%20freize%20base.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOWaA_D_k5aJj8EiKXhiKaNmnfNr1lMSAGy-xBizUyjbz3site6chzuY0Vcn3pGcnofpiTPe3ikXiI6rZwkdDlTFvhuPb_cqxyJcGgtKBdN29mUl_1RkY2UlSiNPY_GLFgC-KMwHWXD-nkkoLMlh9xhWq1_wIZYh22ZiDgd9ISchhBTddT3XieXNdHx-th/s1024/fort%20and%20twistee%20turret%20or%20perhaps%20torso.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOWaA_D_k5aJj8EiKXhiKaNmnfNr1lMSAGy-xBizUyjbz3site6chzuY0Vcn3pGcnofpiTPe3ikXiI6rZwkdDlTFvhuPb_cqxyJcGgtKBdN29mUl_1RkY2UlSiNPY_GLFgC-KMwHWXD-nkkoLMlh9xhWq1_wIZYh22ZiDgd9ISchhBTddT3XieXNdHx-th/s320/fort%20and%20twistee%20turret%20or%20perhaps%20torso.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>A naked torso dominating </span><span style="color: #5f6368;">Cthulhuian walls</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: #5f6368; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7J2euAeEWWUTvchBHaiOn53-q5U2vB4epnk7bvXCTpje7p8hPw7h7QJdz-6pZhGG2YpFjflHrZYfY0MmpwY4bLU-TMQ848mxetLg3FOT2jshGDpJ91ubaWR5YNuvrv9MjK9yEZFRxEQaUi2TlT8WkmlHemCyf_L_e2PFdgxHvwl_y4DN0z0VIULhPAd3/s4032/frieze%20close%20up%20%20what%20it%20represents.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7J2euAeEWWUTvchBHaiOn53-q5U2vB4epnk7bvXCTpje7p8hPw7h7QJdz-6pZhGG2YpFjflHrZYfY0MmpwY4bLU-TMQ848mxetLg3FOT2jshGDpJ91ubaWR5YNuvrv9MjK9yEZFRxEQaUi2TlT8WkmlHemCyf_L_e2PFdgxHvwl_y4DN0z0VIULhPAd3/s320/frieze%20close%20up%20%20what%20it%20represents.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40yUACboFu6BWrMJgEm64Tt5qYZio6OrrQW8fLIMveC9pT3T3mP7JOzRBWojdy1N6JjX-4yr32-ehGTFD_UXYBsXRlyaaIpD-EhnSAiNR-CcejOgmCp04dks7_kOwPxPQ5KXZS-Q81H9uQoWT3x7vx1i5kpVt45ozw6CPLy1OL6iAjE-muQKi8fnpEJ1V/s4032/rieze%20close%20up.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40yUACboFu6BWrMJgEm64Tt5qYZio6OrrQW8fLIMveC9pT3T3mP7JOzRBWojdy1N6JjX-4yr32-ehGTFD_UXYBsXRlyaaIpD-EhnSAiNR-CcejOgmCp04dks7_kOwPxPQ5KXZS-Q81H9uQoWT3x7vx1i5kpVt45ozw6CPLy1OL6iAjE-muQKi8fnpEJ1V/s320/rieze%20close%20up.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">Close ups of erosion in action, definitely alien script in one form or other</p><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8o4uUVuxz9L2Aoh9uAECFhcI9KShSt_OgfE4o6_1iUGP9nZ4MhKQ3YuNpH7ikxaACIs20nBZr2RRuibHgfv9oXTnUXY88gXYjumkvCi9VyMnwOiWphl9rm1daR1WUhS4I8pyg0zaagsJASN3MY2cqCQMoBX0eIkshn5ZDyEmLrS4-4gaVHg2s0nT2Flc0/s4032/wawrmth%20and%20luzyry.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8o4uUVuxz9L2Aoh9uAECFhcI9KShSt_OgfE4o6_1iUGP9nZ4MhKQ3YuNpH7ikxaACIs20nBZr2RRuibHgfv9oXTnUXY88gXYjumkvCi9VyMnwOiWphl9rm1daR1WUhS4I8pyg0zaagsJASN3MY2cqCQMoBX0eIkshn5ZDyEmLrS4-4gaVHg2s0nT2Flc0/s320/wawrmth%20and%20luzyry.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Warmth and luxury in sight.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And here, an epiphany. A dolphin no one else saw but me (my wife says she believes me) as we were setting off I just casually looked over my shoulder. A few feet away a dolphin surfaced and slid silently back under water. The thrill of the sudden.</div><br />Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-65595785095521373342023-11-24T04:35:00.000-08:002023-11-25T06:20:12.718-08:00Vikings!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3nwKNThlmz-VjYelt22184actcHDSObp-BTRX6IvA9NtGd-Fxax373gVtAK2D3dkheGrhFppRTvp2dbgbwINhwZesbeMgZhmQc2fh1mLfmK6NJ6LU9U1zgOgvp4pnua_lX9WPjhQ_BDePY-Xi0lWV6kcX2KIYtZAU2591mMiEvA8Rf3AKTvHgRy4CmaI/s2735/I._E._C._Rasmussen_-_Sommernat_under_den_Gr%C3%B8nlandske_Kyst_circa_Aar_1000.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1721" data-original-width="2735" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3nwKNThlmz-VjYelt22184actcHDSObp-BTRX6IvA9NtGd-Fxax373gVtAK2D3dkheGrhFppRTvp2dbgbwINhwZesbeMgZhmQc2fh1mLfmK6NJ6LU9U1zgOgvp4pnua_lX9WPjhQ_BDePY-Xi0lWV6kcX2KIYtZAU2591mMiEvA8Rf3AKTvHgRy4CmaI/s320/I._E._C._Rasmussen_-_Sommernat_under_den_Gr%C3%B8nlandske_Kyst_circa_Aar_1000.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Keenly aware of their Norse heritage and aware, too, of the Leif Erikson legend, the Olsens financed and encouraged two archaeologists, Anne and Helge Ingsted. Their mission was simple enough: explore Leif Erikson’s route and find the evidence that Vikings had settled in America. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The Ingsteds hadn’t been the first to search for evidence, most of their predecessors focusing on Erikson’s reference to Vinland and searching farther south where grapes were more likely to grow. The Ingsteds re-interpreted ‘Vin’ as old Norse for meadow and consequently searched farther north. It also seemed logical. Northern Newfoundland is close to Greenland, where the Vikings were already established.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> After a painstaking exploration of the coastline, studying sagas, and talking to locals and fishermen, they at last found their evidence. It stood on the northern tip of Newfoundland at a place called <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%27Anse_aux_Meadows#:~:text=The%20site%20is%20located%20on,Anthony.">L’anse aux Meadows.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP35NcrfsrhHQYdfKQ_8sw6WkDeRLy0O3laUAd2CMP-EWnFrdVzxAPRz2zTliH7bsFM_b156eAKJXxdVm5isaPSW6QYLHr3Htd9sWZ8NL98IgQA7P0rn7J98JqwHBHrYKrok_jxShpyJ-OvfuenAdyOgTYGqNIh8p_7lLffyMjnmMAKGDxRN1UIxR3IRkA/s624/lancing%20map.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="351" data-original-width="624" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP35NcrfsrhHQYdfKQ_8sw6WkDeRLy0O3laUAd2CMP-EWnFrdVzxAPRz2zTliH7bsFM_b156eAKJXxdVm5isaPSW6QYLHr3Htd9sWZ8NL98IgQA7P0rn7J98JqwHBHrYKrok_jxShpyJ-OvfuenAdyOgTYGqNIh8p_7lLffyMjnmMAKGDxRN1UIxR3IRkA/s320/lancing%20map.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">There are variations in the Saga accounts. One version has it that Leif Erikson was blown off course on a return trip from Norway to Greenland and discovered America largely by accident. Another account asserts, the whole thing was a planned expedition, that a previous Viking Bjarni Herjolfsson had similarly been blown off course, discovered an unknown coast and returned to Greenland with the story. According to this saga, Lief approached Bjarni, gathered a crew of 35 men and sailed in the direction Bjarni described. They landed, over-wintered and left a small settlement. Lief himself returned to Greenland for more supplies and men but never returned. Others did, including a tough old bird called Gudrid Thorbjarnardottir, the widow of Lief’s brother Thorstein Erikson. She married Thorfinn Karlsefni, a powerful warrior, and in the New World gave birth to a son, Snorri Thorfinnsson—the first European child born in America.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOnOKfusC8RCmrPYv823O237pTkPVtDFS746vZQ5YehmK0yJ7Yg6LnSU196NWUXxeq7liAHTC2JNzgiY7l6gcplzPpj_uQA_mDO14M110hQNyGoJnkNfehRAhcSlM6cjncSV4DOq9JWiCSh9uMPU3Lsl4rBFQ7JoHdl4hFoBh9HMGwNrr8E2D0ssGbNv3/s929/LAnse-Aux-Meadows.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="622" data-original-width="929" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOnOKfusC8RCmrPYv823O237pTkPVtDFS746vZQ5YehmK0yJ7Yg6LnSU196NWUXxeq7liAHTC2JNzgiY7l6gcplzPpj_uQA_mDO14M110hQNyGoJnkNfehRAhcSlM6cjncSV4DOq9JWiCSh9uMPU3Lsl4rBFQ7JoHdl4hFoBh9HMGwNrr8E2D0ssGbNv3/s320/LAnse-Aux-Meadows.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>A modern reconstruction of a vicking turf house based on evidence found.</b></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Climate change saw both Greenland and Newfoundland become less clement; the Viking settlement, largely constructed of wood and turf, vanished from history until very recently. Arial photography and carbon dating of wood excavated at the site further reinforced the saga accounts.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Climate change, I could have done with some of that just then. It was bitterly, bitterly cold, and just a few steps away was comfort, hot coffee and warmth; what was I doing here, shivering on deck, staring at a few unremarkable bumps on the horizon in search of a few hairy has-beens?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQjVVc4p03f4Ve8w2LzAi8l_-XJnwatOpkbtXuSBg77gERNijeKpoYYiLXuChBCtDspWHYZu_ts1XdJ5EgJ-aljo2_EZBQ502lPNG4gzI2KrMRv-0Pi6Inzb0wy-b2SV3FbhTK21yRlP4HeWGjxQPURhvNDO0kONX79BZJgwGeTPCF2MeEcLShlcJBDPqW/s4032/evoc%20bump%202.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQjVVc4p03f4Ve8w2LzAi8l_-XJnwatOpkbtXuSBg77gERNijeKpoYYiLXuChBCtDspWHYZu_ts1XdJ5EgJ-aljo2_EZBQ502lPNG4gzI2KrMRv-0Pi6Inzb0wy-b2SV3FbhTK21yRlP4HeWGjxQPURhvNDO0kONX79BZJgwGeTPCF2MeEcLShlcJBDPqW/s320/evoc%20bump%202.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyT7WG-HrIoy19GeAy3FGI_wiC31_2uKZFaD9ieZBAB8Cakp9xdHdznr7Taf2Co8_g5R7YWrIycCNSg7cGXZIehqZ7JS43iGAH_HpKjgBk-_woo24zyTTG7864bu_wLvPouncel8EwdtjmwpStAfX0mriSLaqZazWFIegwEnNhwUm_fWE0Mdrk0LCGExSP/s4032/evocaive%20bump.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyT7WG-HrIoy19GeAy3FGI_wiC31_2uKZFaD9ieZBAB8Cakp9xdHdznr7Taf2Co8_g5R7YWrIycCNSg7cGXZIehqZ7JS43iGAH_HpKjgBk-_woo24zyTTG7864bu_wLvPouncel8EwdtjmwpStAfX0mriSLaqZazWFIegwEnNhwUm_fWE0Mdrk0LCGExSP/s320/evocaive%20bump.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTFCKsIIk6YodV1nmazTaZ7x8PuXxL-cTYWP0ZpKYyBc0MrbhPR1qTlQB9Mp2sEXN3t5GByy_0zFhKqvDywiMUhdNAG14-lY7lq16FZbYUFcAG86xLnZ_Z8fTajuk0WiVfbMR_LD8bu1KjFCOrKT6M0hK40q9ZdtXERyiVK1_Q_z-423NBjqECgx7zXGIQ/s2000/Christian-krohg-leiv-eriksson.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1302" data-original-width="2000" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTFCKsIIk6YodV1nmazTaZ7x8PuXxL-cTYWP0ZpKYyBc0MrbhPR1qTlQB9Mp2sEXN3t5GByy_0zFhKqvDywiMUhdNAG14-lY7lq16FZbYUFcAG86xLnZ_Z8fTajuk0WiVfbMR_LD8bu1KjFCOrKT6M0hK40q9ZdtXERyiVK1_Q_z-423NBjqECgx7zXGIQ/s320/Christian-krohg-leiv-eriksson.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> Unworthy thoughts. Hot coffee could wait. We were sailing in the wake of heroes, trying to recapture the thrill of seeing land, now inhospitable and bleak but less so a thousand years ago. It took an imaginative squint, several imaginative squints to see these hazy whale-like lumps as a Viking might have done. New land, and the important question, what lay beyond?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSpQFGHiXGjZ6YqmABBtVi3UtQiEsdaVwEo_4UVsrK0NnRTw7xW9P5QYoVWV9Lc34o9zrdN9dZsqly7RL5Jcmvp2KpXkV7VcjqnL4YlMymQSg-XVcL4FDyM2Zo02cCZ7YYeTG3lL38wgnWw6tzNE8rPJe0uS7eLwb8cJiWxFwsMoReFrza9_Q5EyGQw4rW/s4032/clear%20bump%20what%20lays%20beyond%3F.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSpQFGHiXGjZ6YqmABBtVi3UtQiEsdaVwEo_4UVsrK0NnRTw7xW9P5QYoVWV9Lc34o9zrdN9dZsqly7RL5Jcmvp2KpXkV7VcjqnL4YlMymQSg-XVcL4FDyM2Zo02cCZ7YYeTG3lL38wgnWw6tzNE8rPJe0uS7eLwb8cJiWxFwsMoReFrza9_Q5EyGQw4rW/s320/clear%20bump%20what%20lays%20beyond%3F.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidntx_zjiTx3HUFlNcFfA205jSra4gskKqUMMjU98d7q0-N6lWKd4nZAQD4O5t-qj9ApIbk85jud96PpzJh-qNCq2rpAOtu1nApRhvaWOzwCLQNA55lgKGNVY2Qv9BliKUPoh8K0YRGhBalRzhb2FHCzFYICOC44gY24hM4R2GD_mSdynvpcUaPnYYvJ3X/s4032/modern%20settlement.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidntx_zjiTx3HUFlNcFfA205jSra4gskKqUMMjU98d7q0-N6lWKd4nZAQD4O5t-qj9ApIbk85jud96PpzJh-qNCq2rpAOtu1nApRhvaWOzwCLQNA55lgKGNVY2Qv9BliKUPoh8K0YRGhBalRzhb2FHCzFYICOC44gY24hM4R2GD_mSdynvpcUaPnYYvJ3X/s320/modern%20settlement.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">This may be St Anthony a more modern settlement sixteen miles away. </span></div><p></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-37882833126328350812023-11-15T11:53:00.000-08:002023-11-15T12:34:06.742-08:00St John's, Referendums and Ghosts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNEu9FYMcVJwZbVBRvT7bXCw_d0MqjtqZaKEBTUHMfvuSt-VPzpcaakEdNJryaLRSrQMW8AkbqFjCOYSX1r5N2OrZco_BBPBLULD7UINlP78-lbxCt-FKBLk6nErrsIq0l6f_7Ephyphenhyphen7Uws7fcxvO3rrKls49AGrDH0934TcP2UL17JdaB8UQ8BrXlSG2L3/s4032/IMG_8939.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNEu9FYMcVJwZbVBRvT7bXCw_d0MqjtqZaKEBTUHMfvuSt-VPzpcaakEdNJryaLRSrQMW8AkbqFjCOYSX1r5N2OrZco_BBPBLULD7UINlP78-lbxCt-FKBLk6nErrsIq0l6f_7Ephyphenhyphen7Uws7fcxvO3rrKls49AGrDH0934TcP2UL17JdaB8UQ8BrXlSG2L3/s320/IMG_8939.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">St John's just before dawn</div><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Our first port of call was the capital of Newfoundland, St John's where we were blessed with an exuberant and passionate guide who got us under the skin of a truly unique community. St Johns is a natural harbour, a port of refuge for sixteenth century French and Portuguese fishermen. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVxinPBGn_O8wQiSs5qP1LjPON_lNcqgOI61NwUm6bXBc_h7eQNtw5oVAC3TQhpBg8phOVET1Zx62anhAFR3P5ZLGz11ZVd_vHYEs4kuLZZKWwwlHFIMojCCwQkIVg_nABbYzArYziMnLP90SOJc6aBIg2pvJzw8Ndnk0Ed40nYYGtKyjasj52u_t4zQQ/s4032/IMG_8966.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVxinPBGn_O8wQiSs5qP1LjPON_lNcqgOI61NwUm6bXBc_h7eQNtw5oVAC3TQhpBg8phOVET1Zx62anhAFR3P5ZLGz11ZVd_vHYEs4kuLZZKWwwlHFIMojCCwQkIVg_nABbYzArYziMnLP90SOJc6aBIg2pvJzw8Ndnk0Ed40nYYGtKyjasj52u_t4zQQ/s320/IMG_8966.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">It must be said, they lacked the chutzpa and acquisitive instincts of our Sir Humphrey Gilbert who, in August 1583, planted his flag and claimed it for the English crown. A simpler time. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3kRBpEhsvMCQR7jLbGLSzW-Vt5Uu5AaqK6ERCvzBu88xK-8kELQ4epwoFMg49T4w_5ocG0UykZA7io-LBapSiXXW4_Q5tYjIGsPu9igibOEwfplHhvywkAn3DanidN8u_R8oW1F85QQXUhzwYHcWEBWN3ZQulzWq2MXagVq4-57makSpiN9IHvrZYIeey/s813/humphreygilbertportrait.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="813" data-original-width="761" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3kRBpEhsvMCQR7jLbGLSzW-Vt5Uu5AaqK6ERCvzBu88xK-8kELQ4epwoFMg49T4w_5ocG0UykZA7io-LBapSiXXW4_Q5tYjIGsPu9igibOEwfplHhvywkAn3DanidN8u_R8oW1F85QQXUhzwYHcWEBWN3ZQulzWq2MXagVq4-57makSpiN9IHvrZYIeey/s320/humphreygilbertportrait.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>No good deed goes unrewarded. On his way home to England, Sir Humphrey was shipwrecked off the Azores. For the full and detailed story of how he claimed Newfoundland, read this <a href=" https://sourcebooks.fordham.edu/mod/1585haies-gilbert.asp#:~:text=In%201578%20Gilbert%20obtained%20from,again%20in%201583%20for%20Newfoundland.">eyewitness account here.</a> You can scroll down the tedious maritime details until you get to him in St Johns. His self confidence is breathtaking. <br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">St John's had its ups and downs during the C18th when Britain and France fought for control of Canada and much of the world. British victory saw peace for a time and Newfoundland happily slumbered until 1948—when it experienced two referendums. The first referendum offered Newfoundlanders the choice of remaining under British control, joining the new Canadian Confederation, or embarking upon a close, economic union with America. One can imagine the rubbing of hands behind closed doors in the White House. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">For that first referendum, Newfoundland voted narrowly in favour of sticking with Britain, perhaps to the embarrassment of the British Labour government, which was financially strapped and had no great enthusiasm for retaining what they saw as an economic burden. Interestingly, the option of a closer union with America was not offered on the second and decisive ballot. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">For the second referendum, all the stops were pulled out and the struggle between the two sides was vicious, intense, and reminiscent of Brexit. The Catholic Church was in favour of ‘remaining’ with Britain. Those favouring confederation with Canada were forced to play ‘dirty,’ mobilising the Orange Lodge and calling upon all good protestants to vote for union with the mainland. Like Brexit and the last Presidential election, there were rumours of widespread voter fraud and the dead coming alive again to vote. The Confederates won by the narrowest of margins. There are some not reconciled to this day. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Speaking of those arising from the dead, St John's is chockful of ghosts; two currently reside in or around the Anglican cathedral, another in a nearby Masonic lodge, and a third in the Duke of Duckworth – which also sells some excellent beer. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijWf2M4wkUruygyvJUS9bZMgON6eC4xTdOW7EYTJ98T-PJcrdDEjcq09kKe2qObt2sdNaqCH5H0O6CYCgCqeGMcR2ZlfHPuTIgTTPulUfwGoN7BTrNnHIBpluZ2VRFOdjhh3Ix_SfusNzwHGVnim2I0D_MMpiZFlShTuNKQa7vfZAijy1a7q3opnG8-Y8A/s4032/duke%20of%20duckworth.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijWf2M4wkUruygyvJUS9bZMgON6eC4xTdOW7EYTJ98T-PJcrdDEjcq09kKe2qObt2sdNaqCH5H0O6CYCgCqeGMcR2ZlfHPuTIgTTPulUfwGoN7BTrNnHIBpluZ2VRFOdjhh3Ix_SfusNzwHGVnim2I0D_MMpiZFlShTuNKQa7vfZAijy1a7q3opnG8-Y8A/s320/duke%20of%20duckworth.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The Duke of Duckworth</span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuznoJHE4VHLNqhyphenhyphen4mHo_n8TZnCe4-co8RrKas3kCtM2QdlGZNkW8j-HIu0y9nfER-_m622rkcbhxqXMyr2DWkUAeIFBe28woYxrAHWOy25JUVJ4DPRe3hsKQGlfHK20LsirdI3X7OK76ws_dxleBzZRpkmSnb8_yVnWbfBr9i8sZNxXpFflRfQoWBs6eq/s640/Dildo%20pub.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuznoJHE4VHLNqhyphenhyphen4mHo_n8TZnCe4-co8RrKas3kCtM2QdlGZNkW8j-HIu0y9nfER-_m622rkcbhxqXMyr2DWkUAeIFBe28woYxrAHWOy25JUVJ4DPRe3hsKQGlfHK20LsirdI3X7OK76ws_dxleBzZRpkmSnb8_yVnWbfBr9i8sZNxXpFflRfQoWBs6eq/s320/Dildo%20pub.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">An accurate reflection perhaps of the effect of its beer</div><div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">On to more salubrious topics. The Anglican Cathedral, St John the Baptist, dominates a hill upon which a Methodist Chapel, a Scottish Kirk and a Catholic Cathedral—also called St John the Baptist—sit in close proximity. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0l3dZ6_UKrmWGkTrh5_MYA5ZgLXi1DKrEbB6U23GNxSrtxUU0lsASCb6nUWEBQ4KcAaU1ufUyYvop-mu-mrNO7mZ9Kw7kmSrRrWCYFFK2HORPDZIDU0aEm1ePwyzBEG6BCMuwxwyc1pkC1Zwr7edhZJmLDv1_iyeGgAoZTA0DVJb9F0gtCN3EbgbCg2tk/s1024/e6e9549f-df05-40db-a649-933bbf21f896.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0l3dZ6_UKrmWGkTrh5_MYA5ZgLXi1DKrEbB6U23GNxSrtxUU0lsASCb6nUWEBQ4KcAaU1ufUyYvop-mu-mrNO7mZ9Kw7kmSrRrWCYFFK2HORPDZIDU0aEm1ePwyzBEG6BCMuwxwyc1pkC1Zwr7edhZJmLDv1_iyeGgAoZTA0DVJb9F0gtCN3EbgbCg2tk/s320/e6e9549f-df05-40db-a649-933bbf21f896.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The Methodist Chapel with some stunning stained glass windows inside.</span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4JclB5csqrB11ER_QOJXKv4LJDqoNegEubO7NNsuSf5Wu_Z0zvibVULupb2sUtU5drPAEHptN44aDRlyKQoRIxICM2l0N1at83BGA_Tl5A7w4hNMftPrTdNeJXQKsxiQ94TjD4jkuPMkMXJE7lKbULkHshDF3Dsg7p7vgM3HVJ9abY2K8JQfDUIPRVFT/s1024/methodist%20interior.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4JclB5csqrB11ER_QOJXKv4LJDqoNegEubO7NNsuSf5Wu_Z0zvibVULupb2sUtU5drPAEHptN44aDRlyKQoRIxICM2l0N1at83BGA_Tl5A7w4hNMftPrTdNeJXQKsxiQ94TjD4jkuPMkMXJE7lKbULkHshDF3Dsg7p7vgM3HVJ9abY2K8JQfDUIPRVFT/s320/methodist%20interior.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWogqG-79nfua5h0RdfuLSmiiDvRXUUar0DwodZ7SYUY0kmWy3-ZsCExsJNm4EPFM4uNnAgGwYZhsrF1D5_jVDavR5UZ0hix21s_eNdba8ROWZ2OPpfxIYTf0_yZF_ck8cqnY7tiJZCc663AWrZp5Bu79-laEltGZXNBfHOXs_mcq7c_8U8BuestOKpUx7/s1024/PHOTO-2023-11-15-16-53-36%205.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWogqG-79nfua5h0RdfuLSmiiDvRXUUar0DwodZ7SYUY0kmWy3-ZsCExsJNm4EPFM4uNnAgGwYZhsrF1D5_jVDavR5UZ0hix21s_eNdba8ROWZ2OPpfxIYTf0_yZF_ck8cqnY7tiJZCc663AWrZp5Bu79-laEltGZXNBfHOXs_mcq7c_8U8BuestOKpUx7/s320/PHOTO-2023-11-15-16-53-36%205.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The Catholic Cathedral of St John The Baptist</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu2qmokvNYEjjFgZxMRGz3fy3B1bWcOA5fD8-nwPJ1wThZ7dP6EJ3RrKA7bL7tkSxqUcxwfLqod0cTxh-qxi5ZKPz0BSSn2CIbxBWGcMTLAvaggE2EvPB51gw1hdRYIcIq-NZlNuT_oFUcRn-rfuqCXWfojv-B152X45MmKKkQiTGw7f22gHgf2II6KBSa/s1024/ab4ed167-5335-49bf-b733-c97e1db07a3d.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu2qmokvNYEjjFgZxMRGz3fy3B1bWcOA5fD8-nwPJ1wThZ7dP6EJ3RrKA7bL7tkSxqUcxwfLqod0cTxh-qxi5ZKPz0BSSn2CIbxBWGcMTLAvaggE2EvPB51gw1hdRYIcIq-NZlNuT_oFUcRn-rfuqCXWfojv-B152X45MmKKkQiTGw7f22gHgf2II6KBSa/s320/ab4ed167-5335-49bf-b733-c97e1db07a3d.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEVCrjJols0pGaDIz0s5Hp0hMGPfnUVt6HXsFNxRqTT_VTgknHguXbjY0fkmFt5dmMCrFWw14FXQgHamUnKYdOkVnQs_dUIbZSlDIMHwTUvWr11BRXJPzDO6Fqdkyj2j1ULNnZ_qXWhbm7YAREaDLAOjeecPpyRKMYt46Rg-yKYyTtYgm-pfx52JzPBOg/s1024/catholic%20altar.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEVCrjJols0pGaDIz0s5Hp0hMGPfnUVt6HXsFNxRqTT_VTgknHguXbjY0fkmFt5dmMCrFWw14FXQgHamUnKYdOkVnQs_dUIbZSlDIMHwTUvWr11BRXJPzDO6Fqdkyj2j1ULNnZ_qXWhbm7YAREaDLAOjeecPpyRKMYt46Rg-yKYyTtYgm-pfx52JzPBOg/s320/catholic%20altar.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr9lJOlcph9RZ5I6qrPuAZxUwyWbFp_geOjJRJOLEM9pDJGzGEtqNbKZUKvWCDk0mIE6X_hTLVaWfAXZ-uVS4mbdPy2ue9TeQr0f0oejdxUthm72BkjNUd64DHCvu9PBmgNFfY3gZvD3mgX3eonR1oeoWVBpb8SaUCeiKMrZtIHoWeTDTscm2iUFb15Cv3/s1024/catholc%20interior.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr9lJOlcph9RZ5I6qrPuAZxUwyWbFp_geOjJRJOLEM9pDJGzGEtqNbKZUKvWCDk0mIE6X_hTLVaWfAXZ-uVS4mbdPy2ue9TeQr0f0oejdxUthm72BkjNUd64DHCvu9PBmgNFfY3gZvD3mgX3eonR1oeoWVBpb8SaUCeiKMrZtIHoWeTDTscm2iUFb15Cv3/s320/catholc%20interior.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The Anglican Cathedral of St John the Baptist</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghvHmX8kT2L5TgyO8_wzp9AJQEhEAGCsqFfZxpTRD-JRn-FBlip7cwkcXe-dzRxDQp3hvQ-BBNM5xZ2x-3pVX91vRXcB__mdLSQ0k0Kn7d6uwJHgQosiSN8urlCgrI-Q3MmLShivHCggV68V-F9Wj_J_PW3y5QAVdf9Al2sZowV3Kb9dB0dA2JUqpWzG_n/s1024/Anglican%20nave%20and%20altar.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghvHmX8kT2L5TgyO8_wzp9AJQEhEAGCsqFfZxpTRD-JRn-FBlip7cwkcXe-dzRxDQp3hvQ-BBNM5xZ2x-3pVX91vRXcB__mdLSQ0k0Kn7d6uwJHgQosiSN8urlCgrI-Q3MmLShivHCggV68V-F9Wj_J_PW3y5QAVdf9Al2sZowV3Kb9dB0dA2JUqpWzG_n/s320/Anglican%20nave%20and%20altar.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiVaeYIuAHw2nyADt9mMbWDy8dWWAs7KT-MjFiHyXsR-sO2xaCtMhAbVQYG5CmHOkMciIVRheiG7eiJ7HV39jznUfrw4c7DqdJibe7sz7gxXgIby7mxPR8mUFeDVNRM-DyTooyCX9_x6OEctJSJYd20lYPvvKlKwQQZuKizuWkpA_k7WJgLr5X-m-ocKef/s1024/Anglican%20windows.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiVaeYIuAHw2nyADt9mMbWDy8dWWAs7KT-MjFiHyXsR-sO2xaCtMhAbVQYG5CmHOkMciIVRheiG7eiJ7HV39jznUfrw4c7DqdJibe7sz7gxXgIby7mxPR8mUFeDVNRM-DyTooyCX9_x6OEctJSJYd20lYPvvKlKwQQZuKizuWkpA_k7WJgLr5X-m-ocKef/s320/Anglican%20windows.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">All church photos credit. BM Keyton</span></b></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The original wooden church dates back to 1699 making it the oldest Anglican parish in Canada. The building of the stone church began in 1843 but was largely destroyed by fire in 1847. Perhaps God is a Catholic and objected to two Cathedrals in close proximity bearing the same name.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">During the post fire rebuilding, a young stone mason fell to his death. His spirit though lingered, glimpses of him seen every now and again by his fellow workmen. In this group photograph shot in 1850 ––years before photoshop or AI skullduggery––<i>you</i> can glimpse him too. Look closely to the left of those in their Sunday best celebrating the opening of the nave: a man in work clothes—transparent—the stonework clearly visible behind him.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMyBWqdss_OSOdbBO55BK9XmY2P15P5kTY414zpnpd9brBtty4Mhgfu141efy-x2PULAH9AlWSKRfX8bUqvso3IFP1Z2dsYCaggq4pbG9ItAouVsbuLyDkAio-_lTnGw08cg8KeRFvkOPT_W1MnbFgIsy_6RMWQjhyhMDR36d-_lDcYgRpyr3MSsiuy4uV/s4032/IMG_8961.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMyBWqdss_OSOdbBO55BK9XmY2P15P5kTY414zpnpd9brBtty4Mhgfu141efy-x2PULAH9AlWSKRfX8bUqvso3IFP1Z2dsYCaggq4pbG9ItAouVsbuLyDkAio-_lTnGw08cg8KeRFvkOPT_W1MnbFgIsy_6RMWQjhyhMDR36d-_lDcYgRpyr3MSsiuy4uV/s320/IMG_8961.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">More ghosts haunt the adjacent Anglican graveyard dating from 1699. It's estimated some 20,000 bodies have been buried there, one on top of the other. Heavy rains and ground movement quite often means that bones are unearthed and found on the adjacent pavement. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Most of the corpses lie in unmarked graves. One such corpse was that of an unknown seaman discovered dead in an alleyway. A grave was dug, his casket lowered into it, the hole near-filled—when a loud knocking was heard. The casket was hurriedly retrieved, the body re-examined, and once again pronounced dead. The body was returned to the grave when once again the same thing happened. After the third such reoccurrence the man was buried this time for good. Though the knocking continued. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">On McMurdo’s Lane stands the Duke of Duckworth where I sampled a pint of Quidi Vidi (Look it up. Well worth a drink or three) but failed to see its famous ghost nicknamed ‘the Duke.’ Several have seen him in the window, waving at passers-by, others have sensed or glimpsed him in the pub itself. Maybe if I had stayed longer….or drank more Quidi Vidi, but there was a ship to catch. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4VpSmOFTL3U6i5FhjAe7_9RsEWjr1Uw7aBHgF_-HVqV2arav581116qPS7obdOZ0pdNw0Z6qINiygF6-KCclbidHP-QADItv6w-yJXNBv_13kKC57pqxwIvjvIneA9ke6U_CYiLulbs_x2_J8Qyl1eHHsd34Mi1AciV_YufUHVUL0vt_p6OGLG90C_2X_/s4032/ship%20funnels.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4VpSmOFTL3U6i5FhjAe7_9RsEWjr1Uw7aBHgF_-HVqV2arav581116qPS7obdOZ0pdNw0Z6qINiygF6-KCclbidHP-QADItv6w-yJXNBv_13kKC57pqxwIvjvIneA9ke6U_CYiLulbs_x2_J8Qyl1eHHsd34Mi1AciV_YufUHVUL0vt_p6OGLG90C_2X_/s320/ship%20funnels.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;">Ship seen here peeping coyly behind buildings.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFrkdS491-YRol09fYeoyj3NHlRPtHmeq9DGvsMTtVLkVpQnmIfE3Q9OTljbNAK6l7XYXwgaSjXyjqcyj-3Ai8PclE4TLYjD1OsC3FygEjkm4ykQYKzsNGsx85B3ARP1DLznaqp-I3CtVlxYyQyUTAcNiq12WsDLyidM5l9aZw7U1FemkFtn2USN3d8Rvj/s4032/ship.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFrkdS491-YRol09fYeoyj3NHlRPtHmeq9DGvsMTtVLkVpQnmIfE3Q9OTljbNAK6l7XYXwgaSjXyjqcyj-3Ai8PclE4TLYjD1OsC3FygEjkm4ykQYKzsNGsx85B3ARP1DLznaqp-I3CtVlxYyQyUTAcNiq12WsDLyidM5l9aZw7U1FemkFtn2USN3d8Rvj/s320/ship.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span> Still, time for a little more sight-seeing</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFspPNkeJo1f_FDDVk-yevbeHtX7nGyvYMesTEPu8ivDy7gRJ6X1x7s5YTj3tOwBYtBXGHYItuJRCz02M0wIupWT5uhZjhyphenhyphenbcHM5JVHccQOWRKWlnoJd1ALGRjY2HIGNJf5PZe0EsBMs7d5Q7Ho2LA6Zg_3BqGmCz1LBWXTEhmJYfWQV4EE_q9-VwRTq5/s4032/colour%20houses%201.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFspPNkeJo1f_FDDVk-yevbeHtX7nGyvYMesTEPu8ivDy7gRJ6X1x7s5YTj3tOwBYtBXGHYItuJRCz02M0wIupWT5uhZjhyphenhyphenbcHM5JVHccQOWRKWlnoJd1ALGRjY2HIGNJf5PZe0EsBMs7d5Q7Ho2LA6Zg_3BqGmCz1LBWXTEhmJYfWQV4EE_q9-VwRTq5/s320/colour%20houses%201.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRGZ1QjboXbR62niopBr7W8evgunhKcASENQeF-ApF_xdR5xQo0NLHsGUH42qywVgL8HcBYd4Iod4mmmgj45KmNPXcLjKke-42MBZ1CBmMzcX-PqScZQ_iwkCJGZHHhZh2RwJvLA2khKMCd9F2-0cLmZD6xrfW-eGnFnHQYgCeCEMZkbcaeOVCQKtnVJ8U/s4032/colour%20houses%20corner.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRGZ1QjboXbR62niopBr7W8evgunhKcASENQeF-ApF_xdR5xQo0NLHsGUH42qywVgL8HcBYd4Iod4mmmgj45KmNPXcLjKke-42MBZ1CBmMzcX-PqScZQ_iwkCJGZHHhZh2RwJvLA2khKMCd9F2-0cLmZD6xrfW-eGnFnHQYgCeCEMZkbcaeOVCQKtnVJ8U/s320/colour%20houses%20corner.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxf3bLknzA6S5FMfXAZdwmUCzU4PGIr_S5ccECS1Q6Cydy2mw8ldbEZR1RF8AQMJ6ocM9GAffyLKDMhnYz2CgZ1ens6PQz7kePfI0eow8k8huyFYTf-9lQyiSr1teTEnUidAobKG2hW40rptFOZY8AB114Hb7peRWLtRMt7pxftX-3OAdKbJsKB6HRCIRu/s4032/colour%20houses%20hilll.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxf3bLknzA6S5FMfXAZdwmUCzU4PGIr_S5ccECS1Q6Cydy2mw8ldbEZR1RF8AQMJ6ocM9GAffyLKDMhnYz2CgZ1ens6PQz7kePfI0eow8k8huyFYTf-9lQyiSr1teTEnUidAobKG2hW40rptFOZY8AB114Hb7peRWLtRMt7pxftX-3OAdKbJsKB6HRCIRu/s320/colour%20houses%20hilll.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ0HShlS1z8qIEYlOY5WTscHRRcLjTG8o9mRR_y6YeDZPZni4EuHoGUIAfCVizYE75ICuXcJvZfCCq9yKQY-q5mTXQlgMXRxUFIJG15ZJBbApjzhnOXuqVqkMtdSBdIvf9lsAAtc07stWIj8ktXXPMALMsehVsMw_8IQl6M6jhYBMrvBOJSoUrYQFWvzCn/s4032/colour%20housICes%20brilliant.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ0HShlS1z8qIEYlOY5WTscHRRcLjTG8o9mRR_y6YeDZPZni4EuHoGUIAfCVizYE75ICuXcJvZfCCq9yKQY-q5mTXQlgMXRxUFIJG15ZJBbApjzhnOXuqVqkMtdSBdIvf9lsAAtc07stWIj8ktXXPMALMsehVsMw_8IQl6M6jhYBMrvBOJSoUrYQFWvzCn/s320/colour%20housICes%20brilliant.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">There are various reasons given for the brightly colours houses. The proximity of the Gulf Stream and the colder Labrador current give rise to dense fogs,* and the winters are dismal. Colour cheers the soul and aids visibility in mist. The flat roofs too have a story behind them. Another great fire, in 1892, destroyed much of St Johns and to this day is remembered as 'the great fire.' Rebuilding was hurried and flat roofs were easier and relatively cheap. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p> * Because of the many dense fogs, moose are a problem, cars crashing into them on misty roads. During such fogs many roads are closed to protect both motorist and moose.</o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p>And finally, it was time to leave hopefully with better luck than Sir Humphrey Gilbert.</o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span><p></p><p><style class="WebKit-mso-list-quirks-style">
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text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: center; white-space: normal; widows: auto;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaLcX73A96LGcv-QztyPS6bm9Syerq1JtfwQrX0co5-yczbQ5ljHJmhKmCN6i7q3MZo6ysJIJkrwTkX-nISD5JwrO06a9uuvi4OcqOlhzRswspF7H-evg2gEFUvge7XBFFiP8JAG5bX-9Xdd9clUA6ja9EUnTMEVo-oQy8zZ0QLr7jaRl6xH7FDTjMyMbb/s4032/IMG_8974.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaLcX73A96LGcv-QztyPS6bm9Syerq1JtfwQrX0co5-yczbQ5ljHJmhKmCN6i7q3MZo6ysJIJkrwTkX-nISD5JwrO06a9uuvi4OcqOlhzRswspF7H-evg2gEFUvge7XBFFiP8JAG5bX-9Xdd9clUA6ja9EUnTMEVo-oQy8zZ0QLr7jaRl6xH7FDTjMyMbb/s320/IMG_8974.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; orphans: auto; text-align: center; white-space: normal; widows: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Next stop—in search of Vikings.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div></div><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="line-height: 200%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="line-height: 200%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="line-height: 200%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p></div>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-22465076477349065052023-11-10T11:29:00.007-08:002023-11-10T11:55:41.743-08:00Mother Carey's Chickens<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimqAffQVxZZkEZvG2OF2u1h_8hPy5-JEBd4nqQzA5NF62-k2YMqAhyvP3pvfkce2jSxWZyFAV6MJ8NkDu6qJOP41AAa6A5yPkutepwjlcYVRk24QDmSu-1RBab034pOdn1FA2PGYrSzvHN_T4iE08gNhgaCpGBuxuBaXKwyCmVbYmYnwqo5-GE8UX1EQXM/s4032/sea.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimqAffQVxZZkEZvG2OF2u1h_8hPy5-JEBd4nqQzA5NF62-k2YMqAhyvP3pvfkce2jSxWZyFAV6MJ8NkDu6qJOP41AAa6A5yPkutepwjlcYVRk24QDmSu-1RBab034pOdn1FA2PGYrSzvHN_T4iE08gNhgaCpGBuxuBaXKwyCmVbYmYnwqo5-GE8UX1EQXM/s320/sea.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">As the four-day journey across the Atlantic progressed, we slipped into a mindless routine largely dominated by food and the need to militate against its effects. So, breakfast would be followed by a brisk one-mile walk – three and a half circuits of the ship; an hour or two reading, lunch—power walk (in my case power amble;) mid-afternoon tea—power amble; reading, cocktails 6.30. Dinner 8.30 and bed. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Walking soon became the highlight of the routine, the vast skies and endless sea. The Atlantic is so immense, the Mediterranean, to my mind, busy and a little overcrowded.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Od9inWqCKFU" width="320" youtube-src-id="Od9inWqCKFU"></iframe></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw5NBRBGZAA4PlvUJo3EoAExtP0LEf43Gcr-dEFkz5lZW2ohOku9V2706v2XR9esBfnLMPYsSnoZlzT2tF1rg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></b></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The sea proved hypnotic and highlighted a stark contrast between the superficial—ie the cruise—and the elemental power of wind and sea. It also highlighted the contrast between <i>now</i> and then—then being those early Viking voyages and sixteenth century seamen. The contrast was especially stark when tucking into Eggs Benedict, Lobster Bisque or roast aubergine soup, filet mignon, pan fried pheasant, red snapper, T-bone steaks, and desserts ranging from pavlovas to every kind of parfait.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> Our Viking counterparts would be chewing on nuts or dried fish but could at least forgo the compensatory power walk. Likewise, the Tudor seaman with his daily pound of biscuit and gallon of beer, his pound of salt meat every four days, salted cod on Fridays, and occasionally Pease-porridge.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The guilt didn’t last long, our present life a passing blip in a history of hardship and endurance. Enjoy. Nothing lasts forever. Tuck into that filet mignon. Walk if you must—or perhaps a spot of whale watching.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> There were ardent whale watchers amongst us. Every so often they’d scream with excitement and point. I saw nothing, not even a fin. I was told to look out for blowholes and on one occasion convinced myself I’d seen one—either that or a fish passing wind.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">What really intrigued me though were the birds following in the wake of our stern. These were <i>small</i>, not hardy muscular things, and so far from land. What were they? <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLltuYKKD_b3CAK9T_2pvAivU25KQ6etC_2omCoWuY85N0qWw_1OztC4m_QaTcerquPvhW8GrLWvHsW1x_N9brLDFlP2373oW3OmbFyygDmxXiTZS1IptLR-4tbPFwzneH4YKKLO2Jv9oKoN1459WwbqwvTJ08QDY78yMjenE9mlNTNcaRVxC3CWMgs9s7/s4032/sea%20petrel%20and%20great%20sea.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLltuYKKD_b3CAK9T_2pvAivU25KQ6etC_2omCoWuY85N0qWw_1OztC4m_QaTcerquPvhW8GrLWvHsW1x_N9brLDFlP2373oW3OmbFyygDmxXiTZS1IptLR-4tbPFwzneH4YKKLO2Jv9oKoN1459WwbqwvTJ08QDY78yMjenE9mlNTNcaRVxC3CWMgs9s7/s320/sea%20petrel%20and%20great%20sea.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQpsGBXTOBMZ-4ngaMBGXlpAeRBjujDw_GqYbnLjO1y0w88Vd7x86wGq2vjNs66PgJOsZJ9aCmCTgDZx_MH3i3pzhM8DrZQ6YiyxzHUUDMaCe711ES8qzTFjAMYkLWFj-UnV5bGoBaWC4YqHPBCdlM4lznMEi-JrMJwsciuTqtYcY5jvsd3ZJGipNQ9c5p/s4032/sea%20petrel%20and%20shadow.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQpsGBXTOBMZ-4ngaMBGXlpAeRBjujDw_GqYbnLjO1y0w88Vd7x86wGq2vjNs66PgJOsZJ9aCmCTgDZx_MH3i3pzhM8DrZQ6YiyxzHUUDMaCe711ES8qzTFjAMYkLWFj-UnV5bGoBaWC4YqHPBCdlM4lznMEi-JrMJwsciuTqtYcY5jvsd3ZJGipNQ9c5p/s320/sea%20petrel%20and%20shadow.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">They had this magical quality of being easily spotted but never on camera. Too fast. These are my best attempts, visible if you zoom in. Mind you, a glimpsed petrel is better than an unseen whale, I suppose.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjrwMf05kdPyqvCqHbnhWAD8-mcbmNyOx9HUxPuMkp3QkdZLHowr2yNki95eaRsMnJ1xF_kuEXc3sKQkKO-6P1mbEElzloDTQBk0e4LOEJmdiNRzxZ0Cae7Z9EECgkgpurLPYtMeT5jVxyR2ke8ClRYe1Sj2fTyg9oBjftiVbYINp73FspPhIwcQu5-Z4S/s4032/sea%20and%20petrels%20blown%20up.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjrwMf05kdPyqvCqHbnhWAD8-mcbmNyOx9HUxPuMkp3QkdZLHowr2yNki95eaRsMnJ1xF_kuEXc3sKQkKO-6P1mbEElzloDTQBk0e4LOEJmdiNRzxZ0Cae7Z9EECgkgpurLPYtMeT5jVxyR2ke8ClRYe1Sj2fTyg9oBjftiVbYINp73FspPhIwcQu5-Z4S/s320/sea%20and%20petrels%20blown%20up.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Zoom in and you may or not see them</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUAKOraAi5nyFu0NpmpNj8N4zn1iMOtUA7wMchn7OlqJA53W8FtikN98cqbuuYQT2v0Rjnx-ndfhxuNyn7DuwcD3wYK1-uwsSKC_vNVB4G-gzhmP_-QpfxcJPWCg8M47SWuIqM0wuThEZSugbj-b8DfVOeGLlzmcJBeolyeiVKofCoyLGN06Za3QNnvHcE/s4032/sea%20and%20petrols%20good.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUAKOraAi5nyFu0NpmpNj8N4zn1iMOtUA7wMchn7OlqJA53W8FtikN98cqbuuYQT2v0Rjnx-ndfhxuNyn7DuwcD3wYK1-uwsSKC_vNVB4G-gzhmP_-QpfxcJPWCg8M47SWuIqM0wuThEZSugbj-b8DfVOeGLlzmcJBeolyeiVKofCoyLGN06Za3QNnvHcE/s320/sea%20and%20petrols%20good.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Storm petrels, a whale watcher informed me. I was hooked. Skimming on wind, walking on water. Storm petrels—or Mother Carey’s chickens—what wonderful names. For those early seafarers swallowed and tossed in their small wooden boats, the storm petrels appeared like Dracula's bats, demonic, harbingers of death. Mother Carey’s chickens bringing fresh food for the great sea-witch and her husband Davey Jones. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Breton folklore holds that storm petrels are the spirits of sea captains who mistreated their crew and doomed to spend eternity flying over the sea. Another superstition affirms they are the souls of drowned sailors, others swore they were the devil’s bird. Whosever bird they are, the storm petrel is truly remarkable, spending most of its life at sea, returning to land only to breed. They also live a long time—for a bird—with a life span averaging 25 years.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/wjiaiVtjddw" width="320" youtube-src-id="wjiaiVtjddw"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Credit BM Keyton (succeeded where I failed)</span></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://youtu.be/wjiaiVtjddw">I couldn’t get close enough </a>to verify this, but they also have a gland above their nasal passage which allows them to excrete the excess salt from their natural diet. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">One tradition has it that the petrel’s name is derived from St Peter’s short-lived attempt to walk on water. An alternative explanation is that it comes from the word<i> pitteral</i>, a reference to their ability to <i>pitter patter</i> over water. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I could have watched them for hours, skimming and cresting the waves but that night a storm hit us. They may have been harbingers, but eight of these birds almost came to a sticky end. Worn and battered they took refuge on the ship and were discovered the following morning miserably huddled on deck, looking the worse for wear. There, they allowed themselves to be collected, placed in a box for warmth and later released.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfvGyVt9ruRdtqsA3a3lK_RAtPRD0f_kwSxSiZefHl_dqxKoaBRCobY9w7JpUufVS-kjxZk99IHbBLu8dCycarmqrj2OVSt-Wam7s7gQrOLohamLhMvmIMjGXbWeBwM4h0m7fVXFaloTFfY4p4RfuPT19EmrRvX8yGQl-m5Ge8RAtlM2NfrQbfDmCYN3tr/s4032/petrels%20in%20boc.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfvGyVt9ruRdtqsA3a3lK_RAtPRD0f_kwSxSiZefHl_dqxKoaBRCobY9w7JpUufVS-kjxZk99IHbBLu8dCycarmqrj2OVSt-Wam7s7gQrOLohamLhMvmIMjGXbWeBwM4h0m7fVXFaloTFfY4p4RfuPT19EmrRvX8yGQl-m5Ge8RAtlM2NfrQbfDmCYN3tr/s320/petrels%20in%20boc.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">They didn’t look too demonic to me, but they did have a musty sweet smell, the result, I discovered later of the oily plankton soup swirling about in their stomachs. Unfortunately, I forgot to examine their nasal passage. <br /></span></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br />Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-37773683212136165802023-11-02T13:08:00.004-07:002023-11-02T14:11:37.026-07:00The Adventure Begins<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwkQ7B-RcvFwiCP90XmQHaiPn9vzT-Zp-IBRTxYaECZR1Kjnc6vcz9kBm-28_eA7Fg4rifYRsrOeA_iEM9xxKEgdLuDLYrHeDsHwyfrGme33ePMmz23ituGJ5ANTa80PP_MMf7W-TQRboq3-1g0V9xUgBKF5eqIBXLuFlkuf1b3VhUAu785ScOmkp3Ar00/s4032/Leaving%20liverppol%20liver%20building.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwkQ7B-RcvFwiCP90XmQHaiPn9vzT-Zp-IBRTxYaECZR1Kjnc6vcz9kBm-28_eA7Fg4rifYRsrOeA_iEM9xxKEgdLuDLYrHeDsHwyfrGme33ePMmz23ituGJ5ANTa80PP_MMf7W-TQRboq3-1g0V9xUgBKF5eqIBXLuFlkuf1b3VhUAu785ScOmkp3Ar00/s320/Leaving%20liverppol%20liver%20building.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Our last view of the Liver Building</b></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVcxBweaPB4L4janMrxAp9G0BaUHt2_4AAlGrr76-vRlX6iL4cu3yIwxDwS8pFb1exiXvQRCfRZjdll39xGzfFTBsVnqTQ2-vILr2NOr_ulMnblcHN0TzdX49fL4OWhHKJizDZUdUvyTaVIV-vYxUrKj5WYHmjDELyYloQ_EZkkpmYEiqBvYepmVAB-y_X/s1024/leaving%20liverpool%201.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVcxBweaPB4L4janMrxAp9G0BaUHt2_4AAlGrr76-vRlX6iL4cu3yIwxDwS8pFb1exiXvQRCfRZjdll39xGzfFTBsVnqTQ2-vILr2NOr_ulMnblcHN0TzdX49fL4OWhHKJizDZUdUvyTaVIV-vYxUrKj5WYHmjDELyYloQ_EZkkpmYEiqBvYepmVAB-y_X/s320/leaving%20liverpool%201.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>The voyage begins</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU-FXB6El2HqcUDm6x4wmjJiC2yVJ5FtHCrHjrObE7-JD5_FWdQYeWKjTv6DK7nH8EyALzSPkn5fc96SOqpPp1kuvEJpI6yAxcAuRCFWs0mc9E411T6CE5VVQscrIW1c3zvlXNXQy-PGdOfYpWM0gJhDBZPNAlW35kF-N37KGqqLp2lxRTvyT4kWG2jLg2/s4032/Birkinhead.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU-FXB6El2HqcUDm6x4wmjJiC2yVJ5FtHCrHjrObE7-JD5_FWdQYeWKjTv6DK7nH8EyALzSPkn5fc96SOqpPp1kuvEJpI6yAxcAuRCFWs0mc9E411T6CE5VVQscrIW1c3zvlXNXQy-PGdOfYpWM0gJhDBZPNAlW35kF-N37KGqqLp2lxRTvyT4kWG2jLg2/s320/Birkinhead.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>Hard to believe, but Birkenhead can look quite pretty from a distance and in the right light.</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><b>(apologies to those whom it may concern)</b></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Cruises are a strange old thing. We set off from Liverpool, this time for Canada, and once again I was struck by the simplicity of boarding in comparison with airports. There is only the one terminal and a single ship to focus on. The line is leisurely and gives you time to assess your fellow passengers as they quietly assess you. First impressions? They’re all so bloody old, and yes, I get the irony. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">We inched closer, packed like cows in an abattoir minus the stress and panic or indeed blood. Perhaps a little tense. I looked around again, sensing the huge and accumulated experience of elder spirits, bulbs in the potting shed waiting to flower, probably after that first drink on board. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Bulbs in a potting shed? The three brisk and jolly women behind us looked more like characters from an Agatha Christie novel. ‘Murder on the Borealis.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The guy in front of us, a small, dapper man in tweed and matching flat cap, a possible victim. He looked lugubrious enough, lips pouting at nothing, and carrying a ukulele in a black plastic case. He’d been on an earlier Fred Olsen cruise that had offered onboard ukulele lessons. His head had been thoroughly turned by the experience and this time he’d brought his own in the hope there would be fellow ukulele players on board. There were, and later on in the cruise, we discovered the surprising amount of violence the ukulele can nurture. There were fisticuffs, two men squaring up to each other. Ukuleles at dawn. I was baffled. Musical differences? We’re talking ukuleles here.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">There were also Irish ‘travellers’ on board and a tall, thin man in his nineties walking with sticks—Mr Fred Olsen himself. We discovered this later, but even before then, I sensed this trip was going to be fun.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I think, to enjoy a cruise you have to enjoy people—or tolerate them at least. The Borealis is relatively small, with just over 1100 of us on board. A decent enough size compared with some of the 7,000 monstrosities currently ploughing the seas. I like people well enough, but that many? Moderation in everything.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM_BVdGZfMo2y79idEGKlD9HG-K-Re0T5Ov6-1mBxxxe6lItXb7ik4eW9BerDG-M6x7PgFZcFzoPJPIb2migOkwKershcLuSegL_6Dq4ZpM9uIaHAasTFGVMklpxQvaK3cLYSY-ZoV_n4vYNkDrWS8fVMQTqa7kuOrHeA0UUs5vA5bIxO8X3cSiSQWzhxT/s1024/Times%20square.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM_BVdGZfMo2y79idEGKlD9HG-K-Re0T5Ov6-1mBxxxe6lItXb7ik4eW9BerDG-M6x7PgFZcFzoPJPIb2migOkwKershcLuSegL_6Dq4ZpM9uIaHAasTFGVMklpxQvaK3cLYSY-ZoV_n4vYNkDrWS8fVMQTqa7kuOrHeA0UUs5vA5bIxO8X3cSiSQWzhxT/s320/Times%20square.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2xvzq_d39mKumzNp-1LXQm5Jh8saUeFrR0oq6wtLtH-RNKJPXt9yIJ9FU5YPUROPFnQEJ9X74VKsApNLBFj0pX084H6c_32zpd4B94snunxalSbDCcd1AiDcm_QIZ-6GSvM3kvoUKSio-G3kT8_PlmocMEsMEeAhALvbyO9faWk0csdBBuXR_qplsyOu8/s640/stairway%20to%20heaven.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2xvzq_d39mKumzNp-1LXQm5Jh8saUeFrR0oq6wtLtH-RNKJPXt9yIJ9FU5YPUROPFnQEJ9X74VKsApNLBFj0pX084H6c_32zpd4B94snunxalSbDCcd1AiDcm_QIZ-6GSvM3kvoUKSio-G3kT8_PlmocMEsMEeAhALvbyO9faWk0csdBBuXR_qplsyOu8/s320/stairway%20to%20heaven.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3yTB0nzZs0Ilnbjt3Zct2EUhZlFeA5TEBnG5zzJCck1akQPuxNeDnjaw_2x8GC7wkURnYKTwqRkdjfxHw222PC3PX1g7UKUug1EOp-AVshYmwSPadRfkId63D286fPXWmby-I4z7YMaovgdnZyWhKY6F6iEPd_C-E5lI8SUs8xKiQwXFHmcB4n1uwWy1V/s1024/Atlas%20carrying%20worldJPG.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3yTB0nzZs0Ilnbjt3Zct2EUhZlFeA5TEBnG5zzJCck1akQPuxNeDnjaw_2x8GC7wkURnYKTwqRkdjfxHw222PC3PX1g7UKUug1EOp-AVshYmwSPadRfkId63D286fPXWmby-I4z7YMaovgdnZyWhKY6F6iEPd_C-E5lI8SUs8xKiQwXFHmcB4n1uwWy1V/s320/Atlas%20carrying%20worldJPG.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>Time Square from different levels. A central focal point.</b></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">As the journey progressed, I was struck by the many life stories, snippets of conversation that revealed hidden depths. Every day, every hour was like a kaleidoscope, tiny fragments of colour re-sorting themselves depending upon where you sat, walked, ate, or drank. There were the two women who’d gone through two husbands and were cheerfully looking for a third; the ninety-two-year-old Anglican priest who’d served in pre-revolutionary Iran.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> He told the story of his first Christian convert—a blind Iranian boy—who’d explored his stole and vestments by touch and listened intently as the then equally young priest had described their colours. In time, the convert became a priest too, married, and had children. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">And now the old man, bubbling with excitement and glee, came to the crux of his story. After years of clandestine messages secreted out from Iran, he was about to officiate at the marriage of that first convert’s granddaughter, wearing the <i>same</i> vestments and stole that had first enraptured the young Iranian. More, he’d translated and published the service into Farsi especially for wedding. I hope I have as much energy and enthusiasm when, God willing, I reach ninety-two.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAQx1vcDz_CeGziKiiV6-8O2v1kXlbNHfunU54hr2D2QfHl2YBJhImAIQAv8iY_XLyMwTifhkpO9xuFrqUz2vDS22QxoBGX0Wetc1eNuWnfGW4tQyQjgZopSf1HDl0o4zaRaB_aCf8FPJbVZzGa9gzqfSuCoc9Hg5z0Hr3IewmSXKa7zmbp6aL-LycOsNs/s4032/Library%20gentlemans%20lub.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAQx1vcDz_CeGziKiiV6-8O2v1kXlbNHfunU54hr2D2QfHl2YBJhImAIQAv8iY_XLyMwTifhkpO9xuFrqUz2vDS22QxoBGX0Wetc1eNuWnfGW4tQyQjgZopSf1HDl0o4zaRaB_aCf8FPJbVZzGa9gzqfSuCoc9Hg5z0Hr3IewmSXKa7zmbp6aL-LycOsNs/s320/Library%20gentlemans%20lub.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><b><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: times;">One of the several lounges, this very much in the vein of a library/gentleman's club. That is not me in the chair</span></b></div></b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDWX6sKMgCuANFQlQa3NERnsYbQiCgF3io2OHYQN6SIsKWTs2hqlsqt_9h5QWFsEKyHOfaxAe8U-3biCzEXMbQkwLToCFKkmvFaaSatVFM8xbAKCEAUe_PRUsw-4bgqy2VTs-zSy5S_sJROkFmiRNJM6Mnmqr59XhjkaDeglQHmABbLnG8Y9QtIpZO-Tv6/s640/coat%20of%20arms.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDWX6sKMgCuANFQlQa3NERnsYbQiCgF3io2OHYQN6SIsKWTs2hqlsqt_9h5QWFsEKyHOfaxAe8U-3biCzEXMbQkwLToCFKkmvFaaSatVFM8xbAKCEAUe_PRUsw-4bgqy2VTs-zSy5S_sJROkFmiRNJM6Mnmqr59XhjkaDeglQHmABbLnG8Y9QtIpZO-Tv6/s320/coat%20of%20arms.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">For us, an ornate but necessary signpost. The corridor to the left of it led to our room</span></b></div><p></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-45809329992435259172023-09-29T10:25:00.005-07:002023-09-29T11:56:35.431-07:00Talbot Mundy<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Talbot Mundy. What a name! Better than Port Talbot, though others may disagree. I first came across Talbot Mundy on my dad’s bookshelves and read it as a child, my first introduction to the First World War, the vastness and glamour of the British Empire.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6IYF9ZDoeE739Mt0Ws1CbzbzkVqpyyK5prEqqHFYd6Z1GIh5T8PnAjt5yOqren3nycgb3wRBcD2OFp4YqulOgMLARkYt_t6hCPIw5E4jtYEmQG-KC2PmncaiapxrXr6qM3mkF8s0dTGQ_y0THvxdv-3LZ7bMc2ntD-9qAYtWOxGvw3JDzVV3QRYNg4J_/s4032/Italbot%20mundy%201.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6IYF9ZDoeE739Mt0Ws1CbzbzkVqpyyK5prEqqHFYd6Z1GIh5T8PnAjt5yOqren3nycgb3wRBcD2OFp4YqulOgMLARkYt_t6hCPIw5E4jtYEmQG-KC2PmncaiapxrXr6qM3mkF8s0dTGQ_y0THvxdv-3LZ7bMc2ntD-9qAYtWOxGvw3JDzVV3QRYNg4J_/s320/Italbot%20mundy%201.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b> Don’t judge a book by its cover or in this case a lack of one.</b> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: left;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidRLqISSNJlviWA4BFkDAN5FuOECSva2zKGG91nIK08c4hhG-9FU_NSTwu46-IgithXjgGM4Gm6m3KteBicqgoYvLXFEmhgx7pqZUVQezVcyGycRjlA59ObOtJB-8zj5DpqOItTYrU3-rbQGDL1Ib8kajlufYSa5dVf2r7qmT_vckxlsvrr1GZ9GfncqXw/s4032/talbot%20mundy%202HEIC.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidRLqISSNJlviWA4BFkDAN5FuOECSva2zKGG91nIK08c4hhG-9FU_NSTwu46-IgithXjgGM4Gm6m3KteBicqgoYvLXFEmhgx7pqZUVQezVcyGycRjlA59ObOtJB-8zj5DpqOItTYrU3-rbQGDL1Ib8kajlufYSa5dVf2r7qmT_vckxlsvrr1GZ9GfncqXw/s320/talbot%20mundy%202HEIC.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The tale, told through the eyes of Hira Singh, is a fictionalised account of an essentially true story. A Sikh regiment fought alongside the British army in the trenches of France and were captured by the Germans. Convinced of their potential value in stirring up discontent and rebellion, the Germans shipped them to the Middle East. The regiment, though, remained loyal to the British, and after many adventures escaped, trekked across Central Asia, and returned intact to British India.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">To a child, the book opened up strange, vivid new worlds; and the name, Talbot Mundy remained fixed in the back of my mind. I dug out the book from where it had been hiding and for the first time wondered about the man himself: Talbot Mundy.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">For a start, it wasn’t his real name. William Lancaster Gribbon was born in 1879 and died in 1940 and for much of his life was an amoral drifter, leaving school with no qualifications. For scoundrels and adventurers, for those without purpose, the British empire proved something of a boon, and in his early years he found clerical employment in India before dabbling in journalism and then moving to East Africa, where he became an ivory poacher, and then town clerk in the frontier town of Kisumu. By this time, he was married, the first of five wives, but after a series of sexual adventures with local women he lost both wife and job. Undeterred, he seduced a married woman in Nairobi and later married her, using the name ‘Talbot Mundy’ for the first time.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">In 1909, he made the most important move of his life taking his new wife to New York. There they found lodgings in the lower east side, where he took a series of menial jobs before a vicious mugging hospitalised him. Out of work and with heavy hospital bills, Mundy had reached rock bottom, when his luck changed. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Jeff Hanley, an American journalist, mesmerised by Mundy’s tales of Africa and the Far East, persuaded him to write. He even lent him a typewriter. Talbot Mundy had found his vocation: pulp fiction.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Getting up between 3- 4 am, Mundy worked seven hours a day, six days a week, producing over a lifetime 47 novels, 130 novelettes and short stories, 23 articles and a non-fiction book. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzEeJTUnF79uJfQGc3X4dlIFDpzEezrLy-U5PfSV51Pa7Frd3liKsRwvWTM1HThdrvbSpJDGNRlRJqW2FmU2LRl10Int5xqa4eMpoLj55ZFfpkWOfNn4uoOYR6MNYU6TbXecn9gLv4ncPoZsFpdm8K07dYXMh78AOL5q7wpaeg3h8ERW4Amq4_JoqJvtaT/s367/Adventure's_Soul_of_a_Regiment.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="258" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzEeJTUnF79uJfQGc3X4dlIFDpzEezrLy-U5PfSV51Pa7Frd3liKsRwvWTM1HThdrvbSpJDGNRlRJqW2FmU2LRl10Int5xqa4eMpoLj55ZFfpkWOfNn4uoOYR6MNYU6TbXecn9gLv4ncPoZsFpdm8K07dYXMh78AOL5q7wpaeg3h8ERW4Amq4_JoqJvtaT/s320/Adventure's_Soul_of_a_Regiment.jpeg" width="225" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU09SH3Tj5_e45xyUl96K0dRG5d_aEkvqm8H1SUI1mM3LMfw6yIiCPYw2NjbIliQjUjHxGLhOq6UzBIvzWYicoFqV38LOB_k4tfXYHpMbVSZ6DB3t0xEBbt9VDVgrc45wQGWQxwaNF5_URMkDrEBivSDfP5YF4bLp19wU8uWARTqbcWJSWW8JQ8zV5eqaX/s530/Famous_fantastic_mysteries_195112.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="530" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU09SH3Tj5_e45xyUl96K0dRG5d_aEkvqm8H1SUI1mM3LMfw6yIiCPYw2NjbIliQjUjHxGLhOq6UzBIvzWYicoFqV38LOB_k4tfXYHpMbVSZ6DB3t0xEBbt9VDVgrc45wQGWQxwaNF5_URMkDrEBivSDfP5YF4bLp19wU8uWARTqbcWJSWW8JQ8zV5eqaX/s320/Famous_fantastic_mysteries_195112.jpeg" width="242" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip_yzNi0UnIV1071wLkAdGEAZPrdJ7gbXoePsL_LvTXuIKsOYAR3XV64QeL4DFHiT7wUs8ntvwqzfEyrRvUD_dH2-5PU3F0SOsMdPOBbSucy3ZID11kaCtduPJGxdJlF4MeNbZFRw-CALDtKZMB6s-ET8klpBvXjuxH31PgKis6MpNchdEEqBGE017Mp_3/s588/Famous_fantastic_mysteries_195302.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="588" data-original-width="440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip_yzNi0UnIV1071wLkAdGEAZPrdJ7gbXoePsL_LvTXuIKsOYAR3XV64QeL4DFHiT7wUs8ntvwqzfEyrRvUD_dH2-5PU3F0SOsMdPOBbSucy3ZID11kaCtduPJGxdJlF4MeNbZFRw-CALDtKZMB6s-ET8klpBvXjuxH31PgKis6MpNchdEEqBGE017Mp_3/s320/Famous_fantastic_mysteries_195302.jpeg" width="239" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidAUR4xavNfVkDpjc1-DlEv3nVI2E9GyyfBd9UFoijde9-7W6BCGejwMkipzt2GGdseFsYDB_iXhufblqK_0vDtq0yQ9Nw7CmAccxG69Pqnwc2SE8JTkqSgqDxvV--0QPh7SrOor6AJMsplWLAt__UG9WLXOB1Z5NrecIJRRPBkSXjTzB_6A-S87Jc8dNr/s542/Jarmstrong.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="542" data-original-width="440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidAUR4xavNfVkDpjc1-DlEv3nVI2E9GyyfBd9UFoijde9-7W6BCGejwMkipzt2GGdseFsYDB_iXhufblqK_0vDtq0yQ9Nw7CmAccxG69Pqnwc2SE8JTkqSgqDxvV--0QPh7SrOor6AJMsplWLAt__UG9WLXOB1Z5NrecIJRRPBkSXjTzB_6A-S87Jc8dNr/s320/Jarmstrong.gif" width="260" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">He also influenced some of the big names in pulp and fantasy fiction: Robert E Howard, Fritz Lieber, Andre Norton, L Sprague de Camp and Marion Zimmer Bradley. And to think, for all this time I had him down as an old Victorian fuddy-duddy with a walrus moustache, a champion of traditional values. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZMeo4lWVknFRMw2ZXSsX9nkTY3ZNtKkLIvjmf80FF7BQCWUSGZSpbhtlW7otx_ZD5Oyb3LOOqgczgKfxoQOzt-lVlWF-vuFNK9-2gqYgL_V2zmW113iTcGS2PW-5tvmT9ByMkndYAQId73azdT_Bo2J0Z2B7e59oCeDxyt8r2TSIZexsGvtZhzNtMR0Yk/s370/Talbot_Mundy.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="370" data-original-width="269" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZMeo4lWVknFRMw2ZXSsX9nkTY3ZNtKkLIvjmf80FF7BQCWUSGZSpbhtlW7otx_ZD5Oyb3LOOqgczgKfxoQOzt-lVlWF-vuFNK9-2gqYgL_V2zmW113iTcGS2PW-5tvmT9ByMkndYAQId73azdT_Bo2J0Z2B7e59oCeDxyt8r2TSIZexsGvtZhzNtMR0Yk/s320/Talbot_Mundy.jpeg" width="233" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-22317720212686926862023-09-22T08:06:00.003-07:002023-09-22T13:56:52.769-07:00Magical bushes and trees<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Looking back, I was deprived as a child—at least in terms of folk lore. I knew the basic stuff, like not passing salt to someone, or the occasional necessity to throw some over your left shoulder. I was wary about walking under ladders, and always wished a single magpie a whispered ‘good morning.’ But that was it. I knew nothing about the magical power of bushes and trees. The only ‘nature walk’ we did at St Bonaventure's was walking up Cedar Road and picking up sycamore keys. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">But now I’m surrounded by magic, or so I’m led to believe. The borderlands are awash with bushes and trees steeped in the supernatural. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn7NUDfRE__nheGb2XZnz4l6SSVSWk1X7qIVfnNoT5eXYTx5WJWN4VDkH93NuMV6L_HO1nDobR0FWQMqHOS8GTu2az3vrC5-Xwm-wXiSYj1LYgqHDuGQSEmT5u1e_XXUGuaCJxAoI8ZEgmfNIQtnCD4dkyvgGDeq_bhJZ8u5qew_st2g_7WGcia85uqPUH/s1600/Rowan_tree_20081002b.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn7NUDfRE__nheGb2XZnz4l6SSVSWk1X7qIVfnNoT5eXYTx5WJWN4VDkH93NuMV6L_HO1nDobR0FWQMqHOS8GTu2az3vrC5-Xwm-wXiSYj1LYgqHDuGQSEmT5u1e_XXUGuaCJxAoI8ZEgmfNIQtnCD4dkyvgGDeq_bhJZ8u5qew_st2g_7WGcia85uqPUH/s320/Rowan_tree_20081002b.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="mw-mmv-author"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #54595d;"><a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=User:Eeno11&action=edit&redlink=1" style="color: #954f72;" title="User:Eeno11 (page does not exist)"><span style="color: #d73333;">Eeno11</span></a></span></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #54595d;"><span style="font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2;"> - </span></span><span class="int-own-work"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN" style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #54595d;"><span style="font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2;">Own work</span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The rowan or mountain ash is regarded as a potent weapon against witchcraft, perhaps because as folklore has it, the rowan ‘…is the tree on which the devil hanged his mother.’ Whatever the theological implications of that particular nugget, locals used to plant a rowan near their houses to prevent the ‘evil eye.’ Others would adorn their stables with rowan on May Day. There it would hang until the following May Day, protecting their horses from unimaginable horrors.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The spotted laurel is more theologically inclined, its spots deriving from drops of the Virgin Mary’s milk, as she fed the baby Jesus. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Perhaps the most significant bush is the<a href="http://www.plant-lore.com/plantofthemonth/holy-thorn-and-calendar-change/"> Holy Thorn,</a> several cuttings of which were taken from the original at Glastonbury. These supposedly bloom at midnight on Twelfth Night. As late as 1908 one such cutting at Wormesley was visited by up to forty people who were treated to cake and ale as they witnessed the event by candlelight. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7MG4avgz9F2hWBGNktBsLWT6Dk2rcFYTd_3jbShmk0xC6gWpwt0RgO59KakYydPPSB60yDRCLplNi5MgaFhqA4Z3QP5r_I-tgveK5Zewm9zln0EFGetW3mUWw8VwH47IFRThbvNRcUdtwZobs8d5OayE5TLTr6jh4Psr2MMI9rHaZ-HHsUJY3hv1FJ_5R/s2304/holy%20thorn.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1728" data-original-width="2304" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7MG4avgz9F2hWBGNktBsLWT6Dk2rcFYTd_3jbShmk0xC6gWpwt0RgO59KakYydPPSB60yDRCLplNi5MgaFhqA4Z3QP5r_I-tgveK5Zewm9zln0EFGetW3mUWw8VwH47IFRThbvNRcUdtwZobs8d5OayE5TLTr6jh4Psr2MMI9rHaZ-HHsUJY3hv1FJ_5R/s320/holy%20thorn.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Rosemary too is significant. Like the Holy Thorn, it is also reputed to blossom at midnight on Twelfth Night—or so the locals of Orcop and Garway believed. They regularly stayed up to see it, no doubt with cake and ale. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> I have mixed feelings about rosemary. A common belief is that the plant only flourishes ‘where the missus is master.’ I keep my rosemary well-trimmed but to little avail. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92-oclqwC3kPplogDmP48Q1RYlzWFpCa7-dOjfck6gAn4J5tqbwijlCKRfaWK8yfJZDj4hFiLa2tWOwRXuKjdHiYoJZCajeEgo6h-YIaEsSurDDfX10ASWQCu_eGdypibqGNAuZGucVlSBz5qzqoqXqgsWOTZ2sfDhrZEc41KxKY6ZW1gI745zf8xvzqc/s1600/Willow_tree_in_spring,_England.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92-oclqwC3kPplogDmP48Q1RYlzWFpCa7-dOjfck6gAn4J5tqbwijlCKRfaWK8yfJZDj4hFiLa2tWOwRXuKjdHiYoJZCajeEgo6h-YIaEsSurDDfX10ASWQCu_eGdypibqGNAuZGucVlSBz5qzqoqXqgsWOTZ2sfDhrZEc41KxKY6ZW1gI745zf8xvzqc/s320/Willow_tree_in_spring,_England.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: xx-small;">By Sb2s3 - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=44184869</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The willow is more ambiguous. It will bring good luck when brought into the house on May Day and protects against the evil eye if presented to you by a friend. On the other hand, if a young animal or child is struck by a willow rod, it will never grow thereon. Useful tips for a future English cricket coach perhaps.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">To be honest, I never knew vegetation could be so temperamental. A walnut tree in the garden of Porch House in Eardisland fell to pieces during the night. The tree itself was strong and healthy. There was no storm. It just apparently decided that its time was up—as was that of the mistress of the house who died shortly after. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">When Charles I was executed, it was noticed by the peasantry of Herefordshire that the ash trees had no keys that year in sympathy for the death of a king. In like manner, lilac and laburnum mourn the death of a neighbouring tree by refusing to blossom the following year. Ivy, too, makes its voice heard. Should it suddenly wither and die on the walls of a house, someone in there will surely die. For someone who rips off dead ivy from my walls—having first cut off their roots—I’m clearly living on borrowed time.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">All this I could have learned in my Liverpool school and yet never did. I can though draw a passably good sycamore key. <o:p></o:p></span></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-38815204193477508132023-09-15T06:59:00.001-07:002023-09-15T09:22:48.693-07:00The green end of goose dunge steeped in beer<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I am a great believer in the seventeenth century school of medicine ever since reading a common remedy for asthma. It involved placing a young frog in fine muslin and squeezing it down your throat. A fine thread allowed the luckless frog to be pulled up again. Confronted with a dangling piece of glistening slime—one that wriggled—and the exhortation to open my mouth, I don’t doubt for an instance my asthma would be instantly cured. And I would vehemently deny any trace of jaundice if offered ‘the green end of goose dunge steeped in beere.’ The savings for the National Health would be considerable.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Monmouthshire and Herefordshire are a rich source of old folk remedies guaranteed to cure most illnesses. In the unlikely occurrence of suffering a bite from a mad dog, you would carefully inscribe the following words on a piece of cheese:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Fuary, gary, nary.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Gary,nary fuary<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Nary, fuary, gary<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">And pop it into the mouth of said dog.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">A Thomas Whittington of Walford suffered from an abscess in the arm, one that refused to heal. It was a gypsy woman who sorted him out. A fairly simple remedy demanding only that he wore the leg of a toad in a silk bag around his neck until the abscess healed. Whittington overcame what scruples he had, and on finding a toad, cut off its left leg, consoling himself with the thought that the unfortunate amphibian would still be able to hop, albeit with less aplomb. Lacking a silk bag, made do with a handkerchief. In three weeks, his abscess was cured. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">A more wholesome remedy was Good Friday Bread. The bread was kept and crumbled or powdered for use when the need arose. Good Friday Bread never went mouldy and cured a whole range of illnesses, it is said. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Mistletoe tea cured fits, but only if it had been grown on a Hawthorne tree. A roasted mouse also cured fits though it had to be secreted in food, so the patient (mercifully) had no idea what he/she was eating. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Hair loss due to illness? No problem. A cap of ivy leaves will do the trick.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Headaches in an age before Ibuprofen? Again, no problem. A noose from the neck of a hanged man will make the headache go away.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Even woodlice have their uses—sewn up alive in a small black bag and tied around a baby’s neck is guaranteed to ease teething.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">These beliefs were common and many recorded in the C19th. So please, if any of you out there are suffering from thrush, toothache, whooping cough or warts, please let me know. I have the cure. And if you are wary of vaccinations so too was a man in rural Herefordshire who recently refused to have his child vaccinated in ‘the dog days’ for fear of the child going mad. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Dog days. I’d heard the term before and vaguely associated it with summer, beyond that nothing. For those who follow the ancient ways: </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">"dog days’ lie in-between July 3<sup>rd</sup> and August 11<sup>th</sup> when the dog star Sirius rises with the sun. It is a time when dogs are prone to go mad </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">" (so have your cheese handy) and when "all liquids are poisonous, when bathing, swimming, or even drinking water can be dangerous, and a time when no sore or wound will heal properly.” </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Closing hospitals during those <o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">six weeks would not only save lives but save the NHS millions. You heard it here first. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-59450953840812094522023-09-08T07:30:00.001-07:002023-09-08T08:35:56.661-07:00In Honour of Fred Bailey<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0WGLsUQiRcbs14mE8i49UgLVKOmyHf2z9Hybdwjr-kQftTpOSv_tFrR_lFb3Gj6IPafXzRuljbKjPeERhoi50LYrm9kJFYYK4n9dyz1RNurgs4PK1p4flVCwr8HYw-59i8bEXLdFQMt_DtVRZ0ZvFTa0rqdkXsOUIbxsfykP78Ht3nKAolArpG2zrub5l/s342/Bailey_F_M_1934.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="342" data-original-width="254" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0WGLsUQiRcbs14mE8i49UgLVKOmyHf2z9Hybdwjr-kQftTpOSv_tFrR_lFb3Gj6IPafXzRuljbKjPeERhoi50LYrm9kJFYYK4n9dyz1RNurgs4PK1p4flVCwr8HYw-59i8bEXLdFQMt_DtVRZ0ZvFTa0rqdkXsOUIbxsfykP78Ht3nKAolArpG2zrub5l/s320/Bailey_F_M_1934.jpeg" width="238" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">A letter to the Telegraph alerted me to the existence of Fred Bailey. To quote:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“He was an astonishing chap. He was recruited at the end of World War I to go to Turkestan to find out what were the Bolsheviks up to and to keep a keen eye on Indian nationalists. Tashkent was in the hands of the Bolsheviks who then decided to capture Samarkand. Bailey advised the Emir to cut the Bolshevik lines of communication by sabotaging the railway. Accordingly, the Bolsheviks withdrew and put out a contract on Bailey. 15 assassins were sent to Samarkand. All 15 were captured and executed. The 16<sup>th</sup> man the Bolsheviks sent out to kill Fred Bailey was Fred Bailey himself, masquerading as an Austrian POW (and recruited by the Cheka). He eventually escaped Samarkand disguised as a Turkman."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I love imperial history, warts and all. Thus inspired I set out to find more about this splendid fellow and got more than I bargained for—in short, two Frederick Baileys—an irresistible BOGOF offer. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The original Frederick Marshman Bailey was born in 1882 and died in 1967. Those two dates conjure up so many images, the man himself one of the last great players in the ‘Great Game’ surviving long enough to witness ‘Flower Power’ —(Not something that would interest him, I imagine, though he does give his name to the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meconopsis_betonicifolia">Himalayan Blue Poppy</a>)—and almost long enough to see men walking on the moon.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">His life reads like a boy’s own adventure book, a lieutenant in the Royal Bengal Lancers, transferring later to the<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/32nd_Sikh_Pioneers"> 32<sup>nd</sup>Sikh Pioneers</a>, he taught himself Tibetan and became fluent. In between wars, Frederick Bailey become a noted explorer, spy, botanist and zoologist. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt7_MJN5zuISmRtGPNbq1p2jA7W0igy4EnsYJRxgR6XCIQaIF4meumIBVo3f13B4YZyeXifdpCbsiBRCxIvHunVGVVwcbq8IR3bcIGyLBL1-ubEiC3sDttnfuYO0E_hPMfKtax0GnSWE7XmIIk-hxfEfFhqVu5_FRPfM53-19SJOSSRBi9PZw9AHYvl4mO/s440/freds%20map.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="319" data-original-width="440" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt7_MJN5zuISmRtGPNbq1p2jA7W0igy4EnsYJRxgR6XCIQaIF4meumIBVo3f13B4YZyeXifdpCbsiBRCxIvHunVGVVwcbq8IR3bcIGyLBL1-ubEiC3sDttnfuYO0E_hPMfKtax0GnSWE7XmIIk-hxfEfFhqVu5_FRPfM53-19SJOSSRBi9PZw9AHYvl4mO/s320/freds%20map.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>There is a magic to old maps that google earth can't replicate</b></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Bailey explored obscure regions of China and Tibet, rejoining the military when World War I broke out. There, he was wounded, once on the Western Front, and twice more in the Gallipoli campaign. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The escapade that made his name (apart from the Blue Poppy) took place in 1918, when he was sent to Tashkent to spy on the Bolshevik intentions with regard to India. The British had reason to be suspicious. Indian nationalists were planning a joint Russo-German invasion of India via Afghanistan. And it was here that Fred Bailey survived 16 assassins—the last one being himself.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">But what are the odds of their being a second and equally resourceful warrior called Frederick Bailey?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsIiePZKXEunFIgqUQCdjIv42EgXpahlQmidMJUaBcCZAPyCMrrz4Akvs8LGsUquEiKl_hjRlWkuiMhswEadQeHqSI5f674IQG2NzclWuQGhsk023g3d3_RJSoX4DKBvw0NqhMqGnrliKyNaXb4AzqOlwh1YSeFLdjoVUaFoVSNLL-OZNrg-3wD2PntZ6D/s915/Fred%20bailey%20jr.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="915" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsIiePZKXEunFIgqUQCdjIv42EgXpahlQmidMJUaBcCZAPyCMrrz4Akvs8LGsUquEiKl_hjRlWkuiMhswEadQeHqSI5f674IQG2NzclWuQGhsk023g3d3_RJSoX4DKBvw0NqhMqGnrliKyNaXb4AzqOlwh1YSeFLdjoVUaFoVSNLL-OZNrg-3wD2PntZ6D/s320/Fred%20bailey%20jr.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">This Fred Bailey died in 2023 aged 99, the last of a generation that will soon be forgotten but no doubt be reinterpreted in Hollywood movies and with more photogenic actors.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgblyOai3PZv_uf2pzkLIZCaQxua_pCk7kYoA6uL5V1m7yHfTIUVqPZgX8KpoXyMPyKbLikvYBh-KLoGcDnmOz3lFvUduPbVeG-tlLeKLU86lVf0Rdscw_I_k-xykuNtfLdMMhdEafrPMivinrgU-cwTww3JriRhiFm4DLL6cxyppn6N6lBvxMW-6pV0waM/s1559/fred%20bailey%20and%20two%20friends.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1559" data-original-width="957" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgblyOai3PZv_uf2pzkLIZCaQxua_pCk7kYoA6uL5V1m7yHfTIUVqPZgX8KpoXyMPyKbLikvYBh-KLoGcDnmOz3lFvUduPbVeG-tlLeKLU86lVf0Rdscw_I_k-xykuNtfLdMMhdEafrPMivinrgU-cwTww3JriRhiFm4DLL6cxyppn6N6lBvxMW-6pV0waM/s320/fred%20bailey%20and%20two%20friends.jpeg" width="196" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_efPNMnhvsdRopAZ6nj9FTD8CaTGZv7MhuWBv8EKvTpGz7OMt5Mytmz6coH-Bk0niDtOcxnMHoWTrYyhyIbW3SDDKjrZ5przDStPjb9-MJRTOQs5FbMHTiNZnSXBdZ39NsA3zfiKOTgS3d_RYedJCGc3UX7JODyvoymWYijhRg_GnGx7AbyNgjeOOBt0U/s1476/fred%20bailey%20flattering.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1476" data-original-width="923" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_efPNMnhvsdRopAZ6nj9FTD8CaTGZv7MhuWBv8EKvTpGz7OMt5Mytmz6coH-Bk0niDtOcxnMHoWTrYyhyIbW3SDDKjrZ5przDStPjb9-MJRTOQs5FbMHTiNZnSXBdZ39NsA3zfiKOTgS3d_RYedJCGc3UX7JODyvoymWYijhRg_GnGx7AbyNgjeOOBt0U/s320/fred%20bailey%20flattering.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> <span style="font-size: 12pt;">During World War II he was recruited to the SOE, and joined one of their three man teams parachuted into occupied France to support the Resistance. He was a fast and gifted radio operator and learnt to encode and decode messages at high speed; later he trained in weaponry, sabotage and unarmed combat.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard;"></span>As the war in Europe neared its end he volunteered for similar activity in the far East where fighting with Japan continued. In the jungles of Burma, Bailey’s team indulged in guerrilla warfare reporting on Japanese positions, ambushing, harassing. and subsisting on a handful of rice a day. He returned to England in November 1946 and went back to his job with the Colne Valley Water Company. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">That last sentence holds me. The contrast between danger and glamour and the mundane. His heroism was not forgotten, at least not by the French. He </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">was awarded the Croix de Guerre and appointed to the Legion d’honneur by the French Government.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjegYbLdpKCxartS2rgjiuafvIrukLOPpgYFFSYF1bYtaGojE4sNWVesAjEEh-Xryyji8f6J7clJsa7Es3JqJuypQeLwBI43xMc_tVF2G1VDnYUOySBzYE-PWkrnU5_lDtPYwZ3-Qqbx4mbYHH9GLoggQI3jvD9oRRbMC8oE7AdmhUqBxu2Zx74gFmJf31R/s1361/fred%20bailey%20grand%20old%20man.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1361" data-original-width="1063" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjegYbLdpKCxartS2rgjiuafvIrukLOPpgYFFSYF1bYtaGojE4sNWVesAjEEh-Xryyji8f6J7clJsa7Es3JqJuypQeLwBI43xMc_tVF2G1VDnYUOySBzYE-PWkrnU5_lDtPYwZ3-Qqbx4mbYHH9GLoggQI3jvD9oRRbMC8oE7AdmhUqBxu2Zx74gFmJf31R/s320/fred%20bailey%20grand%20old%20man.jpeg" width="250" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>The photos speak volumes</b></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">What is it with a name? Were the two even related separated as they were by class? But then heroism is class in itself. Would it make things easier for MI6 and the CIA to restrict their recruitment to Fred Baileys; perhaps re-name their operatives: Fred Bailey. There could be movie franchise—'the name's Bailey. Fred Bailey.'<o:p></o:p></span></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-10211996152261684432023-09-01T06:50:00.002-07:002023-09-01T08:39:38.779-07:00A Playful Landscape<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The borderland separating England and Wales are steeped in legends, all of which I firmly believe. A case in point is the story of the predatory marsh. The geological background may or may not add weight to the story. Shobden Marsh, along with the rivers Lugg, Arrow, and Teme are largely a result of glaciation and the carving of the landscape as the icesheets retreated. For much of prehistory and up to the early middle ages the entire area was forest and marsh. This then is the background to the mysterious disappearance of ‘Old Pembridge.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">One night, the entire village was swallowed up by Shobden Marsh, and we know it is true because of a nameless fiddler possessing a pair of fine gloves: white and tied with red ribbons. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">There was a dance at Pembridge that night, and the fiddler from the neighbouring village of Eardisland provided the music. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcL4B5DDOFh94r2zK0D8W2V8nsQlabNzuwhFlSBiOTVenmwimnCfVocFTPLwWSEgmon7J_JLtH5becdDMKHNzNWy8LpKuvvfCDtKNUsozBYuMX4QIot6VwlspMOTh4KyLvjR54QM0vd1dtG_1_AOKixejyc2XAu3hjaK47KjExuTyHRpigXECK174P5opP/s320/Eardisaln%20vilage%20and%20river.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcL4B5DDOFh94r2zK0D8W2V8nsQlabNzuwhFlSBiOTVenmwimnCfVocFTPLwWSEgmon7J_JLtH5becdDMKHNzNWy8LpKuvvfCDtKNUsozBYuMX4QIot6VwlspMOTh4KyLvjR54QM0vd1dtG_1_AOKixejyc2XAu3hjaK47KjExuTyHRpigXECK174P5opP/s1600/Eardisaln%20vilage%20and%20river.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>Eardisland</b></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">On reaching home, he realised he’d left behind his magnificent gloves and so, no doubt muttering under his breath, set off to retrieve them. He never did. Nor did he find ‘Old Pembridge.’ Where it stood was marshland glistening in moonlight. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">The marshes have since been drained, but neither old Pembridge nor the fine white gloves adorned with red ribbons were ever found. Never mind, we have 'new' Pembridge.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcokvioujkfkiscfw2SPcKuHmHuIcF3HGb1Oj98EKeNAh5i3iN_lFPAUHGmZI0RtJJTVx9Zff-KVdFdtVYfdy6Nd0553u22Uy8NpV39zCD21bRsHIfNEK5wYsVt_gQnVsskL6ALzNGrQriG25mHCGN2iLHnbNs4CAlZXf1ZrVGUJuRgMvAeFBIqnaIyjEz/s320/PEmb%20house%20falling%20down.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="320" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcokvioujkfkiscfw2SPcKuHmHuIcF3HGb1Oj98EKeNAh5i3iN_lFPAUHGmZI0RtJJTVx9Zff-KVdFdtVYfdy6Nd0553u22Uy8NpV39zCD21bRsHIfNEK5wYsVt_gQnVsskL6ALzNGrQriG25mHCGN2iLHnbNs4CAlZXf1ZrVGUJuRgMvAeFBIqnaIyjEz/s1600/PEmb%20house%20falling%20down.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">There is apparently a well in the vicinity. It is said that if you drop a stone into it, you might hear it strike against the top of the old church steeple. I believe that too.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Close by is the magical village of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Much_Marcle">Much Marcle</a> whose only claim to fame is ‘The Wonder’ and the fact that the serial killer Fred West was born there. Three of his victims are buried nearby: his nanny Annie McFall and their unborn child (1967) and his first wife, Rena (1971)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">But back to ‘The Wonder,’ equally traumatic but far less sordid or evil.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">On the 17<sup>th</sup> February, 1575 the earth moved, or strictly speaking, Marcle Hill moved. In a great roar it swallowed the chapel at Kinneston, destroying hedges, livestock, and trees. On the 19<sup>th</sup> of February it reached its present position, where for the moment it seems content. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The incident was recorded by the great antiquarian, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Camden">William Camden</a> (1551-1623) in his own unique and wonderful style:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">‘Near the conflux of the Lugg and the Wye, eastwards, a hill which they called Marcley Hill in the year 1575 roused itself and, as it were, out of sleep, and for three days together, shoving its prodigious body forwards with a horrible roaring noise and overturning all that stood in its way, advanced itself, to the astonishment of all beholders . . .’ Some wonderful phrases there ‘roused itself’ ‘shoving its prodigious body’. One can only weep for the state of our language today. Nevertheless, I live in a playful landscape, and that is some compensation.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1644036152805047632.post-58809034502047959962023-08-25T04:25:00.000-07:002023-08-25T04:25:00.335-07:00The Plastic Scouser <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><b> </b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;">Warm wax is wax until impressed by a seal and is at once transformed. The mind of a child is of a similar nature, impressions buried deep and long lasting. In the words of St Ignatius Loyola. ‘Give me a child until he is seven, and I will show you the man.’ This is true of cities too, Liverpool in particular taking on the role of Loyola. The weather for a start, raw winds and ocean-drenched rain, glowing cigarettes, cocky watchmen and braziers in freezing darkness, but above all the buildings. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;">As a child, I’d taken my surroundings largely for granted, only becoming aware of their impact as I grew older. The buildings that shaped me reflect confidence and grandeur, imagination, romance, light and dark. Blackened or abrased clean, they tower over the pedestrian, creating chasms of shadow and unexpected shafts of light. The great pubs of Liverpool, many now sadly demolished, could have graced the mind of King Ludwig II of Bavaria, and all this I wandered through, holding the hand of our mum, absorbing the clatter and smell of the streets. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;">What Liverpool lacked in litter was made up for by its odour: stale fruit and bodies, tobacco, and beer. Beer had a stronger smell than now, caught as you passed the open door of any pub. Along with the sharp, sweet fumes of cigarette and pipe was a heavy, sour smell—that of barrelled beer. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;">Great buildings sculpt the mind, feed yet unknown thoughts in a way ring roads and urban sprawl can’t. The maligned slum terraces shared a similar visual poetry, the magic—dark though it was—replaced by central heating and soulless blocks in the sky. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;">Liverpool was heavily bombed during the Second World War, and as late as the early sixties, you walked past old craters and open spaces where houses had been. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;">As a child I’d walked a city that seemed complete and unchanging, one that would always be there, bombsites and all. I breathed in the dark and grandiose, the gothic, fanciful and sometimes scary. I never factored in soot or that stone could be differently coloured. I never knew that bombsites might vanish, or great buildings knocked down leaving gaps like a prize-fighter’s grin. I never knew that town planners might dream of Dan Dare, a comic future in concrete and glass.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;">In the 1960's planners visualised metropolis and buildings the Luftwaffe missed were knocked down to be replaced by the tawdry. Mercifully they ran out of money, or it might have been worse. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;">These are the memories I took with me to Swansea University, becoming in time that mocked creature, 'the plastic scouser.’ It was though, a slow process, being unable to let go of the city that had shaped me for better or worse. Wherever I go is matched against it; my heart quickens when I return and feel its pavements under my feet. Old landmarks drift into view, but now there are gaps and anomalies.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_yf0VPZZtX6hT_X5E7t3xGnZynmWVanQt8LP6zJTEvxuAHowP9rCU_Of0N1HQuBjv591cECTzvg7-faJ8t_P98fHMQh8CWmMlJHGCQGoFbnxGQwJcupyu00PDQ4xcQNgc5D0ciZyaqUa9nnFMGHZaR9U4dSpUqTWlapCb6TdIYULyQB6i0GxmZ_YPEHUB/s4032/crown%20pun.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_yf0VPZZtX6hT_X5E7t3xGnZynmWVanQt8LP6zJTEvxuAHowP9rCU_Of0N1HQuBjv591cECTzvg7-faJ8t_P98fHMQh8CWmMlJHGCQGoFbnxGQwJcupyu00PDQ4xcQNgc5D0ciZyaqUa9nnFMGHZaR9U4dSpUqTWlapCb6TdIYULyQB6i0GxmZ_YPEHUB/s320/crown%20pun.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;">Cities grow and change, but some of the whimsy and grandeur has gone. Space is abused, new buildings squeezed in like unexpected guests; old landmarks have been obscured, streets built over. The Victorian and Edwardian vision has gone. Liverpool, though vibrant as ever, now has a techno-late-medieval vibe, higgledy-piggledy in places, buildings mushrooming from nowhere. These things hit me in flashes as decades fly by. And now I’m feeling less of a ‘plastic scouser’ more a ghost from the past.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;">Marketing. <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Record-Baffled-Spirit-Liverpool-Childhood-ebook/dp/B0CBGFRLYT/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=michael+keyton&qid=1692961619&s=digital-text&sr=1-1">Last excerpt from</a> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi40TCuVVkb-BW4Gy7KcIQZalzaW6RKsNrSV5GsH75IrxUb-B_CNXm9NYShmq1SbXIbGbCJr1-lqt7o5r6obZXjFXOgP8KeOU8gkU6C8JmzI-8KQ_ha6ubfrZacGYE4jQiB8ncpD4pSyfIzPvRs4S8m-ud2UmVJi1-uTj4sz3tQzY-XKq6bl90rY4Ll57Oe/s500/my%20book.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi40TCuVVkb-BW4Gy7KcIQZalzaW6RKsNrSV5GsH75IrxUb-B_CNXm9NYShmq1SbXIbGbCJr1-lqt7o5r6obZXjFXOgP8KeOU8gkU6C8JmzI-8KQ_ha6ubfrZacGYE4jQiB8ncpD4pSyfIzPvRs4S8m-ud2UmVJi1-uTj4sz3tQzY-XKq6bl90rY4Ll57Oe/s320/my%20book.jpeg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p>Mike Keytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15116528233058221536noreply@blogger.com2