Monthly Archives: June 2017

The Kings we Never Had (Part 1)

We’ll start in 1066 for this one, just like Sad Stories of the Death of Kings Part 1 and Part 2.

First up is Edgar the Aethling. Grandson of Edmund Ironside (who was so named for his exploits in fighting the Danes) and son of Edward the Exile (who was called this because he was exiled after the death of his father). Naming was a simpler process in those days, and in some ways is easier to remember than numbering. An Aethling, by the way, denotes a royal prince who is in the line of succession, a bit like Prince of Wales.

He was passed over for kingship when the King’s Council selected Harold Godwinson as a better candidate for King in light of the turbulent times ahead. Edgar was only 15 at the time, so it did make sense. It was a different matter after Hastings, when they were all too keen for him to take the crown. They didn’t actually back him up in the end, and as his supporters deserted him the council pretended the election had never happened. That is why he was never crowned and is a King we never had.

The rest of his life was passed plotting against the Normans with the Scots, Danes and William the Conqueror’s son Robert Curthose. He may have been in the First Crusade and definitely made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. History can sometimes be disappointingly vague.

William Adelin (a Normanised version of Aethling) was the son of Henry I and, through his mother was related to Edmund Ironside and Edgar the Aethling. A pampered child, he was drowned with his brother when the White Ship sank. This brought about The Anarchy, an 18 year period of civil war to settle the succession. Thus, although he was never King, he did have quite an influence on British history.

Next we have a bit of a surprise, with a Frenchman on the throne, Louis the Lion,  later numbered Louis VIII of France, or (in theory) Louis I of England.  He was invited to take the throne by the rebellious Barons fighting King John.  In 1216 he was proclaimed King, but not crowned, and ruled about half the country for just over a year. When John died and his young son, Henry III, came to the throne the rebel barons started to drift back to the English King. After a couple of defeats and a generous payment Louis went home,  conceding he had never been legitimate King of England.

We came close to having a King Alphonso after Edward I. It isn’t a normal British royal name: he was named after his uncle, Alphonso X of Castille. Although he was the heir to the throne after the deaths of his two older brothers he died at the age of 11, leaving his four-month-old brother to become Edward II. And we all know how that turned out.

The son of Edward III was the well-known Black Prince. He didn’t live to be King but was celebrated as a military leader, with success at Crecy and Poitiers, and was a founding Knight of the Garter. He died after suffering 10 years of ill health after first falling ill on campaign in Spain.

Later, his name would be given to five Royal Navy ships (the most famous probably being the one that sank at Jutland with the loss of all hands) and an experimental tank in WW2. After his death his son Richard became the heir to the throne, and his unfortunate royal career has already been covered.

To be continued

 

One of those days…

It’s been one of those frustrating days again.

Wrote some emails to the hospital. It was difficult to get the tone right – no point being sharp or rude, but I don’t want them to think they can get away with second class service. The trouble is that you edit so much you start chasing your tail.

I’m having an Alice in Wonderland sort of feeling, as the hospital version of my story is subtly, and maddeningly, different from my recollection. (Yes, I could have mentioned Dali or Kafka there, but I would not have had a photograph to use).

Sent the emails and find that neither of the recipients is in the office till the end of the  week. By then I may well be on my third cancelled operation.

Dropped Julia off at an Open Day they were having at Mencap. This involved driving across town and exploring several sets of roadworks. They proved unexciting and rather frustrating.

Then I cut through Sneinton on my way to the pharmacy. The things I’ve ordered hadn’t arrived. Sneinton is an interesting place with lots of history, but, as usual, I ignored that and just moaned about the traffic.

Called at the jeweller, moaned about life.

Went home. Emailed the hospital. Rang hospital. Rang GP. Rang District Nurse service. No District Nurse available to answer phone. Hospital rang me.Got email from hospital.

If it carries on like this they will be inviting me to the NHS Christmas Party.

Helping Insects

You don’t really need to do much for insects, just leave some of the garden slightly untidy. I can manage that. Unfortunately, when you look round the gardens that surround us, I’m one of a dying breed. The neighbours on one side have gradually turned their garden into a hard-landscaped hell over the last thirty years, whilst the previous set on the other side have erased every feature of interest. They also tried to tell me how to manage my garden. I’m hoping the new neighbours on that side might be an improvement. They have given me cake twice since moving in, so I do have reason for optimism.

The featured image is a bug box in the Sainsbury’s car park in Whitby. They did make a big thing about them at one time, with in-store posters, but this is the only one I actually remember seeing. It’s quite an elegant thing, and would grace any garden.

The next group of bug hotels are behind the centre at Attenborough. I just checked the link and see I’ve already shown them. Just goes to show how bad my memory is. The pictures below show some arrangements from Carsington Water  – which can be as simple as leaving a pile of logs.

The one attached to the tree is in the garden of the Bishop’s Palace at Southwell Minster.

At the moment I’m thinking about the best way to get some bug cover in the garden, as we’ve had to clear a lot of clutter to get the garden in shape. Somewhere I have more pictures, but how many do you need to see?

A Treasury of Flowers

I’ve been looking at other blogs with envy this year, particularly Derrick J Knight and Tootlepedal’s Blog.  They have a lot of things in common, including beautiful gardens, great photography and gardening partners – the Head Gardener and Mrs Tootlepedal.

It may be time for a little pep talk with Julia. Nothing major, just point her to a few relevant posts and leave an unspoken suggestion…

That way I hope to avoid being told to do it myself, as I already have lots to do. That TV won’t watch itself and blogging takes time.

Meanwhile, just to show we can grow plants (despite the state of our garden this year) here are a few things from last year at the farm.

 

Raindrops on Petals

It rained yesterday while we visited the farm, which put an end to thoughts of blue skies and panoramic nature photography. This grey end to the visit was a suitable background to a slightly depressing visit (though Men in Sheds were all cheerful) and an excellent example of the pathetic fallacy. That, in turn, is an excellent opportunity to apply the word pathetic to the way the farm is run. However, I really should rise above that sort of thing. So I will rise, and I won’t make further comment.

As one door closes another door opens, and so I took some pictures of water drops on flowers. Same goes for projects – Julia will be starting work with MENCAP next week and is already making plans, while her permaculture course is in its final third and she is planning our garden redesign.

Here are a few flowers from the front garden, including a potato that has grown from one of the pots. It’s depressing to have to start again, but such is life. We shouldn’t have put so much effort into a garden where we didn’t have a proper tenancy agreement, and we shouldn’t have neglected our own garden. I’m sure there’s a moral in that, if not an entire homily.

Off to Sheffield now, bringing back Number Two son and his luggage. Will the fun never stop?

 

 

Flower Beds and Disillusionment

I turned on my computer tonight and was not pleased to see a message that it was 51% through downloading a load of improvements. Thirty minutes later it is complete. Guess how happy I am. You never had this nonsense in the old days.

Anyway, here are some photographs of the newly extended kitchen on the farm. Note how they are burning perfectly good timber and how the pizza oven and barbecue area have been demolished. Great use of resources…

Flower beds have been wiped out, the allotment area looks like a desert and the money spent on rabbit-proof fencing has all come to nothing. However, it’s been replaced by elements of design like the “flower bed”, so it’s bound to be popular.

No matter what we say about air miles and local produce a lot of people still want colour coordinated doors and table numbers written on wooden spoons. To be fair, it does look more attractive than the old set up, but it’s been at the expense of evicting our group and emptying the bank account we filled so laboriously.

Is it worth it?

Well, I’m not the best person to ask.

 

 

 

Sad Stories of the Death of Kings (Part II)

…let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings

Richard II  William Shakespeare

It’s time for Richard II now. He was the son of the Black Prince, who didn’t live long enough to be King, though he was quite kingly and was the victor of Crecy and Poitiers, the battles that, with Agincourt, make up the only three battles of the Hundred Years War most of us have ever heard of.

Richard was eventually imprisoned and was probably starved to death by his gaolers. Quite honestly, he had it coming, as he wasn’t an easy man to work with and seems to have gone out of his way to upset people. He didn’t, as I recall,  do right by the leaders of the Peasants’ Revolt , though he was only a boy at the time. Later, he took on the political establishment, was accused of tyranny, and even madness, and was given a bad write-up by Shakespeare. His body was put on display to show he was really dead, and to stop anyone believing the was hope of a restoration.

Henry IV and V were interesting enough, but shuffled off this mortal coil due to natural causes, whereas Henry VI was said to have died (whilst imprisoned in the Tower of London) of melancholy. I’m sure it can be a melancholy place, but let’s face it, he was in there, out of sight and imprisoned by the man who had taken his throne (Edward IV). Several centuries after his death he was exhumed and examination showed damage to his skull and blood in his hair – more a sign of murder than melancholy.

Edward V ruled briefly before being replaced by his uncle, who became Richard III. He is one of the two Princes in the Tower and as nobody knows what really happened (though we all have an opinion) I will leave it there.

Richard III is well known, though mainly via Shakespeare, as is his death and his rediscovery under a car park in Leicester.

At that point we can leave the Wars of the Roses and get on with something a little less complex. Henry VII, who had no real right to the throne, came out on top and died of natural causes. Henry VIII also died of natural causes, unlike several of his wives. Edward VI was sickly, and died aged 15, bequeathing the throne to his cousin Jane.

Lady Jane Grey ruled 9 days, becoming a protestant martyr and making Edward V’s 86 days look like a lifetime, which, of course, it probably was. I know she’s a Queen rather than a ing but it seems out of step with modern views to exclude people for being women. She is the only monarch of the last 500 years of whom we have no proven portrait. I don’t suppose she had the time. Eventually she was executed. For details of how the Duke of Monmouth coped with this problem you will have to read the post Kings we Never Had. I can’t supply a link because I haven’t written it yet.

Mary I, Elizabeth I, James I (or VI if you are Scottish) all had their foibles but died of natural causes, and Charles I has been covered in an earlier post.

Charles II could have died of several things. With twelve illegitimate children it could possibly have been exhaustion. Two of his illegitimate sons had a place in the family tree of Diana, Princess of Wales, which means that when Prince William eventually ascends the throne he will be the first descendent of Charles II to do so.

It could also have been apoplexy or his kidneys, though I prefer the mercury poisoning explanation. It seems that one of his plans for financial security was to turn lead into gold.  He was a bon viveur, but, let’s face it, no financial genius. There was a lot of mercury involved in the process and though he obviously had people to do the work for him, he must have inspected his laboratory regularly and taken it in.

Charles’s last illness shows all the signs of mercury poisoning according to recent scientific examination and analysis of a lock of his hair shows ten times the normal levels of mercury.

William III, who ruled alone after the death of his wife Mary (daughter of the deposed James II) fell off his horse after it stumbled on a molehill, and died from pneumonia that came on as a complication. It was ironic that the horse had been confiscated from a Jacobite plotter. The Jacobites took the opportunity to toast the mole (“the little gentleman in the black velvet waistcoat”).

After that there were 234 years when Kings and Queens just died of natural causes.

That brings us to George V, who seems have been given an overdose to make sure he died at a time convenient for the morning papers. The evening papers, it seems, were not seen as respectable enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Derbyshire goes Downhill

Having successfully taken photos of Wingfield Manor we cut up through Crich, noted the crowds at the Tramway Museum and discovered the Crich Memorial was closed. Looking at the website on my return I found it is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. I didn’t know that.

In Matlock we noticed crowds in the paddling pool and on the boating lake, A hula hoop, if thrown at random, would have dropped round two or three people, more if you;d aimed at the ice cream queue. The cricket club and football club were both open for use as parking at £3 for the day. That’s very reasonable – at Nottingham RUFC we used to charge £5 for football parking because we were close to Nottingham Forest. It makes a useful contribution to club funds. I notice that the football club charges spectators £10 to watch. Seems like a lot of money. but maybe I’m biased. I’m sure it’s cheap by football standards but it seems like a lot for 90 minutes of semi-pro Level 7 football.

So, knowing that Derbyshire was likely to be crowded due to sun and school holidays we pressed on to Eyam, intending to visit Eyam Hall in the famous plague village.

As you may have been able to predict, both pathetically small car parks were full, street parking was difficult and the nearest public car park was too far away for a man with arthritic feet. We will go back later in the year (hopefully before the school holidays start in earnest) to have a look at the Craft Centre and the Tea Room. We might have a look at the historical and cultural bits if we have time between cakes and retail.

After a certain amount of random travel, failing to find convenient parking for photography and being hassled by lorries, we found the bookshop at Brierlow Bar (again). The tea, as you can see in the featured photograph was a nice, bright, orange colour, though the table was overburdened with foliage and the cafe as a whole was deficient in cake. If you look closely you can see Julia’s amber earings (as mentioned in a previous post) and her new amber necklace.

 

Creamless cream tea - TESCO Chesterfield

Talking of tea, we went home via Chesterfield, partly to avoid a long section of roadworks at Matlock and partly to go shopping. This isn’t really part of the travelogue, but I do want to record that TESCO’s cafe had no cream for the cream teas. They did offer squirty cream out of an aerosol as an alternative and  I tried not to let out an anguished cry. Judging by the reaction of people around me, I did not succeed.