August

Today is Wednesday, my designated writing day. Though I have a list of posts to write I find my heart isn't in it. I have enjoyed writing here and have done my best to approach it with some discipline. However, given the list of other things calling for my attention I'm no longer certain that blogging is a priority, at least for right now. 

Nachtmarket, Vienna, May 2015

I've decided to take August off of blogging. We'll see if I can return with more enthusiasm in September. 

Skeletons in My Family Tree, or Esther's (Mostly True) Story

This is a 'story' I've written just putting together historical documents recently uncovered by my cousins in New York; Brisbane and Perth, Australia; and Glasgow. One supplied birth and death certificates, another cousin found newspaper articles from online archives. Someone else had family letters and I found electoral rolls. All this together with census records in Scotland practically told the story itself, there was very little for me to make up. Esther was my 'first cousin twice removed', or my grandfather's first cousin. I didn't know she existed until a few months ago.

"I didn't really mean to kill myself when I was 39. Or maybe I did, not that anyone cared either way. Tom, my second husband, sure didn't. Maybe he even killed me, I can't tell you. Well, he wasn't really my husband, but living in Sydney away from all my family up in Queensland, we got away with living together. Anyhow, when he found me on the floor, he just took the tube from the gas stove out of my mouth and stumbled back to bed, drunk. He didn't even notice I was dead, or at least that's what he told the cops. I just love how most of the newspapers described him as 'ill'. Read: hungover; I'm telling you he was ossified. It wasn't just me. 

But way before Tom, I really messed up my life when I got pregnant at 17. Mother and Dad were really upset, it just being 1915 and us living in rural Queensland. My Irish parents, born in Scotland, had immigrated from Ayrshire in the South West of Scotland all the way to Australia. Dad, whose people were once iron miners, now had 1,700 acres of land, growing wheat, lambs and dairy cows. We were supposed to be respectable, pioneers in our small community, and I let them down.

Mother was particularly livid. She was determined that I should do right by my child. I guess she felt that way because she'd been illegitimate herself. Her mother didn't marry her father but found someone else to go off and marry and they started another family. Though mother was close to one of her half-brothers, she never got to live with her mother again. She was left behind with her grandparents, always on the outside looking in, I expect.

I'm sure mother thought she was doing the right thing by me as well, George's father being well off and all, with a big station down in Victoria. George had 28 to my 17 years so he was always going to be the boss, wasn't he? I don't think that ever set well with me but there it was. I tried to make the best of it to start off. 

So, George and I were married and Mary was born in 1916, named after George's favourite sister. She was a lovely child, Mary, and I reckon she was made of stern stuff. Then again being the eldest - as I was - she had to grow up fast so she could help me with all the other bairns.

Esther, top right, with George and six of  their eight children.

Katherine, named for my sister Kit, came along in February 1918 and then Harold at the end of October the same year. That says a lot about my dear husband, George, doesn't it? We had George Jr. in November 1919. I got a bit of a break before Heather was born in 1921. 

And then the world fell apart. My darling Katherine wandered off one afternoon and found the hut where one of George's labourers had stayed a while. Old Mack left behind the arsenic he used to keep the bugs off the vegetables and the ticks off the cows, and dear sweet Kitty found it. She was only four years old when she died of poisoning. The coroner ruled it as accidental but I know George always blamed me. I blamed myself. But by then my children were ages 6, 4, 3, 2 and 1. I was five months gone with Stuart when I lost my Kitty girl. I was 24 by then but by God I felt a hundred years older and wearier still.

I took to drink in a big way. Of course George hated my drinking. He stayed away more and the babies didn't come so often. Maureen was born in 1925 and then Lucy Jean in 1926. Lucy was premature and I only had her a week before she left me. Then George left me as well. He went back to Victoria to his father's home farm and he took the kids with him. All my babies gone!

I drowned my sorrows well and truly then. It wasn't too long before I took up with Tom. He cheered me a bit, always had a joke and a bottle and I could forget my losses for a day or two. We left the countryside behind and hit the big city, moving all the way down to Sydney. Tom got a job working as a security guard at a factory but all the money seemed to go for booze. Of course we had kids, you knew that already. John and Robbie were born in 1929 and 1935. My eldest daughter, Mary, she got married at her father's home in 1936; I didn't go, didn't dare show my face.

Tom didn't come from a wealthy family, or if he did I never saw any of it. We were poor, worse off than I ever knew how to manage. There was never enough after Tom bought the booze and we both drank it. I meant to do better, but I was too worn down, too far gone. I loved Johnnie and Robbie but I pined for my other babies, especially Kitty. Poor Lucy never had a chance but if only I'd paid more attention maybe I'd still have my lovely Katherine and the rest of my bairns. The bottle was necessary by this time, you see, just to make life more bearable. 

Anyhow, Tom had this job at a factory and one night the bitumen boiler went up in flames. Tom tried to put out the fire but his hands were burned. Even one of the firemen got badly burned. So, Tom was off work for  a week with his burnt hands and I doubt he drew a sober breath the whole time. He said his hands hurt something awful, said he needed anesthetic, didn't he? I understood about anesthetic myself. We both stayed completely pie-eyed all week.

The kids were really in a bad way by now, more bones than flesh. There was never much food in the house and I know I wasn't a good mother anymore. I'd just lost the will. The nosy old landlady - we'd only lived there a couple of weeks and she was on to us - had shopped me to the authorities. I knew they were going to arrest me and take my babies away. Having lost all my other children I just couldn't face that again. Late that night Tom and I had a big row about it all and he knocked me around a bit. I found a tube and attached one end to the coal gas stove and put the other end in my mouth. And that was the end of my story."

--------------------------------------------

The Muswellbrook Chronicle 22 June 1937

FLAME FROM BITUMEN BOILER BURNS TWO MEN.
SYDNEY, Tuesday.

When a flame spurted from a bitumen boiler at premises in Wentworth Avenue, Glebe Point,this morning', two men, Thomas BXXXXX (46), night watchman, and a fireman named Esterman, were severely burned about the body.The outbreak was soon extinguished, and practically no damage was done to the building.



Sydney Morning Herald 23 June 1937

Fire in Factory.

A fire officer and a workman suffered burns while endeavouring to extinguish a fire which broke out in the factory of Pabco Products(Australia), Ltd., roofing and flooring manufacturers, in Wentworth Park Road, Glebe, yesterday.

They were Station-Officer F. Eastlake, of Pyrmont fire station, and Thomas BXXXXX, 42, a married man, of Doncaster avenue, Kensington, and an employee of the company. First-aid treatment was rendered by firemen.

The fire broke out at about 7 a.m., when a quantity of boiling paint overflowed from a container. Brigades from George-street West, Glebe, and Pyrmont were summoned,and the fire was extinguished before a great deal of damage had been done. When the firemen arrived at the building they smashed down the front door to get at the fire quickly.



Sydney Morning Herald 27 July 1937

After an inquiry Into the death of Esther JXXXXXXX, whose body was found in a flat at Doncaster Avenue, Kensington, on July 2, the City Coroner yesterday found that the woman had committed suicide by Inhaling gas. The reason, he suggested, was that she knew that a warrant had been issued for her arrest, and that her two small children, who were also found in the flat, were to be taken from her. A statement said to have been made to the police by Thomas BXXXXX was tendered in evidence. It set out that BXXXXX had been drinking with the woman In the flat, and that on the morning of July 2 he found her with the end of a piece of tubing, which was connected to a gas jet, in her mouth. He pulled the tube out and turned off the gas, the statement continued, but he then went to sleep, not realising that she was dead. The Coroner described the conditions in which the children had been kept as "most revolting." He said that statements in evidence that the woman had repeatedly brought cheap wine into the flat for her family were almost incredible.




Newcastle Morning Herald & Miners Advocate 27 July 1937

NEGLECTED CHILDREN Woman Drank Heavily Before Death CORONER'S SUICIDE  VERDICT 
SYDNEY, Monday.

"Most revolting," was how the City Coroner  today described the condition of two children of Esther JXXXXXXXX, who was found dead in her flat at Kensington on July 2. Evidence was given that the two children had been locked in the flat for two days while JXXXXXXX and Thomas BXXXXX consumed large quantities of cheap wine. BXXXXX said that on July 2 he found JXXXXXXX with a gas tube in her mouth. He turned off the gas, carried the woman into the lounge room, and then went to sleep again. He had no idea the woman was dead.' The Coroner returned a verdict of suicide.  

Barrier Miner Broken Hill New South Wales 29 July 1937 

SORDID DEATH OF WOMAN Committed Suicide While Inebriated 

SYDNEY, Thursday. 

DECLARING that the case had presented some extremely puzzling  features, the city coroner returned a verdict that Esther JXXXXXXX (39) had committed suicide on or about July 2 last by inhaling a quantity of coal gas, while in a state of inebriation, at her home in Doncaster Avenue, Kensington. Evidence disclosed that in one room of a flat in Doncaster Avenue  police found the body of the woman lying on the floor, with her two  children crawling about her, while in another room they found a  man named Thomas BXXXXX, who was in 'a state of drunken stupor.' 

"This is a very sordid matter,"said the coroner, and almost a  revolting one when one thinks that a man and woman should get into  such a shocking state with 'drink' and leave their children shut up for two days." 

Advocate Bernie Tasmania 3 July 1937  

Children Clamoring For Food : Mother Dead, Father Ill. 

SYDNEY, Friday.

Police found Mrs. Esther BXXXXX (39) dead today  in a flat in Doncaster Avenue, Kensington. Her husband, Thomas BXXXXX,  lay on a bed and was unable to tell clearly what had happened, and their two children were clamoring for food. The children, a boy aged seven and a girl aged two, in a search for food, had spilled jam and other stuff on the kitchen floor. They were taken away by a child welfare officer. A post mortem examination will be made to determine the cause of  death.  Superficial wounds were noticed on Mrs BXXXXX's face and neck. The police stated that BXXXXX would be admitted to hospital for treatment.




Recorder Port Pirie South Australia 3 July 1937

MYSTERY OF SYDNEY FLAT WOMAN DEAD, HUSBAND WOUNDED 

SYDNEY, Friday. 

MRS. Esther BXXXXXX (39), was found dead on the floor of a flat at Kensington today in mysterious circumstances. Her husband, who was lying on the bed, was unable to tell clearly what had happened. Two children, a boy aged 7 and a girl aged 2, were in the flat. The woman had been dead since last night. Her husband, Thomas BXXXXX,  was admitted to hospital for treatment with superficial wounds on the  face and neck. The police state that BXXXXX had been burned. 

News Adelaide South Australia 3 July 1937 

Woman Found Dead in Flat SYDNEY, Friday.

In a flat in a building in Kensington today Mrs. Esther BXXXXX, 39, was found dead on the  floor. Her husband, Thomas BXXXXX, who was lying on a bed suffering  from injuries sustained at his work last month, was unable to tell  clear The children, who in their search for food had spilled jam and other foodstuffs on the kitchen floor, were taken away by the Child Welfare officer. A post-mortem examination will be made to determine  the cause of death. Superficial wounds were noticed on Mrs. BXXXXX's  face and neck. BXXXXX was admitted to hospital for treatment. 

Longreach Leader Queensland 3 July 1937 

GHASTLY FIND MOTHER DEAD IN FLAT. SYDNEY, Friday Night. 

The incessant crying of a baby in a flat at a residential at Kensington today led to the discovery of a dead woman, her husband apparently and their two children nearly starved. The children were so emaciated that the youngest was barely able to walk. The dead woman was Mrs. Esther BXXXXX (33). Three weeks ago she and her husband  Thomas BXXXXX (45) took a furnished fiat on the ground floor at the rear of the residential. A week ago the man was severely burned about  the hands in an explosion when a quantity of malthoid caught fire at Glebe. Since then he has not been at work. The children, John (8) and his sister Bobbie (2) were heard crying since early this morning and the proprietress telephoned the Child Welfare Department. Two officers of the Department, with a constable, went to the place, and  were told that Mrs. BXXXXX was last seen yesterday. The proprietress  prized open a window for the officers, and when she climbed through  Into the sitting- room,she found the two children in a pitiable state. Their mother was lying dead on the floor, fully clothed, and the children were crawling about her. They could barely stand. They  had spilled sugar from a container on the floor, and were both trying to scrape it up for food. Groans from a bedroom attracted the officers to the room and BXXXXX was discovered. He appeared to be  ill. The children were carried out and women tenants made them  porridge and gave them biscuits which they ate ravenously. The woman's body was taken to the morgue for a post-mortem, and BXXXXX was admitted to the Sydney Hospital. The children were placed in the  care of the Children's Welfare Department, and are being treated for  malnutrition. The condition of the girl is serious.

May in Retrospect, or 3 Years: 3 Words

Gosh, I nearly forgot to do a review post for May and that would have been a shame, if I do say so myself.


2008
A vintage year (month?) if there ever will be one.  In which I began telling about and showing you my


Obsession with Frugality
Family in Manchester
Love of Words
Ignorance of Gardening
Fun with Photography
Sharing Traditional Recipes
Experiencing a Ceilidh
Grandma's Covered Hangers
Cycling with Men (well, it's 3 words)
Home Hair Cut


2009
Another very good year (Can you tell the WI meeting last night was a wine tasting session?) in which I told you about the


First of May
Shower Bill Built
Scenic Coastal Run
Historic Mariners' Home
Dalry, Ayrshire, Scotland
English Social History


2010
When I learned how to make use of watching the telly, amongst other things, including:


Khayyam and FitzGerald
French and Food 
Teddy Bears' Picnic
Beautiful Red Kitchen!
Crisp or Crumble?
Sage and Shipley


That was fun!

Burnt Out

I noticed a funny smell in the East Wing the other day.  I checked the iron, but it was cool.  Then I noticed that the screen on the PC no longer had a picture or an operations light, but the keyboard and the big box did have lights.  Bill confirmed my suspicion that the PC had burned itself out and we turned it off and left it to cool.

I'm typing this on a new laptop with which I've yet to make friends.  I'm sure there are many nice things about it, like the squillion times faster Internet, but the screen resolution isn't as good and I've spent a good deal of time trying to adjust settings and kill off all the garbage that new computers use to make you crazy. 

It seems so strange to be talking to you on a different computer that I almost feel I've lost my 'voice', like I'm starting all over again as a blogger...ridiculous.  Instead of whinging about what I don't like I need to count my blessings:

• I had the money to just go out and buy a new computer, even if I didn't allow myself to get a snazzy one.  We looked at Sonys and Macs and I walked away just as if they were Jaguar cars or Alexander McQueen dresses; nice to look at, but stupid prices.
•  Nothing was lost off the old PC:  I still have all my photos and...AND  I DON'T HAVE TO DO MY TAXES ALL OVER AGAIN!  I got all the way done to some last hitch on the Utah form and that's when the PC began to crumble.  I could have filed for an extension, but I think figuring out that puzzle once is sufficient punishment for having any income at all. 
• I have loads of posts written and all I need to do is add the photos and hit publish.  I never stopped having ideas or writing, they just aren't on this computer ... yet.  We've had loads of adventures the past few days, so all I have to do is be patient with this Japanese computer that was made in Germany and we'll be champion, right?

April in Retrospect

I don't suppose we can have a post about April without a picture of flowers.  The saying may talk about flowers in May, but they definitely start here in April, if not earlier.

OK.  We have that out of the way.  Now we can talk about

2008

• I seem to have had my own version of a Happiness Project before I discovered that of Gretchen Rubin.  If you've never made a Happy List, I highly recommend it for several reasons, mostly listed there.
• We'd practically starve in this house without rice dish.  Thirty-minutes from start to table is about as fast as food gets, warm food anyhow.  That and a bowl of chopped fruit with yoghurt and we have fruit, veg, carbs, protein.  Perfect.
• I've never yet made it back to Colchester, or to Essex, even.  (But I'm still wearing and loving the clothes I thrifted there!)
• I told you everything I knew about my Dad.  I had no idea then what I didn't know.
• We started our Square Foot Gardening, such as it was.  Bill was never very impressed with it to start with, then the brick layers tramped through and now Bill is in charge of growing food and will likely redesign the beds anyhow.  Still, it worked reasonably well for me at the time and made gardening seem almost manageable.

2009

• I showed you some spring flowers in my neighbourhood.
• This Coffin Company has since relocated and is now a betting shop or bookies.  Not a place I've ever been or envision going, but a major part of British culture all the same (betting shops, that is).
• Sure enough, Bob's never returned to Dubai.  I' don't think he's even left the country since!
• I took you to Tynemouth Village.  
• If you want a lot of hits on your blog, write about a popular shop.  This post about the Raspberry Bazaar has the second highest number of hits in my whole blog.  The first highest?  Find an image that applies to Boxing Day.  Isn't blogging weird sometimes?
• More than you probably want to know about fashion history, but I'm thinking of re-reading that book and looking for other textbooks, actually.  I was fascinated.
• I took you to Washington Old Hall.

2010

• We toured the Royal Yacht Britannia. (OK, this series started on the 31st of March, but then we spent a couple of weeks in April on board.  I've just linked you to the first post in April).
• We noted the Queen's birthday.  I believe she turns 85 this year.
• I introduced myself to Josephine Baker; you had probably already met her.  Actually, I have since found a series of six videos that are brilliant.  They skip over some of the more scandalous bits, but there's plenty of great stuff left!
• Remember this bathmat I made?  It didn't survive its first washing very well.  Two of the squares disintegrated.  I started to replace them, but then lost interest and put it in the recycling bin.  Takes care of loads of guilt, you know, being able to recycle fabric as well as plastic, paper and metal...

March in Retrospect

March has always been a busy month for us.  By this time of year I've usually been pretty much fed up with winter and with no guarantee of a real summer, in our richer days, we zoomed off to warmer localities.  Lately we've tended to wait until summer, particularly for our 'big' (Australia or US) holidays.  March is also when Bill's birthday comes around and as it turns out, two years ago now, when his mother passed away.  It also seems that in the first March of this blog  I finally found my writing stride, so I can point you to some posts for

2008:

• I shared my pantry list, an integral part of our frugal lifestyle and what allowed us to average about £107 per month for food in 2010.
• Bill gathered his family in Kettlewell to celebrate the date of his 60th birthday, but a larger party was planned for the summer.
• I discovered the fun of photography and captured the first of many images that, even if they don't do anything for me, speak to me.

2009:

• I was still enthusing about our trip to Prague, showing you the historical fashion exhibit and art nouveau / art deco furniture that absolutely bowled me over.
• I accompanied Bill on a business trip to Hull.  Not England's vacation paradise, but with its very own history.
• I showed you what excites a British male.
• I reported Ella's passing and found comfort in appreciating the nice surroundings she enjoyed in her latter years.  Her Quaker funeral was an interesting experience, too.
• Bill's family being gathered for the funeral, they were also there for his birthday and we all went to Craster and Alnwick, both in Northumberland for the day.  (By the way the daughter of the Duke of Northumberland got married recently, just in case you missed it.)
• After Ella's funeral service, I decided I wanted to know more about the Quakers.
• I shared from a book I have on 'How to Visit a Museum'.  (Jg might enjoy this one, given his recent post about museums.)

2010:

• I discovered the first Duchess of Marlborough at my local library.  Others will tell you about the second, another American, named Gladys.  I like my Consuelo better, in part because I discovered her myself, but also because - unlike Gladys - she managed to move on and make a happier life for herself.
• Helen and Martin moved into their new house, whilst Bill and I slid around in the mud.
• Vivien and I had an excellent day out in Newcastle.
• We drove up to see Sarah in Edinburgh and I managed to show you most of what I knew about the place at the time, things like Jenners, Armstrongs and Deacon's House.  Sarah took us to see the Royal Yacht Britannia, where I spent a good part of April...but of course that's next month.

February in Retrospect

I'm aware that I'm not exactly on top of writing these days, for a number of reasons:

1. I missed my third blogiversary, not that it matters, but I'm still amazed.  Not so much that I've kept going, more how freaking fast the last three years have evaporated! 
2. I managed to publish Part III of the 'cars I've loved' series before Part II (this is a function of writing drafts and forgetting to change the date);
3. I see I wrote about January in retrospect and included posts from February.

[sigh]

Be that as it may, I thought I'd have another go at reviewing what I wrote a couple of years ago.  I still enjoy re-reading a lot of my posts, which I hope isn't too narcissistic; then again, some of them make me cringe.  In February 2008 I was still trying to work out what to write about.  This has turned out to be anything that catches my fancy, but leans towards a frugal life in England and some of the hobbies that entertain me cheaply; at least I think that's what it is.  So, allowing for some practice sessions, we'll start with 

2009, in which I:

• confessed to my magazine addiction;  I keep thinking I will add a 'magazine' section to my bloglist, but as I'm semi-paralyzed with sloth blog-reading, perhaps better not
• showed you the oldest thing in the house
• gardened on an antique card table as opposed to a plant stand (I guess that's what it is)
• took nice photos of snow on the beach and a glorious sunset
• took you shopping for fleas

Then just last year I

• was Loving Food, Hating Waste (as we are again presently)
• took you to Britain's National Glass Museum  (I think it's time for a return visit - their current exhibit is called 'Waste Not Want Not'!!!)
• showed you Bill's red car
• talked about corking (you know what this is, even if you don't think you do)
• told you about The Settler's Cookbook and did my own autobiographical cooking review, which was surprisingly fun to write
• compared our food costs with the USDA 'thrifty plan'.  In 2010, we averaged £107 ($165)  per month for food, compared with the $300 (£195) allowed us for our gender, age and thrift...  Bill says food is not subsidized in Britain, but I'm beginning to wonder about that)
• showed you the lovely place I did bookbinding

You know what?  I think I'm having a really good life!  Hope you are, too.

Simple Pleasures

I walked to the library yesterday and found two of the Inter-War books I wanted.  Most are not available, but a few more are at other libraries in this area, so I have much to look forward to.

Another book I picked up was a small one titled Simple Pleasures - Little Things that Make Life Worth Living.  Anything that Makes Live Worth Living is worthy of consideration, surely.  I thought I'd find out what the National Trust's take on this might be.

The first chapter is "A Sense of Place".  In it are essays about 

a walking path along the coast of Wales

Seaton Delaval Hall (near us)

Exmoor

Deep sea diving

a copse near Bath

Lancashire

Combe

Lundy

Ramsgate Sands

British Rail

I was going to link you to all sorts from this list, but if you're curious you'll find out I'm sure.  From my brief perusal last night, the ideas around a 'sense of place' have to do with nature and solitude, a feeling of ownership or identification, a new and transforming experience, a sense of history or patriotic pride, a feeling of gratitude at being able to visit, inhabit or experience a place, a unique opportunity for observing - either nature or other people.  

I was thinking about when in my life I've enjoyed this 'sense of place'.  What came to my mind was

• The large stone path on the West side of the house where I grew up in the Village, where I served mud pies and hose water to my best friend, Mary Lou, on my dainty china tea set.
• My Grandmother's house on NW 31st Street in Oklahoma City, virtually every wonderful room in it, but particularly the front hall closet with the glass door.  It was my secret hiding place.
• Her house on 7th and Shartel in the same city, perhaps mostly for her large kitchen and for the large mantled fireplace with glass fronted bookshelves on either side.  I wanted to own something that grand; I still do.
• The first house I owned on 9th Street.  I loved it for its potential, which proves I am an accomplished fantasist.  I loved the 10 foot ceilings, the French doors between the living and dining rooms and the large front porch.
• My Grandma & Grandpa's 1940's house in Oklahoma City, especially the closets with sliding doors and built in cupboards; also the storage space where Grandpa kept his tools, under the dining room window seat; also the kitchen with the pantry cupboard, the large drawers, the cutting board that pulled out from under the counter and the French windows that opened into the large screened in back porch with the ceiling fan from the old Huckins Hotel and Grandpa's faded green wooden rocking chair with the wide arms.  A developer tore the house down a few years ago.  I visit the house often in my sleep.
• Driving at the coast on my way home and enjoying the sea views along the Promenade.
• The house where we now live.  I get a warm feeling when approaching from the North, seeing the long wall, the glassed in porch and the bay windows.  The front garden looks much more elegant with the new brickwork. My favourite places in this house are the front porch and the living and dining rooms where Grandmother's furniture has finally found a suitable home.
• When I lived in Salt Lake City, the first traffic lights of my daily commute faced East to the Wasatch Mountain front, sometimes snow covered, others snow topped, forest green or ablaze with autumn, the horizon unbroken by anything but treeline.  If I was lucky enough to hit a red light, that seemed to set me on a better path for the rest of the day.  (Sadly, some b@$+@£d playing King of the Mountain has stuck a large, ugly house above the tree line and I never want to look up there again.)
• The first time I saw the Gulf of Mexico I sat for hours in the surf at Galveston, enthralled by the grey-green colour of the water and the lacy white waves.  I wanted to take bolts of it home and make myself an entire wardrobe.
• I feel just the same when I ride on a train or on the London Underground as the gentleman who described his pleasure in watching other people and inventing stories about them.   Travel by train and ferry is just the best.
• The first time I stood on Westminster Bridge overlooking the Thames River, I thought of the many novels I'd read in the first 39 years of my life that were set in London, never dreaming I'd actually see the place.  I cried.  I've visited London's tourist area sufficiently often over the years that it is feels familiar enough for me to claim it as mine, particularly the Tower and the very spot where Anne Boleyn and Jane Grey lost their heads.

 Where are the places you've experienced that live on inside and bring you pleasure?

Check These Out

Because of my interest in frugality and, well, let’s call it a vicarious curiosity about domesticity, I've ended up reading and linking to blogs written by SAHM (stay-at-home-moms) who are home schooling their numerous children and who put Bible quotes in the title of their weblogs. They talk about wearing only dresses to be more feminine and to remind them who wears the pants (meaning of course, trousers, not underwear) in the family. I find what they write fascinating, but I did begin to wonder if I could ever go home to the US again.

However, through a series of links I can’t remember, I did find a weblog with swear words in it and felt a lot better. In fact, I wish I had the nerve to put some swear words in this, but I figure I’ll err on the side of decency for the time being. Some of my family from Oklahoma might visit this and they barely speak to me as it is. With that by way of intro, let me tell you about a few of the funny, irreverent (that means with swear words) blogs I’ve found:

I don't know what Hashai means, but it's a look at the life of a young Louisiana woman married to Chairman Chao -- what she calls her husband; I take it he's of Chinese ethnicity -- and living (for a while) in Texas. She doesn’t write her much any more (last entry May 2007) but the archives are fun. Read with a Southern Drawl: "Just somebody come over here and kill me" … "I swear on a stack of dead daddies" … "How is it already January 6, people? I haven’t even had time to make the resolutions I plan to break, yet" ….

From Hashai I found Dooce. Apparently, if you write in your weblog about work and then get sacked for it, you've been 'dooced', and this is what happened to Heather, but it turns out to have been a really good thing after all. Anyhow, she was raised Morman and is rebelling against that big style, though she now lives in Salt Lake City, where I lived for a while and plan to return one day. She’s now winning national / international? awards and is supporting her family on the income from her blog. Read her 12 March entry about how she’s having the last laugh.

I don’t know what’s more hilarious: the entries, the comments or the adverts. I think this isn’t just about Stuff White People Like, so much as describing what I refer to here in the UK as Desperately Middle Class. I’ve not read all the entries on this one yet but so far I have to admit to about 20% of the first 53 (does this mean I’m only 20% white or 20% middle class? Actually, I think it means I’m 80% frugal…).

At this point, I think what I’ve worked is that if I want to make money off a weblog, I'll need to get some dogs/cats/children to photograph and adore/parody, and then I'll have decide on a Bible verse or get to swearing.

Little Old List-maker, Me

I’m a list-maker. Most people are, but I’m a bit more compulsive than some. I make lists about my plans: things to do today, deadlines to meet this month, goals for the year; big projects I want to tackle one day, minute instructions for myself. Christmas gift lists and wish lists, packing lists, grocery lists, American shopping lists, vacation places to consider, recipes and crafts to try, exercise plans, guest lists, cleaning chores, ‘super foods’ I want to eat more.

I make lists about my past: ‘done’ lists, cities and countries visited, cars, homes, offices, men, jobs, dogs, classes toward a degree, debts paid, races and race times, the major events and accomplishments of the past year, what I ate yesterday.

I make lists to keep track and to pay attention: what the freezer and the pantry contain, what foods are currently in season, websites and weblogs I visit often. I list what I don’t like about me and what I do, the roles and responsibilities I have and how I’m doing with those. I make gratitude lists to keep my perspective and happy lists to make sure I have enough fun (making lists is on my happy list!) As a teen I remember once making a ‘List of Things to Worry About’; it must have been a stressful time.

My lists occasionally become inventories, databases or projects. Lists of stamps, coins, albums, DVDs, books and Christmas ornaments (with dates ranging from 1944 to present) morph into calculations of my net worth or background research for posting items on Ebay. My pantry list has become a database of food prices. My electronic address book is a database with spreadsheets for the UK, the US and Oklahoma, email addresses and birthdays (does the Data Protection Act apply to my address book?). I compare a list of items I want to frame with a list of the picture frames I found in the attic; sewing pattern requirements with fabric in my stash. I list the characteristics I require when looking for a new house, car or freezer; what I want in my next job.

Sometimes these lists are to help me get more done, other times just to procrastinate doing anything. Writing a list still makes me feel a little more in control, which is usually comforting, whether or not it’s entirely true. My lists are my way of reflecting about my previous choices, about the course of my life and how different that is to what I thought it would be. They also help me to keep going, seeing all that I have done in the past gives me more confidence to persevere. Virtually every one of my dreams, schemes or intentions begins life in a list.

Writing

In school I always liked my English classes best. Three teachers particularly stick in my mind. Mrs. Gleichman made us prepare a speech and deliver it in front of the class in the 9th Grade. When she moved away to another city, I remember we bought her a Tom Jones album. Mr. Hunter had us write weekly essays which I enjoyed and found easy. I got rather cocky about it though: I wrote a last minute essay for a popular girl in my class and she got the better grade. Mrs. Lee impressed me by knowing how my German surname was pronounced. She taught the summer school class I took in order to graduate high school a year early. She let those of us at the top of the class go early whilst the others did extra work to catch up. I can tell you that a summer day is best enjoyed in such circumstances.

I was offered a scholarship at university by my English professor. I didn’t take it as I thought at the time English majors only taught English, and that didn’t appeal. Expressing my ideas on paper has always, however, necessary for my inner peace. The physical act of writing words is pleasing, particularly with coloured paper and (fine line) pens. More recently seeing words appear on the computer screen (with interesting fonts and coloured backgrounds) is nearly as satisfying. Very girly, I know.

I often share descriptions of my vacations around the world and I try to write at least an annual Christmas letter to family and friends. I never write a short email if I can help it. Many of my friends compliment my writing; others correct my grammar and spelling. I’m happy with either; I write principally for myself.