R. Harrison's Blog, page 31
February 15, 2016
Compensation
Paul Laurence Dunbar, 1872 – 1906
Because I had loved so deeply,
Because I had loved so long,
God in His great compassion
Gave me the gift of song.
Because I have loved so vainly,
And sung with such faltering breath,
The Master in infinite mercy
Offers the boon of Death.
February 13, 2016
Victorian Shortbread
This one is a bit of a disappointment.
From the Sure to Rise cookbook (1895-ish Published as an ad every year)
1/2 pound flour
1/4 pound butter
2 tablespoons sugar
Cream the sugar and the butter, then mix in the flour.
Press into an ungreased pan with your knuckles, smooth with a knife and put fork holes in it. Bake in a slow oven for an hour.
I tried it. It is not up to modern standards. Dry and not sweet. Nothing like the shortbread you have today. I’d add more sugar and make it thicker (that was my mistake).
The Art of Deception #wewriwar #amwriting
or Pride and Extreme Prejudice
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors. This week I introduce another book, that will eventually come out via booktrope (hope springs eternal.) It’s a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar. Alice’s somewhat shady Uncle Grey has come to make her an offer she can’t refuse. He’s sweetening her and her mother up with a recollection from his wartime experiences in the wilds of South Carolina. This snippet starts just after he’s eaten supper with Alice and her mother in their run-down country home; a supper that was more carbonized than ideal.
“Uncle, when were you in the Carolina’s?”
“It was in the 1780’s with General Clinton and then with General Cornwallis.”
“You’ve never said much about it; was it that bad?”
Her uncle looked away, momentarily distressed by his memories. When he looked back at them, he said, “Yes, but it taught me one thing.”
“Only one?”
“I could live on ground maize and mouldy ham; if I had to; I suppose there’s a second thing.”
“Second thing?”
Uncle James smiled, “Beside the value of good food;” then suddenly serious, he added, “The value of good intelligence. We just blundered about in that vast backcountry; let those bloody rebels ambush us at will, and I lost some good friends; that stupidity cost us the America’s.”
Frankenkitty is FREE this weekend
My book “The Curious Profession of Dr. Craven” is on sale!
February 10, 2016
Lacock Abbey #england #filmset #harrypotter #prideandprejudice
Lacock Abbey is the country home of Henry Fox Talbot, and so it’s only fitting that it is the backdrop for many films – ranging from Harry Potter to Pride and Prejudice. Why, you may ask? He’s the inventor of photographic negatives – modern photography – without which there’d be no films. By the way, if you’re in Reading have a look for the house where the first commercial photofinisher shop was located. (It’s near the Sally Ann and not in the best part of town.)
The Abbey is a National Trust property to the south of Chippenham and well worth the visit if you’re in the area. I wouldn’t necessarily drive out from London just to see it as a tourist, but if you’re puttering around the Bath, Chippenham or Bristol, it’s worth a look. You have to pay to visit the Abbey itself or the Talbot museum, but last time I visited the parking was free and you could wander around the village.
The Talbot’s house, and Elizabeth’s
Another view of the gardens
The church
The town. The Red lion is the brick pub in the distance and in several films. Certainly looks different today.
Curious inhabitants (for sale)
Friendly cats (This is the internet after all)
The Art of Going Home #bookreview
Nicole Sorrell
Intense, involving, and interesting, not to mention hot.
Aunt Ceci’s funeral forces Madisen to confront the small town she fled, her guilt over her twin sister’s death years ago, and her family. Along the way she reconnects with an old flame, Zac and together they resolve to uncover the truth behind Angeline’s demise. It’s a cold trail, long overgrown with the weeds of shame and guilt; not just Madisen’s assumed responsibility for her sister. Along the way, Angeline herself appears to ‘Maddie’ as her spirit guide. Maddie’s and Zac’s search reawakens old passions. Some, like for each other, that they forgot, and some, like the real murderer’s that were buried, hopping to be forgotten in the fog of time.
A true romance, hot at times, and overlaid with intense stormy mystery, this book is well worth a read.
I received an ARC in return for an unbiased review.
February 9, 2016
Clouds
Christina Rossetti, 1830 – 1894
White sheep, white sheep,
On a blue hill,
When the wind stops,
You all stand still.
When the wind blows,
You walk away slow.
White sheep, white sheep,
Where do you go?
February 8, 2016
Dartmoor story XIV #amwriting #WIP
The start of the story can be found here.
Following from the last section
where Dr Standfast is listening to the music of the spheres. A new chapter where Elizabeth finds and cannot get into Dr Standfast’s laboratory. She’s just discovered a kitten in the barn, and that she’ll need to give him a better name than ‘Mimi.’
Elizabeth blushed, “I see. I shall need another name.”
“I don’t know, Miss, that cat’s know their names. Mimi, or ‘cat!’ are the same.”
“I think he’d appreciate a noble name.”
“Call him what you want, Miss James. I must get about my work. Henry! Get thee here.”
After breakfast the next day, Elizabeth helped clear up and went to feed the chickens. It was still a novel experience. Then, her chores complete, she went exploring. The kittens beckoned once more, and she played with the friendly orange and white one. “I shall need to name you. Mimi simply will not do.”
Elizabeth put the kitten who wasn’t Mimi down and continued her explorations. The same doors were locked as yesterday. She rattled the locks and knocked on the doors, but there was still no answer from inside. She shrugged, Uncle Sylvester must be out, and she’d ask him about the barns again at supper.
Or maybe not. The barns formed three sides of a large nearly square stone building. There were windows in the stable to the outside. Elizabeth walked outside of the building and started surveying the walls. Henry stared out, looking hot, tired, and exhausted, from a window on one wall. She waved at him, silently thanking him for confirming that the wall was the other side of the stables. She turned the corner to the next wall and looked up. There, high on the wall was a small window. Further down the wall, there was another window, equally high. Beyond that sat the wall and hedge that divided the field and barn from the lane to North Bovey. More importantly there was a tree. A tree that she could climb, if she were careful.
Elizabeth clambered up the tree, bracing herself between the wall and the tree. Then she peered into the small window. Down below, her uncle worked. He was doing something with a long tube, a tube with fins. She watched as he took a pot of some dark almost black molten material and carefully poured it into the tube. After a few moments he put the tube carefully in a rack, sitting upright while it cooled. Then he put the pot back onto a warming tray and picked up another tube. He was about to pour more of the material into that tube when George knocked on the outer door. “Sylvester, you have a visitor. That nosey Mrs Grace, and her daughter.”
“Dash it all, I’m at a critical juncture … I’ll just be a few moments. Stall her.”
“I will.”
“And find Elizabeth. I’m sure she’d like to talk with Miss Grace. Keep her out of trouble.”
“Who, Miss Grace or Elizabeth?”
“Elizabeth. Who else?”
He carefully, with the most delicate of care, poured the mixture into that tube. Then he set the tube in the rack. “That’ll do.”
He wiped his hands with a rag and started for the door.
It was just as well that the walls were thick. He didn’t hear the scuffling noise as Elizabeth descended, much too rapidly, from the tree. She stopped at the bottom and did her best to rapidly smooth and clean her dress. I hope Uncle Sylvester didn’t notice me.
“Elizabeth!’ It was her uncle, “Your friend Miss Grace is here.”
The wall and hedge in front of her blocked the short way around the back of the barn, so Elizabeth came the long way round.
Sylvester inspected her and clicked his tongue when she emerged, “There you are. What have you been up to?”
“Exploring.”
“I can see that. Exploring the hedges by the look of you. Find anything worthwhile?”
“Birds’ nests. A lot of rubbish.”
“Sounds interesting. Miss Grace is here and since she’s in her visiting clothes, I suggest you give the exploring a miss for the time being.”
Lucy watched this exchange with a half-smile on her face, “Dr Standfast, I could take Elizabeth for a walk down the lanes without putting my dress in harm’s way.”
“If you say so, but don’t overtire Miss James.”
“I won’t. Miss James, shall we?” Lucy nodded towards the lane.
“My pleasure,” Laughing, Elizabeth gave her friend an exaggerated curtsey.
A few minutes later as they were strolling towards the valley that led to Manaton, Lucy stopped.
“Elizabeth, I-I have a favour to ask of you.”
“You do?”
“Will you keep it quiet, even if you won’t grant it to me?”
“I’ll do my best. Is it about your Edward?”
Lucy blushed, “Yes.”
“You’d like me to post letters?”
Lucy nodded, it was a big favour to ask and one that could get Elizabeth in trouble. Assisting in a clandestine communication.
“I’d love to.”
“Oh, good.” Lucy breathed a huge gasp of relief. “Could you send this one?” She pulled a small missive from her dress.
Elizabeth took it. “It’s warm.”
“It’s been next to my heart, please don’t read it.”
“I won’t.” Then Elizabeth put it carefully into her pocket. “Anyway if it’s like other love letters, it’s full of mushy sentiment. Not something I’m all that keen on.”
“Until it’s your time to fall in love.”
Elizabeth laughed, “That will never happen.”
That evening, after they returned, and in the interval between shooing the chickens back into their coop and supper, Elizabeth wandered to the back of the barn. The tree she climbed had been cut down.
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February 6, 2016
FrankenKitty 17 #wewriwar #amwriting
(Some assembly required)
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors. This is a sample from my latest work “Frankenkitty”, and I hope you enjoy it. It started out as a young-adult superhero book, and well, you’ll see. In last week’s snippet, the gerbil awakens and their device has interesting side effects. This week Amber’s ever-tolerant parents put their foot down.
Amber’s description of her parental unit’s reactions to their little experiments during the lunch period was both painful and amusing.
“Even my father said ‘enough was enough;’ no more accelerators or coils or anything fun in the basement.”
Jennifer asked, “Did he let you keep a lab?”
“Sort of, but you’ve got to come this evening and get your stuff; both you and Mary.”
“He didn’t see the notebooks?”
Amber nodded, “He had a look; made a crack about my being a biochemist like mother, and then they started arguing; as if ever.”
“Yeah,” Mary added, “I gotta do me.”
Jennifer said, “Did they stop arguing?”
“Only to remind me that the lab was off limits for a month; to give me time to think about safety; I think they like to argue, ’cause then they got all yucky mushy.”
“No bedtime story,” Mary said with a straight face.
This is no longer a work in progress.
I’ve also released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere
My book “The Curious Profession of Dr. Craven” is finally out!
February 5, 2016
A Gift
Leonora Speyer
I Woke: —
Night, lingering, poured upon the world
Of drowsy hill and wood and lake
Her moon-song,
And the breeze accompanied with hushed fingers
On the birches.
Gently the dawn held out to me
A golden handful of bird’s-notes.
(oops, I’ve got to keep better track, I featured this poem before. Still it’s dashed good.)
February 4, 2016
Epigram on Rough Woods
Robert Burns, 1759 – 1796
I’m now arrived—thanks to the gods!—
Thro’ pathways rough and muddy,
A certain sign that makin roads
Is no this people’s study:
Altho’ Im not wi’ Scripture cram’d,
I’m sure the Bible says
That heedless sinners shall be damn’d,
Unless they mend their ways.
