I found out something interesting about Uncle Charlie

My great uncle charles was killed during the first world war. No one knew any details, all the paperwork had been given to a cousin after his mother died and that was lost without a trace.

Dad and I had always wanted to find out more about him, where he died, and any other information.

Someone kindly offered to visit Kew for me and to find any records relating to him... and found that someone 'borrowed' his identity after he was killed which we believe to be in Hellas in 1915. I will scan the document in which relates to this other man and the notes I have on him.. but I for one am fascinated to think that this could occur in wartime.

Want a Job?

Apparently the HM the Queen is advertising for a trainee Butler to work at Buckingham Palace, with a chance to work also at Windosor, Holyrood, Balmoral and Sandringham.

What you may not know, and I can't remember if I have said, is that I used to work at Buckingham Palace ... way back in my history I was but a mere youngster at 19 and very wet behind the ears.. I saw an advert for a kitchen assistant and wrote off a letter thinking nothing more of it. Mum and I went off for a weekend to Paris, and on my return I was greeted with a thick white envelope inviting me for an interview.

I travelled up to London with Mum, as much for the day out, thinking that we would have an opportunity to do some sightseeing, but I was so long in the interview that we ended up going straight home; that was the Friday morning and on Monday they telephoned and said I had the job and could I start straight away... my boots were quaking, but I gamely accepted and started the following week although most of the Monday was taken with security things like passes and being shown around which as I had to travel to Scotland (Balmoral) the following day was all but forgotten for 8 weeks until my return.

My job was officially labelled Kitchen Assistant, but really just think Ruby in Upstairs, Downstairs.. I was at the beck and call of the chefs, but did have a chance to learn from some of the best although not all of it has stuck.. I was definitely at home in the pastry section and when I could I always wangled that part of the job.

I was there for three years, very memorable years, and the only place I didn't work at was Sandringham because it was too small to accommodate all the staff and we were considered surplus to requirements which meant I could always guarantee having New Year off.

To be continued.....

The Good and the Bad

Today in 1990 Sam and Teg (my old Jack Russells were born) Teg was first at about 6 in the morning, while Sam lazily hung on for a few more hours until 8.30am. They were the only two in the litter and my Mum who was retiring in the Autumn of 1990 wanted to spend her time raising the pups while also looking after two 18 month old lakeland terriers (Holly and Toby). To this end she gave up smoking and to our amazement succeeded.. we were so proud of her not only because she didn't tell anyone she waited until they asked.

Any visitors to the house were only allowed to see the puppies after they had said hello to the bigger dogs and eventually they were happy to act as a pack -which is a whole other story.

So that is the good

On this day in 1992, in the early hours of the morning my Mum suffered acute heart failure due to her having suffered rheumatic heart disease as a young child in the 1930's. Apparently the heart murmur was hardly noticeable but it cause damage to one of her heart valves over the years and without much notice she complained of being breathless and within a short time collapsed and died. This was our first introduction to sudden death and as a family hit us very hard; our comfort was the knowledge that she didn't suffer and we held onto that fact as our world was shaken.

This year we would have celebrated both her and my Dad's 80th birthday but twas not to be.

Tripoli

I read the news over the past 48 hours about the problems in Tripoli.


My Dad being in the British Army, had a posting to Tripoli in Libya not long after he married my Mum. My Brother Zeltus was born there during their stay, and while the local population was taken by this very blonde headed youngster the unsettled situation saw them evacuated twice, once for 48 hours and for the life of me I can't remember where they went or whether it was just within the bounds of the Army camp or elsewhere.

When they got back to their accommodation, it had been ransacked and most of their possessions lost, but the important things to them were safe: themselves.

Gradually they rebuilt their lives and possessions only to lose them again for the second time when they were evacuated out permanently back to the UK in late 1957/early 1958 ending up at Blandford Forum where I was born in March 1958.

I have one possession from that period of time, a wall carpet hanging of camels in the desert and that really belongs to Zeltus but somehow it ended up with me; a little more battered and moth eaten but not bad for over 50 years old.

I have some photo's taken from that time, when I eventually get around to emptying the picture boxes, but in there is the naked lady of Gariane .. it is a map drawn on a wall but in the shape of a luscious lady... apparently the Back of Beyond was going to be named the Gariane in memory of this time of their lives but it never happened and when Mum died in 1992 it no longer seemed to be important enough for Dad to do.

Schooldays

Janet's oldest started school this week, The Queen is enjoying it immensely and it reminded me of my first days at nursery school (what everyone else now refers to as Kindergarden).

I can't remember being told about it, but older brother Zeltus had been going to 'school' for about two years before I was sent.. Nursery in Aborfield, where we were based at the time, was in a nissan hut down by the Cinema building (I think this is where it was) and it was in a old army nissan hut with a fenced off play area at the rear and to the side.

My mum took me there one morning with instructions to have fun and play nicely with the other children, of course I was suitably distraught at being abandoned to my fate and no idea of when or even if I were to be allowed home again. See in the 1950's we weren't mollycoddled, parents didn't stay with their kids, they weren't allowed to.. no drop them at the door and run for it..

I do remember a couple of things, one of which was the rocking horse behind the front door which was used in strict rotation so everyone who wanted a go managed to get some time on it, I think I did but I really can't remember it other than it was a magnificant specimen of a rocking horse in a dapple grey colour.

The other thing was the free milk and biscuits at break-time, now they were strict and you had to drink your milk warm as it was felt at the time that ice-cold milk was bad for you, ever since then I have had a phobia about drinking plain milk unless it is a) fresh and b) icy cold. Likewise you were supposed to keep your strength up and this involved partaking of a biscuit, never mind if you didn't like the offerings you were made to eat it.. I developed a hatred of fig rolls and won't eat one to this date... surprisingly at the time I didn't like bourbon biscuits either though I love them these days.

I am sure there were some activities but I can't recall doing anything particular, so anything they taught me was obviously lost in the mists of time.

Release came at the end of the morning, freedom given for the rest of the day until the following day when it resumed once more.

A Knock on the Door

Well metaphorically anyway..

::waves hello::

I had an email in my inbox yesterday morning, from a contact within Genes Reunited and it turns out to be my Uncle Peter, who left many years ago to live in Australia.. Zeltus was in touch with him for a little while a few years back, but lost his address and since then Dad and I had no contact at all for a number of years; in fact since after Mum died in 1992, when we had to tell him the sad news over the phone.

I have been building the family history, on a part-time basis, as and when I get a chance or a new link and thanks to people like Colin and Rachel who gave me their family trees which link to mine I traced back my Dad's family to 1790's but had little luck with Mum's side and now Peter and I will be trading information back and forwards to fill in the gap a little more.

It was good to get this contact from him, and he has passed my details onto another family member in the Gloucestershire area which my maternal grandmother's family came from.

I can now add some more details to the family tree and hopefully, can add Peter to the view so he can see what I am missing and what he is missing and between us we can add some colour.

I have given Peter this blog, and if he clicks on Zeltus he will find my brother as well; whether we will get a chance to visit Australia at some point in the future I don't know, I would like to think so but I am not going to set my hopes too high as the future is at the moment uncertain until certain events have occurred (or not as the case might be).

Hello to my newly found family in Australia if you have followed the link on the email...

Today is

March 25th or Lady Day is traditionally a quarter day, when servants could be hired, rents were paid until the next quarter day and any rates were due.

Towns and big cities would have hiring fairs where young men and women would offer themselves for hiring and if they were lucky they would end up in a good situation or they would be back the next time older and somewhat wiser.

Farms could also change tenancy on a quarter day, though traditionally it would more likely be that any new tenant would take over on michaelmas just after the harvest as they would then tend the farm for the next year, but if a tenant fell behind with the rent, he could be displaced on any date.

Lady Day got it's name from Feast of the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin (25 March) and is the first of the four traditional Irish and English quarter days. The "Lady" was the Virgin Mary. The term derives from Middle English, when some nouns lost their genitive inflections. "Lady" would later gain an -s genitive ending, and therefore the name actually means "Lady's day."

Johnny Appleseed

Today is Johnny Appleseed day in the US. I can remember hearing about this person when I was a child probably through stories and maybe the Disney film. I don't think I really knew that he was real until today so I did a bit of exploring and found that Johnny Appleseed was born John Chapman (September 26, 1774 – February 18, 1845).

He was an American pioneer nurseryman who introduced apple trees to large parts of Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois. He was a missionary and his kind and generous ways, his great leadership in conservation, and the symbolic importance of apples led to him being made a legend in his own lifetime.

Apparently Chapman wore basic clothing nothing overly rich but probably not rags either, even in the cold of winter, and his lifestyle was generally a harsh, subsistent lifestyle; although he did go barefoot in summers to save leather.

According to Harper's New Monthly Magazine, towards the end of his career, he was present when an itinerant missionary was exhorting an open-air congregation in Mansfield, Ohio. The sermon was long and quite severe on the topic of extravagance, because the pioneers were starting to buy such indulgences as calico and store-bought tea. “Where now is there a man who, like the primitive Christians, is traveling to heaven bare-footed and clad in coarse raiment?” the preacher repeatedly asked, until Johnny Appleseed, his endurance worn out, walked up to the preacher, put his bare foot on the stump which had served as a podium, and said, “Here's your primitive Christian!” The flummoxed sermonizer dismissed the congregation.

Perhaps we still have something to learn from his ways, the kindness to others, less of the indulgences in life and living life without hurting the earth.

The Victorian Farm

I was sad last week to have watched the last programme in the series The Victorian Farm an eagerly awaited sequel to Tales from the Green Valley which was shown in 2005.

I welcomed back Peter, Ruth and Alex to another period of farming history, they don't just tell you about it, but actually live in it and if I ever had the chance I would jump at the opportunity to join in with them so fast that they might find themselves a hand missing.

The first series Tales from the Green Valley was set in a Welsh farmhouse in Tudor times andwas of twelve thirty minute long programmes and each covering a month of the farming life. Unfortunately due to Health and Safety restrictions they were not allowed to live at the farm but had to live in accommodation nearby.

But the joy of the Victorian period was that they could live and be the farmers of the day, even down to the animals and machinery and food. Ruth's domain was the house and dairy, while the lads Alex and Peter managed the farmwork with the help of specialist people such as the blacksmith, the printer, the ploughman, the beekeeper etc.

I think because it was so recent that the people advising on the use of the machinery and how things were done, were still using some of this equipment in the 1930's when my Dad was helping out on Charlie Well's farm just down the hill.

The only shame about it, was the fact that it was only 3 episodes long, admittedly of one hour in length but both SOH and myself thoroughly enjoyed it and hope to visit Acton Scott Historic Working Farm, where the series was filmed and I know they do courses there as well.

Don't know whether there will be another programme quite like this, but I hope they do as it is far more entertaining that most reality programmes. I for one have had enough of :

• I'm a celebrity anything
• Big Brother, celebrity or joe bloggs from the street.
  
• Dancing, Ice or Ballroom
• Celebrity Conductors

What happened to 'real' programming on television?

How things have changed

Many years ago, when Zeltus and I were nippers, Mum and Dad were away for the day and left us with Mr and Mrs Appleby who lived next door to us (or so it seems these many years later) who had what seemed like 5 or 6 children. After an energetic mornings play on the green opposite we were called in for lunch.

Now normally, lunch would have consisted of a drink, a sandwich and either a chocolate biscuit or some other treat like an apple.

I was astonished therefore to be given a plate of porridge, and told to help myself from the toppings of syrup, jam, sugar or salt..

At the time I didn't like readybrek, never mind porridge (fussy eater, wasn't I?) and probably made a big fuss, but Mrs Appleby took no nonsense... "If you don't want it, then you will go hungry" which many a 50's child will be fully aware of.

The reason I am writing this, I am about to sit down to a bowl of oats so simple, plain with brown sugar topping and a dusting of cinnamon.. how things have changed. I started to eat hot breakfasts in cold weather when I had a flat in Bedford with no central heating and the only way of keeping warm in winter was a hot breakfast which was filling and cheap.

Keep safe on the roads if you have to venture out, I am lucky, overnight we had a little snow but not too much however I will be in work early to miss some of the traffic.

Holyrood Castle

One of my highlights of working for the Royal Household was the treat of a week in Edinburgh in July when the Edinburgh Tattoo was on and various other things happened like the Holyrood Garden Parties.

My accommodation was just outside the gates in a stone building, for some reason all the other girls were inside the Castle, but because I was in the kitchen's I got to be with the chef's all outside. So at 7am when I was due to start work, I would get up get washed and dressed and head over to the kitchens.

I had been there for a couple of days, getting used to the kitchens (very different from Balmoral, London and Windsor as they were smaller and more compact) when one morning I pushed open the tall metal gates only to have it fall off the hinges. Luckily one of the coppers on duty managed to grab it in time for me to make a hasty run for safety (otherwise this may well not have been written) and him and his mate propped it up against the wall while they called for the maintenance man to mend the gates.

Afterwards, my fame (or is it infamy) spread as the girl who broke the gates.. being a naive you thing I wondered if my career was to be blighted by these events but luckily not as I stayed for a further couple of years.

It was at Holyrood, I was instroduced to the morning bap spread with honey.. makes a great breakfast and one I still enjoy when in Scotland.

Chewets, Shred Pies or Ye Mynce Pyes

I did a bit of research, and there is quite a lot out there - whatever did we do without the Internet I wonder?

From Celtnet Recipes, which by far seemed to be the best source of information :

Original Lady Portland's Receipt for Mince Pies
Take four pounds of Beef, Veal or Neats-Tongues, and eight pounds of suet; and mince both the meat and Suet very small, before you put them together. Then mingle them well together and mince it very small, and put to it six pounds of Currants washed and picked very clean. Then take the Peel of two Lemons, and half a score of Pippins (apples), and mince them very small. Then take above and Ounce of Nutmeg, and a quarter of an ounce of Mace, some Cloves and Cinnamon, and put them together, and sweeten them with Rose-water and Sugar. And when you are ready to put them into your Paste, take Citron and Orangiadoe, and slice them very thin, and lay them upon the meat. If you please, put dates upon the top of them. And put amongst the meat an Ounce of Caraway seeds. Be sure you have very fine Paste.

Modern Version
The mince pye presented here is an evolution of the Medieval Christmas recipe which would have used beef and venison offal with maybe apples; making it essentially a meat-based dish. The version presented here now has more fruit than meat in it and is the precursor of the Elizabethan fruit and suet-based Mince Pie that is essential element of any British Christmas.

600g minced beef
400g minced beef suet
900g seedless currants
2 cooking apples or 3 pippins grated small
rind of one lemon, grated.
1 tsp freshly-grated nutmeg
¼ tsp ground mace
generus pinch of ground cloves
¼ tsp ground cinnamon
80g dates, quartered lengthways
1 lemon, sliced into rings (the original recipe uses citron, Citrus medica which is a very acidic relative of lemon
1 smal tart orange sliced into rings

This recipe calls for a fine pastry. Celtnet recommends using their recipe for Saffron Short Paest (short-crust pastry). Make enough of this to line the base of a 25cm diameter pie dish and to provide a lid for the pie. This seems to be a similar recipe for sugar pastry but includes saffron and not sugar.. might have to try a combination.

Heat some oil in a frying pan and fry the mince for a few minutes. Tip into a bowl and allow to cool. Once cold add the suet, currants, grated apples, grated lemon and spices. Mix together well and tip into your pie dish. Top with the dates and cover with the lemon and orange slices then add the pastry topping. Bind the bottom and top pieces of pastry together by pressing down with the tines of a fork then prick the surface of the top pastry a number of times to allow steam to escape.

Place in an oven pre-heated to 160oC and bake for about 40 minutes or until the pastry is a light golden browin in colour. Serve warm. Less if you are making individual pies.

According to Celtnet Elizabethan Recipes where I obtained this information, while the beef version recipe is good, if you can hold of minced venison it is even bette.

Ever wondered about the 12 days of christmas?

Many of our Nursery Rhymes, like ring-a-ring of roses, have meanings that don't mean anything to today's children, yet still exist in a modern world. I did a bit of research on a christmas carol, which I felt had a hidden meaning but didn't know it. So I present to you, my findings on The 12 Days of Christmas - the Carol.

It has some belief that it is a catchism song, but no real evidence exists on this, however, that doesn't mean it isn't the case and even though you can bend the song to twist many meanings I quite like the idea that the following is the case :

The "true love" mentioned in the song doesn’t refer to an earthly suitor, but to God Himself. The "me" who receives the presents refers to every baptized person. i.e. the Church.

1st Day
The partridge in a pear tree is Christ Jesus upon the Cross. In the song, Christ is symbolically presented as a mother partridge because she would feign injury to decoy a predator away from her nestlings, willing to die in order to protect her youngsters. The tree is the symbol of the fall of the human race through the sin of Adam and Eve.

2nd Day
The "two turtle doves" refers to the Old and New Testaments.

3rd Day
The "three French hens" stand for faith, hope and love—the three gifts of the Holy Spirit

4th Day
The "four calling birds" refers to the four evangelists who wrote the Gospels— Matthew, Mark, Luke and John

5th Day
The "five golden rings" represents the first five books of the Bible, also called the Jewish Torah: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy.

6th Day
The "six geese a-laying" is the six days of creation.

7th Day
The "seven swans a-swimming" refers to the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit: wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety and fear of the Lord.

8th Day
The "eight maids a milking " reminded children of the eight beatitudes listed in the Sermon on the Mount.

9th Day
The "nine ladies dancing" were the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit : love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control.

10th Day
The "ten lords a-leaping" represents the Ten Commandments

11th Day
The "eleven pipers piping" refers to the eleven faithful apostles.

12th Day
The ‘twelve drummers drumming" were the twelve points of belief expressed in the Apostles’ Creed: belief in God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, that Jesus Christ was born of the Virgin Mary, made man, crucified, died and arose on the third day, that he sits at the right hand of the father and will come again, the resurrection of the dead and life everlasting.

Don't forget to put your guesses on the Giveaway post to try and win the Calendar - you have until Friday 19th December at 12.00 Noon. The more people that enter, the more the Air Ambulance funds will benefit - I will explain in a later post.

The history of the Mince Pie

I love learning about cooking, stems back from hearing my Nan (who used to be a cook in service many years ago) talk about the old style of cooking, and working in the kitchens at Windsor Castle simply added to my love of history so combing the two loves is a match made in heaven. TV programmes such as Tales from the Green Valley, or people like Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall recreating old style foods whet my appetite for more.

So on to the topic of today, the humble mince pie. Not the sweet pastry ones of today, when they were first derived in the medieval era they were known as chewet - which was a fried or baked pastry containing chopped liver and other meats mixed with boiled eggs and ginger. The latter possibly to cover the taste of the meat which might have not stored very well and was possibly getting a bit rancid. For variety, dried fruit and other sweet ingredients might be added to the chewet's filling if the household could afford the luxury of these goods.

The mince pie (or Shred Pie) became a christmas speciality by the 16th century, and in the 17th century, the Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell and his Parliament Men passed a law that made it illegal to eat mince pies on Christmas Day. Nb this has not yet been repealed so if you do you are breaking the law :-).

By the mid-17th Century, meat was replaced by Beef Suet and by the 19th Century meat was no longer used in the making of mince pies. I use the vegetarian version of Suet as it helps to keep the pies lighter in texture and taste.

But there is a little bit of me, that would like to try out the 'older' style of Chewet... what do you think SOH might say?

Don't forget to put your guesses on the Giveaway post to try and win the Calendar - you have until Friday 19th December at 12.00 Noon.

Winnie the Pooh and Piglet Too

I have a love of Winnie the Pooh, and especially Piglet as that was Sam's nickname (owing to the fact that he looked a little like a minature large white pig with his porky little legs).

I have wanted to visit Ashdown forest since I read Christopher Milne's autobiography and found that "Pooh's Forest and Ashdown Forest are identical". For example, the Five Hundred Acre Wood became the 100 Aker Wood and Gills Lap became Galleons Leap. The North Pole and the Gloomy Place are in Wrens Warren Valley while a memorial to Milne and Shepard is in the location Enchanted Place.

Ashdown Forest covers an area of approx. 10 square miles, but despite its name, woodland makes up less than 40% of the total area of Ashdown Forest and it is doubtful whether that figure was ever much higher. Apparently the word “forest” is derived from the Latin "foris", meaning “outside” and in medieval England meant outside cultivation and belonging by default to the Crown. Now I know why commoners have such a hard time.

There is a bridge, Posingford Bridge, located close to Hartfield village, and Ashdown forest where Poohsticks is played and was first mentioned in The House at Pooh Corner. Though it is not known whether the game was first played at the bridge then written into the story, or vice versa.

Poohsticks is a simple game which may be played on any bridge over running water; each player simultaneously drops a stick on the upstream side of a bridge and the one whose stick first appears on the downstream side is the winner. Of course, it is not just any stick, it should be made of organic materials preferably willow and not of any artificial materials. The stick should be be dropped, not thrown, into the water as any player who is deemed to have thrown their stick should be disqualified.

There is a shop in Hartfield village, that is known as Pooh Corner, another place on my list to visit eventually.

Max over at Britishspeak was asking about Poohsticks and it reminded me to mention it in this post.

A great man

One of my favourite actors, John Le Mesurier, died on 15th November in 1983. John was born in Chaucer Road, Bedford in April 1912 (so he was a local Bedfordshire lad) and served as a Captain in the Royal Tank Regiment during the Second World War in UK and India.

One of his more enduring (and endearing roles) was as the upper-class Sergeant Arthur Wilson in Dad's Army from 1968 to 1977. He apparently accepted the part after finding out Clive Dunn, with whom he had worked in the Players' Theatre, would be playing the part of Corporal Jones.

For nearly 20 years until his death in 1983, he provided the original voice for the animated TV commercial character "Flour Grader Fred", a little man in a bowler hat who advertised Homepride Flour and related products. I had a plastic Fred for many years until it finally got thrown out in one move too many; it may well be a collectors item now.

In his private life, John was a heavy drinker and this led to him suffering a serious illness which affected his weight and co-incided with the ending of Dad's Army; though he still managed to do a small number of films including The Fiendish plot of Fu Manchu in 1980.

John died at Ramsgate from a stomach haemorrhage, (which was brought on by cirrhosis of the liver) on 15 November 1983, aged 71. and is buried in the churchyard of the Church of St. George the Martyr, Church Hill, Ramsgate.

His self-penned death notice in The Times stated that he had "conked out" and that he "misses his family and friends".

His last words before slipping into a coma were reportedly, "It's all been rather lovely".

I think his final words perfectly sums up his character and both Dad and I were sorry to hear that he had died. The coincidence was that John was 71 years old when he died, the same age as my Dad when he died in 2002.

Memento Mori

I had all these bright ideas yesterday, when I was listening to the conference speakers, but somewhere between then and now it disappeared into the ether..never to be seen again.

So instead, I give you 'Remember you are mortal'

During the conference, we held a two minute silence at 11am, which was nice to see; though I would rather see Armistice Day become a new bank holiday as it deserves a special moment of thanks as we see fewer and fewer veterans of the Great War.

Linked to this : when SOH and I were down with his family in Cornwall, SOH-Dad showed me some details of his Uncle Harold Dawe, who sadly died in France in early Oct 1917. SOH-DAD provided me with visual copies of the papers received, including the letter saying he was killed in action, also a letter from the pensions office. This information included his rank, army number, regiment and I am now trying to find out a little more about him.

On to the war graves site, only to no avail, the only gentlemen on there were either not in the right regiment or were not on the right date having been killed earlier in the war.

I had a breakthrough when I queried the dates involved, as this was Passchendaele or the third Ypres offensive, and so far I have 'interrogated' a number of websites trying to find out a little more information.

I have also contacted the war graves commission with the information I have as many of the WW1 records were lost in the blitz bombing of London in WW11 and it may well be that his details were lost at this point in time; but hopefully they will come back with yet more information than I have currently.

It is equally valid to say that as this was a difficult time just after the heat of battle and many men were buried without the details being kept for identification; partially the numbers of men involved and the conditions of the battleground.

If Harold is known, buried etc, it is likely to be at the Tyne Cot cemetery which was first used in October 1917 when one of several German blockhouses on the Passchendaele Ridge was captured by the British Army on 4th October 1917 and then and used as an Advanced Dressing Station. As a result of this there were some 350 burials in the vicinity of the Dressing Station between then and the end of March 1918.

This photograph is taken from the high ground of the Passchendaele Ridge, looking south-west towards Ypres. This was the dominating view over the northern part of the Ypres Salient which the Germans had from the Passchenaele Ridge as the Allied soldiers tried to approach them during the Third Battle of Ypres (Battle of Passchendaele) 31 July - 10 November 1917.

The cemetery is the last resting place of more than 12,000 soldiers from Oct 1914 to September 1918. Many were reburied when the cemetery was enlarged after the cessation of hostilities and many of the gravestones are engraved with no-known name only 'an unknown soldier of the great war'.

I have one more casualty I am still trying to find out more details on, and that is my Great Uncle Charlie who also died during WW1 but we don't have any details on which regiment he was with, where he died in the field of conflict nor when so it is an uphil struggle and may not even be known.

November 5th - Bonfire Night, fireworks and why we celebrate it

Remember, remember the Fifth of November,
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,
I know of no reason
Why the Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t'was his intent
To blow up King and Parli'ment.
Three-score barrels of powder below
To prove old England's overthrow;
By God's providence he was catch'd
With a dark lantern and burning match.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, let the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!

It is primarily remembered and marked in the United Kingdom where it was compulsory, by Royal Decree, to celebrate the deliverance of the King until 1859. These days it is purely a good reason to launch fireworks into the cold November skies and enjoy the pyrotechnic display whilst eating hot dogs, roasted potatoes with warm soup and hearty helpings of hot chocolate suitably laced with alcohol.

Guido Fawkes is notorious for his involvement in the Gunpowder Plot of 1605. He was probably placed in charge of executing the plot because of his military and explosives experience. The plot, masterminded by Robert Catesby, was an attempt by a group of religious conspirators to kill King James I of England, his family, and most of the aristocracy by blowing up the House of Lords in the Palace of Westminster during the State Opening of Parliament.

After being tortured on King James's orders, Fawkes and a number of others implicated in the conspiracy were tried in Westminster Hall. After being found guilty, they were taken to Old Palace Yard in Westminster and St Paul's Yard, where they were hanged, drawn and quartered on 31 January 1606.

For the uninitiated : this means they were hung, but not killed - before they could die from suffocation they were taken down and disembowelled with the final cut being the still beating heart. This was a punishment given for the severest of crimes, and others who suffered the same fate included William Wallace (filmed as Braveheart) and a film I have never been able to watch twice.

Common foods served at bonfire parties are black treacle goods such as bonfire toffee (aka Cinder toffee), parkin, toffee apples, baked potatoes, which are wrapped in foil and cooked in the bonfire or its embers and devilled sausages.

So enjoy the blood thirstiness of Bonfire night...

Feast of Saint Winifred

Today is the feast day of Saint Winefride (Welsh name Gwenffrewi) who was a legendary 7th century Welsh noblewoman who was canonized after dying for the sake of her chastity. Winefride was the daughter of a Welsh nobleman, Tyfid ap Eiludd. Her suitor, Caradog, was enraged when she decided to become a nun, and decapitated her. In one version of the tale, her head rolled downhill, and, where it stopped, a healing spring appeared. Winefride's head was subsequently rejoined to her body due to the efforts of her maternal uncle, Saint Beuno, and she was restored to life. She later became a nun and abbess at Gwytherin in Denbighshire, and Caradog, cursed by Beuno, melted into the ground.

The moving of Winefride's bones to Shrewsbury is woven into A Morbid Taste for Bones, the first of Ellis Peters' Brother Cadfael novels. Throughout the series, the protagonist - a Welsh monk at the English monastery at Shrewsbury - has a kind of "special understanding" with the saint, whom he affectionately calls "The Girl".

Some of the Cadfael (pronounced Cadvile) books were made into films starring Derek Jacobi as the modest monk with a deep history, and were filmed in poland. But he was also narrated by Philip Madoc in some BBC dramatisations.

21 books make up the total number of Cadfael novels, and are well worn on my bookshelves along with the companion of the series showing locations on the Welsh/English border where the fictional monk visited or were close to Shrewsbury Abbey. Worth a read if you like this period of history with Stephen and Maud fighting for control of England.