wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
 WEJ stays true to his preferences. Steeley and Biggles share delicate hands, I'm going to suggest that Biggles and Anthony Carrington West (No Motive for Murder) share a description too:
'He was not a big man; perhaps five feet ten inches tall, built on fine lines without being thin. Face and figure were those of a student rather than those of an athlete or the type broadly called sporting. His complexion was pale; eyes bluey-grey, clear, and steady with the self-confidence of one who knows exactly what he is doing. His expression was calm and thoughtful and conveyed no hint of what he was thinking. His clothes, which he wore as one accustomed to them, were well cut and immaculate without being foppish. He wore a glove on his left hand and carried the other clasped to a furled umbrella with a malacca handle.'
This suggests to me that Biggles might be taller than commonly imagined.

I especially love the line 'His clothes, which he wore as one accustomed to them' Did WEJ know a lot of men unaccustomed to wearing clothes? I've automatically added it to Black Bentley's Biggles Against Humanity cards in my mind.
It's right up there with Biggles stripping down to his short underpants in Deep Blue Sea, a line which has fascinated me for years. Was he wearing long underpants over the short ones? Why would the reader presume he was wearing anything other than short underpants on a tropic island?Why is that adjective necessary?

Progress

Jul. 17th, 2023 10:50 am
wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
 Saturday was one of my first big tests of coping with life post stroke. I had a wedding to attend..Early planning involved finding a dress I could put on myself (ie no fastenings) and a new pair of tennis shoes so if I needed to get out of the wheelchair and walk over rough ground or up steps I could. It seemed very strange not to be putting killer heels on but it was the sensible option. 
The first adventure was the journey down Main St to the Priory for the service. The bride had unfortunately ordered a Cumbrian storm for the day so I went down the road with my hat clutched to my lap to keep my dress down so I wasn't flashing my very ordinary non-weddingy knickers to any casual onlookers. My plus one was wearing three inch heels so we went down all the steep bits backwards. We were met at the gates to the Priory by a phalanx of groomsmen bearing umbrellas to shelter us on the way in. Unfortunately most of them had blown inside out- umbrellas that is-, which was amusing them no end. It was a bit of a wrestle to get me inside due to the ramp which usually sits at the step inside being unaccountably missing but between my plus one and various random men wanting to be helpful, me and my chair were wrestled inside. It would have been easier if I'd handed my lap contents( stick, hat, wrap and umbrella) to one of them and walked, but bless them they wanted to succeed at getting me and my chair in and I let them so they could be happy about their good deed for the day.
We headed back into the storm to catch the buses to Muncaster where the reception was to be held. The driver of one of the buses told me I needed to be on his bus as had parked next to a dropped curb for me.I'm not used to this level of attention. I managed to walk/ climb on though without the wheelchair access device being needed. Muncaster Castle is glorious even in the rain but I felt so sorry that the weather was too poor for photographs of the bride and groom outside:their gardens are superb. Still we were given gin cocktails and pink champagne in the Great Hall of a castle which has been owned by the same family for 800 years. Being a practical bunch we soon realised that if we mixed the gin cocktail with the pink champagne we got a much nicer drink which was neither too dry or too sweet.We had a 500 year old Armada -type table to put our empties on. We ate in the drawing room with a double row of family portraits looking down. It had glass doors to the garden just like all those Agatha Christie books where men step out onto the terrace for a smoke.The meal (very nice) was candle lit which again took me back in time. It felt like a family dinner party rather thana very formal dinner. I had the impression that they'd rummaged in an old cupboard and found old candlabra last used by the family around WW1, given them a good clean and used them rather than buying everything new. It made the meal feel intimate and not staged. As whoever did the seating plan had a sense of humour and decided to seat me with the previous vicar of the Priory who was a close friend of the bride's family: he greeted me as an old friend before realising he didn't know me. We decided in the end he probably recognised my name as he was school chaplain to St Bees School as part of his Priory Minister duties so he'd have known my daughters. I have dutifully passed on his best wishes to my eldest who said ' I'm surprised he remembered me after all the times I cut church and chapel.' I think she doesn't realise how memorable she is let alone having an unusual surname. It was all very pleasant and I was glad that I'd checked I could eat properly with a knife and fork before I went. I was also happy that various others at the table agreed that red went with everything and we didn't have to mess around matching wine to courses. My friend's daughter was a fairytale bride and all the relatives behaved themselves although the bride's father sported a bandaged hand from his wife's dog having bitten him a couple of days earlier. A ceilidh rounded off the night.https://www.muncaster.co.uk/muncasterextra/weddingsatmuncaster
All in all I was very pleased with how I coped away from my familiar spaces, helped by my friend ( and the groomsmen) being endlessly willing to push me about and hold my glass and belongings on demand. I feel that I might manage to get down to London for the forum meet up in August now.
It's back to the grindstone today: getting in and out of the bath practice: I can get in all right but can't push up with my weakened left arm to get onto my knees so I can get out.The physios and Occupational Therapists are endlessly patient with me(they're coming around everyday to rehab me at the moment). I now have two rows of tape the width of my bath on my living room floor with instructions to sit within in them and practice getting up from there onto my good side. I'm really looking forward to having a good long soak in a hot bath:middle daughter is taking me to her house for showers which is good but not the same as a long soak. I have a whole lot of ambitious walking goals recorded which I'd have struggled to do before my stroke. I will be able to start walking towards them when I've found a pair of shoes I can put on myself. It's ridiculous that I'm housebound because I can't get shoes on!


wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
 ATTENPT 2 to compose a post having accidentally deleted the first one.

I was released from hospital on Monday into the care of the Early Release Stroke Team who said I had to have my bed in the kitchen and only use the stairs to the next floor where my computer, sewing stuff and craft stuff are when watched by my son.These stone steps are the steepest in the house son I'm baffled why I have to learn to safely traverse these first. My mother is also here 'to be a help'. She's keeping me supplied with hot drinks  but hanging around to see if I need help in getting dressed ( only with my left sock and shoes which are one of Jamie's jobs as he's much stronger than Mum and brute strength comes in useful with this job). Thanks to my habit of cruising around the furniture, I have been promoted from a walking frame to a crutch.No more powered chair but Jamie and favourite drinking partner are between them taking me anywhere I want in the push wheelchair. Mother of the team leader of the Early Release Team saw me in the pub on Thursday (pub quiz) and joined the thong kindly and carefully making sure I came to no harm in the Queens. I love living in a village.I'm trying to get out and about as the weather is gorgeous. I've worried a couple of times that I might have committed to mote than I can do but so far I have  safely managed there and back, up and down. Tomorrow, I get to watch son, daughter and her partner, paddle boarding at Wastwater. 
Persephone the cat is very pleased to have me home and is keeping a close eye on me. She's being fractionally friendlier to others as they are feeding her until such time as I can bend over that far without landing on my nose and being unable to get up again.
i've thoroughly enjoyed reading all the latest Biggles stories.I won't be commenting as my mother is keeping too close an eye on me and she reads over my shoulder but I've been very entertained by them, thank you
wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
 I'm in Whitehaven hospital now with a view of the hills and road home.i have the window bed on the noisy side of the ward not because I'm noisy but because I have the ability to sleep through world war three and the TV thebed opposite me needs on all night is welcome rather than otherwise as it drowns out some of the shouts and screams. Last night's entertainment  started with the bed diagonal to mine deciding she could see her husband ( who has been dead for years) The nurses checked to see if there was a wanderer from the men's ward further down but it was her imagination .Next to me began yelling for pain killers and didn't shut up until they were administered when the yells changed to why am I in pain? What is causing it, When will they work..the nurses then staged an emergency  intervention  . for me as they were concerned  at the position I was sleeping in, which had us all in giggles as they rolled me over and moved all  my carefully wedged pillows 
I slept through the rest of the nights entertainment until bed two woke us all singing those were the days my friend, I thought they'd never end and bed one rang   her family. She starts every conversation demanding to know who she has rung bed two , as usual refused to take her pills until she had had breakfast then turned every breakfast option down as she wanted a full English which isn't available and isn't allowed toast as she is on a soft diet.. she then has two of the pills withher tea and tries to avoid the others. It's usually at this point that she loses one down her nightie or spills water over the rest today's shenanigans  allowed me to sleep until 10am when it was decided enough was enough and I had coffee delivered.Sadly the poweredchair I've been using is refusing to switch on so I've spent today sat byvy bed rather than having the freedom of the hospital wg ye cursor as I typenhich in oreality means Costa Coffee or the bench in the un opposite the carpark. Apologies for the grammar and spelling,  the phone I'm using has gained a mind of its own and isn't interested in cooperating with me .Thanks to everyone  who has passed on     best wishes or written s r for my delectation  and delight. I'll  comment when I've tamed this phone and it stops randomlymoving the cursorwithin the text.
wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
 Greetings from Carlisle hospital.I spent the weekend unable to stand up without falling over a stroke has been diagnosed I have6 lost my speech or I think any mental function but my left hand is refusing to function. I telling to do thing's but it ignores me so typing g is going to have to be relearn at a layer date. I'm fine but bored as the hospital with the specialist unit is over an hour away from where I live.im on the transfer list for my local hospitality allright and should make a very good recovery itsjust one more thing in my life that I could do without

HappyEaster

Apr. 9th, 2023 11:34 pm
wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
 Happy Easter or whatever festival you celebrate.
I wasn't sure what iwas doing this year as I usually cook for whichever children are home and none are this year; son is visiting eldest daughter in Tokyo and middle daughter has her own household and we haven't had the talk over who'll cook for the special meals which occur during the year.She asked to do Christmas as I was expecting to have moved on the 20th December but we've both ignored Easter until I received a message this morning inviting me to dinner. I'm not sure how I feel about passing the mantle of chief cook and host over as I have always enjoyed hosting these meals and menu planning but I must say that it's a lot easier to turn up and eat and I have passed the family trifle dish on. ThIs is a huge VIctorian bowl which takes a pint of jelly and cake, two pints of custard and two large cartons of whipping cream. I got it from my mother when she gave up being responsible for Christmas and she got it from my grandmother.

I'm refusing to accept that the kids are too big to hunt for Easter eggs in the garden so I hid  a couple of LINDT rabbits on my daughter's decking for her and her partner. They are humouring me about this .
Easter in West Cumbria means UppIes and Downies. This is played three times over Easter and is a ruleless ballgame with hundreds of players on each side. No one quite understands why it is allowed to continue as there's damage to properties as the ball is scrummaged across the town centre but even the year it ended up being played in the police carpark in front of the station all the police did was shut the door to keep it out of the police station. The local cinema puts up a warning that Patrons should be careful where they park and not use the usual carparks for the cinema and the organising committee has attached some 'danger people in road UppIes and Downies' signs to lampposts along the main road through the town. Meaningful to locals but not visitors. The game has been played continually including through both World Wars for nearly 200 years and has a mediaeval origin apparently. Injuries are rare, although each match produces a number of lost shoes and trousers  and a few unfortunates have drowned as much of the game traditionally takes place in a stream whilst the Downies win by hailing the ball at the harbour so people have swum the ball there in the past. The ball is tossed up about 6:30pm and play continues after dark until one side hails the ball.It is quite common for no one to know where the ball is. I never turn up in person to watch it but I follow the live commentary online from a local newpaper.The Uppies won on Good Friday so the Downies will be extra determined on Tesday's rematch. The lad who won this years match wasn't officially playing as he had a damaged ankle, although this is unconfirmed. The whole thing fascinates me. It's a left over from another world 
Some lovely stories were posted for my Chsllenge on the BIggles Forum recently (I'm Kismet there)Iwas especially impressed by the number of potato references some people managed to slip in. There were stories, a poem a potato print picture of a decapod which I particularly liked

https://bigglesforum.net/forum/viewforum.php?f=99&sid=11101aa6aad9fb03517f9aaa69182ad0 

HOpe everyone has time off work and is enjoying it

Life

Mar. 27th, 2023 12:43 pm
wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
 https://royalarmouries.org/stories/the-biggles-shotgun/

Some interesting speculation on the perennial topic of who might have been an inspiration for Biggles


I have survived my latest visit to my mother. It's a belated Mothers' Day visit so I decided I'd take her to Boundary Mill, her very favourite shop which she no longer feels competent to drive to herself. I'm somewhat reluctant to drive Mum anywhere I need directions for (I will never get over her shuffling the carefully arranged directions to Whitby once as she didn't like what she was reading out to me and thought she might find a better direction on another page. We had gone quite some miles before, getting very worried by the lack of correlation between the road signs and what she was telling me to look out for, I discovered what she'd done) but I thought that she'd be able to direct me to a place she had been to so many times. The journey went:

Me, turning right. 'I need you to direct me now, Mum. I don't know the way from here on.'
Several miles later:
'Why are you going through Downham?'
'Because you you haven't directed me otherwise,'
'Oh, I thought you knew your way. I think we can get there this way but the road is awfully narrow.' 

This I ignore as Mum's idea of narrow is anything less than four double decker buses wide and I am an experienced navigator of single track roads, which this isn't..

We come to a T junction. 'Which way?'
'I don't know.' 
After some consideration, we go left. I am reassured when she claims to recognise a bridge. We suddenly emerge from empty moorland onto a long street. 'Turn right at the top and we're there. They've changed the roundabout.' 
'Oh, how?'
'I don't know. I had my eyes shut.'
Investigation reassures me that she was on a bus not driving. Much to my surprise, as I'm willing to believe I might be almost anywhere in East Lancashire, we have reached our destination and I haven't had to turn around once.

I have to sleep in a tiny, adjoining guest room when I visit Mum, as all the cottages are one bedroom, no overnight visitors. I was delighted on Sunday morning, to be awakened by paramedics in my bedroom, demanding to know if I was alright. I don't know which of us was the more confused, but I pointed out that I was sleeping in the spare room of the Estate Office not number 10 and they retreated, apologising. I fell into my clothes to check that Mum was alright next door, in case they'd got the number wrong (she was) and tried to concentrate on how reassuring it was to know that the people responding to the personal alarms were so thorough and not how the rest of the day was going to feel now I was several hours down on sleep thanks to the clocks going forward and my unexpected awakening.


The Reveal of Kismet's Challenge on the Biggles Forum has been put back a week, to this Sunday, 2nd April, as a number of people have had unexpected real life stuff to deal with. Hopefully an extra few days will allow everyone to finish off their entries. 

Now I'm back in the Land of the Internet, I've been able to have a play with ChatGPT. It keeps passing judgement on my morals, but I eventually persuaded it to write the following in response to the prompt:Biggles and Algy accidentally ingest a phytochemical which causes them to have amatory hallucinations about each other


As Biggles and Algy continued their journey through the dense jungle, they stumbled upon a strange plant they had never seen before. Out of curiosity, they took a few leaves and ate them, unaware of the dangerous effects it would have on them.

Almost immediately, they began to feel a strange sensation in their heads, and their vision started to blur. They were hallucinating, and everything around them seemed to be twisting and turning into bizarre and surreal shapes.

But this was not the worst of it. The phytochemical they had ingested was causing them to experience intense and overpowering amatory hallucinations about each other.

They saw each other in a new light, and their feelings for one another grew more intense with each passing moment. They began to see each other as the most beautiful and desirable beings in the world, and they were completely entranced by one another.

As they stumbled through the jungle, lost in a delirium of desire, they couldn't resist the temptation any longer. They embraced each other in a passionate kiss, overcome by the intense emotions that had been unleashed by the phytochemical.

For a few brief moments, they were lost in a world of ecstasy and passion, but slowly the effects of the phytochemical began to wear off. They realized that what they had experienced was nothing more than a hallucination, and they were both filled with a sense of confusion and shame.

As they made their way back to safety, they knew that they would never speak of what had happened again. They knew that their friendship was too important to risk, and they were both grateful that they had come to their senses before it was too late.

From that day forward, they would be more cautious in their explorations, knowing that even the slightest mistake could have dangerous consequences. And although they would always remember the hallucination, they would never let it interfere with their work or their friendship again.






Life

Mar. 10th, 2023 01:14 pm
wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)

A general life update:

I’ve posted my latest Challenge on the Biggles Forum. If anyone wants to join in on the forum, then sign up and have fun with us. If you’re inspired to write something for AO3, then go for it. Please credit me (Kismet’s Challenge) and don’t post before Sunday 25th March, when everyone on the forum will post.

Copy of Kismet’s Challenge X

I'm using Fairblue's idea of writing a new tale to an existing title, and the title I have chosen, having heroically resisted certain ones, is Biggles, Charter Pilot.

Stories can be set in any time period and do not have to include Dr Duck et al. Just a situation where Biggles can be loosely (very loosely) referred to as a Charter Pilot.

There will be kudos if you mention within your story:
 Potato (es)
 A book title
 A decapod


I also propose a mini-competition. Mention ‘potatoes’ in as many ways as possible: metaphors, similes, idioms, varieties, recipes with a high potato content (eg hash browns, gnocci, stew) in your story. List each use at the end of your entry and we’ll see who gets the most potato references in.

 

Post anytime on Sunday 25th March 2023. Anything posted later: either in the usual fic sections of the Biggles forum or on AO3 with a shout out to the Challenge.

 

I’ve managed to complete my first Biggles Bingo Square, Chasing Butterflies. As expected, I’ve gone off piste.  It’s on AO3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45495409

 

I’ve accepted an offer on my house and the conversion I am hoping to move to is happening again. I cannot describe how exhausted, fed up and bored I am by the whole process. I think I’ll have lost about £30k between the first offer and the last thanks to the changes in the housing market over the last year, several lots of solicitors’ fees, estate agents fees and so on. I was hoping to end up with a cushion of cash once everything was paid for, but it looks as if debt-free is going to be as good as it gets.

 

Another cup of coffee, and I’ll see if the car starts. The battery doesn’t like cold weather, it’s been freezing here over the last few days and I’ve had to postpone my errands due to complete knackeredness. The sun has melted last night’s snow, but it will still be visible and beautiful on the tops. I might take my camera with me and see if the water in the harbour (next to the supermarket) is still brown. Lots of environmental types have been taking water samples and the best guess is that some old mine workings under the sea have collapsed, which may or may not be connected to a new structure being built. 

wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
 Just a quick and general apology for not replying to anyone recently. 

The chronic fatigue has been bad recently; I've had my mother's birthday, middle daughter's birthday; middle daughter's engagement party; son staying; son upgrading my pc to a laptop (I'm signed back into most things now but I've lost all my photo albums and he hasn't transferred any of my Word documents, He has returned home now and won't be back until after he's been to Japan for six weeks...}.  I've also had house viewers as it is back up for sale.

I have enjoyed reading everyone's lovely comments on my fics and elsewhere. Thank you very much. I will try to respond. I tried a little earlier and no sooner was I reminding myself of the lovely things  the first comment said than my mother rang me to tell me that someone else had died. I'm going to have another try now, although I hardly dare contemplate what might  stop me this time.

Edit.

I can't open Word. None of my old product codes are viable (I'm not entirely surprised here). The downloaded version only lets me read and print documents, not write anything. 

I'm only able to respond to anything with a big text box which lets me read what I've written until I have consulted with son to see what he's done and what options I have. I need to be able to read on one screen and type on another when I'm replying to anything. Favourite option at the moment, is reducing my family size to two.
wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
 On Sunday 5th March, I shall post the tenth Kismet's Challenge on the Biggles Forum. This is a writing challenge - any length, any format, must be family friendly. The Challenge is straightforward. On the 5th, I shall post the details. This could be a title, an inspirational picture, the first line all entries have to begin with etc. There are usually things which can be included for extra kudos. Three weeks later, on the 26th March, all entries are posted in the Kismet's Challenge X forum. I'm on GMT but for ease, post when it is the 26th where you are. 

https://bigglesforum.net/forum/viewforum.php?f=58 Previous Challenges can be seen here. 

You'll have to be a member to post - new members are always welcome - and it can be a bit of a pain to register as a member as the spam filter either lets spam in or prevents people as well as spam from entering. If after a couple of tries, you haven't got anywhere, use the contact the forum box and one of us will get you registered manually. 

Pass this on to anyone you think might be interested and hopefully see some of you there.

wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
 Apologies for taking so long to acknowledge my truly wonderful Candyheartsex story. I'm having one of those weeks where I'm trying to cram a quart into a pint pot and every time I blink, two hours have passed and focus is further away than ever.
 
archiveofourown.org/works/44328664    Archie Meets Pavlov     

This is hot and funny and a little sad all at the same time as Algy and Biggles  cope with the stresses of WW1, and in true Pavlovian style, develop unanticipated responses. It's a fabulous little tale and exactly what I like. Thank you very much.



I'm hoping to catch up with making and answering comments on a variety of posts on different platforms over the next couple of days, folks, but don't hold your breath. I'll send general thanks and appreciation here as a stopgap. I do enjoy reading everything. 






wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
 

Question from cefyr:

I'd love to know about what she and her family were wearing, how much of it they made themselves, and how they wore their hair. I'd expect it would be a bit different from people living in cities but I don't know how much!

Hair

Mum, as a child, wore two plaits on top of her head german fashion.  This was because she had a scar from experimental surgery when she was very small which she was embarrassed about. It’s just a patch of skin where her hair doesn’t grow but she’s kept it covered up all her life. She doesn’t mind talking about it at all, though. Plaits were the most common hairstyle for girls, although some favoured the pudding bowl haircut with fringe, a less severe version of the boys’ cut. Haircuts were carried out at home. Mum has no memory of a hairdresser’s being in the village. People experimented with hairstyles with friends. Styles were taken from magazines etc.

Her older sister and her mother both had thick, dark, wavy hair so it was simply trimmed and put into rollers to achieve the desired style. No salon visit!

 

Material

All clothes were handsewn (or with a home sewing machine). There was a shortage of material so people used cloth they already had or altered existing dresses. Girls, especially, were clothed in dresses made from adult dresses which were no longer fit for purpose. A skirt had to be made at school as part of their housewifery training, usually completely handsewn and gingham.  Other housewifery skills taught included how to polish shoes and how to wash glassware. Parachute silk was occasionally obtained at the end of the war (illegally) and used for underwear, especially for brides. Mum doesn’t know if it was a used /found parachute or nicked from a factory. Girls’ knickers were large, navy blue and had a pocket for a handkerchief. I think these were bought, as were vests. Everything had to last and was passed down.

 

New clothes were bought/made for Walking Day if any were available. Walking Day was an annual Church Parade, led by a May Queen. The banners for the Mothers’ Union and similar would be carried round the village by members of these organisations. All the children would walk, as Scouts, Guides etc. Ribbons would be attached to the banners for children to hold onto as a way of keeping everyone in place and tidy. The banners would be stored in the church when not in use. Anyone who didn’t belong to that church, or wasn’t a member of any organisation walking,  would watch.

 

Wool

 

All jumpers and cardigans were hand knitted. My grandmother was an excellent knitter/crocheter. Sometimes new wool was available but often old jumpers were pulled back and re-knitted. Sometimes, unworn garments were pulled back and the wool used for something else.  Patterns were found in magazines. A good knitter would be able to knit / crochet basics without a pattern.

 

WW2 Reading

Feb. 8th, 2023 03:36 pm
wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
In response to Rachel's question on reading:

All of Mum's family was literate, as was generally true for the village.  

Her father didn't read at all. He listened to the radio or played the piano - he didn't read music but could play and sing by ear. Usually show tunes. He didn't like modern music.

My grandmother read as much as possible, mainly magazines such as Woman's Own and Women's Weekly. She had three children and a baby during the war so she did well to read at all. These magazines were borrowed and passed on. They were also important as they contained knitting patterns. Mum also adds that there was a black out during the war and lights mustn't be shown. Her Uncle Henry was the policeman who enforced this. Keeping lights low so they didn't show through the black out curtains wasn't conducive to easy reading.

Mum had very few books, all gifts. The British Aircraft Company where my grandfather worked would have a children's party every Christmas, and she got a book about Famous Women of the Past which included Jenny Lind, the Swedish Nightingale and Florence Nightingale. Her little sister was fascinated by it and it was given to her to keep her quiet one day, and she tore it. This is one of many things my mother never forgave her for.

There was a school library. She remembers reading the first Famous Five book by Enid Blyton and Swallows and Amazon by Arthur Ransom. She also remembers reading quite a lot of factual books about Kings and Queens of England, some as part of her school work and some for pleasure but has no idea what they were called or who wrote them. I have a similar memory of reading these 'improving' books when young and also have no idea who wrote or published them.

She remembers her much older  sister as reading 'grown up' books and her older brother reading 'boys' books (which she didn't read) and classics from school such as Silas Marner. 

They all read comics such as the Beano and the Dandy, often quite old, passed around, borrowed and returned.

When she was about 9, which would be around the time of the end of the war, Mum heard someone read a poem out very nicely and wanted to be able to so so herself. She nagged her mother  (and pretended to have a lisp) until she was sent to elocution lessons. There she read Shakespeare and all the classic poets such as Wordsworth, Browning, Keats etc, her teachers loaning her all the books necessary. She studied, and took all her exams, until she was a fully qualified teacher herself of the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Arts

(LAMDA). https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/London_Academy_of_Music_and_Dramatic_Art

Despite working in a library for a number of years, she didn't really read much until she retired and is still (although I don't think for much longer) a member of a book club.

WW2 Games

Feb. 7th, 2023 03:44 pm
wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
 In response to Rachel's question: 

Mum remembers that she played a lot of games. There was a distinction between games she played with friends after school or over the weekend, and games played at school.

 

School Games:

Tig, Kiss Catch (Mum wouldn’t play this but everyone else did), British Bulldog, various catch games, Tin in the Middle, In and Out the Dusky Bluebells, London Bridge is falling down , the Big Ship Sails through the Alley, Alley O.

These are games which need a lot of people. Boys and girls would play these together. ‘It’ would be decided by a counting out rhyme.

 

Out of School Games

Indoor games like Ludo, Snakes and Ladders. (The grown ups played Monopoly). Card games.  No one had many games. Someone might have Ludo and someone else Snakes and Ladders.  The games were often battered, missing bits, second hand or passed down from older siblings.

Pretend games – sometimes a farmer would let them play house in an unused shed or hut. Mum remembers playing a lot of ‘let’s pretend’ games.

Mum also remembers card fish being made, with holes so they could be 'hooked' by little home made fishing rods. Her brother used to make the hooks.

She had one doll. It was double-ended so she had a doll wearing a dress which covered where you'd expect the legs to be, then if she turned it upside down, she had a different doll in a different dress. She remembers that one doll was white, and the other was black. She liked the change. It was like having two dolls. She'd play with the white doll one day and the black the next.

 

Games Played at School and Home

Hopscotch, Cats Cradle, Skipping – a clothes line was used with a girl turning at each end and someone in the middle completing the actions to a rhyme. If they caught their foot and stopped the rope, then they relieved one of the turners. A lot of the rhymes were also used for ball games, where one or more balls were thrown against a wall then caught in a pattern. Handstands against a wall, walking on hands, handstands into crab and back, leapfrog.  These were girls’ games. The boys played football.

 

Mum can’t recall any skipping rhymes off the top of her head, but some years ago, I picked up a copy of Ip Dip Dip, a booklet published by the North West Sound Archives of skipping rhymes, counting out rhymes etc which I promptly amended with the versions I remembered from school.  If you want any examples, I’m happy to send you some.

 

WW2 Food

Feb. 6th, 2023 05:06 pm
wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
 Rachel, I’ve posted this to my journal as it’s quite long. Please feel free to copy it or link to it or whatever you find most convenient. If I need to do something, tell me what.

Mum lived in a village in the North of England. Her mother was a weaver before she married and her father was a lathe operator at the Bristol Aircraft factory at Huncoat. Their wider families were mostly weavers and miners so a solid working class background. Ginger would have fitted in perfectly. Mum’s always happy to be asked about the past so here are her answers to your questions:

What sort of food and sweets she enjoyed/hated as a child?

  Food was very much limited to what was grown in this country.  There were lots of vegetables, especially onions, potatoes, carrots, swedes / turnips, cabbage and more seasonally peas, beans, marrows, lettuce etc.  Similarly, there was lots of home-grown fruit in season, especially apples, plums, gooseberries, currants, damsons and pears. Wild fruits, like blackberries, were gathered by the children in particular. There were a reasonable number of eggs and plenty of milk.  There was very limited meat and what there was, was stretched into as many meals as possible.  Many items were rationed, which meant you had to use money and a ration coupon to buy them. Some items were available off ration and could be bought if you had the money.  Mostly, there was limited and sporadic availability. You might have a coupon for something but if it wasn’t available in the shop to buy you had to do without.

Everything was cooked from scratch; there were no domestic refrigerators or freezers. Seasonal vegetables and fruit had to be preserved in some way: jams, chutneys and pickles. The barter system was alive and well. Food scraps were saved for the local farmer who kept pigs, who would give every family who contributed a piece of pork when the pig was slaughtered. A similar arrangement held for scraps for hens and eggs.  Neighbours would share anything they had a glut of. (This still holds true today. There are gluts of courgettes, apples and rhubarb in particular around here, seasonally. I get given a lot. In return, every so often, I hand back a jar of chutney or an apple cake as a thank you).  It was very rare to have oranges in the shop and bananas were almost unheard of, as were peaches and apricots. Lemons got through more frequently.

 

Breakfast was porridge, sweetened with condensed milk or carnation milk (from a tin), as sugar was very limited and needed for baking.

Lunch was the main meal and potato based: potato pie, cottage pie etc.  Cottage pie is minced beef (ground beef?) and onions in gravy with a mashed potato topping. Potato pie, one of Mum’s favourites to this day, has meat in it in Lancashire.

Potato pie

1lb stewing steak

At least two chopped onions

Beef stock: enough to cover ingredients in pie dish. Probably about a pint

Salt and Pepper

2 lbs potatoes

1 lb pastry

Chop the meat into cubes. Cut the potatoes in half then keep cutting small pieces off at an angle so you get misshapen pyramid shapes. The thin edges of floury potatoes will dissolve into the gravy leaving the thicker parts as spoon-sized lumps to chew. Put the potatoes, meat, seasoning and stock into a deep pie dish, cover and slow cook for a couple of hours. Remove, cover with the pastry, brush it with milk and cook until pastry is browned.  Raise the oven temperature to cook the pastry.

Less meat would have been used during the war. Onions are used to bulk out meals.  Potato Pie is served with onions in vinegar (slice an onion into a small dish of white vinegar a few hours before it’s wanted as a condiment), pickled beetroot, pickled red cabbage and similar. I put a slice of black pudding into mine, to make the gravy even richer. This is a dish which doesn’t really have a recipe as everyone makes it according to personal taste.

Tea was bread: bread and jam, egg and cress sandwiches, occasionally ham, lemon curd if lemons were available.

Lemon curd

Wash four lemons then grate the rind

Beat five eggs and put them in a double saucepan with the lemon rind, the lemon juice, 4oz butter and 1 lb of castor (finely ground) sugar. Stir until the sugar dissolves and the mixture thickens. Don’t overcook as the mixture will separate.  Strain into jars and use quickly as it doesn’t keep for long.

 

My grandmother used to bake a lot. Bread. Pastry. If she was making a pie, then she’d make extra pastry for a jam tart (a favourite of my mother) or sad cakes (pastry, raisins and sugar). If no raisins were available, then something similar like currants would be substituted.  Egg custards, fruit pies, fruit crumbles, plain cake which was served up with custard. A degree of household management was important. My grandmother had to look at what was available that week and plan a week’s worth of meals around it. If the sugar was used in a cake, then it wasn’t available for anything else. Similarly, butter.  Margarine and lard were frequently substituted for butter to the detriment of a dish. Neighbours shared their successes and failures. There was a lot of pooling of information.  My grandmother was not one of the better managers but Mum says they never went hungry. They were a family of five at the start of the war: Grandma, Grandpa, Mum and her two older siblings. Another daughter was born during the war.

The sweet allowance of parents was almost always given to children. Mostly, there were hard boiled sweets (acid drops, sarsaparilla tablets, pear drops, etc) and lollipops. Chocolate was mostly Fry's Cream bars. Mum remembers sweets being 3d plus the coupon and weren’t bought every week. Her favourites were: barley sugar, pear drops and liquorice roots which were chewed. The latter are skinny roots which are chewed and yes, it is just like chewing a twig with a funny taste. She also liked hard spanish liquorice, Pontefract cakes and the smoking outfit children used to get for Christmas. These had pipes and so on made from black liquorice and included a packet of candy cigarettes. They were still available when I was a child and I liked them too.  Very occasionally, off ration sweets were available, when she’d beg tuppence from her father and go and queue up for some. Whoever got the sweet allowance was expected to share. The sweets weren’t individually wrapped so they went sticky very quickly. A small bar of chocolate would be made to last a week and shared.

Pop was available, in a large bottle from a man who came around every fortnight with a cart. Three flavours were available: lemonade, dandelion and burdock, and sarsaparilla. The bottles were returnable.

 

Foods my mother hated were:

Castor oil. Poured from a bottle onto a spoon. It was good for you.

Sago and tapioca puddings. Commonly referred to as frogspawn.

Warm milk. The little bottles of school milk were put next to a radiator to unfreeze them and served warm.

Anything cooked with lard rather than butter. She didn’t mind the taste of margarine.

 

 The end of rationing

Mum remembers the end of rationing as a gradual process in which things generally became more available. Different things came out of rationing at different times. There wasn’t a day when the shelves magically filled up. She doesn’t have any of those memory moments such as the first time she came across a banana. There were very hard times straight after the war. Money was even tighter than it had been during the war so luxuries weren’t being bought. It was more tinned meat started appearing on the shelf more often. Lemons were more often in the shops.  Diet was still very much based around home grown stuff that was seasonal.  She doesn’t recall anyone rushing out to buy anything. No one had enough money.

 

If anyone wants more information about anything I’ve mentioned or has follow on questions, just ask. My mother likes answering questions, I think it’s good for her to have something to think about, and at 87, she’s not going to be around to answer them forever. Obviously, her answers relate to her childhood in one small village in Lancashire and might be different to someone else's. 

 

 Mecurtin asked two questions:

Wentworth's stories are almost set in the South, and from 1940 through the mid-50s people are eating a LOT of fish, which was unrationed: lunches and dinners at a country house (not a stately home, but Nice) will have an egg dish for the first course and a fish dish for the main course. Did your mom's family eat fish much, either fresh or tinned?

Mum says that sardines from a tin were eaten frequently. My grandmother would cut their heads off, pull the backbone out then mash into a paste to put on bread.

Fresh sea-caught fish were very rarely eaten. They lived too far from the coast and there was a general belief that the fish weren’t fresh and so not safe to eat by the time they got to the village. We’re talking about forty miles, as the crow flies.

Kippers came in boxes and if someone got a box, they’d share the contents. They were eaten for lunch or tea.

 Mum’s family were working class so no dinner parties or meals of several courses. I remember fish being a course rather than a main meal, though. I can probably find some recipes for dinner parties if you’re interested.

Tinned salmon was expensive and a treat. Mum remembers one family had a tin from before the start of the war and it wasn’t opened until they made a celebratory meal at the end of it. (In the larder from 1939 until 1945)

People caught fish in rivers (they needed a licence) but my grandfather wasn’t a fisherman and Mum doesn’t recall any fish being dropped off for her family. She points out that as a child  she might not be fed fish for fear she’d choke on a bone.

Fish and chips were readily available from the local chippy.  It was an occasional, as expensive, treat. It was more common to buy sausage and chips or to take a couple of portions of chips home to eat with Spam (spam fritters) or fried eggs.

 



Another question! In several books about the British working classes before WW2, it's said that people ate a dripping on bread, as a kind of sandwich (e.g. Orwell's 
The Road to Wigan Pier. Did her family eat dripping? If so, where did they get it from? One of the "perks" of being a cook was that you had the right to sell leftover dripping, & I wonder if that's where working class people got it from.

 

Dripping is simply the fat left over when joints of beef are cooked. There wasn’t a Sunday roast every week because of rationing, but if there was, the fat was put into a bowl and left outside to keep cool, and spoonfuls would be scooped out to eat on toast as an alternative to butter or margarine. Mum didn’t mind it on toast but preferred jam and bread.  It can be cooked with as an alternative to butter or lard. Imagine it smeared on sliced potatoes on top of a casserole so they brown in the oven or in a tray to roast potatoes.

You used to be able to buy dripping from a butcher’s shop and I’ve just checked Tesco’s (one of our big supermarket chains) and it’s still available. A block costs £1.25. Until the 1980s, chip shops used to cook in lard or dripping rather than the vegetable oil they use now. 

 

 

 

 

wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
I have an octopus, a millipede and bandaged Biggles Christmas Tree ornaments thanks to the wonderful Foolscap whose creativity knows no bounds. Needless to say, they will not be put away for Christmas. I would share an image but despite an hour googling 'how to' and messing with image size, I cannot come up with a way to do so. I can see the image but it's somehow not posting.

https://bigglesforum.net/forum/download/file.php?id=4672&mode=view

Here's the forum version. I'm off to the pub.
wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
I pulled a wet, soggy, empty envelope from my letter box today. It was wet because it is raining and I hadn't noticed the envelope was part way through the letter box, so my fault. It was empty because the person who posted it had forgotten to put my card inside.

What was really amazing, and why I'm giving the shout out to the post people around here, is that it was delivered to me at my address rather than to me at my daughter's address, which is what was written on the envelope.

When I thought I would be moving out of my house on the 20th of December, I messaged a few friends to say that it might be safer to send Christmas Cards to E's address, 5 miles away, rather than mine in case they arrived late due to all the postal strikes currently occurring. I didn't organise a formal re-direct of my post, it was just a casual shout out. This means that the local post people have noticed that an envelope has been addressed to me c/o my daughter in the next town and gone to the trouble of putting together the pieces of the jigsaw: house back up for sale, other post still going to the usual address and made a deliberate decision to deliver to me rather than what the envelope said to save me trouble. This in the middle of strikes. Well done my local sorting office / postman!
wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
The Biggles Holiday Airdrop was released last night, and there are 26 fics! 26 amazingly eclectic stories with lots of different pairings and characters and settings and ratings. I've read mine (several times) and skipped through all the others and now having appeased my inner demon who has to know what's out there immediately, I can start to read them slowly and with appropriate attention to the lovely details.

My gifts, both, I think from the same writer, are amazing and right up my strasse. I love 'em and am most intrigued to find out who wrote them.

An Unusual Problem https://archiveofourown.org/collections/bigglessecretsanta/works/43969918 (1070 words)

This is a missing scene from Goes to War. It's an unusual problem but Biggles solves it with his usual dexterity. Some particularly lovely lines of banter in it.

Last Requests https://archiveofourown.org/collections/bigglessecretsanta/works/43924228 (1231 words)

'After almost twenty years of adventuring, imprisonment was nothing new to Biggles and Algy. Their current place of internment was actually one of the better cells of their experience,' You had me with the opening line and it only got better!

Fabulous stories. Go read them (and the others).


I've put a couple of stories in. I expect every one has spotted them straight away. Hope you enjoy them.

Thanks very much to Sholio for organising the Exchange. It's been lots of fun. It's a cold, wet, rainy afternoon here and reading 26 fics full of luscious detail is exactly the right activity for it. Now, shall I make a hot Vimto or a hot chocolate?

Candyhearts

Jan. 7th, 2023 02:01 pm
wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
I'm a last minute sign up and it's iffy if I'll make the deadline as I'm not practised at what goes where yet!

I'm requesting just the single fandom - Biggles - and the single pairing Biggles/Algy, not because I don't like any of the others but I know that there are lots of other requests for them and it's nice to have some variety. Also, Biggles/Algy is the original and best....

Biggles and Algy have been together since they were teenagers in World War One. The level of trust they share, and the lengths they will go to for each other, are impossible to overstate. They know each other very, very well. I like exploring how this might be expressed. I'm open to them being involved with others: Never Ginger, but other team mates, friends, EvS, Marie, or original characters.

I like friendship and fun, tall tales, ripping yarns, adventure, character –driven stories set at home and in remote spots. Competence, compassion and caring shown through sarky banter and behaviour. All the old tropes: sex pollen, there’s only one bed, friends to lovers, fake relationships turning real. Gender swap as a temporary condition. Generally cheerful and light-hearted. I don't mind when it's set or where. New stories and missing scenes are fine and some AUs - generally the madder, the better. Ones that I don't like are in my do not wants. I'm fond of exploring situations where consent is somewhat dubious for whatever reason but am happy to read anything from gen to explicit.

Do Not Wants
ABO; BDSM; Graphic torture; permanent character death or long term disability; sad ending; anything changing the characters’ core beliefs; anything other than fairly vanilla sexual practices although awkward situations are very welcome. I don't like them being hurt gratuitously. It's fine as part of a story but not just as a reason to comfort (soft hearted: that's me). I don't like them aged, either. Not coffee shop AUs or anything really out of canon like von Stalhein working for the Allies in WW2.

I'm not sure if I'll receive a gift as I'm only asking for a single fandom, but if I do, I'm sure I'll love it.
wateroverstone: Biggles and Algy watching the approach of an unknown aircraft from Norfolk sand dunes (Default)
A slightly belated Happy New Year. It's got to be better than last year. I am gritting my teeth, pulling on my big girl knickers and will hopefully be adulting again by the end of the week.

I'm never quite sure how to celebrate New Year's Eve. I feel I ought to do something but what? As a teenager, Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve were fancy dress nights at the local pubs and a chance to catch up with everyone who was home visiting family, and a little later, there were a few Scottish ones, both private parties and ceilidhs which would have been more fun if my husband had danced more. I disliked the quiet period when I was either pregnant or the kids were tiny and I had no options beyond the tv. When they got bigger, a few families used to join together to hire the Village Hall. We brought our own food and drinks, played silly party games all night and joined the people from the pubs at midnight to sing Auld Lang Syne in the middle of the road. They were fun. Since then, though, I feel that I've been at a bit of a loose end. I've tried pubs with ticketed entry and entertainment laid on and they've been full of people I didn't recognise. I've tried the quieter pubs and sometimes had a great night and sometimes I've asked myself if it's preferable to being home alone. The key seems to be getting a critical mass of people who know each other together and that's the bit which isn't working as well as it used to, although the weather didn't help this year. It was like a river outside the pub at midnight: a literal stream which had to be jumped, and when I did go home, I passed a friend I had been talking to earlier who was now watching a fire engine pump out her flooded house.

It's rather End of Times when it rains here at the moment. The rain isn't any heavier than it's ever been but the Victorian drainage system is completely overwhelmed (and still builders keep trying to put up new houses), the entire top soil of a farmer's ploughed field is being washed down the Main St and two of the roads out of the village are flooding impassibly, as someone usually finds out by getting stuck, rendering the problem even worse. I have got a nice new (to me) camera for Christmas so I shall have fun recording all of these minor cataclysms but first I have to buy a card reader or funny-ended cable which fits as none of my cable collection is the right size and I need to download the photos I have taken so far to see what they are like. I shall try the supermarket shortly.

Keep the stories coming all of you talented people! They are an enjoyable and welcome distraction. Looking forward to the Biggles Air Drop in a couple of days. Hope everyone has had a good Christmas (if they celebrate it) and will have a fun 2023.

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