Author: Araminta

For the Record

Just for the record, and we have said this many times on various sites, Bilby and I do not support killing policemen.  Furthermore we do not make a habit of making unsubstantiated accusations on the Chariot or elsewhere about fellow authors on this site, or any other. Neither do we support or write  abusive comments about Bearsy or Boadicea.

End of message, no further comments on this matter will be forthcoming from either of us. We are somewhat dismayed to have to make this statement.

This post is now closed to further comments – Boadicea

Warehouse of Mum and Dad

Modern parents are not just expected to bankroll their adult children, they now have to store all their unwanted clutter as well.

Blimey, I could have written this article, but I didn’t.

I’m forwarding it to my dear fledglings who fled the nest some years ago, but neglected to take their possessions with them. There is an interesting list of the things they store in the family home and I think I can safely say I have all of them!

Attics, their bedrooms and the whole house is full of their stuff. Well, I exaggerate slightly as I have gradually, with their reluctant permission,  discarded at least some of it but there is still a way to go.

Yes, entirely the fault of the parents, for being so indulgent, but my off-spring really don’t have much room.

OK, I’ll call a man with a van and ship it to them, and let them pay the bill.

Oliver Cromwell v Charles 1 : Setting the Scene

Where to start? Firstly in writing this, my intention is not to try to write a biography of either of my two main characters, Oliver Cromwell or Charles I. Neither will I try to condense the events of the English Civil War into a few paragraphs. Rather my aim is to give you an idea of the causes, economic, political and religious, which led to Revolution and Regicide, and try to explain, not excuse, the actions and motivations of the two main characters, each representative of his background and interests. Most of my readers will no doubt have some knowledge of the period, but for a very easy guide to timelines, battles and short biographies this site may prove useful.

Continue reading “Oliver Cromwell v Charles 1 : Setting the Scene”

To Althea, From Prison

When I was a child, one of my favourite books was Children of the New Forest by Frederick Marryat. I must confess that from the age of eight I was firmly on the side of the dashing Cavaliers and Charles 1; and in many respects, I still am to this day!

So, whilst I am preparing an account of why he came to such a sticky end, and extolling the virtues of Oliver Cromwell, you might enjoy this poem by one of the “Cavalier Poets”, Richard Lovelace, set to music by Fairport Convention.

To Althea, From Prison

Richard Lovelace 1642

When love with unconfined wings
Hovers within my gates;
And my divine ALTHEA brings
To whisper at the grates;
When I lye tangled in her haire,
And fetterd to her eye,
The birds, that wanton in the aire,
Know no such liberty.

Continue reading “To Althea, From Prison”

Greys Court, South Oxfordshire

Not far  from Henley on Thames and not very grand, but extremely interesting! The house was donated to the National Trust by Sir Felix and Elizabeth, Lady Brunner who bought the house in 1937. Walled courtyards, pretty gardens and its history begins in 1346!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

The house today is very much a family home and has been virtually rebuilt; changed hands many times but it’s a fascinating hotchpotch in beautiful countryside.

Continue reading “Greys Court, South Oxfordshire”

10th Poetry Competition

Where are you, Poets, that a Hero dies
Unsung? He who, when Duty brought too soon
His billet of rest toiled on till he had won
The countersign of Glory?

A plea for pomes!

An Author Addiction
And Awful Affliction
Avoiding Any Actual
Artistic Achievement

Alliteration in poetry can be very effective, and overdone can be amusing. Any form will do, but a minimum of eight lines please. The theme is gem stones or precious metals but please include some awesome alliteration!

Submit your scribbles, or even gorgeous gems in a post or on this thread by Midnight, 19th May 2011

Evil, yes; no tears from me, but…

No man is an island entire of itself; every man

is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;

if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe

is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as

well as a manor of thy friends or of thine

own were; any man’s death diminishes me,

because I am involved in mankind.

And therefore never send to know for whom

the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

John Donne

The Ballad of Brave Monty Mouse: The Flood

It rained and rained, and in the nest,
They shook their duvets sadly.
The damp was dire, and all were stressed;
The mice were faring badly.

Hips, haws, and berries for their needs
Were in the grain store dank.
‘Twas also full of mildewed seeds,
Monty’s spirits sank.

Continue reading “The Ballad of Brave Monty Mouse: The Flood”

To Anna: March Creative writing Competition

Sunday, 13th February 1887

At first I was unaware that anything had changed. The day progressed along normal lines, in that I had breakfasted early as is my habit, and retired to my study for a few hours to complete another chapter of my diary. I feel the need to tell you at this point Anna; this was not so much for posterity, more a confession of a life squandered, and a need to express regret for all the hurt I have caused to my family. I do not feel a need to broadcast to the world, but I would like a chance perhaps, to explain to those who remain alive.

Our children will judge me harshly, and how can I blame them? You perhaps will have a more enlightened view of my actions; I do hope so. Your understanding now, as I am aging and alone, is becoming ever more important to me. I know I have your forgiveness, and that too is now a source of comfort, and no longer fuelling my bitterness and self-loathing. Such emotions are akin to snakes, their coils, loose at first, tighten until life is squeezed out, and no emotion remains, save a deep and desperate hatred.

Continue reading “To Anna: March Creative writing Competition”