Silly Poem – Conwy

In the smallness of it, I lift up coffin lid and hide in the spaciousness of all that is mine for keeps.   As, in grandeur, my ancestor, Edward I, looks down from his castle tower, perusing all that is his, whilst longing for his own little place in which to be.   Copyright owned…

Nellie – A Darlaston Wench: Book Review

*Disclosure:  I only review books that I have selected for my own enjoyment, and the views expressed are, therefore, even if a little batty, completely genuine. You need to be aware, though, that this review has an affiliate link, meaning that if you click through to Amazon, via the book’s image, and choose to make…

Transubstantiation

Sir John Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, c.1390-1453 (Jay Cool’s 16th Great Grandfather)   Some say she was brave, some a feminist, and others lust after her luscious red locks. Most of us can easily conjure up an image of a breast-plated woman of muscly Neanderthal stature, standing up high on a chariot urging her terrified…

Alternative Living

I live far, far away in a cold, cold cave. Curled up, warmed by a horse’s breath. Knowing that, in the morning, I will ride out on my mount and look down at passers by, feeling smug. Pitying them for their dull routines and their motorised lives, as women and men – both – drone…

Day 7:1 This is Wem

Visiting my Webb ancestors in the quagmires of Dawley, yesterday, had to be done. But, although the old souls did their best to evoke a quality setting for a gothic novel (guard your spot on the shelf of Waterstones, closely, Stephanie Meyer!), the experience somehow lacked my No. 1 qualifying criteria as a genealogist’s hotspot….

Yellow Rose of Flanders

From the soles of my walking shoes, I shake you out and  s c a t t e r you. In my sole, a part of you remains.   I find a tool, dig you out, keep you close –   potted and thriving, you grace my front door.     Every day, on my…

Love Thyself

{Inspired by my ancestor William Wycherley’s lust for women of all varieties: ‘For Variety in Love’.} ‘Telephone Pole’ image from Pixabay.com (creative commons) To myself, I am devoted still, I’ll n’er grow bored, or have my fill, ’tis true that in my heart am I, Stuck thick as thieves to my great thigh! My thigh, it’s…

Cottages in the Myddle

Inspired by a trip to Myddle, home to my paternal ancestors. Composed, accompanied by a pot of tea, in a Prado Lounge Café Bar. ‘Cottages in Myddle’, photographed by Jay Cool Neglected cottages. A terrace of three, hidden from road’s view by guarded bushes. Avoiding camera’s view. My mind travels in between brickwork cracked and…

Sealed in at Wroxeter

Inspired by a visit to Wroxeter, home to some of my ancestors, in Shropshire  (August 2018), and composed in a Prado Lounge Café Bar in Suffolk. Box Pews at a church in Selattyn, Shropshire Doors click open. Let me in and latch me in, keeping me seated. Listening. The Vicar steps up, announces himself, boxes…

Day 5.3: Purple DNA in Bridgnorth

More stuttering and stalling and stopping, and we arrive in Bridgnorth. I’m feeling more than excited, because I know that there are many, many souls wandering the streets of Bridgnorth, who are fortunate enough to have inherited some of my ancestors’ DNA. Whoever I happen to bump into, or even just catch a glimpse of,…