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dduane · 2 months

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Rehoming Holmes

So here's the current interesting problem: You discover that you're in the process of writing a cozy mystery. And then you discover that the lead sleuth in this work is going to be Sherlock Holmes. (And of course Dr. John Watson is there too.)

The big question, therefore, becomes: when?? And secondarily, where?

(Inserting a break here, because this goes on a bit. Caution: contains World War I, railway lines, chronic illness, unrealistic attempts to be a hermit, and [what did you expect?] bees.)

Wedging the cozy mystery concept into Sherlock Holmes's schedule is inevitably going to be a dicey business. Because Holmes, in Canon—right up until after the events of "His Last Bow," in the collection of the same name—is a really busy man... too busy by far to be doing the cozy thing, be he ever so retired.

We don't know a whole lot about the details of that retirement except for what Watson tells us in the preface to the collection.

The friends of Mr. Sherlock Holmes will be glad to learn that he is still alive and well, though somewhat crippled by occasional attacks of rheumatism. He has, for many years, lived in a small farm upon the Downs five miles from Eastbourne, where his time is divided between philosophy and agriculture. During this period of rest he has refused the most princely offers to take up various cases, having determined that his retirement was a permanent one. The approach of the German war caused him, however, to lay his remarkable combination of intellectual and practical activity at the disposal of the Government, with historical results which are recounted in His Last Bow.

Now, when you start looking into some other details surrounding this retirement, there are some points that immediately start to be troublesome. ...Well, for me, anyway.

First of all: that picture up at the top is of the house to which he's supposed to have retired. Various Holmesians who've looked into the situation over the years seem to have settled on this spot, in East Dean in Sussex. And it has acquired a blue plaque stating that that's where Holmes wound up... which is all very well.

But for the purposes of my own storytelling, I've got concerns.

We know from various comments dropped by Watson in Canon that he and Holmes haven't seen each other for some years, and that Holmes has been living "the life of a hermit" on his farm with his bees.

What I'm not sure about is how you live like a hermit in a house which is (and then was) sited directly on the East Dean village green, with the village pub right across the green from you. It seems like a spot poorly chosen, and maybe chosen in haste. (And how big can that "farm" be, with the village around it? Honestly.)

There's another problem, though, that it astounds me never occurred to Arthur Conan Doyle when he initially chose to retire Holmes to that neck of the woods. The whole area near Eastbourne, sited as it is really close to the south coast of England, is (relatively speaking) an exposed and frequently chilly, damp area routinely exposed to coastal gales. Having just retired Holmes there, that Doyle could then in the next sentence describe Holmes as suffering more or less chronically from rheumatoid arthritis gives me all kinds of trouble. Because I sure know what my arthritis does to me in cold damp weather! And the first thought I had on reading that line in the wake of wanting to tell a story realistically based further along in Holmes's retirement period was "Wow, I need to get him the hell out of there."

Yet here, as has happened at other happy writing moments, I find that a kindly Universe has put what I need right into my hands. Because I invite you to take a closer look at that blue plaque on the house in East Dean.

Some Holmesian who was a stickler for accuracy (or tight adherence to Canon) refused to date this retirement any further along than 1917, the date of "His Last Vow." The story itself implies that Holmes and Watson—now reunited in (covert) government service—have much more to do after '17. And then, after 1918, when WWI ends... then what?

Well, soon enough Holmes goes back into official retirement. But he does it somewhere else... because Watson's with him again.

First of all, the location changes because that little house above might have been all right for one "hermit". For two men, though? They'll need a bit more room... and maybe also a little more privacy.* ...It should be noted here in passing that as of LAST, Watson appears to have mislaid the wife mentioned in BLAN ("The Blanched Soldier"). Is it his first wife or his second...if there was a second? Who the hell even knows, at this point? (The jury's apparently still out on the subject, and some investigators suggest there might have been as many as six wives. ...But I digress.)

Anyway, the ensuing scene between Holmes and Watson, as Holmes's Doctor explains to him how things are going to be from now on since they're together again, is so easy to imagine that I'm not sure I need to do anything about it in the cozy mystery proper but allude to it in passing. The laying down of the law. The inevitable "I don't need to be coddled" bullshit. The suggestion that Holmes, for a comfortable retirement, needs a house that's sited in better-protected countryside.

Also, due to the inevitable fallout from Holmes's wartime exploits, they're going to need a house that's sited closer to a decent rail connection to London, with a telegraph office just a mile or two away if Holmes needs it... or if a client needs to come see him. (And there also needs to be a handy telephone exchange, annoying though it'll be that Lestrade's or Dimmock's successors can just ring him up and whinge at him.) Holmes will also need a place where he can at least get a decent wireless signal so he can listen to the concerts from the Continent, and closer. (Because if I wind up positioning the cozy in 1922, as seems likely, this newfangled thing called the BBC has just come online: and canonically speaking, Holmes has always been an early adopter.)

Most importantly, though—so Watson will claim—Holmes needs a rural home that will be better for the bees. The Eastbourne area isn't really great for them, being too exposed and right on the borderline of where bees can locally thrive. Fifteen or twenty miles north or so would be far better, putting less stress on the bees and therefore being less likely to skew Holmes's observational results. With this outcome particularly in mind, the two housemates-to-be can look around for a house sheltered by the Downs' low hills, with nearby fields of arable crops—very likely hops—where the bees can do their work untroubled by excessive salt air. And Holmes can tend to and study his charges in more clement conditions that won't periodically leave him immobile and in anguish due to a less forgiving climate's exacerbation of his arthritis.

Will Holmes buy into this hilariously misdirected argument without realizing (or admitting that he's realized) what Watson's trying to pull? Who can say. Holmes, as per usual, is going to put up every kind of resistance he can to avoid revealing that this outcome is absolutely what he wants more than anything. Watson, of course, will receive Holmes's fake-cranky temporizing with his usual patience... and start writing to estate agents in villages convenient to the main north-south rail line. And on the day Holmes cracks and formally agrees, Watson will telegraph the most likely agent and set up a viewing for a week or so later... of a house something like this.

The frontmost part with the peaked roof is an oast house—a structure originally built for drying hops. They're scattered all around the Surrey countryside, many having been converted over the decades into parts of homes. This one stands in the middle of a small farm where Holmes can rent out the farm's surrounding grazing to other local farmers, while attending to the only part of the farm that really interests him: the hives. And the upstairs windows, in good weather, give onto a view through the surrounding rolling countryside, downhill toward the distant haze-veiled blue of the Channel.

So now I've finally nailed down what was missing before I could really start work: a decent spot where a "a tall, gaunt man of sixty" (well, sixty-five, at this point) and his shorter, slightly stockier chronicler can settle in and get comfortable, and take on the occasional cozy case on which the fate of the free world doesn't depend. ...Insert here the sound of a writer sighing with relief.

And now back to plotting.

*But there could be all kinds of reasons for that. :)

#Sherlock Holmes #Dr. John Watson #cozy mystery #locations #research

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justrainandcoffee · 1 month

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The sun always rises again (Farrier x fem!oc) Part I

Dunkirk

Farrier Masterlist

Summary: Farrier is in Sussex visiting his grandmother who is sadly dying. In a local pub, he and his best friend, Collins, met Marguerite in not the best circumstances. What started as a nice gesture quickly became in an inevitable attraction. || Collins plays his best cards trying to persuade his best friend to do something about the girl that he clearly likes and, maybe, he succeeds.

Warnings: Misogyny, sexual harassment. Mentions of war. Fluff. || Collins is the MVP.

Words: 3k.

1932

Marguerite Sarah Lewis was born in 1910 in London but when she was four years old, her mother and older brother moved to Sussex. Although French, her mother met her husband there and for the woman it was a special place.

1914 meant the beginning of one of the greatest wars that Earth faced until that point of the history and Mr. Lewis answered the called. And that's why Elise Lewis, the wife, took her kids and went there. The sea, the view, allowed the woman to imagine that one day soon she was going to see him back.

But that day never came. Nor in 1914 nor the next four years. In 1918, Marguerite was eight years already and his brother twelve. Both of them old enough to understand that their father was never coming back. Yet, Mrs. Lewis stayed there waiting for a ship that didn't exist.

Theodore Lewis jr, her brother, moved again to London when he was old enough to do it but she remained there in Sussex where she was still studying.

Her mother died when she was 19, in 1929. Maggie always knew that the poor woman never accepted her husband's fate. And now that she was older understood a bit better what she was feeling. Probably if Mr. Lewis had survived the war, then his wife wouldn't have died at the age of 43. But that was something that the Lewis siblings will never know.

The only thing that Maggie knew now was that she was the owner of her own destiny and needed to live in that world called adulthood.

She found a job in a local library first, where she worked for two years until she started to work as waitress in a new pub. The salary was higher and the tips were all for her.

In 1932, when she was 22, her life changed completely when she met him.

The pub was crowded as always. Men going there to relax after work was something that happened every day. It was full of loud men, laughing, chatting and making jokes while they were drinking beer.

Among them, two friends were having a conversation too. Their blue uniforms indicated that they were soldiers probably out of duty for a while. One had blond hair and the other brown shorter than the first one.

"Hope your grandmother can get well soon, Farrier."

"I don't think so. Until this point we're expecting the inevitable, but at least I'm here to be with her. Thanks for coming with me, by the way."

The blond, Collins, smiled "That's what friends do, Will."

Farrier nodded raising his pint of beer. "How's Sally?"

"It didn't work. But there's plenty of women in this world."

"And if men keep creating unnecessary wars soon the planet will be just populated by women. And humanity will be doom."

"Humanity is already doomed. But, if that's the case, then better I hurry up to get one before my death. And you should do the same."

Farrier shook his head "I don't have time for that. I always promised myself to be a good husband and father, not like my old man. If I get a girl, then it has to be for life."

"Sometimes you took life too seriously, William. Go Farrier, fuck some girls and you'll be fine."

William Farrier just hummed.

Collins decided to changed the subject and both men started talking about the new pilots that both of them were training. Young but smart men, ready to fight if the country needed it. Although both of them really hoped that it would never be necessary.

Maggie was praying in silence for the end of her shift. Sadly, she was used to men being rude and sometimes puting their hands on her body, but this time one in particular was crossing the line and she was quite uncomfortable. His friends were more drunk than he was and the only thing they managed to do was to encourage him to be nastier.

"Hey, doll, bring your pretty ass here, sweetheart! My mates and me want more beer. And unbutton your dress a bit more, love! Those two precious tits of yours want to know me."

The four of them of laughed so hard that Farrier and Collins that until that moment weren't paying attention at all, looked at them and both exchanged glances then.

Maggie looked at her both co-workers and friends, who same as her knew the consequences of working in that kind of jobs. They were young women in 1930s there wasn't much they could do there. Maggie just breathe and walked to them carrying a new tray and left it on the table but she wasn't quick enough and the man grabbed her by the waist and sit them on his lap, against her will.

"I have to go," she said trying to get up "I have work to do."

"Pretty sure your friends can cover you, love."

"No, they can't."

"Come on, sweetheart. I saw you looking at me. Let's have fun."

"I said no."

"She said no," mocked him, smirking at his friends who laughed again. "The little bitch, said no."

"She said no."

This time it was a deeper voice and the man in question turned around to see both pilots behind him. His friends looked down and pretended to be drinking their beers. The man let her go.

"We're just having fun."

"Get your ass out of here. Now."

He thought for a moment about starting a fight with them. He and his friends were four and the strangers were just two, but something in them make him reconsider his options. The blond was taller than him and the other seemed to be stronger. Not to mention that they were trained men. The group just recoiled and without further words, they left the place.

"Are you okay?" Farrier asked to Maggie.

"Yes. Thanks, sir. And you too," she said looking at Collins as well. "Usually I know people here, but those were new."

"Probably they won't come back."

"I hope not. You're new too."

"Temporary living here," Farrier commented. "My grandmother is sick and I'm just saying goodbye."

"That's sad, I'm sorry."

"Thanks, miss…"

"Marguerite Lewis."

"William Farrier, miss Lewis," the man said kissing her hand.

At their side, Collins was smiling and was waiting for the perfect to start teasing his best friend.

The days that followed, Farrier visited the pub every night. Sometimes with his friend, sometimes alone.

There was something in Marguerite that Farrier found fascinating. She had a pretty smile and his brown eyes and dark red hair made her even prettier. He had the chance to speak to her and discovered a good young woman. Maggie loved to read same way she loved yo bake. Once, she offered him one of her cookies and Farrier could testify that they were indded delicious. And even without knowing everything about him, she sent flowers to his grandmother's funeral when she knew about the sad news. Something that Farrier took as signal that she was really a good person.

They even spent a morning in the beach, talking and walking by the seashore. Her reddish hair shone in the sun and William wondered if the hair was really as soft as it looked. Or if her lips were.

"I used to play here a lot when I was a kid," she said unaware of his thoughts, "despite everything, I had a good childhood."

"Despite everything?"

"My father died in the Great War. I don't really remember him, I just know him because of the photo my mother kept."

"I'm sorry, Marguerite. That sounds sad."

"It was for my mother and maybe my older, he remembers him a bit more. You can't really miss someone you don't remember, right?"

"I guess. But still is a sad situation. No kid should grow up without a father."

"And yet…" Maggie looked at him and smiled softly "but it doesn't matter. That was long ago."

Not long ago for Farrier's liking. He was also a kid back then, but he remembered his mother talking about the mutilated soldiers she saw in the hospital were she worked as nurse. And the sadness in her eyes when years later her son told her that he was now part of the air force. But she never opposed to his decision.

"Do you like the sea, Mr. Farrier? I guess watching it from the skies is quite an experience."

"I do like the sea, yes. And it is, it's big and infinite. Indescribable."

Maggie looked at him for a moment and saw him lost in the memories of an experience she was never going to feel.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked. So he told her about the sky, the clouds, the cold air in his face. The feeling of parachute jumping.

His life, Maggie thought, it was extraordinary and there was no way that a man like him could find interesting the life of a town girl whose more fascinating experience of the week was to find a pound in the street. Or that beautiful ring that found one day walking through the beach. And yet, Farrier was ready to hear about her same way she was about him.

"You like her," Collins finally said at the end of their second week there, "I highly recommend you to do something because someone else can take advantage of your slowness."

"Like you?"

"I'd never do that to you. I know I'm more handsome but she's with you. I heard that there's a place where you can eat and dance nearby, invite her to go with you, William. I don't think she refuses the invitation considering how she looks at you."

Collins was right.

Maggie couldn't deny that she was captivated by the pilot from almost the beginning. He was handsome, attentive and a gentleman. William was the kind of man that her mother said she needed to find but that until the moment she knew him, she thought didn't exist.

Danny, one of her co-workers and friends, borrowed her one her dresses. Danielle's sister worked in a textile mill and she usually gave her sister clothes that the factory rejected despite their impeccable condition. The dark green dress that Maggie was wearing that night

So of course she said yes.

Danny, one of her co-workers and friends, borrowed Maggie one her dresses. Danielle's sister worked in a textile mill and she usually gave her sister clothes that the factory rejected despite their impeccable condition. The dark green dress that Maggie was wearing that night was one of those. Marguerite also allowed her friend to do her makeup.

"He's so handsome," Danny commented, smiling at her "and you're very lucky, Mags."

"Do you think I have a chance? I really like him."

"I think, you are the luckiest girl in whole Sussex."

Marguerite smiled. Never before a man paid attention to her the way Farrier did those days there. Sure she flirted innocently with some of young men in town, and kissed some of them years ago, but never did more than that. Never felt confident enough to do it because all those boys didn't seem to be looking for a serious relationship. But William wasn't a boy, he was a man and he acted like one.

Maggie looked at her in the mirror, when Danny finished her job, and smiled. The final result was better than she imagined.

Collins didn't tell Farrier who was the owner of the car that was parked in front of the house that belonged to William's grandmother, but somehow his friend managed to get one so he could go with Maggie to their date.

"Are you going to get in trouble for this?"

Collins snorted "please, have a bit of faith in me."

Farrier raised an eyebrow, suspiciously, but after looking at him several seconds let it go. "Okay then. Give me the car keys."

"Have fun, Romeo," Collins said throwing the keys at him.

Maggie didn't expect to have a good night like that one, although she dreamt about it. Feeling a happiness that didn't know it was possible to feel and her heart pounding by just looking at him. For a moment she felt stupid smiling at him almost all the time but she couldn't help it. Dinner was delicious and they spent the time to know each other a bit more. She even let him take her hands in his.

Maggie knew French because her mother used to talk in her native tongue in the house. Farrier asked her to taught him the language, if she wanted, because in his own words "you will never know when you're going to need it."

"But for that, you need to stay here, William, I can't teach you from the distance."

"Maybe I found a reason to stay," he answered. And for someone who, as his best friend claimed, took life too seriously felt as a personal achievement that flirty but also true line.

Dancing with William was lovely. Several other couples were doing the same with their partners while a singer sang and the orchestra accompanied her beautiful voice.

Maggie had her head resting on his shoulder and his hand was on her waist. Farrier could feel her perfume invading his nostrils. It was sweet with a delicate aroma of roses.

Your slowness.

Collins' words resounded in Farrier head. Fucking Collins. Who was he calling slow? His hand left her waist carresed her cheek. Both pair of eyes stared at each other before he leaned towards her a press his lips against hers.

Maggie put her hands on his chest and let him guide her. Despite his appearance, at least with her in that moment, Farrier it was gentle. When they pulled apart, he caressed her hair.

"I like you," Farrier confessed.

"I like you, too, Will."

And to confirm those words, they kissed again.

Farrier had only two weeks left before returning to work and he spent every moment with her. Even if she was working, William was there. He became part of the landscape of that pub and everyone there, even the owner, know who he was now. And when she wasn't working, they were in the beach or in her house.

The last night, she let him enter in her bed for the first time. He was her first time and Farrier, if that was possible, fall in love with her even more.

"I'll be back soon," he promised her while she was in his arms and she was holding her against his body.

"I'll be waiting for you."

William kissed her again and Maggie knew, no matter what would happen in the future, that he was the most correct decision she ever took in her whole life.

The months they spent separated, they communicate through letters and some calls when they had the chance to use a phone. Collins attributed his friend's new behaviour to him and in part, he was right.

Of course William returned to Sussex, this time alone, and he did with a ring in his pocket. The same night they saw eachother again, he asked her to be his wife and feeling a happiness that it was hard to describe, Maggie accepted his proposal.

Farrier sold her grandmother's house and the one his own old flat and moved to Sussex with her.

Marguerite Lewis became Marguerite Farrier just weeks later. The wedding in the church in that town was a celebration for the people living there, her brother that went from London to there and, of course, Collins.

His life those first years there were the happiest that Farrier could remember. His wife gave him two beautiful kids that he swore to protect with his life, same as her.

"One day I'm going to be a pilot like you, papa," his firstborn called Edward, said.

"Will you?"

"Yeah. Flying the skies in my own plane!" the boy exclaimed opening his arms and running around him simulating he was indeed flying. William caught his son and lifted him in the air and Edward started to laugh, still with his arms wide open like plane.

From the kitchen window where she was cooking, Maggie couldn't help but smile looking at them with pure love. Once, Farrier commented her that he always promised himself to be a good husband and father and it was clear now that he was fulfilling that promise.

While Ed stayed outside playing with his toys and their little girl, Clara, was sleeping on the couch, William went to where his wife was.

Marguerite smiled when she felt his strong arms around her and his lips on her neck.

"It smells delicious, Maggie."

"Thanks, honey. It will be ready in no time."

William placed a new kiss on her skin before opening the cupboard to search the plates and cutlery.

Life was good for the Farriers in that little corner of the world.

Sadly, it was already 1938.

PART 2

#farrier #farrier dunkirk #dunkirk #farrier x oc #farrier x ofc #tom hardy #farrier x maggie #farrier fanfic #farrier imagine

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 5 months

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But one thing for certain - the story of William being spotted popping into a local pub for a beer with Carole really poked a lot of holes into Harry's claims that the UK isn't safe. If The Prince of Wales can go out for a beer with a friend and no one bothers them, his irrelevant little brother can certainly go out for a church service.

He doesn't care, neither does the world poke holes in his stupid claims, haven't you seen the photos from polo where they're flanked by security? they just love to show off

Oh, no, Harry cares. He cares a lot. He cares only about which makes him look important and equal to William, especially as the Americans perceive it. That's why he's surrounded by security all the time; because it makes him look important and it makes him look equal to William, who's very protected and rarely without security in the photos/images that get published here in the US.

What Harry and Meghan are trying to do is gaslight Americans into thinking they're as important as the Prince and Princess of Wales so that we'll fight for them when the BRF strikes back.

Which is why it's so damaging when stories like William going to the pub for a drink or Kate popping out to a music festival for spicy margaritas or the two of them grocery shopping together get out and start circulating around the US. It contradicts Harry's messaging that being the son of The King is so dangerous that he can't do ordinary everyday things despite all of his PR claiming he's just like us.

So when this does happen, when William does show that Harry's security concerns about the UK are overblown, Harry reverts back to his military "I fought the Taliban" self which he thinks will get him bonus points in the US because we love our military and we love our veterans...right?

Wrong. Let me show you a little perspective. In 2010, the National Academy of Sciences published a study conducted in April 2009 that determined 1.9 million US military members deployed at least 3 times to Afghanistan and Iraq for at least 30 days each deployment. Of the 1.9 million, 582,733 of those people were active-duty US Army soldiers; another 125,595 soldiers were Army Reserve; and another 295,336 soldiers were Army National Guard. That's a total of 947,664 US Army soldiers deploying to Afghanistan and Iraq at least three times between 2001 - 2009.

In 2010, the British Army was 142,000 people: 113,000 active-duty soldiers and 29,000 reserve soldiers.

Let me louder for the people in the back. The entire British Army, in which Harry served and deployed to the War on Terror with, is FIVE TIMES SMALLER than the number of US Army soldiers that had deployed three times to the War on Terror by 2009.

Here in the US, Harry is not the special apple he thinks he is. He wants a ticker tape parade here in the US for his military record but what exactly has he done that's worth it? We don't care that he was the some other country's head of state's grandson when he deployed. But he doesn't get that, the same way he doesn't get that we don't like a foreign immigrant trying to become our military's ambassador. He thinks the work he did and the status he held in the UK is automatically transferrable to us over here here in the US.

It's not. He thinks it is, and Meghan thinks it is, but it's not. Which is going back to your original point, Harry does care. He cares a lot about optics and making sure that if he's not seen as equal to William, he's seen as better than William. So when William does these very normal, very average, very everyday things and gets praise for it, it's discombobulating for the Sussexes. They don't understand how being so common is so likeable, which makes the security fleet they surround themselves with look so tone-deaf and outrageously narcissistic.

#ask #brf #sussexes #pretty sure i lost the plot here

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fatehbaz · 1 year

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In one of the oldest poems in English literature, [...] The Seafarer not only provides us with one of our first ornithological references in the English language, but also [...] written description of birds evoking place, being associated with a distinct landscape. This poem is not alone, however, in suggesting to us how birds could inspire a feeling for place more than 1,000 years ago. [...] Hidden in the names of towns and villages are the ghostly traces of birds conjuring powerful identities for people in the landscapes and settlements of early medieval England. [...]

Among this rich repository of names [in Britain], birds rank in their many hundreds as vitalising elements and markers of medieval places – more than any other class of wild animal [...]. Among the cranes and crows, eagles and pigeons and geese (to mention some of the more commonly named birds), there are also less expected species. Who would imagine the mulch-and-mud snipe secretly probing the worm house as place markers in Snitterfield (Warwickshire), or fairy-flitting titmice roving through trees as the spirits of Masongill (Yorkshire), or yellowhammers like fireside embers in the winter hedgerows in Amberley (Sussex)? [...] What was it about birds that so caught people’s place-imaginations?

---

One avian order that demonstrates birds’ place-shaping potential especially well is the owls. [...] [T]he tiny village of Ulcombe [is] nestled in a gentle fold of the North Downs. Its name is listed in the Domesday Book (1086 CE), and it means ‘the owl’s valley’. [...] [O]ur word for this order of birds descends from one of just two Old English words for all owls: ule, pronounced ‘oooo-l’ (the other is uf, of which there are very few records.) Ule is a very ancient [...] utterance. [...] The onomatopoeic potency of ule implies not only how owls themselves materialised and existed as sound [...], but that this also affected how people experienced the places in which they heard these sounds. On some level, those places named after owls (Ulgham, Outchester, Oldberrow, Ullenhall, Ullenwood) were identified as soundscapes as much as landscapes [...].

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Other ‘sound birds’ appearing in place names besides owls, however, suggest [...] bioacoustics as [...] distinguishing properties of a place’s atmosphere. Take bitterns, for instance, those specialists of reed-bed living, who have perfected invisibility [...]. We know bitterns best by the eerie, sonorous booming of male bitterns that ‘bombleth in the myre’, as Geoffrey Chaucer describes it in ‘The Wife of Bath’s Tale’. In names like Purleigh (pūr + lēah = ‘bittern clearing’), then, we are confronted again by places defined according to a particular, evocative sound. Even in the 18th century, when the draining of much of the old Fens surrounding the Ouse Washes was already well underway, Daniel Defoe is drawn to ‘the uncouth Music of the Bittern … so loud that it is heard two or three Miles Distance’ [...].

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Like the tawny owl, of course, [the cuckoo] has a very distinctive song. Its famous call (immortalised in the medieval song ‘Sumer Is Icumen In’) is equally matched by the bird’s reputation as a herald of summer. Species such as cuckoos and swallows are only present for part of the year in Britain, meaning they were mostly absent from those places that came to bear their names. How was it, then, that they still came to imbue locations such as Swallowcliffe or Yaxley (the Old English for cuckoo is geac, pronounced ‘yay-ack’) with such defining and enduring resonance? These summer birds bring a place to life, as it were. [...] Cuckoos, like so many British birds that are threatened or extinct, would have been much more abundant in the Middle Ages. Yaxley, on the edge of surviving cuckoo strongholds in the former Fens, would have thronged to their calls. Now these places, and many like them where the birds of their names are absent, are solemnly displaced, the names creaking in the wind like dilapidated pub signs [...]. We can sense that displacement in the sprawl of modern suburban environments too, which [...] assign bird nomenclatures to roads and residential spaces (Sandpiper Drive, Nightingale Way, Lark Rise, Goldcrest Mews…) where the species named are nowhere to be seen [...].

[B]ird place names [...] alert us [...] [to] the rich forms and possibilities of ecological dwelling, which shaped how people perceived and responded to the local worlds around them. [...] We need these spirits of place.

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All text above by: Michael J. Warren. “Home and the birdsong.” Aeon. 12 December 2022. Essay edited by Sam Haselby. [In this post, bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.] Essay published by Aeon at: [aeon.co/essays/british-place-names-resonate-with-the-song-of-missing-birds]

#ecology #abolition #imperial #interspecies #bird poems #victorian and edwardian popular culture #multispecies #ecologies #ornithology stuff #tidalectics #geographic imaginaries #extinction

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princesscatherinemiddleton · 9 months

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The Princess of Wales’ Year in Review: May

May 3rd - William, Catherine and their children joined the King, Queen and others at Westminster Abbey for a rehearsal of the Coronation May 4th - The Prince and Princess of Wales arrived at Acton Main Line Station and travelled on the Elizabeth Line to Tottenham Court Road Station. They then visited the Dog and Duck pub and undertook a walkabout, where Catherine met @harry-sussex May 5th - The Prince and Princess of Wales joined the King, and other members of the Royal Family, at a luncheon at Buckingham Palace for Realm Governor-Generals and Prime Ministers. The King and the Prince and Princess of Wales then performed a walkabout on The Mall. Finally, the King held a reception at Buckingham Palace for visiting Heads of State and Overseas Guests at which the Prince and Princess of Wales, and others, were present May 6th - The Coronation of King Charles III and Queen Camilla took place at Westminster Abbey May 7th - The Prince and Princess of Wales this afternoon attended the Coronation Big Lunch on the Long Walk. That evening, the Prince and Princess of Wales, Prince George and Princess Charlotte, joined the King and Queen and other members of the royal family at the BBC Concert at Windsor Castle to celebrate the Coronation of The King and Queen. Afterwards, the Prince and Princess of Wales held a reception for the concert performers at Windsor Castle May 8th - The Prince and Princess of Wales, Prince George, Princess Charlotte and Prince Louis took part in the Big Help Out at 3rd Upton Scouts Hall. Catherine is the joint President of the Scout Association. Official photos from the coronation were released by Buckingham Palace May 9th - The Prince of Wales, on behalf of The King, and The Princess of Wales hosted a garden party at Buckingham Palace to celebrate the Coronation of The King and Queen May 11th - The Princess of Wales, Joint Patron of the Royal Foundation, received Professor Eamon McCrory (Board Member, the Royal Foundation Centre for Early Childhood Advisory Group) at Windsor Castle. Later, she held a meeting with Mrs. Alice Webb (Trustee of the Royal Foundation) May 13th - The Princess of Wales made a surprise appearance playing the piano at the 2023 Eurovision Song Contest May 16th - The Princess of Wales, Joint Patron of the Royal Foundation, visited the Kelly Holmes Trust to mark Mental Health Awareness Week and participated in the Trust's Social and Emotional Mental Health Programme at Percy Community Centre May 17th - Catherine made a private visit to Family Action (one of her patronages) to learn about the impact the cost of living crisis is having on families May 18th - The Princess of Wales, Patron of the Anna Freud Centre for Children and Families, visited the Anna Freud National Centre for Children and Families to mark Mental Health Awareness Week May 20th - Kensington Palace released a photograph of the Princess of Wales beekeeping to celebrate National Beekeeping Day May 22nd - The Princess of Wales attended a Children's Picnic at the Chelsea Flower Show May 25th - The Princess of Wales, Patron, visited the Foundling Museum. Afterwards, she attended a workshop with Kinship at St. Pancras Community Centre May 31st - William and Catherine were seen arriving in Jordan

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