#and i mentioned chez and my own little brother

[abbatoirablaze]

Shameless, Chapter 11

Word Count:  2.2k

Warnings: small instances of violence/siblings fighting, mentions of cheating/infidelity.

“Hey, thanks for coming with us Sofia!” Ian smiled.

“Yeah, really sucks that dad wasn’t able to come…or any of my brothers…they weren’t gonna release Mickey without an adult present.” Mandy agreed. 

“I got you, Mandy.” You smiled softly, wrapping an arm around her, “you’re my little brother’s girlfriend…practically family…”

Ian gave you a look and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

You knew why he’d shown up. 

You knew that he’d been screwing Mickey on the down low. 

“Here he comes,” Mandy smiled as they opened the back door and he was released, “you know, you didn’t have to come with us, Ian…”

“Bad neighborhood!” Ian said quickly, barely looking at the two of you as he kept his gaze focused on Mickey, “need to make sure that you guys are safe.”

“Yeah, we live in a bad neighborhood!” Mandy scoffed.

“Yeah, but we’re related to the bad people in our neighborhood,” Ian argued, “you guys aren’t related to people here…”

“What the hell is the Gallagher family reunion doing here?”

“Dad, Joey, and nearly everyone else was busy…so Sofia offered to be the person over eighteen to get you out…and Ian-“

“Hey!”

“He thought I might need protection!” Mandy laughed.

“Oh yeah?” Mickey asked as he reached out and pulled Mandy into a hug, “you may think that you know my sister.  But you don’t know my sister til you fought my sister!  She’s protecting your ass!”

“You smell like barbeque sauce…”

Mickey reached out and pinched her tits, twisting her nipples through her bra.  She screamed and grabbed his arms, fighting him off, “OH, OW!  What did dad tell you?”

“Oh, ow!  Fuck-Fuck the police!”

“No titty twisters now that I’m a C cup!” she growled, pushing her brother away from herself.

“C cup?  Bitch you wish!” Mickey scoffed.  He turned, looking to the guards, “HEY!  Fuck you!  Fuck you!  And especially fuck you!”

“Alright, come on kid, before they lock you back up!” you teased as Mandy and Ian started pulling him away from the doors.  He wrapped an arm around Mandy’s shoulders and tried to wrap one around Mickey’s, but he pushed him away from them. 

“You uh-knocked up pretty good…” he commented dryly as he looked back at you, “still with the cop, or is that a little Milkovich taking up rent space in there?”

“It’s the cops,” Mandy laughed, “but they’ve been splits Ville since he tried to break up Fiona and her boyfriend.”

“Thought they did break up?”

“They did…and Colin’s been at our house every other day with flowers or otherwise trying to win Sofia back.”

“He knows the little crotch goblin isn’t his?”

“Trust me, Mickey…Colin knows that my child belongs to Tony.”

“We could still raise him as a Milkovich if you and the cop don’t get back together though,” he shrugged, “sure dad would love to finally have a grandkid…and you know that Colin would raise the bastard like it was his own.”

“Gee, Mick…thanks for the thoughts…”

“Just saying,” he shrugged, “any of you fuckers got a light?  No one put any money on my books, and I’d kill for a smoke!”

“I don’t right now, but I could drop a carton off after I get done at my shift at the club…Col was saying he wanted to see me…”

“You’re not coming home?” Ian asked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be home in time to make sure Debbie’s daycare is good…was just gonna stop off at Chez Milkovich first.”

“Sounds good,” Mickey agreed, “I’ll tell Colin he’ll get half the carton…”  

“What the hell was that?”

“Oh, you saw the little slut and her grandpa tipping out sis big time too?”

“Oh, I saw little slut just kiss my sister,” you answered as you placed a drink on the bar, “six fifty.”

The guy tossed a ten on the bar and told you to keep the change as he walked off and was quickly replaced by another one.

“That a thing?” you asked.

“What, Fiona going out with them all the time?”

“Judging by that tone, I’m going to assume that it is,” you smirked, but the smirk was quickly replaced by a frown, “but no…was talking about her kissing that chick.”

“She does it all the time.”

A shiver ran down your spine, “damn…maybe I have been missing out on what’s going down…Do you think I’ve been spending too much time at the Milkovich’s?”

“Milkovich, or with your husband?”

You frowned, “I-It was only once, V-“

“Girl, he’s your husband.  You should be spending more time at the house next door than the one a few blocks down.”

“V I don’t need a speech on a soap box.”

“All I’m saying, is that you can’t just let people into your life when it suits you Sofia,” she sighed as she put a hand on the small of your back, “Tony was good for you…sure, he called the cops on Steve…and he got him to give him the house…but he did it because he knows the types of guys Fiona lets in, and he was trying to protect you guys…I mean, you remember the guy with the anger issues…and the guy who started trying to deal drugs out of your house when you were at school…and the guy that-“

“I get it,” you frowned, cutting her off with a shake of your head, “but it-he could have talked to me about it instead of going right on after Steve…instead of calling the cops on Ian and Lip.”

“Sweetie, he thought he was doing what was right…” she offered, “and anyways…he said he kicked out that rub and tugger after your conversation…you still have your copy of the key…fuck the Milkovich kid…go get your husband back…”

“Yeah…you’re right, V…” you smiled, “thanks.”

Your brow quirked, but you didn’t say anything as you made your way past Fiona, who was sleeping on the couch, and into the kitchen.

“Quiz me!” Ian encouraged. 

You messed with Lip’s hair as you passed, and opened the fridge to start breakfast, “who needs food still?”

“Me!” Carl called.

“Well, what do you want, kid?”

“Cereal?”

You nodded, tossing him the bag, before looking at your other brothers.

“We both do!” Ian admitted.

“Uh, if A equals B, then B equals A!”

“Symmetric!”

“He may as well get a windshield and call it a car!” Lip groaned.

“It’s just a phase.”

“What are you guys talking about.”

“She hasn’t even slept with him yet!” Lip admitted.

“He’s talking about Karen.”

“Ugh,” you groaned, “I’ve never liked her.  You could do so much better than her, Lip…”

“Maybe he’s a eunuch!” Lip said, ignoring your comment.

“Maybe she just likes him?” Ian shrugged.

“Debbie, what do you and Liam want for breakfast.

“Whatever?” Debbie shrugged.

“Lip, why are you sleeping in mine and Fi Fi’s bed?” Fiona asked as she came into the kitchen.

“Lip was sleeping in our bed?” you asked, “what’s wrong with your room?”

“Ask her!” Lip frowned, pointing at Debbie.

“I moved Liam!” she called, coming towards you so that she could reach into the fridge, “I can’t be in the same room where Liam is constantly masturbating.”

“It’s not masturbating if nothing comes out!”

“According to whom?” Fiona asked.

“My friend Jack O’ Donnel.”

“Not true!” Debbie claimed, with a shake of her head.

“It’s kind of true!”

“Not legally true!” Ian argued.

“So, Liam could be arrested for masturbating?”

“What?” Fiona asked, “no.  Listen up!”

“What is the age where it’s inappropriate to arouse yourself in front of others?” Lip asked, “even if nothing comes out.”

“Two years old!”

“Guys, we’re not having this conversation,” you argued, playfully slapping Lip upside the head, “Lip, keep quizzing Ian.  Carl, masturbating is still masturbating even if nothing comes out, regardless of age….Fi…we have to do something if it’s becoming a problem…maybe move Lip into Frank’s room?”

“Unfortunately, Frank has rented out his room to a pregnant woman!” Fiona groaned as she slipped a new shirt over her head and pointed upstairs.

“What?” you asked.

“I told them!” Debbie announced.

“You let her in last night?” you asked.

Debbie shrugged, “she had a key!  Besides, she’s from China.  They kill extra babies there.”

“Liam needs to go back in with you!” Fiona frowned.

“WHAT NO!” Debbie screeched, before looking to you, “Fi Fi, tell her that Liam can’t be back in with me.”

“Debbie-“

“Debs, that’s not fair,” you tried, “maybe we switch with the boys.  Have the three of us in the boy’s room and the boys split off?  Carl and Liam in one and Ian and Li-“

What’s done is done!” she yelled, looking between you and your sister.  She stormed off leaving you with your sister.

“Okay…for now, Liam’s in the boy’s room!” Fiona announced.

“What?”

“SERIOUSLY?” Lip asked.

“Four guys in one room!”

“Isn’t that a health violation?” Ian asked.

“Why can’t we do what Sofia said?” Carl asked, “you three in our room and then Lip and Ian in yours and me and Liam in Debbies?”

“We don’t have money for anymore beds, and I can promise you that Debs won’t sleep on the top bunk and Sofia won’t be able to jump up there with as pregnant as she is.”

“Well, we have to figure something out!” you tried, “Fi…there’s not enough room in there for them…maybe we push the chick out that Frank rented his room to?”

“We’ll find Frank and figure it out, but until then, four to the room!”

There was a cough, and the kitchen went silent as the woman that Frank had rented his room to came down the stairs.  Fiona left the kitchen in a huff, and you put a hand on Lip’s shoulder before sliding around and kissing Ian’s temple, “We’ll get him here and figure it out…I promise guys…it won’t stay this way.”

“Promise!”

“Of course!” you smiled, “now come on…you gotta work at Kash and Grab, and Lip…you said you and Kev need extra hands with the ice cream truck today?”

“Yeah…”

“Fiona…you got the daycare?” you asked as you followed your two brothers outside to where Kev was eagerly honking the horn for the ice cream truck.

You stopped though, your heart aching, when also coming to the bottom of the steps, to the door right beside yours was your husband. 

“Sofia-“

You couldn’t stop the butterflies that rose in your stomach at the thought of it. 

V had convinced you that maybe it was best to give Tony another shot.  After all, he was trying to do what was best for your family.  He didn’t have any ill intentions with it, other than to create some distance between Fiona and Steve. 

When he fucked up and realized that Lip and Ian were the ones that got arrested, he’d done everything in his power to make sure they walked…Steve just happened to give him the house after the fact, thinking that was the main factor in keeping them out of jail.

And then last month when the two of you hooked up, and he admitted that he’d kicked out the Laotian girl…

He did care. 

“Tony?” you asked softly as you opened the door to the house. 

You didn’t get a response from him.

But you did hear music coming from upstairs. 

Closing the door behind yourself, you pushed upstairs.  The lights were off in the master, and the door to the nursery was closed, but you saw lights on in one of the other rooms, on the far side of the hall.

“Tony?” you tried again.

A woman moaned in response. 

Your heart broke. 

But that didn’t stop you from stomping down the hall and barging in only to see your husband balls deep in another woman. 

“FUCKING SERIOUSLY?”

“Sof-“

“Go fuck yourself, Tony.  I’m done!” you spat, throwing your wedding ring at the ground, “I want a divorce!”

“Go fuck yourself, Tony….I don’t want to hear it.”

“Sofia…wait…wait, would you please jus-“

He stopped speaking when you whipped around, and slapping him hard across the face, “don’t you fucking touch me, Tony.”

“I-I deserved that.”

“You said you were done!” you spat, “you said you kicked them out…you-“

“I did…but then-“

“Then what?” you growled, “what happened Tony?”

“You didn’t come back!” he answered, “I-I kicked her out.  I got rid of her.  But then you didn’t come home.   You just kept staying over there!  To the fucking Milkovich house.  Hell, I arrested one of his brothers the other week and he admitted that you were fucking Colin again.  Wh-what did you expect me to do, Sofia?  Wait forever?”

“I didn’t expect you to stick your dick in another woman while I made sure my family was okay, Tony!”

“You weren’t making sure your family was okay, you were being a crazy bitch!” he growled, “you were going out and fucking another man while I sulked in our home.”

“YOU FUCKED ANOTHER WOMAN FIRST!” you screamed in his face, “YOU CHEATED ON ME.   YOU TRIED TO GET MY LITTLE BROTHERS LOCKED UP!  YOU FUCKED UP FIRST, TONY!”

“I’m sorry,” he tried, his head shaking, “I’m sorry, Sofia…just please...”

You looked down to see him holding your wedding ring in his hands, “what the fuck is this, Tony?”

“Please don’t leave me, Sofia…”

Chapter 12

[freebooter4ever]

i've said before my favorite mr robot episode, like the FULL episode, was season three episode 8, it's softer it's more character than plot it deals with elliot's clinical depression in a fairly satisfying way AND it featured the most adorable kid on the show with elliot learning to relate to someone who was almost at the same emotional maturity level he was (makes more sense given season four i guess). anyway, i mentioned this to my roommates before we started watching and they got excited, and then five minutes into trenton's little brother following elliot to the beach my one roommate was like 'THIS IS WHY I HATE KIDS'. so if i was ever in doubt that i am not one of those 'i dont want kids bc i hate them' people, that reaction was proof enough lol! mine is the opposite, i watch this episode and i miss chez terribly (speaking of people i didnt get to see this summer), and it makes me wistful about not ever having kids of my own. all my roommates on the other hand were the exact opposite, ha! there is so much pressure if you dont want kids to think that therefore you must hate kids OR you must love kids and want kids...like no one seems to believe a grey area exists. at the end of the show my roommate goes 'is that really what kids are like?' and im like 'yeah?' and he shudders in horror

[impracticaldemon]

The Shopping Expedition (or, A Gift for Theo) by impracticaldemon

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Characters:  Theodorus (Theo) van Gogh, MC; also Arthur, Comte Canon Setting; Canon Characters Words: ~ 4500  [Also available on AO3 and FFnet]

A/Note:  Written for Theo’s (Cybird) birthday on May 1st. Happy Birthday Theo!  This wasn’t intended to be so long, but I had too much fun writing the Theo x MC interactions. The story assumes that MC has been there for a while already, but there isn’t yet an established romantic relationship.

~Imp

______________________

The Shopping Expedition

Cuff links? Nice, but boring. Gold tie pin? He did wear a cravat when necessary, but I wanted something distinctive. Watch chain? …I couldn’t remember what he used to tell time, although he probably did carry a pocket watch; after all, he was always in a hurry to get somewhere.  Heh—the thought put me in mind of the White Rabbit from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and the image of Theodorus van Gogh wearing bunny ears and a fluffy white tail made me snicker.

It was the day before Theo’s birthday, and I was getting a little—make that a lot—stressed out over what to get him.  I mean, he had everything he needed, between what Monsieur le Comte provided and his own income.  But I’d recently realized that he had very little in the way of personal keepsakes—things he treasured for more than being useful or necessary.  I wanted to find him something special, maybe even something that would make him smile.

Theo had been rude to me from the moment we’d been introduced.  So why was I trying so hard to find him a memorable birthday present? I suppose it was the little things he did in between mocking my (alleged) naiveté and impugning my intelligence. He noticed how hard I worked, for instance, and respected me for it—even checked up on me a few times when he realized I was putting in late night prep work for the next day.  He paid attention to what I was doing, and acknowledged legitimate improvements.  Mind you, his compliments were often buried among his criticisms, but they were sincere and on-point.  And maybe it was my imagination, but there had been a lot fewer insults lately.

I left the jeweller’s—the fourth such shop I’d been in—and frowned down at the paving stones.  The sun was already low in the sky, and I’d promised not to stay out past dusk.  Paris wasn’t a safe place after dark, and a lot of areas weren’t safe at any time. Or so I’d been told, over and over again, by various residents of Chez Comte, including Master Theodorus.

“Planning to take root and grow leaves?”  Snarky comment, snarky tone, big presence.

“Good afternoon to you too, Theo, and how are you today?”

[READ MORE BELOW CUT]

I looked up—quite a ways—and saw the expected sky blue eyes and irritating smirk.  His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, as usual, which made it feel like he was looming over me.  Other shoppers detoured around him without more than a quick glance of annoyance, with the exception of one belligerent young man who called him a rude name that he automatically returned in kind.  They glowered briefly at each other, but there was nothing in it—just an ordinary exchange of ‘civilities’ in Paris of the nineteenth century.  Or any century, come to think of it.

“Seriously, though, you going in or out?”  Theo indicated the shop behind me with his chin.

“I’m fine, thanks.  It’s a nice day, and I don’t often get out to see the city.  Haven’t needed the umbrella so far.”

Eyeroll.  Sigh.  “Give it up already, would you?  Are you here with Sebas?  Little pups like you need a handler—and maybe a leash.  You might get into trouble, otherwise.”

Right.  Why was I trying to find him a birthday present again? Oh yeah, because there was a heart of at least tarnished silver in there somewhere, and… well, I preferred to not think too hard about the rest.  I gave him my best ‘the customer is always right especially when they’re not’ smile. As a travel planner and occasional tour guide for status-conscious co-patriots, I’d had a lot of practice.

“I’m out on my own today, I’m afraid.  Napoleon and Isaac gave me a lift into town, but otherwise I’m completely unsupervised. How about you?  No big brother around to remind you to play nicely with the other children?”

Sadly, I wasn’t able to get a rise out of Theo, although his smirk faded into something closer to genuine amusement.

“What happened to the polite little girl who first arrived at the mansion?  I seem to remember somebody who stuck to ‘please’, ‘thank you’, and ‘I’m sorry’ most of the time.”

“Well, I didn’t get the best first impression of the tenants, and where I’m from, civility is often the best defense.”  I was going to add more—about lecherous writers and their syrup-swilling friends—but time was getting short, and not only did I still not have a present, but I was starting to wonder what was going on with Theo.  It was unlike him not to be twitching with impatience by this point in the conversation.  “Hey, Theo?”

“Hm?”

“Not that I don’t appreciate your company, but what’s up?”

“What do you mean?  I happened to be in town and saw you blocking traffic—thought I’d better wake you up before somebody knocked you down and stole your lunch money.”

I ignored the usual challenge to my maturity and life skills. “But now we’re both blocking traffic, and you’re always in a hurry when you’re on business.”  The image of the White Rabbit with his giant pocket watch came to mind again, and I added:  “You know—‘I’m late! I’m late!’ and all that.”

Theo frowned, apparently not catching the reference.  It occurred to me that I might be quoting the movie, rather than the book—and would Master Theodorus have bothered to read something as whimsical as Alice in Wonderland?  

“I’m never late for business appointments, hondje–what’s with you?”  Before I could reply, he went on.  “Believe it or not, you have a really terrible sense of self-preservation.  I was just trying to look out for one of God’s dumb creatures, you know?”

“Sure.”  Amazingly, the insult rolled right off me.  Maybe I was finally getting used to him, or maybe it was the dawning awareness that he was genuinely concerned and couldn’t bring himself to admit it.  “So, are you staying in town for dinner, or heading back?”

“Haven’t decided.” Theo shrugged.  “The real question is, how are you getting home?”

“A carriage?  I mean, that’s normal, isn’t it?”

“Napoleon or Isaac meeting you?”

“No, why?”  Great.  Now I had no birthday present and I was starting to feel nervous.  “I can always fend off the cabbie with my umbrella if there’s a problem, okay?  Anyway, I know this is usually your line, but I have to get going.  I still have something to pick up, and—for safety reasons—I’m not supposed to stay out after sunset.”

“…I guess I’ll go with you,” Theo grumbled.  At my look of surprise, he shoved his hands further into his pockets.  “You’re almost useful now, that’s all.  Be a waste for something to happen to you when Sebas finally has you halfway trained.”  More quietly, he added, “Still don’t know what they were thinking, letting you out on your own...”

I stared at him, torn between irritation and confusion.  After a moment, his eyes flicked away from mine.  I thought there was a hint of red in his fair cheeks, but the late afternoon sun made it hard to tell.

“Look, Theo, all joking aside, I’m not a child, and I think I can manage to take a carriage home on my own.”

“Who says I’m joking? What part of ‘Paris isn’t safe’ isn’t getting through your abnormally thick skull?  Look, you’re wearing nice clothes, and you’re obviously carrying money. Sure, you’re probably okay shopping on your own during the day, but taking a carriage out into the middle of nowhere just as it’s getting dark?  I couldn’t believe it when Arthur mentioned—” He broke off abruptly.

“What does our literary Lothario have to do with anything?” I demanded.

“Just—it doesn’t matter, okay?”  Theo was scowling, now; it was a familiar, if not especially charming expression.  “The point is, travelling home alone is asking for trouble, and you’re already trouble-prone.”

“Trouble-prone?”  

“Well, you managed to get stuck in le Comte’s door—that’s a first.  And just—ugh.  If you have something left to buy, we should get moving.  Besides, you’re still blocking traffic.”

Before I could find the words to properly express my aggravation, there was a polite cough at my elbow.  A neatly-dressed, middle-aged man had opened the door behind me, and was looking inquiringly between Theo and I.

“Madame, Monsieur… I do not wish to intrude upon a lovers’ quarrel, but perhaps you would be so kind as to find a more appropriate location?”  He bowed politely.  “You see, Monsieur is rather, ah, formidable, and it is not good for business.  I’m sure that you understand.”

Theo shot me an exasperated look, put a hand under my elbow, and dragged me away.  Since I couldn’t do anything about it without causing a scene, I went with him, calling an apology over my shoulder to the shopkeeper.

After we’d gone a short distance, I tried to yank my arm free.  I wasn’t successful, but at least it got my cranky companion to slow down. Once we’d reached a quieter spot, Theo finally let go.  We were both a little red, and this time it definitely wasn’t just the light.

“You—”

“What the—”

Theo shoved his hands back into his pockets.  I would have crossed my arms in response, but I had a bag in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

“Theo—”

“Hondje—”

I decided to let him go first.  It had occurred to me—as annoying as it was—that he might have a point about the wisdom of taking a hired carriage back to the mansion on my own.  There was no way to call ahead, and the stretch of road between the outskirts of the city and le Comte’s residence was uninhabited and surrounded by forest.  While I was confident that the residents of the mansion would hunt down anyone who harmed me, it made no sense to put myself in harm’s way unnecessarily.  

“Why didn’t Napoleon make arrangements for you to get home?” Theo asked at last, breaking the uncomfortable silence.  “He usually fusses over things like that.”

“I don’t know.”  I thought about the trip into town, and added, “I got the impression that he thought it was already taken care of.  He reminded me to stick to the one shopping district, but that was it.”

Theo suddenly went still, as though something had occurred to him.  Then he scowled again, but it didn’t seem to be at me, for a change.

“Who gave you the money to take a carriage back to the mansion?”

“Le Comte—well, technically I suppose it was Arthur…”  I paused, thinking it over.  “Arthur came up to me shortly before I left to tell me that le Comte had asked him to pass along the money for the trip back.  I was a bit surprised, but it didn’t occur to me to be worried about it.”

Theo muttered something in Dutch that I didn’t quite catch.  It sounded rude, but when I raised my eyebrows at him he just hunched a shoulder and growled, “Arthur, not you.”

“You think Arthur set me up?”  That made no sense.  “But why? I mean, he’s the one who told me—”

I bit off the rest of the sentence, since I’d been about to tell Theo that I’d been looking for a birthday present for him.  Arthur was the one who had recommended the particular shopping district and given me directions.  I’d reluctantly consulted him about possible gifts for Theo, since they appeared to be friends.  I would have preferred to ask our resident angel—Theo’s brother Vincent—but he’d been working non-stop on a painting for the past several days.

“Let me guess.”  Theo had stopped scowling, although he didn’t look happy, either.  “Somebody—probably Arthur, since Vincent’s been painting—told you about my birthday, right?  And you got it in your head that you should get me something, because you would.  Then Arthur suggested where to shop—he knows I like a lot of the artisans in this district.  Sound about right?”

“…Maybe.  But you still haven’t explained what you are doing here.”

“I told you—I had to be in town anyway, and somebody had to look out for the ignorant puppy.”

“I really wish you’d stop it with the pet references.  How did you know I’d gone into town and was coming back on my own?”

“Arthur.”  Theo grimaced. “We were chatting in the front hall, and he mentioned that he was concerned, because he overheard that the coachman wasn’t returning to town for you.  When I said you were probably coming back with Napoleon or Isaac, he made a big show of remembering that Napoleon and Isaac were staying in town late tonight. Bastard.”

I continued to stare at Theo, as the bits and pieces started to click.  It was beginning to sound as though Theo had rushed into town entirely for my sake—so that I wouldn’t have to travel home alone.  Even stranger, Arthur had been able to wind him up with a pretty suspicious story—maybe because my safety was at stake? Normally, Theo was as sceptical as they came.  …Not that I was feeling warm and fuzzy just because Theo had panicked over me or anything.

“What are you grinning about, hondje?”  The glower was back, probably because Theo hated looking like he actually cared about anyone other than Vincent.

“Nothing.”  For some reason, I couldn’t get the smile off my face.

“Just remember that if you had half a brain, and weren’t so reckless, you’d cause a lot less trouble.”

“Right—because it’s my fault that Arthur set me up just so he could mess with you.”

Theo didn’t respond; he seemed to be deep in thought.  Then he hastily pulled out a pocket watch and muttered, “Damn, I really am late, now.”

I stifled a giggle, as the image of Theo the White Rabbit came to mind once more.  “Hey, Theo?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry if you ended up missing something because you were looking out for me.”

He looked startled, then replaced the watch in his pocket and turned away, running a hand through his bright copper-brown hair.  “It wasn’t a big deal.  Otherwise you’d be on your own.”

“I still appreciate it—thank you.”

“Well… just remember that you owe me one.”  He still wouldn’t meet my eyes.  “You still had somewhere you needed to go?”

“Yeah.  Do you mind if I go into that bookstore?”  I pointed across the street.  I was pretty sure I’d been there once before with Sebastian, who was picking up an order for Leonardo.

“Whatever you want is probably in the library at the mansion, you realize.”  Despite his words, Theo immediately set out towards the store.  I hurried after him, unable to repress the thought that it was a lot more comfortable being in nineteenth century Paris with somebody—especially if he happened to be moderately intelligent and good-looking.  Having a glare that parted crowds like Moses parting the Red Sea was a bonus.

I was fortunate enough to find what I wanted, and quick enough that even Theo couldn’t find fault with me for wasting his time.  When I rejoined him outside the store, he was idly flipping through an art book, criticizing the publisher’s choice of paintings.  I could tell that his heart wasn’t really in it, though.

“So, I guess we should get home then?” I asked.

“Yeah, let’s go.  I’d suggest eating out, but Sebas is probably waiting for you, right?”

To my surprise, he held out an imperative hand for my bag, which now contained a neatly-wrapped two-volume set along with the bits and pieces I’d picked up earlier.  For some reason, I didn’t try to refuse, even though the bag wasn’t especially heavy.

“Thanks…”

“Sure.”  He offered his elbow, and rolled his eyes when I stared at it blankly.  “Take my arm, would you?  Last thing I need is for you to trip and twist an ankle now that the light’s going. And stop looking so surprised—makes you look even more out of it than usual.”

“Uh-huh.  Have you ever considered not adding the insults? I hear it can do wonders for people’s opinion of you.”

He looked down at me, smirking.  “Why would I care what people think?”

“You care what Vincent thinks.”

“He’s my older brother, and an artistic genius.  He’s allowed to have opinions.”

“Right…”

We were walking steadily toward the nearest area that was likely to have coaches for hire that would travel beyond the city limits.  I hated to admit it, even to myself, but it was nice to have an arm to lean on, especially since my feet had been sore for a quite while thanks to the uneven cobbles and hard paving stones.  I’d done more walking than I’d anticipated, and late Victorian fashions in ladies’ footwear were elegant, but not especially comfortable.

“Oi, hondje! Don’t fall asleep until we’re actually in the coach, okay?  Or are you hoping I’ll carry you?”

I stifled a yawn, and realized that Theo had a point—about falling asleep on my feet, not about wanting to be carried.  Because I didn’t.  Why would I?

“Oh jeez…  Come on, we’re here now—up you go.”

I let him help me into the carriage, and settled myself decorously on the forward-facing seat. Theo joined me a moment later, having spoken to the driver.  He sat down beside me, and stretched his long legs out in front of him as much as space allowed.  

“Go ahead and nap if you want,” he told me, pulling out a notebook and pencil.  “Maybe I can get some work done if you’re not babbling at me.”

“I don’t babble.”  At least, that’s what I tried to say.  A yawn got in the way, and Theo snorted.  I narrowly resisted the urge to stick out my tongue at him.  Too bad I really was feeling sleepy, though.

We reached the mansion very shortly after that, from my perspective.  I didn’t remember much from the trip itself, which was just as well—or so I told myself.  For one thing, when I woke up, I was leaning on Theo’s chest, and his arm was around me. Moreover, he’d obviously taken off my hat for me, which was just as well, since otherwise I’d have been skewered by the ten-centimeter-long hatpins.  I felt stupidly pleased about that, as well as comfortable tucked up against him, which was embarrassing.  Best not to remember how it had come about.

Theo’s face was scrupulously neutral when I sat up just as we were reaching the mansion.  He just… totally ignored whatever had happened. Not that anything had happened, but still.  I jammed my hat back onto my head, and tried not to yelp when I poked myself with a hatpin. Theo snickered.

“It’s on backward.  Might as well leave it off—you’ll look a little less untidy that way.  Though I guess at least it covers up your hair…”

I wanted to try for icy disdain, but instead I found myself missing his warmth beside me.  Apparently, he noticed something in my expression. His finger lightly brushed my cheek, which suddenly felt very warm indeed.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that, hondje,” he muttered, only partly to me.

“Wh-why not?”  This time, I tried for aloof.  What came out was anything but.

“Well… you look like you wouldn’t mind being kissed, and it is almost my birthday.”

“You’ve been spending way too much time with Arthur!”  Why was I leaning toward him, instead of grabbing my things and hurrying out of the carriage?

“That must be it.”

The touch of his lips on mine was electric.  Okay, what was going on?  I mean—really?

There was a respectful knock on the carriage door, and Theo’s fingers dropped from my cheek.  He grinned at me, but I couldn’t read the emotion behind it.

“Look on the bright side. The driver was bound to think we’d been up to something, since your hair’s such a mess.  At least this way you’ve gotten some benefit out of the embarrassment.”

“What?!  Theo!”

Of course he opened the door at that moment, and it was plain that the driver thought exactly what Theo had predicted he would think.  Ugh!  It was mortifying, but at least the man was a stranger, and hopefully I’d never see him again.

The same couldn’t be said for Arthur, Sebastian, and le Comte, who met us as we came into the house. I’d tried to tidy my hair and replace my hat while Theo paid off the driver, but the expressions on the three men’s faces when they took in my appearance suggested I hadn’t done a very good job.  I came to the conclusion that I’d have to kill Arthur, just to avoid ever seeing the smug, self-satisfied look ever again.  At least le Comte was back to his normal, pleasant self after a bare instant; Sebastian raised his eyebrows at me suggestively—naturally, I ignored him.

Unlike me, Theo was completely self-possessed.  He handed me my bag with a casual, “Try not to drop it, after all that.”  Then he nodded to le Comte and Sebastian, and dropped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.  I thought I saw Arthur wince, but if so, any pain wasn’t enough to offset his amusement. He winked at me as Theo marched him out of the front hall towards the games room.

“Are you alright, chérie?” Le Comte appeared to be genuinely concerned, so I reassured him that I was fine.

“You’re late getting back,” murmured Sebastian.  “You’ll have to tell me all about it while we work on dinner.”

“Or not,” I murmured right back at him.  I bowed to le Comte.  “Monsieur le Comte—here is the money that Arthur gave me, from you, to pay for the journey back from town.  As it turned out, I didn’t need it.”

“From me?  No… it’s not mine.  But why don’t you keep it, since it appears that Arthur’s been up to mischief again?  The least he can do is help to pay for your parcels.”

When I tried to protest, le Comte smiled gently at me.  I accepted my defeat graciously—after all, there was some merit to his argument.  After a few more pleasantries—which helped to soothe my ruffled feathers, I admit—I went upstairs to change and put away my things. Le Comte accompanied me to the second floor, and detained me briefly outside my door.

“Did you find what you were looking for?  I gather you were trying to find a gift for Theodorus.”

“Oh…”  I hesitated, then nodded.  “Yes, I did eventually choose something, thank you Comte.  It came to me when I was looking at watch guards—I thought maybe a sturdy but elegant gold chain would suit Theo, you see.”

“That makes sense. But I take it that you didn’t get the chain?”

“No…  I wanted something more unusual.”  I decided to confide in le Comte—he struck me as good at keeping secrets, and once I told somebody, I was less likely to chicken out. I reached into my bag, and pulled out the wrapped parcel.  “Open it, and tell me what you think—if you don’t mind.  I’m sure it’s completely the opposite of what Theo would ordinarily read, but that’s why I got it.”

“I’m intrigued, ma petite. But if you mean that you chose something other than a technical work, or an art book, then I congratulate you.  It’s perceptive of you to realize that he could use something to shake him out of his tendency toward ‘all work and no play’—other than drinking with Arthur, that is.”

“Well, to be honest, that was only part of it.”  I made sure that le Comte followed me into my room, since with my luck, Theo would come up at exactly the wrong moment if we stayed in the upper hallway.

“Now I’m even more curious.” Le Comte deftly untied the string that secured the parcel, and folded back the brown wrapping paper to reveal two illustrated books.  “’Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’… and ‘Through the Looking Glass’.”  He looked up at me, and I let out a sigh of relief when I saw the approval in his warm golden eyes.  “I wonder what our ever-practical Theo will make of these?  An excellent choice, chérie.  And no doubt you feel a certain kinship with Mademoiselle Alice? Although I think you chose a more dangerous world to fall into, as it were.”

I returned his smile and shrugged.  “Maybe. I’ve had a number of frightening experiences here, I’ll admit, but I’m not sure that Wonderland sounds all that pleasant.  At least nobody here has threatened to cut off my head for refusing to play croquet using live flamingos.”  When le Comte laughed softly, I added, “But you’re right that I do feel a bit like Alice at times.”

Le Comte flipped idly through the first book, admiring the illustrations.  Naturally, I’d made sure the artwork wouldn’t attract outright derision from the birthday boy.

“Tell me, chérie, what was your other reason for purchasing these books?  I thought it was because of Alice, and your situation here, but I gather that’s not it.”

“Oh—yes, you’re right.” I took the book from le Comte and flipped back several pages to one of the first illustrations, which showed a well-dressed rabbit with a large pocket watch and an air of panic about him.  Underneath, the caption read: ‘Oh dear, oh dear.  I shall be too late.’

Le Comte stared at the White Rabbit for several seconds without comment, and I began to feel anxious again.  Any resemblance to a certain hyper-busy art dealer was apparently all in my head…  Then the polished, ever-courteous, impeccably-dressed man beside me snickered audibly.

“Comte?”

He closed the book, leaving it between my hands, and bowed politely.  “I wish you all the best, ‘Alice’.  If you can get Theo to slow down and enjoy himself, even a little, you will have done him a true service.”

I nodded, but didn’t know what to say.  Who was I to tell Theo to slow down, if he was doing what he wanted to do?  We had a tenuous connection at best, although the afternoon’s events had suggested something more.  Was there more?  Did I want there to be?  What could I—or should I—read into that barely-there kiss?

When Sebastian arrived at my room twenty minutes later, sounding half-concerned and half-annoyed, I still hadn’t moved, and I still didn’t know the answers to any of my questions. The only thing I knew for sure was that I clearly had Theo on the brain.  I apologized to Sebastian, put ‘Alice’ into a drawer to wrap later, and finally got changed. It was time to concentrate on the job at hand, and not Theo’s unusually protective behaviour, or a stray kiss.

[END]

_______________________

A/Note:  Were you amused? Entertained? Please let me know what you thought!  Feedback is an author’s bread and butter when it comes to fanfiction. ♥ There may or may not be a sequel, depending on my time, other writing commitments, and reader interest.  For now, this story is published under my one-shot collection “Teatime Tales from the Mansion”

[kittyanonymity]

Hi yes, I KNOW this isn’t one of my OTHER projects, but this song gives me major Damian and Adrien vibes. I like to think Adrien and Damian could bond over shitty parents, Damian about his mom, and Adrien about his dad. Managed to get this typed up between breaks on ALiG; chapter 6 is making steady progress finally lol This would be a Daminette/Jondrien fic, with Damian and Adrien Bros. 

It won’t let me post the whole song on tumblr for some reason?? So here’s a proper link. 

More below the cut about the particular AU this spawned, as well as the lyrics. 

(also this whole album/band kicks ass, I highly recommend) 

((ALSO ALSO this is actually a Brucelie -BruceXEmilie-fic too))

tw for casual weed smoking mention I guess? and abuse themes definitely

I am your son, you are my mother I'm on my own, you're not my lover Don't tell me how to live

I am your son, you are my father You led us like lambs on our way to the slaughter Who do you think you are?

One, two, three I know you lied to me I can see Now that I'm free

It's me and the black roses  X6 

I am your son, she's not my mother You think she's perfect, to me, just another Do you think it's okay?

But I am your son, for worse or for better Despite the fact that you a homewrecker I guess that's who you are

One, two, three I know you lied to me I can see Now that I'm free

It's me and the black roses  X18

SO the idea here is this. 

Obviously the parts in the beginning about the mother are from Damian’s point of view, and about the oppression he dealt with while in her care. Talia for those who aren’t as into DC is just, WOW levels of awful. She’s controlling, and very much trying to map out all of Damian’s life; and when Damian’s young, he’s fine with this. It’s kind of a classic case of ‘mother knows best’, but at its absolute worst. This starts to change once Damian goes to stay with his father in canon of course. Age Range for Damian: 10 to 12 or so?

The next three lines of lyrics are more from Adrien’s/Chat’s perspective; the ‘lambs led to slaughter’ are Adrien and the rest of the Miraculous team, and it really is about how angry Adrien is at his father for what’s he’s done to his family, and his friends. I imagine in the background during this part Adrien realizing his father is Hawkmoth during the final altercation; Gabriel will try to Akumatize him, and before Ladybug can step in, Chat cataclysms the butterfly, and just starts. BEATING THE HELL OUT OF HIS FATHER. They’re like 18 at this point, and his transformation wears off as he goes to take the Miraculous, and once it does, Gabriel kicks him off. The fight gets ugly, but Ladybug had managed to before this fight, fix the peafowl miraculous. And when she heals Emilie while Chat’s fighting, the woman wakes up in time to see her son go flying. She beats his ass with the assistance of Ladybug. It’s gonna get sappy after that. Ages for this Adrien/Mari: 18; they’ll leave paris 4 years later, to Gotham.

Following that, the next four lines I generally see being from both boys; Damian, once he’s embraced living with his father and brothers, and becoming Robin, reflecting on how his mother was wrong; and Adrien, once his father is in prison and he moves to the states with Marinette, Chloe, and his mother and begins to find peace without the overbearing nature of his father. Maybe there will also be some true Felix and Adrien bonding?? Amelie will definitely show up cause like, holy shit, hr sister is back???! Once again, here’s ages: Mari/Adrien: 22, Damian: 23, Jon: 21

The ‘Black Roses’, for me, can be interpreted in a couple different ways. One, both boys hail from wealth; Adrien as a model, and Damian as both an Al Ghul, and the Wayne heir. Canonically, we know Bruce cultivates roses, and I’d imagine they’re grown in grief; much the same for Adrien, as his father didn’t much care for any flowers until his mother ‘died’. Two, it could just symbolize both boys breaking away from, and grieving, what they never really had; albeit, a bit angrily given the tone of the song. 

And following the first chorus, we dive a little into how Damian feels about Selina, initially. He doesn’t trust her, doesn’t want her around his family, and certainly not around his father, who is, disturbingly, the more stable parent (we all know how fucked up Brucie really is, poor man) the boy’s had. And he maybe resents Bruce a little bit, cause like, why couldn’t he have loved Talia? Why this woman? When Selina and Bruce break up, he’s even more angry because he’d been starting to like Selina and seeing them both hurting is annoying for him. It does pass of course, like things usually do. He’s shocked when Bruce introduces Emilie. It’s hard not to like her though. Selina and Bruce break up when he’s 15, and he meets Emilie when he’s 23.

The next Few lines are once again more Adrien focused, his own reflecting on how he’s his father’s son. By this point in the lyrics, he’s met Jon, and he’s terrified of hurting him how his father hurt Emilie; he doesn’t want to be anything like Gabriel, but the media has done a bit of a number on him the last few years. This is where he and Damian also start to find they have a bit more in common than they thought. 

I like to imagine the last bit of the song is these 2 blessed boys bonding over trauma slowly but surely, feat. Adrien teasing Damian over Mari (because she’s literally everyone’s crush!!), and Damian hissing half threats back to tell Jon about the hearts in Adrien’s notebook. With a guest appearance from!! Overprotective Bros Damian and Adrien with a Visiting Nino, who’s really just happy to have a Third Bro, and So Stoked to be Here. Chloe and Marinette are wondering where they went wrong. Damian teaches Adrien how to deal with trauma in a Better Way, and Adrien teaches Damian how to Be Silly. 

(Three Older Robins are S C A R E D )

AND THIS ISN’T EVEN THE PROPER OUTLINE. 

Ages by the end are all about 23 or so, one moment, math time.... 

Ok, yeah, 23 or so. As fun as it is writing teenagers again, I love writing them as adults because it opens up the door for deeper character introspection, and i am A SLUT for that shit! Plus that means Jason and Tim can smoke weed and no one can tell me otherwise. OOH AND I’M SO EXCITED FOR EMILIE AND ALFRED BONDING!!! THEY’RE BOTH PEACOCKS! I do NOT need another story to write but wow this idea is really growing on me I tell you what. 

And this doesn’t even hardly TOUCH on what Marinette and the girls have been up to in the background because holy shit. A team made of Mari, Chloe, and Emilie with Alya as back up when she shows up, plus Amelie; add in the Wayne girls and it’s CHAOS.

And Bruce, well. 

He can’t remember a time when the manor was so lively; and he surprisingly wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

I might put together a proper outline at some point but who knows lol It’s taken me ages to get the will to type this out; I’ve had this in my head since like October of 2019 I think?? so a few months

also I totally blame the inclusion of Brucilie on @kandoesfanfics-writes or littlekittykanny over on Ao3; I’ve absolutely fallen in love with the way they write Bruce and Emilie and it found its way in there! Thank you for introducing me to this beautiful ship!! <3

see you guys soon hopefully! <3

small tag list cause I think you guys might like this idea :3 

@casualdarkness  @northernbluetongue  @2sunchild2  @ivymala07  @chez-pezeater  @persephonebutkore  @weird-pale-blonde-person  @crazylittlemunchkin  @thequestionablyhuman  @da-tasuky  @vivilakitty  @zerotosiki  @mikantsume  @fandomkitty8  @miraculous786 

[anne-lister-adventures]

Monday, 10 March 1840

4 50/’’

11 1/2

All ready at 5 25/’’ then a little breakfast (our own little boiler no pother of Semovar) – Reaumur 7 1/2º on our table – The room coldish – 2 cups of tea and breakfast over in 10 minutes – And from the Kopanowskaia at 6 – A little village - Counted a group of 19 Calmuck tents (Kibitkas) – 

Descend upon the Volga – The wood (vide line 12 last p.[page]) was, as today, large old pollard willows on large sandbanks and islands of the Volga – Looking like a forest in the distance and in fact it is willow-forest the trees being often sufficiently thick on the ground to leave little room for anything else, tho’ we found cattle straying among them – 

At 7 25/’’ turned up from the river to the land-road – Very fine morning – At the Little gorod of J-[Jenotaiewsk] at 8 35/’’ – The servants Kibitka a few minutes en retard – We had arrived so much sooner than I expected thought going another stage before breakfast – But the next Station said to be such a poor little place where we could not breakfast that determined to breakfast here – The good-looking new (wood) house it seemed belonged to a seigneur – Nothing to be had there – 

Set off to another place in the Gorod – Having just walked round the white handsome church at some distance (opposite) our Station – This the Cathedral! Another neat church besides this – This a clocher with 4 style portico – Nave – And the church (all 3 adjoining) a large circle gathered up in 2 retiring steps to the size of the domes, with North and South entrance by 2 style porch and pediment – all the roof metal plates painted green – 

The Jenotaiewsk cathedral c. 1910.

One of the nicest neatest little Gorod churches we have seen – 4 or 5 wind mills close to the town (right) on entering, and (left) on entering in a wide sort of 1/2 formed square the cathedral – And not far from this a neat good building for Town’s business, Court House – Nice little villagy town – 

We had 3 or 4 minutes walk to chez ‘le seigneiur’ the Maître de Poste a German Russian – Arrived 2 months ago – His wife and daughters at St. P-[Petersburg] the Postmaster at Astrakhan going to Kazan (as Postmaster) and our friend anxious to succeed him at A-[Astrakhan] would not stay here at any price – Nobody to speak to – No parti for his daughters – All Calmuck – The ladies could not read or write and on my mentioning the common waste of manure, he said here they did worse than pile it on the riverside to be washed away – They laid it in the Town – and the smell was offensive in summer – 

Emolument 500/- per annum – There might be other revenues but un homme comme il faut could not take them – Better appointments and a good house at Astrakhan for the Postmaster – Trade very bad there now – Nothing but the fishery – Nothing to be had but Moscow things – The Persian trade all goes to Tiflis now – They have a grant of it free of duty for 10 years – Several rich merchants there – And a large new hotel that cost 10000/- 5 storeys High – On the Koura – Kept by an Armenian, Chadinoff – Prince Volkonsky had spoken of it to our host – 

Could not tell what we should pay there – But had before recommended a house (no hotel where one can dine at Astrakhan) at A-[Astrakhan] kept by a French whose wife is a German where we should lodge and board (very good table) for a Silver Ruble a day! Nobody no company there (at the house) now – How will this turn out? This was told at 1st when he asked what affaires we had at A-[Astrakhan] and fancied it might be the wife of a Naval Officer (English) who had been 10 years there in the Russian Marine (ship building) and did not wish to engage for another 10, and was afraid of his wife passing him on the road, as she was to join him there – But he should wait for her at Moscow – 

Our host had been 6 years prisoner in England – Had surrendered to the English par préférance instead of to the French at Lisbon after the Russian Turkish War (in 1808?) – Prisoner at Portsmouth but had visited Chatham, London &c. &c. apparently on parole – Liked England very much – The Russian prisoners very well treated there – Had been at Tiflis – Lost a nephew 2 months in the Circassian War – Nothing but patience will do with these people – 

Must ask at A-[Astrakhan] to have an escort – Dangerous about Kisliar – The couriers never take money that way – Always by Tcherkask and Stavropol – No danger in passing the Kabardas – Always an escort – Recommended us to be there by moonlight – Very fine – As if one was in a hole so surrounded by mountains – The best time for passing is January – The sooner we get there the better or we may be inconvenienced I suppose by the melting the snows – I got no answer I think to my inquire if there were avalanches – 

He said we might be 16 or 18 hours on horseback in getting thro’ from one Station to another – Sure we never saw such a road – A Germany colony a few v.[versts] from Tiflis that we ought to see – We should find Germans French and English there and all sorts of Persian things &c. &c. to be got there – 

Gave the Courier the address of the people at A-[Astrakhan] and gave him an a letter for the Calmuck Prince and for horses to take there tomorrow – Our carriage Kibitka too heavy – Had best take a light Traineau de Poste but said we must have 3 horses and ourselves and the 2 Russians (Courier and George) could go – 

The Prince was in the campaign in France in 1814 – His sister (that Lord Royston saw) married unhappily – Married a Calmuck – The Prince very rich – Would half kill his servants if they took anything – I must not pay anything – He speaks French – Is très comme il faut – 

Cannot sleep at Zamianowskaya, so that if we cannot arrive in time at Libajouskaya had best return and sleep a 2d. night at Soroglazinskaya where we shall sleep tonight, the encampent being on 12 v.[versts] from there across the river – The Prince has a good house – Pity we did not arrive in time for the great religious fête 3 weeks ago when he had 80 people staying in his house – Begged I might give the servant of our host and left with himself a 30 Kopek Silver piece – Probably the master not the maid would take it – And I might have given more – Probably a 1/2 Silver Rouble would have been better – 

Off at 10 3/4 – Descend immediately upon the Volga till 11 50/’’ then seem to leave it and go along the land-road (the summer road) – Had my door open for some while – Drive over ice – And large sandbanks and islands covered with large old pollarded willows – A Deciatine, said our Maître de Poste (who 1st addressed us in English) = 80 x 30 fathoms of 2 English yards = 4800 yards something less than an acre = 4840 yards – A-[Ann] had slept and I had slept and read which beguiled the slowness of our progress – 

2 35/’’ when we reached Kosikinskaya – Little cottage-like log house Station House but we might have had a nice enough little room to ourselves and might have breakfasted as to room quite as comfortably as we did chez ‘le seigneur’ whose Semovar had lost its cheminée (long ∴[therefore] in boiling and we had to get our own cheminée) and there was nobody in the little Gorod to mend it – Our host gets all his provisions from Tamboff 700 v.[versts] off (I think he said 700 v.[versts]) – 

At K-[Kosikinskaya] neat little painted broad church – Needle-pointed clocher – Nave – And church part 8tagon[octagon] as well as the clocher – The village small and shabbyish – 2 or 3 Calmuck tents in the courtyard (farm yard) opposite our Station House – The Post stables merely of wattled (wicker) walls, flat roofed and hay piled stackwise on the top – Royston crows in abundance hopping about – Quite tame and with them several magpies – The guide post marks 115 v.[versts] to A-[Astrakhan] Read a great deal this morning – 

Schnitzler vol.[volume] 2 on the origin of the Calmucks and Tatars, and vol.[volume] 1 from p.[page] 169 to 217 chapter 6 and then on arriving at the Station at 4, Soroglazinskaya, finding the house full of people – Could not be taken in, drove off with one horse to our present quarters – And en route finished the remaining p.[page] or 2 of chapter 6 and alighted here at 4 20/’’ – One nice enough room – Soon made ourselves comfortable – And went out at 4 40/’’ for an hour to the neat church which A-[Ann] sketched – 

Sent off the Courier to the Calmuc Prince with A-‘s[Ann’s] card and mine and compliments and we would be chez lui about 10 tomorrow a.m. – They say here, he has 2 brothers at St. P-[Petersburg] one a Captain in the Grenadier Guard – Has a large village about him, and a school for his people – Some have cottages and some tents (Kibitkas of felt) – The river is close to the village here just below it – And all seems sandy desert around – Bare of snow here and there – But they say there is good pasture land at a little distance – Some Calmuck tents here, one in each of several farm yards – But they say, these people do not stay here, but live in the woods to the westward – Several good wood cottages and houses here – A good, picturesque village in long line above the Volga – All the people very civil in taking off the hats as we pass – Wrote all the above of today till tea at 8 in 1/2 hour – 

The village the property of the people – Cossacks – Free – The farm yard full of sheep a mixed breed between Calmuck and not ∴[therefore] some with the short fat tails and some not and some with the long small tail of English sheep – A good sheep will weigh fit for the butcher 2 poods (40 Russian lbs.[pounds] or 36 English lbs.[pounds]+ = 72 English lbs.[pounds]) and sell for 8/- horses from 40/- to 100/- and cows about 40/- - a fat cow = from 8 to 16 poods and the fat animal worth about 7/- or rather more per pood – 

Had just written so far at 8 40/’’ p.m. very fine day Reaumur -15º dehors at 6 a.m. and +7 1/2º in our room at 5 1/2 a.m. Had the Courier in – To be chez le Prince at 11 a.m. tomorrow – Had Domna – Undressed – A thorough wash –

 1st 1/2+ Volga   6 to 8 35/’’     Kopanowskaya to Jenotaiewsk (Gorod)      30

ditto ditto ditto    10 3/4 to 2 35/’’  J-[Jenotaiewsk] to Kosikinskaya       25 1/2

all on Volga   2 55/’’ to 4    K-[Kosikinskaya] to Soroglazinskaya           24 1/2

                                                                                                               80

Some of Anne’s and Ann’s stops in little towns along the Volga.

[symbols in the margin of the page:]         +          𐐥

[in the margin of the page:]             Reaumur -15º at 6 a.m. dehors

[in the margin of the page:]            Jenotaiewsk

Page References: SH:7/ML/E/24/0038 and SH:7/ML/E/24/0039 and SH:7/ML/E/0040

[wrotetheaboveoftoday]

1828 Thurs. 4 September

Out at 7 5/60 - down the new bank and up the old Bradford bank to James Holts (High roydes) - that loose that messrs. Walsh, Hinchcliffe, and Oates want should be worth a great deal of money - but they say they have a right to the loose - my uncle agreed for them to have it - would loose 20 days work of Mrs. Prescott’s, the 3 days work of waste the partners bought and a great sweep of coals that way belonging to Mr. Rawson (Christopher) et aliis - But it would do a great and lasting injury to my coals - for there is not much water on the face of my coal at present, but if this loose be got, all the water off the face of the coals loosed (and there is a good deal of water) would run down over my coal (come out at Willroyde) and would be all to pump - the Lower bed coal in my estate valuable - the colliery would last a hundred years - there should be 40 or 50 yards breadth of coal left at the top of my property as a barrier to keep the other water on the other side - Told Holt he must make me understand the subject as well as he could - he is to bring me a collated plan of all the strata hereabouts down to the coal, and will come tomorrow week.

From Holt’s straight along to the turn into Shibden dale - met with the man that Mr. W. Priestley has always recommend to me for planting and dressing trees, who lives at the little cottage Barraclough lane head - then turned right into Shibden dale keeping the highest road - pursued it till the 1st turn to the right, and then turned up that and explored it - then back to the Hawkins road and came along it past High Sunderland down to Horley Green, then turned along the road down to the Spa house, and beyond it till I got into the foot path to the Fold, then by the Pinfold (Pinnel) Redbeck houses to will royde, and thence straight up our own fields home.

Came in at 10 10/60 - found a letter dated “Paris August 25th”, and postmark Melun, from Miss Pickford - oddly directed to ‘Miss A. Lister North Street Halifax Yorkshire Angleterre’ - 1 1/2 pp. - much disappointed not to have found me in Paris - went to Galignani’s - our name and address Rue Mondovi No. 6 - went there - they knew nothing about us, or would, or did give no information said we were not there and never had been there! - never thought, it seems, of inquiring at Laffittes - I must really enter our address properly at both places Laffittes and Galignani’s

Miss P- [Pickford] was to be off from Paris on the 26th ultimo for Geneva, thence

“with Miss Maitland made for Munich, Vienna via Como, see the Tyrol ere I return and if I do not reach England in November shall be able to tell you in 1829 what I think of the Pyrenees, Genoa, Venice, etc. etc.”

...

She had ‘been tremendously ill’ - writes in a  p.s.

“Have been under Dr. Stocks care some months after having been very ill fifteen, had six dozen leeches on my head to enable me to think, see, etc. etc. etc. etc. one dozen shower baths, and 2 dozen sea ditto had together with several dozen pills etc. etc. etc. etc. restored their humble servant to her usual brilliancy!!!”

A letter in 10 days from the 26th ultimo would find her at Geneva  Chez madame Jalipe? Chemins des Philosophes Place …… afterwards poste restante Vienna where they are to arrive in October - Breakfast (after reading my letter and changing my clothes on account of the damp and latterly drizzling small rain) at 10 35/60.

Came upstairs at 11 25/60 having talked a little while to Marian about Market [Weighton] (they have just had a basket of game from Mr. Inman) and not by marrying one being obliged to marry a whole family - always feel irritated on this subject and the queer ungentlemanly manner in which my father lived at Skelfler, a disadvantage it was difficul[t] for me to rub off without altogether disclaiming the whole thing as far as possible - Somehow such is my feeling on the subject, aggravated, doubtless, by Marian’s great liking for the place and the people, that I am resolved to name the subject if possible no more - I told Marian that place would be a line of demarcation between us as long as we lived.

Said my father had mentioned insanity on my mothers side before Mrs. Inmans insanity attacks commenced  he came in I said what talking about and he said my mothers father Ferne was brother to doctor F of Leeds and hanged himself but being cut down afterwards poisoned himself because they said old Strumby would not give him enough to drink and the father of this Ferne and doctor F was hanged at York for having kissed a man in his passing

Wrote the above of today which took me till 12 1/2 - then opened the hatbox from York - 1/2 a sheet from Mrs. Duffin - the Norcliffes expected home this week or next - the letter or note concludes with a sort of family register -

“20 years this day since my brother became a Benedict, had their oldest boy lived, he would have been 19 next month - dearest Matt will be 18 on the 12th George was 16 on the 6th of August Georgiana 14 on the 15th of February Charles 13 last April how time passes, they were born in the years 10, 12, 14, 15 - one after in 16 which died and nothing like one since, Georgiana is now 1/2 an inch taller than her mother”

The 2 Miss Knights, late of the vicarage, called with their friend and hostess Miss Swainson - went downstairs and sat with them from 12 3/4 to 1 1/4 - they began immediately somehow or other upon the immorality of the women hereabouts - the reverend Mr. Bull of Sowerby declares, that, if he was not a married man, he should have turned away every servant in his house - the ladies eloquent against the too great no. of public houses here, and on the subject of the world getting worse and worse - they have seen more since they went to live at Hull - Shocking the no. of seductions - the no. that are victims of vice - the no. that die from their own misconduct, etc. etc. - At last, could scarcely help smiling - said it was a pity that young ladies heard and saw so much

Came up to my room at 2 1/4 - wrote the last 13 lines, and sat down at my accounts at 1 35/60 - heard the bell ring on account of the ladies going away at 1 40/60 - from 1 35/60 to 5 50/60 settled my private accounts, my cash book (entering the midsummer account) and got as far as Joseph Hall in the Ledger - Dress - Dinner at 6 20/60 - afterwards looking over old memoranda of books to be read and bought etc. and burning the useless - Damp gloomy day - occasionally drizzly small rain during the day - very rheumatic weather - went to my room at 10 10/60 - made a note in the last volume of my Journal -

[carriagelamp]

November Book Review - Freedom at last!

In a lot of ways I had more time to read this past month -- or at least more time to read without feeling guilty -- so I had a lot of fun with the various books I read this month. In particular, I really enjoyed the Canadian lit I was able to dig up; I never really gave enough attention to the writing my own country was producing and honestly we’re rocking this!

A Royal Guide To Monster Slaying

The novel I just finished, and the first Canadian novel I’ll mention here. This was an adorable take on fantasy monster slaying! This is a world were the various tribes of the land historically united under the leadership of a single clan, Clan Dacre, who were famous monster slayers. In exchange for leadership of the kingdom, Clan Dacre guaranteed that they would always have trained monster slayers available to protect to people, lead by the second born child of the royal family. The problem for Rowan though is that she is the eldest twin and destined to be queen while her brother becomes the royal slayer... despite the fact that they’re both better suited for the other role.

What really sets this book apart for me, was the compassionate approach the “slayers” had towards the monsters -- they were much more like monster conservationists who focused on learning about monsters, and trying to relocate or rehabilitate them so that the monsters could return to their rightful home rather than terrorize villages and have to be put down. They use a very scientific lens to view this high fantasy setting and it’s delightfully refreshing!

Of Fire And Stars

Also a fantasy medieval setting, though not Canadian this time. Instead, very queer! Princess Dennaleia has known since she was a child that while her older sister ruled their own kingdom, she was to be betrothed to the crown prince of the neighbouring kingdom. She has prepared for this her entire life. However now that she’s there, things keep going wrong - everything from her dangerous and illegal magic that she must keep hidden, to a sudden murder, to the complicated relationship she’s developing with the prince’s unruly and wild sister. While this book isn’t necessarily bringing anything particularly new to the table, it’s fun to see familiar beats and tropes done with a sapphic twist.

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me

An absolutely stunning graphic novel about the tumultuous relationship between two girls, Freddy and Laura, as well as the complications that relationship brings to the other relationships in Freddy’s life. This isn’t necessarily a “feel-good” story, but it is an incredibly cathartic one. The message, symbolism, and art is all stunning and I would definitely recommend it.

Underground To Canada

Swinging back towards some of the Can Lit I’ve read this month! This is a classic Canadian children’s novel, I remember being completely blown away by it when I read it as a class study in elementary school. It’s about two young slave girls forced to work on a Southern cotton plantation, and their eventual escape and desperate flee via The Underground Railroad towards Canada and the promise of freedom. I know that there’s definitely controversy surrounding this book, especially in the depiction of the underground railroad and the glorification of it -- as a white person in Canada I’m not really best suited to have an opinion on this, though I read some articles along side the book itself. In my experience, reading it as a child was an eye-opening introduction to the topic itself, though obviously as a children’s novel, much like previous books I reviewed (like Fatty Legs), it never goes into all the dark depths it could.

A Bear In War (and its sequel Bear on the Homefront)

A Canadian picture book I read for Remembrance Day, depicting the true story of one girl’s experience of her family living through WWI in Canada, and her father needing to go to the Europe to fight. The story is, charmingly, told through the point of view of her teddy bear, and it was heartbreaking enough to make some second graders cry.

Poppy & Sam books

Swinging back to the lighter side of Can Lit are these two absolutely adorable graphic novel / picture book hybrids. They’re simple, beautifully illustrated little adventures of the titular Poppy and Sam as they wander around their garden home and help their friends. So worth the read, whether it’s with a young early reader who would appreciate the simple speech bubbles and clear pictures, or if you’re older like me and just want something wholesome.

Jak and the Magic Nano-Beans

No longer Canadian, but still a great little graphic novel for emergent readers. Seriously this book was buckwild. Jak, a cyberpunk badass, and her robot COW12 have a wild adventure based off the classic Jack and the Beanstalk. I really don’t know where to begin or end about this, it was bizarre but the art style was very cool.

Dream Jumpers: Nightmare Escape

With all the cool, innovative, beautiful graphic novels out there, it makes you wonder how this happened. Absolute garbage. Miserable protagonist, shitty misogyny, an incredibly basic plot premise, and ugly ugly art. 0/10.

Yakari Chez Les Castors

Belgian comics can just be so damn gorgeous, and this is clearly not the exception. These Yakari comics seem to be simple stories, but the art is wonderful (I love this style) and it’s all quite charming. Again... cannot comment on the potential racism inherent in it because as carefully as I try to judge, I am white and not educated well enough in these issues. For the most part it seems harmless to me, besides for some probable pan-indianism at play, but I’m mildly distrustful of any story told about First Nations people that isn’t also written by them until I hear otherwise.

Ghosthunters and the Totally Moldy Baroness

I love Cornelia Funke as an author. This wasn’t one of her best works, but it was also for a younger audience than most of the novels I’ve read by her. For a chapter book, it was as quirky and fun as I would normally expect!

Jem and the Holograms: Infinite

Look, I know next to nothing about Jem and the Holograms, besides the little bit I picked up when the failed move reboot came out. But even then, this was just a fun romp. The art was pretty, the ladies were badasses who all had very distinct personalities, and it had lesbians. What more can I ask for in my graphic novels?

The Adventures of Reddy Fox

Last book I’ll mention, because for a while it was also the last book I saw before falling asleep. I started this back in October when things were still pretty stressful, and it was a very zen book to use as a bedtime story for myself. I remember my mom reading it to me and my brother when we were little. They very much fable-style animal tales, these ones all focusing around the rather cocky and foolish Reddy Fox, though there were tales about many of the different characters that lived in these woods. Simple, cute, classic. A lovely story to wind down with.

[johnnymundano]

Puppet Master: The Littlest Reich (2018)

Directed by Sonny Laguna and Tommy Wiklund

Screenplay by S. Craig Zahler

Music by Fabio Frizzi

Country: United States

Running time: 90 minutes

CAST

Thomas Lennon as Edgar Easton

Jenny Pellicer as Ashley Summers

Nelson Franklin as Markowitz

Charlyne Yi as Nerissa

Michael Pare as Detective Brown

Alex Beh as Howie

Matthias Hues as Strommelson

Skeeta Jenkins as Cuddly Bear

Barbara Crampton as Carol Doreski

Udo Kier as André Toulon

Serafin Falcon as Richard

Kennedy Summers as Goldie

David Burkhart as Brian

All images taken from IMDB.

Puppet Master: The Littlest Reich is ostensibly an attempt to reboot the wholly terrible, yet unarguably endearing Puppet Master franchise. Mostly though it is concerned with getting a rise out of the audience. It’s kind of the cinematic equivalent of a teenager repeatedly saying “fuck” at the Christmas dinner table and sculpting a cock and balls out of some sprouts and a carrot on grandma’s plate when she slips into a senile doze. Yet, since Puppet Master: The Littlest Reich never once pretends to be Schindler’s List, but is instead about a bunch of homicidal Nazi puppets killing the “un-Aryan” and “mongrel races”  in a series of outrageously unpleasant ways, this brusquely adolescent approach works, I admit, pretty well.

It would have worked a whole lot better if the script and direction had been a bit tighter, but I guess that might be asking a bit much from a movie about homicidal Nazi puppets. Also, the script is by S. Craig Zahler, whose star is currently somewhat in the ascendant. His earlier weird Western movie Bone Tomahawk (2015) was itself impressive despite some infelicities in the script (Oh, c’mon, the guy with the wounded leg does all that? Really Seriously? No, give over). I’ve not seen his last two as they sound hilariously butch; obviously I will see them as I enjoy hilariously butch movies but, y’know, it’s not a priority. I guess what I’m saying is I hope their scripts are substantially less slack than the two S. Craig Zahler scripts I have sat through, highly enjoyable hokum though they both were. After all no one wants to suggest the “S” in S Craig Zahler stands for “Sloppy”. The less buzzworthy pairing of Laguna and Wiklund direct with a lack of clarity in the action scenes and a lack of interest in the inaction scenes, but it’ll do. Puppet Master: The Littlest Reich’s multiple rough edges could even (maybe?) be taken as a further loving call-back to the ‘80s schlock it so dearly yearns to ape.

Such technical folderol barely matters though as Puppet Master: The Littlest Reich can weather a little sloppiness since it is genuinely pretty funny, and heroically eye rollingly grotesque. I’m not proud; that kind of thang buys a lot of goodwill chez Mundano. Also, it’s clearly anti-Nazi so that’s good, because I’m all about being anti-Nazi. Other than the overall and pervasive (and correctly so) anti-Nazi business Puppet Master: The Littlest Reich takes very little seriously. It even starts like a joke when…”A Nazi walks into a bar…” This particular Nazi is an aged Andre Toulon (cinema legend Udo kier) and the bar is in Texas in the 1980s. Upset when the barmaid rebuffs his creepy and, frankly, rather vulgar advances, Toulon is incandescent with rage to learn she is a lesbian and later sets his puppets on her and her lover. (The puppets? It’s a long story; they tell it, don’t worry.) The police follow a series of tiny footprints from the crime scene and Toulon is shot dead by the police. Following this muddled and poorly paced opening, we fast forward to 2018 and find freshly divorced man-child, comic book store employee and comic creator Edgar Easton (a deadpan Thomas Lennon) moving back into his parents’ home. Apparently his brother died years ago in a  horrific accident (this might be  a reference to an earlier Puppet Master opus; I don’t care) so Edgar decides to auction off his brother’s disquieting Toulon “Blade” (no, not Wesley Snipes) puppet at a conveniently imminent and conveniently nearby Toulon convention.

In the least believable event in a movie replete with unbelievable events, Edgar, the newly divorced man-child, comic book shop employee who has just moved back in with his parents, immediately cops off with his hot neighbour. And yes, that is less likely than an undead Nazi controlling an army of puppets from within his tomb, which is just next to his house in defiance of all zoning laws known to man. Anyway, Edgar and Ashley set off for the convention along with Edgar’s  irascible schmuck of a boss Markowitz (a movie stealing Nelson Franklin). What with their hotel being full of convention guests, most of whom have brought a Toulon puppet to sell, it is to be fervently hoped an undead Nazi doesn’t take control of the army of puppets from within his tomb which is just next to his house in defiance of all zoning laws known to man. Oy vey, I should cocoa!

There then follows a series of inventively gross death scenes as the Nazi controlled puppets lay siege to the guests within the hotel cum killing ground. It would be pretty poor show to spoil any of these kills as they are the meat of the meal here, but I did at least twice wonder how they had got away with what I had just witnessed. So, y’know, maybe not a date movie? Certainly not a movie for people hot on plot. Or even characterisation; although the bulk of the characters are well done, that’s largely down to the performances. Thomas Lennon is drily amusing as the lead and Jenny Pellicer as Ashley, the neighbour with unfeasible taste in men, is better than her underwritten role deserves. Nelson Franklin pretty much makes the movie his with a hilarious performance as a strangely vulnerable bundle of offensiveness. If people wrote theses about Puppet Master movies one might be written about how his vulnerability and offensiveness embody the movie in microcosm. But a world in which people penned theses about Puppet Master movies would be a pretty dumb one, so scratch that thought. Everyone else portrays quirky cannon fodder, and while some are, uh, substantially less than good at the whole “acting” thing, luckily they are the ones who get dispatched fastest. The best ones are the ones you wish would make it. Like Cuddly Bear, a ridiculously entertaining turn by Skeeta Jenkins, and Charlyn Yi as Nerissa, an anime lover who you will dearly wish had better eyesight. And of course there must be a special mention for Genre Legend Barbara Crampton, who here displays her knack for comedy as the lightly disdainful ex-cop cum Toulon Tour guide.

Puppet Master: The Littlest Reich is a movie built around scenes of ridiculously unpleasant gore, and they are ridiculously unpleasant indeed, so it scores highly there. It’s also heavily reliant on offensive humour but it’s really more amusing than it is offensive. I certainly laughed a lot, but y’know, I’m nearly 50 and I’m watching a movie called Puppet Master: The Littlest Reich entirely of my own volition. So bear that in mind at all times. The best joke might not even have been intentional, because in Puppet Master: The Littlest Reich after the fall of The Third Reich the world is so full of the kinds of people the Nazis tried to eradicate that it’s like the Nazis never existed. For all its Sturm und Drang, for all its Edginess, for all its attempts to play the Bad Boy card, Puppet Master: The Littlest Reich laughs longest and hardest at the Nazis. Because, as any fule kno, that’s all the Nazis are worth. Unlike the Nazis, Puppet Master: The Littlest Reich, however, is worth your time even if only for the scene involving an irate Nelson Franklin, a certain “Baby Hitler” and an oven. Shalom, motherfuckers! Shaaaaloooooooom!

[drsilverfish]

Werewolf My Beloved... 12x16

Werewolves epitomise the journey Sam and Dean have been on since the beginning of the show - away from their father’s black and white view of the supernatural towards a more nuanced “grey area” perspective. 

Remember Madison the werewolf from 2x17 Heart?

 Sam fell for her but then they all realised she’d been bitten, and turned. The Winchesters were unable to cure her, so she begged Sam to kill her, and, very reluctantly, he did so. This was giant mirror at the time for their father’s instruction to Dean that, if he couldn’t save Sam (from the fate Azaezel had planned for him) he’d have to kill hm.

Dean gave up his father’s black and white view of the supernatural (which was much more deeply ingrained in him, the “good little solider”, than in Sam, the rebellious one) first and foremost because of his love for his psychic-powers, fed-with-demon-blood-as-a-baby little brother. He refused to follow his father’s (posthumous) orders.

But, it took Dean a long and rocky road (Castiel being an early exception) to extend that beneft of the doubt to other supernatural creatures. He killed Sam’s childhood friend Amy the kitsune in 7x03 The Girl Next Door, precipitating a major fight between the brothers. 

Dean’s growth is clearly evidenced in 8x04 Bitten, another werewolf episode, in which he agrees (to Sam’s surprise) to let Kate the werewolf go. Of course, much of this growth has been precipitated by Dean’s purgatory friendship with Benny the vampire, something Sam doesn’t find out about until the next episode, 8x05 Blood Brother (when Sam has his own prejudiced moment).

Garth gets a mention in Meredith Glynn’s 12x16 Ladies Drink Free. 

The last time we saw Garth was in, 9x12 Sharp Teeth, happy with his pure-blood werewolf wife Bess, having been wolfed himself (to save his life following a car accident). Again, the Winchesters make the choice to let them go in peace (as they are not attacking humans).

This is the episode where Garth tells Dean “Look, amigo, I know this all looks nuts. But I found it. Love and a family? Who cares where that comes from?” A mirror, in the subtext for Dean/ Castiel.

Werewolf narrative on SPN thus travels from 2x17 doomed love (Madison/ Sam) where the Winchesters make the choice to kill the werewolf, through 8x04 Bitten where the Winchesters make the choice to let the werewolf go (and 10x04 Paper Moon where they meet Kate the werewolf again and let her go a second time) to 9x12 Sharp Teeth where their friend Garth has found love with a werewolf.

From doomed love (Sam/ Madison) to happy love (Garth/ Bess) - a mirror, in subtext, for Dean and Castiel’s search to find love with one another, despite the fact that they are from different species, one of them being supernatural (and despite the prohibition on angel/ human love spelled out for us in 12x10, Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets). 

In 12x16 the Winchesters (semi thanks to Mick) finally find a cure for early-stage werewolf bite and Claire (whom they love like a daughter) is saved. Is Claire’s transition in 12x16, back from werewolf to human, another mirror in subtext, for Castiel eventually becoming human? 

Certainly, the fact that Mick spends the episode in a tan trench-coat, links the subtext of SPN werewolf narrative, i,e. the transition from doomed love to happy love, firmly to Castiel.

Thus, no monster more epitomises the grey areas of Sam and Dean’s supernatural world than the werewolf. Sam has slept with one (albeit neither of them knew that at the time) and their friend Garth is one.

Therefore, it’s no surprise a werewolf episode should rear its head mid-season 12, or that the theme of the season, a black and white view of the supernatural (John Winchester’s, and now apparently Mary Winchester’s perspective) vs a grey area view of the supernatural (their sons’ perspective) should be explicitly spelled out in it, by Dean (grey area) to BMOL Mick (black and white). 

The theme of parents vs children is further reinforced through the return of Claire Novak, Sam and Dean’s semi-adopted wayward daughter.  

At this point in their lives, if Claire had chosen to live as a werewolf, Sam and Dean would have supported her to do that (without killing anyone) - not something John, or at this point, Mary, would have approved of.

This clash of values chez Winchester generations is going to come to a head, and all the signs point to (Sam and) Dean’s connection to Castiel being at the center of it.  

[wasalwaysagreatpickle]

Monday 14th March 1825

7 1/4

12 3/4

Came here, to Mrs B- [Barlow’s] room, at 8 20/60 – saw Jane off to school – from 8 3/4 to 10 10/60 wrote, read over, wafered and directed 3pp and the ends of a letter to my aunt, Shibden, - to thank my aunt for her last letter and my uncle for the remittance of £70 to Mrs B- [Barlow]’s agents Messers De Lisle [Janvier] and De Lisle London - said I had waited to be present at a seance at the Deaf and Dumb Institution on the 24th instead and should not therefore leave here till the 25 or 26th instead should, at all rates stay one day at Boulogne and 1 or 2 in London – letter 3pp and the 2 first crossed from IN [Isabella Norcliffe], Langton chiefly to repeat her request for ‘8 pounds of the small green dried oranges which come from Marseilles’ – she mentioned having heard from Miss V- [Vallance] an account of a most extraordinary mortality among the sheep in Kent – ‘they hear constantly of 1500 and 2000 being lost within 2 days the disease is the rot, and no cure had yet been discovered it is caused by the dampenings of the earth but does not appear to be the same kind as attacks over in Yorkshire, as they scarcely shew symptoms before they drop down and die and when opened the whole of the passages from the mouth to the liver is filled with small fish quite flat and 1/2 an inch long which injure the liver and cause their death they are thought to eat the spawn by feeding in damp and marshy land. Thousands of sheep and lambs have been lost within these last 3 weeks. It is said that this disease has just been discovered in heifers. Miss V- [Vallance] says that, if it continues, there will be almost a famine – meat is considerably advanced and all articles are very much higher – people will not purchase mutton ‘unless they ascertain from whence it comes and it is in some parts of East Kent prohibited entirely’ … in London I must not forget to hear a little girl of 4 years old, who plays on the harp most wonderfully. She is called the infant Lyra-Hart (Milne) has heard her and says it is astonishing she plays entirely by ear…

Just skimmed over my letter (from IN [Isabella Norcliffe]) and Mrs B- [Barlow] and I then set off at 11 35/60 to see the prison of the conciergerie at the Pal[ace] de Justice, it is only shewn from 10 to 12 to those who have tickets of admission – the chapel behind which is made the entrance to the formerly dark, damp cells when Marie Antoinette and the princess Elizabeth were confined separated only by a wall, though they did not know they were so near is therefore interesting the cells there now turned into an expiatory chapel, are particularly so - lighted and ventilated as they now are Mrs B- [Barlow] could still scarcely bear the cold damp floor – what must it have been during the revolution? – 

We next went to the bureau belonging to the Sainte chapelle and the archives, all which one of the clerks, who was writing there, very civilly shewed us the fine old architecture of the chapelle up to the windows is entirely hidden by the archives beautifully arranged on shelves partitioned into little square compartments having a remarkably neat appearance – A gallery all round divides the archives into 2 stories - the large painted glass gothic windows are magnificently fine – the finest in France there is a church underneath the chapelle in which by the way out the end of one of the tables, is the stone under which lies the poet Boileau but it is not shewn – it is filled with archives – From here, we ascended the winding staircase in one of the towers which brought to the suite of apartment or galleries whose walls are entirely lined with the archives of the parliament of Paris and the courts of legislation and judgement which succeeded it from the time of St Louis to nearly the present time – the archives of the last few years are arranged in one of the towers – the whole story in the roof of the building and the story immediately under this, are filled with these archives beautifully arranged according to their subjects and dates and in a state of excellent preservation – no damp can reach for all the shelves are placed at least a couple of feet from the walls – in the criminal part are ranged all the proceedings against all those who suffered death among the rest we noticed those against the famous robber Cartouche, against Raffian, and Damien who assassinated Louis XV, and of… the famous poisoner mentioned by Madame da Sweviné in her letters – our commis shewed us the very coat, white stock (like my Uncle’s at present) waistcoat and smalls, in which Damian committed the murder. He shewed us all the proceedings against Joan of Arc and the order of the Pope to have the square or Place at Rouen planted with trees in memory of poor Joan – 

He shewed us also the collection of letters written by some of the kings of France to the Parliament, among w[hi]ch we saw the autographs of Charles V, very good – Louis XI and Xii, bad; Henry ii, pretty well; Francis I, good; and Henry iV, written with a y, good – only one letter in the collection written by Henry iV - after this our commis shewed us the oldest [?] they have – 4 volumes 4[tomes] (in Latin), about a.d 1240 on temps de St Louis – the writing of this [parched] and for 2 or 3 centuries like that of our old papers in England of this time – but the writing we saw for a.d 1[6]00 and afterwards is really in what we should call a good, plain English hand of the present day – much more like English writing than what the French write now – For fear of accident, all the originals of the archives (on paper) are kept in one suite of rooms and copies of them all (on parchment) bound up in large 4[tome] volumes, in another suite – all the procès verbaux against all the victims of the revolution, are kept in cartons, arranged according to the dates – the process was short – a short printed form filled up pro re natâ in MS - anyone who suspected the loss of a friend in Paris during the revolution might ascertain the matter here – Mr Edwards, the book seller at H-x [Halifax] might know whether his brother was guillotined here or not. 

Our commis took us through one of the towns on to the roof of the building looking over the marché des fleures, for a remarkably fine view of the city – of Vincennes, Père la chaise etc. but it was so cold, Mrs B- [Barlow] could not bear it, and the man himself seemed as if he could not bear it much better – it was not he who could shew us the vaults under the grande salle where Louis ix had his kitchen, but we might see them by applying to the person who had charge of them – curved on account of their architecture – we gave our guide 3 francs for his patience and civility, went for a few minutes into the criminal court from which, being hot and crowded, we soon retired and went into the court of cassation – both good rooms – in the latter about 32 lawyers in their robes – about 28 sitting round the avocat general (attorney general) or his substitute – just spectation there and the room very hot – when we entered a man before the court for having written a romans said to have a tendency against religion and morality – to be imprisoned 3 months and fined 300 francs – then came another poor man a book seller, charged with surreptitiously selling a book forbidden prohibited by the police – when asked who was his avocat, the man said he thought his case so simple, he could be his own avocat, and said the little he had say apparently very well, though trembling and much inwardly agitated – however he told us he was condemned to 6 months imprisonment – it was for selling the 10th volume, I think, of some work giving an account of Napoleon in skile, etc – 

On going out met the Countesse de Fumel in the court, waiting with some ladies to get into the carriage – she took my hand and held it all the while, we returned I thought of doing much more, but Mrs B- [Barlow] finding herself so cold and tired yet she was quite knocked up we made the best of our way home to get back at 2 1/4 – she had a little hot broth and water and soon went to bed – the cold stone floors had given her cold and the hot court of cassation had brought on a bilious head ache – sat by her till 4 1/2 then went chez Hernandez Bouriat, pharmacien, rue du Bac, no 56, for a bottle such as I had before had of Planche – found he had charged me almost twice as much as he ought – 4/12 instead of 2/10 – How can one always guard against cheatery when it is practised at s[u]ch a respectable looking shop as this – and by a man professing to be druggist to the British embassy! – staring some at book shops and others did not get home till 5 3/4 – Dinner at 6 1/4 – Mrs B- [Barlow] sat up to dinner but went to bed directly afterwards and I wrote all the above of today – 

tired and unwell as she was on coming home she put my hand to queer as ssoon as she was lain down and I began to grubble and after a little her working I gave her the excitement I stood up to work her better and latterly looked at her as I was doing it she being nothing loth – 

Tea came at 7 3/4 but I was writing and Mrs B- [Barlow] was asleep, and we did not take it till 9 1/2 – Fine, cold, frosty day – F34° at 11am and 33° at 9 40/60 pm at which hour I had just done the above

Ɛ (two dots underneath) O (no dots)

[mebwalker]

Crispin et Scapin par Honoré Daumier (commons.wikimedia.org)

ACT THREE

destiny

the power of fathers

a father’s love

Act Three is very short, but dense. In Scene One, Hyacinthe and Zerbinette, who has been bought back, compare their destiny. Zerbinette is not married to Léandre, but she is not too fearful. She would like a pledge which “little ceremonies” will provide.

Il doit lui en coûter autre chose que de l’argent; et pour répondre à son amour de la manière qu’il souhaite, il me faut un don de sa foi qui soit assaisonné de certaines cérémonies qu’on trouve nécessaires. Zerbinette à Hyacinthe (III. i, p. 40) [He will have to give something else besides money, and for me to answer to his love as he wishes me, he must give me his word, with an accompaniment of certain little ceremonies which are thought indispensable.] Zerbinette to Hyacinthe (III. 1)

La ressemblance de nos destins doit contribuer encore à faire naître notre amitié ; et nous nous voyons toutes deux dans les mêmes alarmes, toutes deux exposées à la même infortune. Hyacinthe à Zerbinette (I. i, p. 41) [The similarity of our fate ought to strengthen the tie of friendship between us. We are both subject to the same fears, both exposed to the same misfortune.] Hyacinthe to Zerbinette (I. 1.)

Zerbinette believes a woman can keep the man she has chosen, but she fears the power of fathers.

On se peut naturellement croire assez de mérite pour garder sa conquête; et ce que je vois de plus redoutable dans ces sortes d’affaires, c’est la puissance paternelle, auprès de qui tout le mérite ne sert de rien. Zerbinette à Hyacinthe (III. i, p. 41) A change in a lover’s heart is not what we should fear the most. We may justly rely on our own power to keep the conquest we have made; but what I particularly dread is the power of the fathers; for we cannot expect to see them moved by our merit. Zerbinette to Hyacinthe (III. 1)

Scapin reassures the young women. His role as a zanni is to help the young couple(s) of comedy. Octave believes he was betrayed by Scapin, but was he?

Scapin told Argante he was surprised his son married, but reason helped him. Besides, destiny had brought Octave and Hyacinte together. Destiny is powerful. When Argante recognizes his daughter, he says: “What an extraordinary coincidence!” Yes, Nérine insisted that Octave marry Hyacinte. Octave’s father was away. Octave was not forced to  marry Hyacinte. He loved her and still does. And no, Argante will not have the contract cancelled and disinherit his son. Fathers are powerful but they love their children. The power of fathers is very real, but so is a father’s love. When Géronte learns that Hyacinte is his daughter, a new and perhaps the real Géronte, emerges.

Gravure Lalauze (Les Fourberies de Scapin)

Gravure Edmond Hédouin (Les Fourberies de Scapin)

Gravure Moreau le Jeune (Les Fourberies de Scapin)s

Gravure Boucher (Les Fourberies de Scapin)

Images (théâtre-documentation.com)

Le Seigneur Pandolphe est Géronte

In Scene VII, Nérine, Hyacinthe’s nourrice (nurse), calls Géronte “Seigneur Pandolphe.” As Pandolphe, Géronte is the father of Hyacinthe whose wife has just died. Nérine, Hyacinthe’s nurse, knows le Seigneur Pandolphe, not Géronte.  Molière reuses Molière. Horace knows Arnolphe. He doesn’t know Monsieur de La Souche. Nérine tells Géronte that she arranged for Octave to marry Hyacinte, and apologizes. Apologies are not needed; Géronte is overjoyed. He has found his daughter and it so happens she married Argante’s son. Ô Ciel! (Heaven), he exclaims.

Votre fille, Monsieur, n’est pas loin d’ici. Mais avant que de vous la faire voir, il faut que je vous demande pardon de l’avoir mariée, dans l’abandonnement, où faute de vous rencontrer, je me suis trouvée avec elle. Nérine à Géronte/Pandolphe (III. vii, p. 51) [Your daughter, Sir, is not far from here; but before I go to fetch her, I must ask you to forgive me for having married her, because of the forsaken state we found ourselves in, when we had no longer any hope of meeting you.] Nérine to Géronte/Pandolphe (III..8)

Nérine is now moving to Géronte’s house and, in Scene Nine, Géronte invites his daughter Hyacinthe to follow him home.

Allons, ma fille, venez chez moi. Ma joie aurait été parfaite, si j’y avais pu voir votre mère avec vous. Géronte à Hyacinte (III. ix, p. 52) [Come, my daughter; come to my house. My happiness would be perfect if your mother had been with you.] Géronte to Hyacinte (III, 10)

Octave just happens to come on stage. He remembers Scapin’s lessons and protests an arranged marriage, but he is brought to see that his Hyacinte is Argante’s daughter. Ironically, he has married the woman his father wanted him to marry.

As for Zerbinette, she apologizes to Géronte whom she has called a miserly father:

Monsieur, je vous prie de m’excuser. Je n’aurais pas parlé de la sorte, si j’avais su que c’était vous, et je ne vous connaissais que de réputation. Zerbinette à Géronte (III. x, p. 53) [Pray forgive me, Sir; I should not have spoken in that way if I had known who you were, and I only knew you by reputation.] Zerbinette to Géronte (III. 11)

Hyacinte hears Zerbinette apologize to Géronte and says that she can vouch for Zerbinette’s integrity.

Mon père, la passion que mon frère a pour elle, n’a rien de criminel, et je réponds de sa vertu. Hyacinthe (III. x, p. 53) Father, I can answer for it that she is most virtuous, and that the love my brother has for her is pure. Hyacinthe (III. 11)

In Scene Ten, Léandre who has just bought back Zerbinette tells her father that she was a local girl, captured at the age of four and that he has a bracelet that is proof of her identity. Argante recognizes the bracelet. It belonged to the daughter he lost when she was four-years old. In fact, not only does he recognize the bracelet, but also Zerbinette.

Mon père, ne vous plaignez point que j’aime une inconnue, sans naissance et sans bien. Ceux de qui je l’ai rachetée, viennent de me découvrir qu’elle est de cette ville, et d’honnête famille; que ce sont eux qui l’y ont dérobée à l’âge de quatre ans; et voici un bracelet qu’ils m’ont donné, qui pourra nous aider à trouver ses parents. Léandre à Argante (III. xi, p. 54) My father, you must no longer say that I love a stranger without birth or wealth. Those from whom I bought her have just told me that she belongs to an honest family in this town. They stole her away when she was four years old, and here is a bracelet which they gave me, and which will help me to discover her family. Léandre to Argante (III. 12)

Scapin

Sylvestre goes to Scapin. He has good news. Octave married Hyacinte, “our Hyacinte,”  and Léandre’s Zerbinette is Argante’s daughter.   Yes, Scapin hurt both Argante and Géronte, but is Scapin threatened.

J’ai deux avis à te donner. L’un, que l’affaire d’Octave est accommodée. Notre Hyacinte s’est trouvée la fille du seigneur Géronte; et le hasard a fait, ce que la prudence des pères avait délibéré. L’autre avis, c’est que les deux vieillards font contre toi des menaces épouvantables, et surtout le seigneur Géronte. Sylvestre à Scapin (III. viii. p. 52) [I have two things to tell you. One is that Octave is all right; our Hyacintha is, it seems, the daughter of Géronte, and chance has brought to pass what the wisdom of the fathers had decided. The other, that the old men threaten you with the greatest punishments—particularly Mr. Géronte.] Sylvestre to Scapin (III. 9)

Scapin is not one to be out of resources. He decides he will feign approaching death, which should suffice two fathers having found lost daughters and having discovered that destiny had arranged for the women they love to be the women they taught their sons should marry.

They all go for supper, supper being a normal end for a comedy. We could call it the banquet.

SCAPIN IS FORGIVEN

Les Fourberies de Scapin (théâtre-documentation.com)

Conclusion

As mentioned in Part One of reading Les Fourberies de Scapin (Scapin’s the Schemer), the young lovers are married, or nearly so, when the curtain rises. Yet, there is an obstacle to their marriage. Octave and Léandre’s father were absent when Octave married Hyacinte. But tradition demands a father’s consent. Father’s have responsibilities, one of which is to ensure their children marry a compatible spouse. The fathers of comedies usually oppose the marriage of the young couple and do so to serve their needs. In the Imaginary Invalid, Argan opposes a marriage that will not bring a doctor in his household. He thinks of his needs only and not the needs of his daughter which may not be entirely valid. He suffers from hypochondriasis, which is an illness. In the end, his daughter marries the man she loves, but on the condition that he become a doctor. Argan himself because a doctor, an attack on the profession.

However, ruining a daughter’s life is not an option. There have been and there are happy marriages with a husband or a wife chosen by parents, which is the exception rather than the rule. Hyacinte and Zerbinette will not share a bed with a man they loathe and bear that man’s children. The young women of comedy often threaten suicide and commit suicide. Their life has been taken away by a father and convents are very hard for most young women.

Géronte find their long-lost daughters and Scapin, disguised as a dying man, is forgiven by his victims. The characters of comedies resemble Reynard the Fox‘s animals. They can regrow lost parts. Bruin’s nose grows back. It could be that farcical characters do not feel hurt by the stick.

Comedy also favours endings where all characters are united again. Orgon empowers Tartuffe, but Tartuffe, not Orgon,  is punished. Tartuffe is a scapegoat, the pharmakos of ancient Greece.

But the main criticism addressed to society is power of fathers, their might. Do fathers have the right to control the life of a son or a daughter. In The Impostures of Scapin Molière creates sons who fall in love with the woman they wish to marry. It all seems miraculous. However, these sons have no money. Fourberies allows Scapin to extract money from fathers. Géronte has to give money to Scapin, so his son can be returned to him, but he keeps repeating: Que diable allait-il faire dans cette galère. A galère is a galley ship. People found guilty of a crime were long condemned to row the galère for several years. Sylvestre tells Scapin that he does not want to have to deal with “justice.” Scapin tells him about the galère:

Va, va; nous partagerons les périls en frères; et trois ans de galère de plus, ou de moins, ne sont pas pour arrêter un noble cœur. (I. v. p. 16) [Never mind, we will share our perils like brothers, and three years more or less on the galleys are not sufficient to check a noble heart.] (I. 7)

But to return to fathers, Scapin makes Argante say that he would not have the heart to break his son Octave’s marriage and that he would not disinherit him. That scene is brilliant. We must use reason when matters seem to have gone wrong. Yes destiny guides. Besides, a young man may make mistakes. Wasn’t Argante a bit of un homme galant, a womanizer in seventeenth-century France, rather than a galant homme.  Sganarelle tells Guzman that Don Juan is jeune encore. Furthermore, we were force: path we never expected to travel. Octave was not altogether forced to marry Hyacinte, but Nérine insisted that he marry Hyacinte. Octave’s father was out of town and so was Léandre’s father.

Comedy Scene from Molière by Honoré Daumier (WikiArt.org)

RELATED ARTICLES

It’s no skin off my nose (6 October 2014)

Molière page

Sources and Resources

Les Fourberies de Scapin is a toutmolière.net publication

The Impostures of Scapin is Gutenberg’s The Impostures of Scapin [EBook #8776]

Our translator is Charles Heron Wall

Molière 21

L’École des loisirs

ralentirtravaux.com http://www.ralentirtravaux.com/lettres/textes/theatre/fourberies-scapin.php

Love to everyone 💕

My posts on Molière are not scholarly articles. I’m simply rereading all of Molière’s plays. I wrote my PhD thesis decades ago. I may have to take a break.

Francesca Caccini (Firenze, 1587-1641) – Ciaccona Luigi Cozzolino, violino; Andrea Benucci, chitarra; Alfonso Fedi, clavicembalo; Francesco Tomei, viola da gamba Registrato a gennaio 2012 al Conservatorio Santa Maria degli Angeli di Firenze 2013, Brilliant Classics

Les Fourberies de Scapin (Source : Gallica)

© Micheline Walker 28 August 2019 WordPress

        “Les Fourberies de Scapin” (Part Two) ACT THREE destiny the power of fathers a father's love Act Three is very short, but dense.

[londontheatre]

La Cage Aux Folles – Pamela Raith Photography

Some shows really have more meaning than the writers intended for members of the audience who may have their own memories associated with them. For example, West Side Story was the first show I ever saw on the West End, The Car Man was my first introduction to dance as an entertainment form in its own right and there other examples. However for memory associations, little comes close to La Cage Aux Folles so you can imagine how happy I was to hear that a new production is currently doing a UK tour and I was lucky enough to catch up with the show as it touched down at the New Wimbledon Theatre.

La Cage Aux Folles tells the story of Georges (Adrian Zmed) the owner and Master of Ceremonies of a drag nightclub in St Tropez. The star of the twice-nightly show is George’s partner Albin (John Partridge) who performs as Zaza, when Stage Manager Francis (Jon De Ville) can get her over her tantrums and artistic temperament. The two of them have been together for over twenty years and, owing to a youthful bit of experimenting by Georges, have a son called Jean-Michel (Dougie Carter). Throughout his life, Albin has been a mother to Jean-Michel, unlike his birth mother who has been pretty much absent, and the family – along with their butler/maid Jacob (Samson Ajewole) – is known and respected in the area, especially at the local restaurant, Chez Jacqueline, run by their good friend Jacqueline (Marti Webb). However, things are about to change as Jean-Michel has fallen in love with Anne Dindon (Alexandra Robinson). Anne’s parents could not be more unlike Georges and Albin if they tried. Her father, Edouard Dindon (Paul F Monaghan) is a politician and head of the “Tradition, Family and Morality Party”, whose stated goal is to close the local drag clubs. He, along with his wife Marie (Su Douglas) wish to meet Jean-Michel’s father and mother before agreeing to the marriage. Seeing how in love Jean-Michel is, Albin agrees to get hold of his birth mother and hide all trace of his homosexuality, including his life partner Albin, for the night to impress the Dindons, a plan fraught with potential disaster from start to finish.

When first performed back in 1983, La Cage Aux Folles won six Tony Awards, the 2005 Broadway revival won a further two and the 2010 revival added a further three to the already groaning trophy cabinet and it’s easy to see why. There is something about this show that doesn’t date and manages to grab a new audience every time it’s put on. Possibly it is the simplicity of Harvey Fierstein’s story, which is basically about love and the lengths people will go to in order to look after those they feel strongest about. Jean-Michel turning his back on his family for Anne, Georges and Albin being prepared to make huge sacrifices for their son and Anne, ready to defy her father for the man she loves. Then there are the songs. When Jerry Herman started writing the music for La Cage I imagine he had no idea that one song would become an anthem not only for a generation but for all time. That song was “I Am What I Am” and the lyrics are so special speaking to every person hearing it and reminding them that they should be proud to be themselves no matter if others disapprove. A simple three verse song that has such a huge message behind it.

Moving to this production and both my companion and I were absolutely blown away by the amazing set and costumes that Designer Gary McCann has put together. Forget touring production, this is West End quality and it really helps bring the story to life. Director Martin Connor, really understands that in order for La Cage to work, the opening number with Les Cagelles (Richard Leavey, Matthew Ives, Louie-George Daniels, Jordan Livesey, Micah Holmes, Liam Paul Jennings and Luke Byrne) sets the tone for the whole production and this production did it in fantastic style, with the set and costume matched with superb dancing – Choreographer Bill Deamer – creating the perfect atmosphere for the rest of the show. After the opening, the next important thing is the relationship between Georges and Albin. Again, this is superb with both Adrian and John looking exhibiting great chemistry with each other and the story they are telling. John as Zaza is an absolute revelation and her interaction with the audience – a mix of script and clever ad-libbing – perfectly reflects the way that a drag queen can say anything she pleases and gets away with it because she is a man in a dress – no I’ve never understood how that works either but I’m not going to fight it as an idea. With the two leads being so amazing, it could be easy to overlook the rest of the cast but you would do so at your peril as everyone, whether a main character or – as Zaza puts it – a mute is equally fantastic. Special mention has to go to Samson Ajewole who pulls off a brilliant, almost play stealing performance as Jacob. Finally on the acting front, special credit to Dougie Carter as Jean-Michel who somehow manages to keep the audience on his side even as he tries to break his parents’ hearts.

Summing up then. I think it’s fairly obvious that both my companion – who hadn’t seen it before – and I thoroughly enjoyed La Cage Aux Folles. The story is universal in its themes and the songs are instantly memorable – unlike so many musicals these days – and with real meaning in their words. The tour continues until August and then hopefully someone will decide it’s time for another West End revival of this awesome show.

Review by Terry Eastham

La Cage Aux Folles Overview Embarking on its first ever UK tour, Bill Kenwright presents the highly anticipated spectacular new production of La Cage Aux Folles.

Georges and the dazzling drag artiste Albin, star of la Cage aux Folles, live an idyllic existence in the heart of St Tropez. But behind the curtains of this sparkling extravaganza, all may be about to change. Georges’ son Jean-Michel announces his engagement to the daughter of a notorious right-wing politician determined to close down the local colourful night-life. Drama and hilarity ensue when a meeting of the parents forces them to cover up their vibrant lifestyle.

Will Albin be able to play the role of his life to ensure that Jean-Michel can marry his love?

The cast features West End star John Partridge whose extensive theatre credits include the West End productions of A Chorus Line at the London Palladium, Cats, Starlight Express and Chicago. He is also known for playing the loveable Christian in BBC’s EastEnders and as a judge on TV’s Over The Rainbow. Alongside him is Broadway star Adrian Zmed, whose credits include Blood Brothers, Grease and Falsettos. On television he played Officer Vince Romano alongside William Shatner in the long running hit series T.J. Hooker and big screen credits include Johnny in Grease 2. Joining them is West End icon, Marti Webb. She received huge critical acclaim for Tell Me on a Sunday, a show specifically written for her by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Don Black. She has recorded nine solo albums and had numerous hit singles, including Always There, the theme from the hit BBC series Howard’s Way and the smash hit Take That Look Off Your Face.

The show-stopping score includes The Best of Times, Song on the Sand and I Am What I Am.

TOUR DATES 2017 14 – 18 March New Theatre Wimbledon 21 – 25 March Leeds Grand 9 – 13 May Dartford Orchard Theatre 16 – 20 May Birmingham Hippodrome 23 – 27 May Bristol Hippodrome 30 May – 3 June Grand Opera House York 6 – 10 June New Victoria Woking 13 – 17 June Salford Lowry 27 June – 1 July Wolverhampton Grand 4 – 8 July Liverpool Empire 25 – 29 July Glasgow Kings 1 – 5 August Sunderland Empire 8 – 12 August Milton Keynes Theatre 15 – 26 August Theatre Royal Brighton

Further dates to be announced.

http://ift.tt/2mMXcXV LondonTheatre1.com

[anne-lister-adventures]

Friday, 14 March 1840

7 1/2

12 55/’’

 Fine morning Reaumur 11 1/4º at my bedhead at 8 a.m. breakfast at 9 20/’’ to 10 10/’’ out at 10 1/2 to the Indian Pagoda with George and the son of our host – In vain – Nothing to be seen – Returned afraid of being too late for the Brügens at 11 – Had Mr. Stewart (60 poods = 1 Ton English) and then the Swede, music master, Hoeffner received en société here, till the carriage came at 11 1/2 and in it Madame Brügens’ sister and the General Attaman – 

Off to the Metched (Mosque) – Too soon – Service begins at one – Went in – vestibule, nave, and square church – Good pulpit (a sort of little staircase, as usual, up to little platform to stand or squat upon) and little Apse – Low gallery 1/2 way over nave – Largeish, handsomish building – Far handsomer and larger and better than the little Metched we saw at Moscow, or the larger we saw at Kazan – All mosques? quite plain within – 

The Persian Mosque in Astrakhan. (Image Source)

Then to the library – The few (a thousand or more?) books given by a merchant – Still ∴[therefore] librarian tho’ knowing nothing about it – Would sell books par l’anne – 

A few birds almost all natives of the Government of Astracan – 2 (jagais I think) steppe-sheep and a few models of vessels used on the Caspian nothing particular – And nets and models of wind-mills used for pumping water from the river for watering the gardens and of the manner of fishing in the Volga (interesting) – And a few specimens nothing particular of salt from lakes in this Government – Some time turning over the plates of an old work on Russia in several 8vo.[octavo] volumes by Gmelin? – 

Then to the Cossak Institution (school) 26 boys – Learn Geography Arithmetic Mathematics – French and German and the Eastern languages at the Gymnase – Mademoiselle Attaman the sister examined one or 2 of the boys in Geography who answered readily and well – The 26 boys are fed and clothed, and the fund (furnished by the Cossacks – Nothing of it paid by the Emperor) is 10,000/- per annum – 

Then to the Puits Artésien – 60 sagènes deep – Water but not good rises to within 2 sagènes of the top – On the approach of a lighted candle the gas inflames and burns with a blueish light and rather sulphurous smell – Don’t mention it to Temirazoff – Sought water found fire – Disappointed – 

Home at 1 55/’’ the carriage to return for us at 3 to dinner – had the soldier with his drawings – For an exterior and an interior of the Pagan Temple at Tumen and the back and front of a priest, 3 drawings = 75/- - this so far passed my ideas, said I would inquire tonight what they ought to be, and would let the man know if I wanted them – 

Put on clean frilled handkerchief, and the same dress again (silk morning gown with velvet pelerine and flannel and black silk handkerchief round my throat) and silk stockings and black silk shoes – The carriage at 3 1/4 and off immediately to dinner chez lez Brügens, he General Attaman des Cossaks = en tout 10,000/- per annum the General Governor = 14000/- per annum but house and servants (soldiers) and wood found and the Emperor has twice given him 30,000/- - the Attaman finds his own house but he has 1500/- a year allowed for it and house costs about 900/- to 1000/- including his Chancellerie and 400/- = wood that there is a little to spare out of the fifteen hundred – And he too has soldiers for servants – They have one woman to wash – The family being small – Madame de Rebender has 2 women to wash – All the washing done at home – 

Erast Dmitrievich von der Bruggen, Ataman des Cossacks when Anne and Ann were at Astrakhan. (Image Source)

Very nice dinner soup, and a roti (en morceaux as usual) of beef, and fish (Sterlet) and game, and some little gateaux the Ataman said the beef was hard – Grand Carême – Only 10 or 12 families – Or so few wanted meat, impossible to get it good now – As for me, my cold is so bad, I can neither taste nor smell – Coffee – The Ataman very civil and attentive – Put on his full dress Cossack uniform = 800/- did he say and common dress about 300/- - very becoming – 

Home at 6 1/2 having staid (apparently?) an unusually long while after dinner – The carriage come again for us at 8 – On our return found Mr. and Mrs. and Miss Stewart – He has the rank of Captain – Was head clerk in the bank here – But the bank for some malpractices of some of the gents[gentlemen] (some cheating of Government) has been ‘put under law’ – The business has been 8 years already cleared, and those who have will be punished – But in the mean time all is stopped – Rank is stately and he is on 1/2 pay ∴[therefore] he has taken a situation in a Merchant’s House as clerk – 

He dined with Lord Pollington when here, and went with him to an assembly – Lord P-[Pollington] and his brother were at the English House here (at the Missionaries) now broken up and got money of them by giving them a bill – The Missionaries having lost their rights here, went away – Dr. Ross is settled near London Mr. McPherson returned to Scotland, and Mr. Gleig is at Sabriz – Lord P-[Pollington] took Mr. Gleig’s son with him as interpreter or what not – But the young man thought they treated him too much like a servant – They quarrelled and parted before Tiflis – Perhaps all were in fault for all young together Lord P-[Pollington] 20 his brother 16 or 17 and young Gleig about 20 – It seemed as if Lord P-[Pollington] had made difficulty about passing G-‘s[Gleig’s] expense back – And Mr. S-[Stewart] seemed to think he (Lord P-[Pollington]) did not pay them – 

Kazembeck [Kasembeck] was converted here by the 3 Missionaries above named – His father a Persian nobleman in command at Derbend under the Russians rebelled against them – His sons were sent to Persia and well educated by their friends there – K-[Kazembeck] was a handsome clever young man – Came here to see his father (was the father imprisoned here?) was employed by the missionaries to write Persian for them (translation of the scriptures) and ∴[therefore] converted – His father was reconciled to him before his death and on hearing him said that if he was not an old man, grey headed, he would be a Xtian[Christian] too – 

Mrs. Stewart born in London – A poor sort of thin, pinchy-looking little woman but speaking better English than her husband – He evidently of Scotch origin and mixing foreign idioms with his own – The daughter Æt [aetatis] 16 hardly spoke – Poor people they staid as if for ever – 

Madame Rebender called and sat perhaps 10 minutes or 1/4 hour – They staid all the while, tho’ my conversation was all addressed to Madame R-[Rebender] and she good natured as she is never uttered to them – To dine with Madame R-[Rebender] tomorrow – The S-s[Stewarts] staid some time standing after Madame R-[Rebender] went away but at last got off – 

No sooner gone than another English came Mr. Strelnecky or some such unEnglish like name – He said it was he who was Directeur des Postes en Siberie when Captain Cochrane was there and who had travelled with him (but never on foot) so much – Certainly la tête montée at times – It used to come over him now and then – His marriage very queer – At a dinner party at Irkutsk he as usual calling his wife by an abbreviation of her name which in Russian meant ox – This being explained to her, she jumped pulled his hair off his head, and asked him how he dared call her so – On his return to England he put her to school and left her there when he went away to the Brazils and died and she never saw him more – He boasted of his Siberian tour costing him so little – His wife cost him 10,000/- - 

How I did not quite make out for Mr. Phackler, the Vice Governor came (pronounced Pheller) and my conversation was all addressed to him about the Courier, the story of Gross and the pistol – Frightened jumptschik &c. &c. yet in spite of all this the persevering English staid till the end till 8 3/4 when the Brügens carriage having waited 3/4 hour was obliged to congéndier poliement both my two visitors – The Vice Governor thinks the Courier does not wish to go forwards with me – Mentioned leaving his wife so long – Not being prepared for so long a journey – Perhaps he wanted tempting by some greater gain – For he had not mentioned Gross – Advised my speaking to him in the morning and getting at the real reason for there would be no difficulties if he himself wished to go with me – I mentioned the 2/- per day that I had promised him and that he knew all about the length of journey and was satisfied enough before leaving Moscow – I thought it must be the Gross-affair that was at the bottom – The Vice Governor said it would be for me to consider whether I chose to give him any more gages or not – 

Mr. P-[Phackler] was attaché to the Russian legation at Copenhagen some years ago – Would be glad to in the world again – Here all Calmucks and Kerguis except the Employés – But he himself grateful to the Emperor who has just given him tho’ he has only been 2? years here thro’ the interest of Temirazoff 1500 arpens de terre – Not get fixed where – But in some of the Governments where the Emperor has land to give unstocked with peasants – 

Off at 8 3/4 to the Brügens nobody but ourselves at dinner – Baron and Baroness Taube in the evening – Agreeable evening – Excellent kind-hearted good people and très aimable – It seems the 15,000 Arpens are worth from 10/- to 15/- per arpent – Mr. P-[Phackler] will of course sell what he gets – He himself could do nothing with it – But someone who has peasants near will buy the land and people it – This is the way - ∴[therefore] the land is a perquisite worth at any rate 1,500 x 10 = 15,000/- - 

Home at 11 1/4 – A-[Ann] would make tea for me – Had 3 cups – Very fine day – Mr. Stewart offered to do anything for us – A new Tarendass = 250/- -

 [symbols in the margin of the page:]         ✓c       +          ✓       ✓c       ✓c       ✓c            ✓c       ✓

[in the side of the page:]      Metched

[in the side of the page:]      Library

[in the side of the page:]      Cossack Institution

[in the side of the page:]      Artesian well

[in the side of the page:]      Missionaries Lord P-[Pollington]

[in the side of the page:]      Kasembek

Page References: SH:7/ML/E/24/0045 and SH:7/ML/E/24/0046