Vengeance of a Slave has now made it through to the last 50 in All Author Cover of the Month. It’s currently at Number 29.
In order to get higher, it needs lots more votes, so please will you pop over to All Author and vote?
In order to vote, you will need to sign up for the site, but you can unsubscribe afterwards, or maybe you would like to stay there and find loads of new books and authors.
It needs a huge push by my friends and followers in order to get to the top. The book currently at the top is one that I dislike the cover of, but I suspect the author has a load more people to call on than I have.
I know I said I was taking a break until after New Year,but yesterday I got to thinking of Christmas when I was a child, and how it differed from now. I can’t leave it until New Year as Christmas is over then, so decided to write it now.
I was three years old. I woke on Christmas Day excited to see what Father Christmas had brought me. My tummy felt churned up. Had he been? Had I been a good enough girl to receive presents.
Then I saw him. He was wrapped in red cellophane and peeked over the edge of the pillowcase left for Santa to fill.
Teddy.
I jumped out of bed and rushed to tear open the cellophane and release him. My wonderful teddy bear. I still have him. He sits on a set of drawers in my bedroom. He now has no eyes, the moths got his paws and he’s lost his growl, but I still love him.
I can’t remember what other presents I got, but I know one would have been a book from my Mum’s friend, Auntie Catherine. She wasnโt a real aunt, but we called all family friends Auntie and Uncle. Auntie Catherine was always good for a book to read.
We caught a bus to the local town. Not everyone had cars in those days and we had to rely on public transport. The buses were every fifteen minutes past our house and the journey took around a half hour. Once at the bus terminus we walked to Grandmaโs house. I confess, I don’t remember catching the bus to Grandma’s. But I don’t remember getting there any other way. There wouldn’t have been a full bus service, though.
The first thing we did was to go and inspect the Christmas Tree that Grandma had in the hall. I shivered as we entered. There was no heating there.
The tree stood tall and beautiful. Grandma had gone into a little room off her bedroom and got it out. She had the same tree for as many years as I can remember, and I loved helping to decorate it. The same baubles came out every year. I can still remember some of them, especially a bird with a tail made of some kind of fibres. The baubles, or shiny balls as we called them, we’re made of glass and had to be handled carefully. No lights, though. They weren’t common then. Maybe they weren’t available.
We had a goose for many years that Grandma cooked in the small kitchen she called the scullery. Vegetables were cooked, potatoes roasted and stuffing made. All in this tiny space.
My mum had made Christmas puddings. She always made them a year in advance so they could mature, and there was homemade mincemeat, too, stuffed into mince pies. Nothing shop bought. Of course, there were limits to what people could buy at that time. In the early 50s there was still rationing from WW2, but I donโt remember being short of anything. But I suppose many memories have blurred together in my mind.
Grandad sat in his chair in the corner of the room where everything happened. (Confusingly, Grandma called it the kitchen!) He smoked his pipe sitting by the open fire. This was the only fire at the moment. Later, just before dinnerโat middayโone was lit in the front room, commonly known as The Room.
This room was only used on special occasions. Then the aunts and uncles arrived and the table was opened up and set. We all ate a good meal, but didnโt stuff ourselves. The goose was perfectly cooked, and even the sprouts tasted good. Vegetables were seasonal. Sprouts and carrots I think were the most commonly eaten. Supermarkets and goods shipped from around the world didnโt exist.
After eating and clearing up we repaired to The Room. Here we played games. When my little sister and cousins came on the scene, it was tradition for us to go around the family shaking hands and singing โWe Wish You a Merry Christmas.โ Before they were born I did it all by myself.
One game we played was Feather Football. We divided into teams and a large sheet was stretched between four people. A feather from a pillow was placed in the centre. The object was to blow it off the sheet at the opponentsโ end. We also played charades, hunt the thimble and other such games.
One time I remember being blindfolded and told to stand on a board. Two uncles lifted the board.I felt my head hit something. โAh, they’ve lifted me up to the ceiling,โ I thought.โJump off,โ said one of my uncles.
โWhat?โ I thought. โIโm up high.โ But I jumped nevertheless.
Imagine my surprise when I landed immediately. The board had only been lifted a few inches. What I thought was the ceiling was a book.
Then came the singing. We were a musical family. My youngest aunt, who was a music teacher, played carols and we all joined in, singing in harmony, of course. Then everyone did their โparty pieceโ.
We had fun. No TV or radio. No video games. Just everyone joining in.
I have no memory of getting home in those early days. I don’t suppose buses would be running, and Grandma didn’t have room for us to stay. Not when I was three as her two youngest children were still at home.
I hope you enjoyed this little glimpse of Christmas long ago. (Yes, it was long ago, wasn’t it. Historical to some of you.)
Please leave any comments in the comments box. I enjoy the connection we have.
Have a very Merry Christmas and an excellent New Year.
I ‘ve started writing book 3 in my series, A Family Through the Ages. Book 1 was set in Roman Britain, Book 2 in Viking Britain, and now Book 3 begins with the Battle of Hastings in 1066, probably the most remembered date in British history. Not for nothing, as it changed this country vastly.
Anyway, to whet your appetites, here’s the first chapter. It contains some violence, as it deals with the Battle itself.
Please remember that this is a very early draft, so there might be mistakes.
Anger of an Anglo Saxon
CHAPTER 1
Durston stood with his shield locked with the ones on either side. A helmet covered his ash blond hair, and a breastplate made of hardened leather covered his torso.ย
He turned to the man on his left. โWe’re in a better position. We should win this fight easily.โ
Looking down the slope, he could see the Norman army gathering. There were many archers behind their infantry. He swallowed hard. The Anglo Saxon army did not have nearly as many. His legs felt weak and his hands shook. What if he were killed here? His son, just fourteen, would be the new theign. The lad did not have the experience to deal with the work.
Pull yourself together. Leola will help him. Sheโs competent. He smiled as he thought of his wife.
Taking a deep breath, he focused on the enemy.
His neighbour turned to him and grinned. โThey won’t be able to use yonder horses against us. Shouldnโt be hard, this one. Weโve got the high ground. If we can kill that William the Bastard, theyโll run back to Normandy like rabbits before a fox. Should have this done by noon.โ
The Anglo Saxon army had hurried south from defeating an attempted invasion by the Norse king and King Harold’s brother, Tostig, at Stamford Bridge. They were celebrating when the news of the invasion from Normandy came.
King Harold immediately demanded a forced march to the south coast to repel this new threat to his kingdom. On the way, they gathered more men, all willing to fight to protect their country from foreigners.
As Durston watched, a single person came out from the enemy lines.
The man sang as he brandished a sword. Durston could not understand the words, as they were French, but he understood the tone. The man sang insults and threats, underpinned by his sword waving.
As soon as his song ended, he ran towards their line. Durstonโs eyes opened wide and he shook his head. The shield wall opened, a little to his left, and the singer was quickly cut down.
Then the battle began.
The twang of bowstrings filled the air, followed by the wizz of arrows. The men in the shield wall raised their shields as arrows fell like raindrops. The Anglo Saxon archers replied with volleys of their own, although they were fewer in number than the Norman archers.
Men shouted war cries, those who were hit screamed, arrows clanked on raised shields.
The two shield walls collided with a bang.
Men on both sides pushed as hard as they could, at the same time trying to spear those opposite.
The air was filled with the scentl of blood. Durston gasped as an enemy spear found a way through a small gap and cut his left arm.
He thrust back and was gratified to hear a scream of pain. โThatโll teach you to try to invade my country.โ
The October sun rose in the sky as the fighting continued. Durston swallowed. It was thirsty work, this fighting. He glanced at the sky. Nearly noon. As he continued to thrust against the enemy shield wall he felt a tap on his shoulder. He dare not look round.
A voice. โGo get something to drink.โ
He slipped his shield from its lock with those on either side and the man relieving him quickly took his place.
Durston staggered to the rear of the shield wall. He spotted a fallen tree trunk and sank onto it, leaned forward and put his head in his hands. He shivered uncontrollably. The hours in the shield wall took their toll.
โHere’s some ale.โ
He glanced up to see a young man about thirteen years old, holding a flagon.
Reaching out, he swallowed it in one gulp. โThank you.โ
Someone handed him a chunk of bread and a slice of meat. He stuffed it into his mouth and stood. His legs gave way and he found himself sitting on the floor. Leaning against the log he had been sitting on, Durston closed his eyes. The fear came creeping back. He looked at the cut on his arm.
I hope that doesnโt turn bad.
He felt his eyes closing. In spite of the noise from the battle, he was drifting to sleep. Shaking his head, and ignoring his shaking legs, he pulled himself to his feet and staggered back to the shield wall. He relieved another man and locked his shield in place with the ones on either side.
Once back in the battle, the fear slipped away. Anger swept over him in its place. How dare these foreigners come to take over his country? His legs stopped trembling and his eyes opened wide. Showing his teeth, he grimaced.
The man in the enemy shield wall was also showing his teeth. He shouted a cry, but Durston did not know what it meant.
โFor King Harold,โ he shouted in reply.
Someone to his left cried out, โTheyโre running!โ
Durston glanced and saw that the Norman shield wall had broken, and men were running down the hill. Someone shouted to keep the formation, but many of the Saxon defenders took off after the fleeing Normans.
Then Durston could see no more as he concentrated on his own battle.
The afternoon slowly passed. Men were relieved on the battlefield on both sides, but after they had shot most of their arrows, the Normans concentrated on the shield wall. They found it impossible to collect their spent arrows from beneath the feet of the two opposing armies.
Again, the Normans retreated. This time Dutston was aware that after running, and being chased, they turned on the Anglo Saxons chasing them and a hand-to-hand battle began. The Normans in front of Durston did the same. As they ran, Durston was unable to prevent his men from chasing.
โThe cowards are running,โ someone shouted.
โNo, itโs a trick.โ Durston tried to call his men back.
As he expected, the Normans turned on the chasing men. With the shield wall dismantled, the Norman cavalry charged. Durston threw his spear at one man bearing down on him. The spear hit his horse in the leg. The animal screamed and went down, throwing its rider.
Durston drew his seax. As the man regained his feet, Durston slashed at his face. Blood flowed as a long cut appeared from his ear to his chin. He screamed.
The downed rider staggered, giving Durston the chance to get in another slash. This one, however, only hit the manโs hauberk, but it did damage the chain mail that made it.
The man let out a grunt as the air was forced out of his lungs. He raised his sword, and Durston only just managed to dodge the downward slash as it narrowly missed cleaving his skull.
Another slash from Durstoโs seax caught the attackerโs leg. He went down, blood pouring from the wound. He screamed something Durston did not understand, but thought it was probably a curse. Before the man finished his curse, however, Durstonโs seax slashed across his throat. His curse was never finished.
Durston took a breath. For the moment no enemy approached. He glanced to his right. There, a young man, one of his followers, was beset by two Normans.
He raised his seax, and shouted, โFor King Harold.โ He rushed at one of the men. This distracted him and he turned, allowing Durston to slash at his stomach. It opened, and the enemy soldier clutched his belly and fell, his guts spilling out and tangling around his feet.
Durston saw the young man dispatch his adversary before turning to look for another man to fight. He saw a man with a mace approaching. He raised his seax, but the enemy lifted his shield and blocked the cut.
The two skirted around each other, getting in the occasional hit on a shield, but neither getting the better of the fight. Durstonโs legs began to shake, and it was more difficult to raise his shield or slash with his seax.
He looked at his opponent who was breathing heavily.
He’s exhausted, too.
At that moment, the Norman raised his mace and brought it down on Durstonโs head.
***
Durston opened his eyes.
It was dark. His head hurt. He raised his hand to his head and felt something sticky.
Blood.
His helmet had gone. When did that happen? He placed his hands on the floor and raised himself to his elbows.
His head pounded.
Rolling onto his front, he struggled to his hands and knees. He closed his eyes briefly. It made no difference to the dark.
He raised himself to his knees and looked around. He could see very little. The darkness was like a blanket wrapping around him, determined he would not see anything.
Durston sat back on his heels, listening. Rustling sounded to his right. Something brushed against him. He swung his hand and made contact with a furry body. It squeaked as he bashed it away.
Rat. Nasty things.
Millions upon millions of stars covered the sky. Durston tried to decide the time by their positions. The sun had been still up when he was fighting. Someone must have hit him on the head. How long had he been unconscious? He estimated it was not yet midnight.
He managed to struggle to his feet. Dizziness threatened to overwhelm him, but he fought against it.
It was then he heard the singing. Must be our men singing their victory songs.
Staggering, he headed in the direction of the sounds. He passed hundreds of bodies, both Norman and Anglo Saxon. Horses, too. He felt sorry for the animals. They had not asked to come to fight. They knew nothing of the politics that caused this battle.
A shadow stood over a body. As Durston approached, it raised its head from its grizzly meal. Teeth bared, the wolf snarled. Blood dripped from its muzzle.
Durston backed away. โIโm not going to take your meal, revolting as I think it is.โ
The wolf returned to eating the body of one of the fallen, whether Norman or Anglo Saxon, Durston could not tell.
Wolves, rats and foxes tonight. Itโll be crows, ravens and kites in the morning.
As he neared the camp where he heard the singers, Durston stopped. He crouched. He listened carefully. He recognised neither the songs, nor the words. Someone spoke.
Not Anglo Saxon.
The bastard Guillaume won the battle. How? We had the better position. And they ran away.
It came to him slowly. With his head pounding and his dizziness, his thoughts were sluggish, as though they had to wade through mud to get into his consciousness.
It was a trick. They feigned flight, then turned on us. They couldnโt beat us in the shield wall, so they broke it up by pretending to run.
Durston tried to raise himself from his crouch. He staggered and fell to all fours.
Blast. Did they hear that?
Someone shouted and Durston scrambled away, still on hands and knees. Then the shout stopped. Normal conversation resumed.
Must have decided I was a wolf.
When he was close to some trees, Durston stood. He leaned against a tree to get his bearings. Where was their camp? Had anyone returned to it? Would the Normans have found it and ransacked it?
He lurched in the direction of where the Anglo Saxon camp had been. When he arrived no one was there. Not even a horse. He felt the tears welling in his eyes. Dizziness threatened to overcome him.
No one? Was no one left alive?
A sound came from behind him. He swung round making the world spin. He drew his seax.
โCareful. You are in no condition to wield that safely.โ The voice came from a stand of trees. A man stepped out. He smiled at Durston. โItโs good to see you, Lord Durston. I was afraid you had been killed.โ
Durston frowned, staring at the man. โDo I know you?โ
โNo. Probably not, My Lord. I wasnโt one of your followers. I hold a farm not far from Alricking. When news came that Duke William had invaded, and King Haroldโs army passed, I decided to join. To defend my country.โ
Durston sank to the ground. โWe lost.โ
The man shook his head. โYes, My Lord. We lost the battle.โ He approached Durston and held out a hand. โThe survivors are assembling a little distance away. Let me help you.โ
โI suppose King Harold is organising an attack on the Normansโ army.โ
The young man’s face fell. โKing Harold is dead, My Lord. He fell in the battle.โ
Durston groaned. โWho is in charge, now?โ
โLords Edwin and Morcar.โ
Durston allowed the young man to help him to his feet and, with Durston leaning heavily on his arm, they proceeded through the trees.
I wish this headache would go. I canโt think clearly.
After what seemed to Dunston to be hours, they broke into a clearing. He glanced around and noticed many men. Some lay on the ground, moaning, some sat on the ground or leaned against tree trunks and others moved around the wounded, administering bandages.
โYou found another survivor. Good. Now return and wait to see if any more turn up. When day breaks, come back here.โ The man turned to Durston. โIโm Earl Morcar. You are?โ
โTheign Durston, My Lord. Of Alricking.โ He swayed on his feet.
โYou are injured.โ Earl Morcar called to a young man who was passing. โHelp Theign Durston to the healers.โ
The young man took hold of Durstonโs arm. He guided him toward where healers worked on those injured. The scent of blood permeated the air along with the groans of men.
A woman covered in blood hurried over to them. โAnother injured man?โ
Durston glanced around. Cuts, stabs, bruises covered most of the men. One was missing an arm, and he saw two men with missing eyes.
The healer took his arm from the young man who escorted him. โI see youโve a head injury. Weโll get it cleaned up in no time.โ She paused as Durston staggered. โDo you have a headache?โ
Durston nodded, then regretted it as his head pounded. โYes, itโs the worst headache Iโve ever had.โ
โDid you get a blow to the head?โ The woman lowered Dunston to a seat on a log.
โI donโt know. I canโt remember much. I helped one of my followers who was beset by two men. Then a man with a mace approached me. The next thing I knew, I woke up in the dark. Beasts were devouring the dead. At least, I hope they were dead!โ
The healer cleaned the wound on his head, which bled profusely, and told Dunston to lie down anywhere he could find a space. โIโll bring you some willow bark tea if weโve any left. Should help with your headache. You must rest,โ She scurried away.
We canโt let these Normans win. I need to go back and fight them again. Is Earl Morcar organising a new attack?
He tried to stand, but his legs gave way as the clearing span around him. He decided he should take the healerโs advice and he lay in the space between the log he had been sitting on and an oak tree. Soon he was asleep.
Jealousy of a Viking by Vivienne Mary Sang is set in 9th-century Britain where Helgha, a skilled healer and daughter of a Viking landowner, crosses paths with Viking noblity, Erik. Their forbidden love prompts a chain of events that alters Helgha’s destiny. The life Helgha knows is wiped out and Erik takes her away as his mistress. Bound by her deep affection for Erik, Helgha silently endures the public humiliation of their relationship and gives birth to two children. However, when Erik succumbs to familial pressure and weds within his own class, Helgha’s jealousy drives her to dark thoughts, and her craft is levied against her, further compounding her troubles. Branded a witch, Helgha flees with her young offspring, seeking shelter among the Saxons and discovering solace in Christian teachings.
Jealousy of a Viking is historical women’s fiction as it is meant to be and Vivienne Mary Sang depicts the harsh realities of the time with both authenticity in its representations and sympathy for Helgha’s lack of agency. The character arc is incredible as it really is the latter half of Helgha’s life in a time when even a quadragenarian life expectancy was almost unheard of. Helgha is a woman who has children, which she miraculously survives, and, along with multiple other instances of the things that feed into a 9th-century death, this is not given any sugar coating. The writing style of the book shows Sang’s ability to paint a visual portrait without wandering into the weeds and the author keeps the story propelling forward. I liked Helgha’s spiritual awakening as part of the arc even if it wasn’t something I was necessarily interested in seeing happen. However, it is well done and brings hope to a woman who should have lost it ages ago. Very highly recommended.
I am now King of England. King William I. Doesn’t that sound great? However it wasn’t such an easy position to gain. Let me go back to the beginning.
Edward, my second cousin, was in exile in Normandy after Cnut had taken the English throne. I decided to go and see him as he was family, after all, and had no heirs.
While I was there, I played on the family connection, and reminded him that, although he might eventually get an heir with his wife, Emma of Normandy, if he should die suddenly, there would be no obvious claimant to the English throne.
Well, he hummed and hawed and didn’t make a decision then. I’m not surprised, really, because his mother had married Cnut and had a son by him. She supported her son, Harthacnut, and eventually he became king of England.
Edward was lucky. Harthacnut died, and Edward sailed unopposed into England to take the throne. Not long after, he sent his son-in-law, Harald Godwinson to tell me that he had decided to make me his heir. King William sounded good, I thought, but I didn’t trust Harald, so I had him imprisoned. Eventually, in order to regain his freedom, he swore an oath of fealty to me, the rat!
In the year of our Lord, 1066, King Edward, who had become to be know as The Confessor, due to his religious conviction, died. Harald, the rat, took the throne and was crowned the day after Edward’s death. He said that Edward had made him his heir on his deathbed. A likely story!
It was then I decided that I needed to go to England and sort this man out. He had broken a holy oath, and I was the rightful king. But it seemed I wasn’t the only one to want the crown of England. Harald’s own brother, Tostig, joined forces with the Norwegian king, Harald Hardrada, and launced an invasion.
They met initially at a place called Fulford, in the north of England, not far from the city of York. This was 0n September 20th 1066. It seems the invaders won, but Harald was not to be defeated so easily. He fought another battle five days later at a place called Stamford Bridge where both Tostig and Harald Hardrada were killed.
Well, this was too good an opportunity to miss. I had set sail, knowing that Harald would be occupied, and we landed at a place called Pevensey. There had been a Roman castle there, and we made use of that. I ordered a wooden fort to be built inside the Roman walls. It was a good defesive position.
The whole area was marshland, and the sea came up to the fort walls. I ordered the troops to begin marching over the marshes, heading towards the town of Hastings. Once we got there, I ordered a fort to be built, and we raided the land for supplies.
We waited for Harald to arrive from his battle at Stamford Bridge. We knew they would be tired after a forced march. I set a watch the night before the battle. I would not have put it past Harald to make a surprise attack, but he didn’t, and so on 14th October, at dawn, the battle began.
I won’t go into details here. Suffice it to say that it was hard fought and lasted all day. In the end, though, we won, and Harald was dead. I was now King of England.
I have begun the research for the next book in the series, A Family Through the Ages. This one will start in 1066 with the Battle of Hastings.
If you would like to catch up on the series, the first book, Vengeance of a Slave, is free as an ebook. Alternatively, you can get it from your favourite store, here.
Jealousy of a Viking, the second book, can be got from your favourite store, here.
Or click on the images in the side bar.
Both books are also available as audio books.
My publisher has released merchandise with the book covers on. These include: t-shirts, mugs, drinking glasses, jigsaw puzzles, tote bags and many more.
Why not go and take a look at what’s on offer? Click here to go to the Next Chapter store.
Please let me know what you think about the story and the books and merchandise in the comments.
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Just before Christmas we visited Waddesdon Manor, near Oxford. It is an amazing place. It is certainly a French Chateau in the English Countryside.
It was pouring with rain when we arrived, and we had a long walk from the carpark up to the house. The path wound its way through silhouettes of soldiers, sailors and airmen to mark remembrance day.
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The house belonged to the Rothschild Family and was donated to the National Trust in 1957, and it is run by them and the Rothschild Foundation.
Built between 1874 and 1889 by Baron Ferdinand de Rothschild as a weekend home for entertaining, it contains many treasures. Baron Ferdinand bought the estate from the Duke of Marlborough, but it had no house, park or garden, being an agricultural estate.
Baron Ferdinand wanted to build a house similar to the chateaux in France. I think he succeeded.
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On Baron Ferdinand’s death, the estate passed to his sister, Alice, who continued to add to the treasures to be found there.
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You can see from these pictures I took, that the rain did stop and the sun came out!
Sadly, the pictures I took inside are not good. Many are blurred for some reason, so I’m not going to post them, but trust me, it’s an amazing place. If you are ever near to it, I suggest you visit.
The Rothschild family was originally from Frankfurt and rose to prominence first in the 18th century. They managed to establish a successful banking business that was continued through ย Mayer Amschel Rothschild‘s five sons who went on to establish businesses in England, Italy, Germany, Austria and Germany.
On their coat of arms, in two quarters, are fists holding five arrows. This is symbolic of the five sons, we were told at Waddesdon. They, like five arrows fired from a bow, went on to establish their banks in the five different countries, mentioned above.
In the village of Waddesdon is an inn called The Five Arrows. We stayed there and found it excellent, with wonderful food. I would recommend it to anyone.
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Maria and Tom have bought an antique table for the old cottage they have bought. When they hear strange noises in the night that sound like crying, they worry their house is haunted, but the sounds seem to come from the table.
They set about trying to find what is causing the disturbances. The answer is stranger than either of them had thought.
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I think many people would consider people born in the last 50 or 60 years to have seen the most innovation, but I beg to differ. Some might even say it was the generation born in the 1920s or 30s. Again, I would beg to differ.
It wasn’t the people growing up in the medieval period, either. Not much changed for centuries, as I understand.
Much changed in society when the Romans came, and again when they left. The Vikings, too, made their mark, but new innovation, not much.
Change happened when humans learned that flint could be chipped to create sharp tools, and with the invention of spears and spear thrower. These things made it much easier to catch prey. And the discovery of how to create fire was a major (if not the major) discovery of humans.
The domestication of animals and agriculture, too, were major things that greatly changed society.
Which generation do I think has seen the greatest innovation? I would argue that it was those born towards the end or the 19th century.
My grandmother was born in 1878 and died in 1965. Now letโs see the innovations she saw.
Edison developed the electric light bulb in 1879, the year after my grandmother was born. In 1881, the first streetlights were used in the UK.
With further development of electricity, it became used in domestic homes; something we cannot conceive of living without nowadays.
In 1901, the first vacuum cleaner was invented. Before that, carpets (which were not fitted) were taken outside, hung on a line and beaten with a carpet beater.
Electric washing machines were invented in 1904. Although there were machines before that, they still relied on hand power to work.
1876 the first telephone was patented. Until it became common, communication at a distance was by letter. Even in the 1950s and early 1960s, not every house had a telephone and people had to go to a telephone box to make calls.
1876, the first usable internal combustion engine was invented. Grandma was born in the age of the horse.
In 1888 the first motion picture.
1887. The first gramophone. Known as a phonograph.
Louis Pasteur created the first vaccines.
1832 Babbage created the first mechanical calculator.
1885. The motorcycle.
1893. The diesel engine.
1885. The automobile.
1903. The aircraft. And in 1906 the first usable jet engine, although jet power had been known since 150 BC. Steam was used through two nozzles to turn a sphere. But was not put to any practical use.
You could say that there have been many inventions since, but think for a moment. Many of the things we think of as modern are actually simply improvements on these things invented in my grandmaโs lifetime.
We now have lightbulbs that are energy efficient, but they are still lightbulbs.
Dyson invented the cyclone vacuum cleaner, but it was only an improvement on the current ones, which generated a vacuum to suck dirt up.
We now have washing machines that not only wash, but spin, too. Some even dry clothes. But they aren’t new ideas.
But we now have mobile telephones. The old ones were fixed to the house by wires. But they are still telephones, just greatly improved and combined with computers.
Motion pictures! They were uncommon in Grandma’s early days. But what we have now, colour, amazing sound, even 3D are simply developments of the original idea. And television and radio. That must have been amazing when it first came into being.
Gramophones have been improved to the extent that we now have CDs and DVDs instead of holes punched in paper.
I might argue with Louis Pasteur inventing vaccination. I seem to remember being taught about Edward Jenner discovering a way to prevent smallpox in the 18th century. But Pasteur did discover the causes of disease and invented a way to make milk safe. It’s called after him. Pasteurization.
Computers, I hear you say. They’re new. No! The first computer was invented to simply calculate tables. It was invented in the 1820s.
Our current cars and motorcycles are simply improvements on the old ones Grandma saw come to light.
She saw the birth of flight, the first transatlantic flights and the use of Concorde.
And not least, in the 1950s, space flight came into being and she saw the first artificial satellites, live transatlantic broadcasts, and first person in space. Sadly, she died not 4 years before the first moon landing, so did not see a human walk on the moon.
I rest my case that the people who lived between the middle of the 19th century and the middle of the 20th century saw the most innovation.
Do you think there were any other times that saw more? Please let me know in the comments box.
Most people know about Les Alignements near Carnac, in Brittany, France, but how many know about the Site Megalithique near the town of Redon, between Nantes and Vannes?
I don’t know if these are Carnac stones, because the image doesn’t say, but they are very similar.
However, near Redon, also in Brittany, there is a large megalithic site that is not anywhere near as well known. Here there are alignments of standing stones, but not in the quantity there are at Carnac.
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There are three alignments as I understand. I only took a photo of this one.
There are not only standing stones here, though. There are megalithic burial sites.
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The site is being managed for wildlife as well as the megalithic stones, so there are many bushes around. If you want to find out more about this fascinating site, you can visit http://www.megalithic.co.uk.
I recently visited several places owned by the National Trust. This is a charitable institution in the UK. It preserves important and interesting buildings and countryside. It was founded in 1895.
It is the largest land owner in Britain, owning 250,000 hectares, and 780 miles of coast.
It owns over 500 historic houses, castles, archaeological and industrial monuments, gardens, parks and nature reserves. People can pay to join the membership, either annually or a lifetime membership. They can then visit the properties for free.
Here are a few photos I took at Petworth Place, a stately home in West Sussex, just within the boundary of the South Downs National Park.
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This is the house, seen from the grounds, just in front of the lake.
Please ignore the date. I’d not set it on the camera!
The Lake had quite a number of birds on and over it, such as swans, moorhens, great crested grebes and swallows, not to mention geese and ducks. And there were some amazing trees.
A sweet chestnut just coming into bloom.
I didn’t take any photographs of the inside of the house, but it is filled with amazing artworks. A fantastic place to visit if you ever get the chance. And the village is interesting, too, but I’ve no pictures of it.
If you get the books, or any of them, I would greatly appreciate a comment on Amazon and/or Goodreads, or anywhere else for that matter, depending on which platform you get the book.
Reviews are most important to authors. They are the main way we get our books known. Just a simple comment on whether you liked the book or not, with a reason is enough.
Dragons Rule OK. V.M.Sang (author) 