New Story

I have just completed this story for consideration as an entry in the next book. It will also serve as a companion to the 17th Century pictures I have posted.

Do please read; I apologise for the length as it has yet to be edited. You will find it a bit of a ramble, but I'm confident you will enjoy it.


Where have you been all these years?


I was a member of a Civil War Living History group for a few years, until my health complained, making it so that I could not tolerate nights under canvas, albeit in wonderful surroundings. I played a scrivener which meant that I did not take part in any strenuous activities like chasing up and down the battlefield. I had a huge musket which was very heavy to carry and had a very loud voice. It got so that this was too much for me, as I could no longer tolerate the kick from the black powder explosion within the barrel.

I had to give this up, but I retained some wonderful memories of companionship with fellow members. There was also the general public who visited the houses and castles where we performed. They provided us with as much entertainment as we apparently gave them.
The best were the children, who, in their innocence, were transported back to the 17th Century, into the land of Civil War, Roundheads, Puritans and Cavaliers. This was truly living history for them.

As we were a living history group, we actually lived it for the weekend, espousing all modern speech, artefacts, manners and mores. This was a gentler time, much slower in pace than now.
The public were invited to visit and to mingle with us on our campsite, to ask as many questions as they wished and we all were only too happy to pose for photos with them. The ladies were fascinated by the cooking over campfires and always asked about the recipes used. They were often surprised by the sophistication of the menus used in concocting the food. It is always a misconception that the food was bland and limited to only a very few ingredients. This was not so, of course, since they had the wealth of produce grown on the farm and in the garden. Meat was abundant, though people tended not to slaughter their only source of milk. Spices were available, though not of the great range that we have now, since many of them were only then being discovered.

Tobacco was a new fad from the Virginia Colonies and potatoes were only recently introduced. Tomatoes were a rarity and were called ‘love apples’ since they were thought to be a powerful aphrodisiac. Game was available, though the penalties for taking it were harsh for those caught.
Another object of fascination was always the armour and weapons. The period of the Civil War was one of change where the old style battle formation of cavalry and hand to hand fighting was giving over to the modern stand off method, where the armies stood away from each other and attempted to pound each other to pieces. Men still fought hand to hand, of course, as pikes – those long poles with pointed or bladed ends, often comprised the main attack armament. The weapon developed to protect the pikes, the musket, was beginning to be more important than the musket itself, which had come to replace the cross bow and long bow. Whereas it took a lifetime to train an archer, a musketeer could be in the line, firing volleys within fifteen minutes of first laying hands on one.

Armour was still in use, reminiscent of medieval times and often, men of rank would wear it simply because it had been passed down to them through the generations. Its use petered out as it was found to afford little protection against a fast travelling lump of lead.

Since we enacted day to day living away from the battlefield, our everyday activities reflected this so far as we were able. My friend Sir William and I occupied a tent, forming a double act. I played Ambrose Salathiel, scrivener to Sir William. He did little more than look and act the part of a moderately wealthy landowner, fallen upon hard times in the War, whilst I played my part with my writing desk and paraphernalia.

Children loved to come visit us, attracted by the easily recognisable Sir William, who seemed to fill most people’s idea of a Puritan. These children would, naturally, have their parents with them. Some of the kids’ questions were silly, but most were quite astute as they struggled to grasp the concept of seeing and talking with these throwbacks to ancient times. Their language and outlook was of the 21st Century, whereas ours was of the 17th, two cultures widely separated by the years.

At Kenilworth Castle, sometimes referred to as Kenilgrad because of its exposure to wind which becomes rather uncomfortable in cold weather, we had the usual encampment. Their usual compliment of visitors was expanded by those who had come in response to my publicity to see what all the fuss was about.

It was at that weekend when we learned of the death of the Queen Mother. We decided to mark the sad occasion by a musket salute, offered in seventeenth century fashion. This was well received and appreciated by the crowds.

Sir William and I were in the tent, chatting about this and that when we were approached by a small family group of mother, father and two children, one of them a girl of about eight or nine years and her younger brother, perhaps about six years.

Naturally, we were talking in the proper fashion, about things of the time, with no modern language. Sir William pretended surprise that these people were here, and bade them good day. The little girl said hello, and asked who we were.

Sir William introduced us and the girl asked why we were there. Sir William explained that he was a landowner in Nottinghamshire who had been dispossessed by the War and had joined this band of travelling people who wished no harm to others, but would defend themselves if necessary.

“Do you live in this tent?” asked the girl, to which Sir William replied “No, I have another tent for living. This is my office.”
“What do you office about then?” she asked.
“I command a group of sword, young Mistress and I officiate in civil matters too.”
“What is the candle for?” she asked, pointing to the candle on his table.
“Why, Mistress, that is so that I might see to read, and to light my way to bed.”
“Don’t you have lights?”
“Indeed we do, we have many candles. I can afford to buy them, you see.”
“I mean, don’t you have lights in your house?”
“I just said, Mistress, we have candles and lanterns.”
“No, I mean lights. Light bulbs. You click a switch and the light comes on. They’re a lot brighter than these candles.”
She paused, then went on “Anyway, if you don’t have lights, what do you do when it gets dark?”
“Oh, that is simple, Mistress. I get my flint and tinder, light my candle and go to bed.”
“What?” she asked incredulously, “you go to bed just because it gets dark?”
“Oh, yes” replied Sir William, “I always read a few passages from my Bible, but I struggle you see, because my eyes are not good.”
“You should get some glasses then!” she said brightly.
“Glasses?” asked Sir William, “what are they?”
“Glasses, you know – glasses. For your eyes. To help you read!”
“Ah!” he said, as if the penny had just dropped, “I have heard of these things.”
“Where would I get some of these ‘glasses’ you speak of?”
“From the optician of course!” she told him, as if to a child.
“Where would I find such a man?” asked Sir William.
She thought about this for a minute and then replied “In a shop in town. Ours is next to the television shop.”
“What is television?”
That question stopped her dead in her tracks. She looked at him dumbstruck. “Don’t you know what a television is?”
“No, that is why I asked you what the word means.”
“Do you?” she asked, turning to me, “do you know what television means?”
“I regret to admit, young Mistress, that I do not,” I answered, trying hard to keep a straight face, “will you be so kind as to explain to Sir William and myself?”
“Well,” she began, drawing herself up to her schoolmarmy full height, “television is a box you have in your living room, or your bedroom or wherever you want to put it.”
“Ah,” I said, “we know about boxes, for they are the same as these chests,” I said, pointing to a couple of travelling chests on the ground in the tent.
“No, no!” she exclaimed, flapping her hands, “not like those. These are made of plastic, with a glass screen that you watch pictures on!”
I thought it best not to go into ‘plastic’ right now, so I asked her what sort of pictures she could see in this ‘screen’.
“They’re pictures that you watch. Like football and racing and plays and films and quizzes and all that.”
Sir William jumped in again with “Do you tell me, young Mistress, that you sit and look at portrait pictures on this glass thing? I have portraits on my wall at home but I do not sit and watch them.”
“No, silly, these pictures move; it’s just like being there.”
“Moving pictures? Do you tell me that pictures actually move? What witchcraft is this?”
“No, not witchcraft. Don’t you know anything?” she asked. She was becoming quite exasperated now. Time to cool down a little.
“Pray tell this simple man” said Sir William, putting his hand to his chest, “more of this. By what means does your ‘tellervision’ work, is it by this ‘trickity’ you spoke of? “
“Trickity? Oh, you mean electricity! Yes, it is. You plug it in to the socket, switch on and you watch it. My Dad likes to watch the news and Mummy watches the soaps and we watch children’s television.”
“Do you tell me, young Mistress, that your Mummy sits and watches soaps? Do you mean soaps in the wash tub? My washer woman does that sort of thing.”
“No, silly, stories about people.”
“Oh dear,” asked Sir William, “I fear you are confusing me greatly. Do you mean you have your washing in this tellervision box that you speak of?”
The little girl looked at Sir William, then at me with my quill in hand. Then she looked at her Mum who was trying her hardest not to laugh, turned back to Sir William and pronounced with all the authority of an eight year old “You really are stupid. You don’t know anything, do you?”
She paused, then asked “Where have you been all these years anyway?”