Monday, September 26, 2022

Queen Victoria--Tricia McGill

Find all my books on my BWL author page here.

As we move into a new era after the passing of our beloved Queen Elizabeth who lies in state as I write, prior to her funeral in a few days’ time, my thoughts returned to another long serving Monarch. Until her death in 1901 Queen Victoria’s reign of 63 years and 7 months was longer than that of any previous British Monarch. What was known as the Victorian Era was a period of industrial, political and scientific, not to mention military change within the United Kingdom. This era was marked by a great expansion of the British Empire and in 1876 the British Parliament voted to grant Queen Victoria the additional title of Empress of India.

Victoria was the daughter of Prince Edward, Duke of Kent and Strathearn who was the 4th son of King George111 and Princess Victoria of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld. Raised under the close supervision of her mother and comptroller John Conroy, Victoria did not have a particularly happy childhood. Inheriting the throne at the age of 18 she attempted to influence government policy and ministerial appointments. She was identified as having strict standards of personal morality. In later years Victoria described her childhood as melancholy under her mother’s set of rules and protocols devised along with the Duchess by Sir John who was rumoured to be the Duchess’s lover. Their main aim was to render her totally dependent on them.

Victoria married her first cousin Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha on 10th February 1840 in the Chapel Royal of St James’s Palace and was apparently completely love-struck. She wrote in her diary the evening after their wedding: “I Never, never spent such an evening! My dearest dear Albert—his excessive love and affection gave me feelings of heavenly love and happiness I never could have hoped to have felt before. He clasped me in his arms and we kissed each other again and again. His beauty, his sweetness and gentleness—really how can I ever be thankful enough to have such a husband! To be called by names of tenderness I have never yet heard used to me before was bliss beyond belief. Oh! This was the happiest day of my life.”

During Victoria's first pregnancy in 1840, in the first few months of the marriage, 18-year-old Edward Oxford  attempted to assassinate her while she was riding in a carriage with Prince Albert on her way to visit her mother. Oxford fired twice, but either both bullets missed or, as he later claimed, the guns had no shot. He was tried for high treason, found not guilty by reason of insanity, committed to an insane asylum indefinitely, and later sent to live in Australia. 

Her first daughter, also named Victoria, was born in November 1840. The Queen apparently hated being pregnant, viewed breast-feeding with disgust, and thought new born babies were ugly. Nevertheless, over the following seventeen years, she and Albert had a further eight children: Albert, Alice, Alfred, Helena, Louise, Arthur, Leopold and Beatrice.



After Albert’s death in 1861, Victoria plunged into deep mourning, avoiding the public. She came to rely increasingly on a Scottish manservant, John Brown. Rumours appeared in print of a romantic connection between the two, and some articles even went as far as calling her Mrs. Brown. Their relationship was the subject of the movie Mrs. Brown. Victoria praised Brown highly in the book she published titled ‘Leaves from the Journal of Our Life in the Highlands.’


After her death in 1901 Victoria was succeeded by her son Edward V11 of the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. As a last request, her favourite pet Pomeranian Turi was laid upon her deathbed. Among the mementos that she requested be put alongside her in her coffin was one of Albert’s dressing gowns, plus a plaster cast of his hand. A lock of John Brown’s hair along with a picture of him was placed in her left hand and concealed by a bunch of flowers. There was also a ring owned by John Brown’s mother that was given to her by Brown.

 


More information of her long and eventful life can be found here:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queen_Victoria


Tricia McGill Web page


Sunday, September 25, 2022

The Queen

 

 

The Queen

 Earlier this month we in the UK (as well as many people throughout the world) were shocked to learn that Queen Elizabeth II had died. Yes, she was 96; yes, she had just celebrated her 70th year on the throne. Maybe we should have been ready for it, but somehow we weren’t.

Only two days earlier, she had been photographed asking our new Prime Minister to form a government. True, she looked frail, but we still didn’t expect her to die two days later.

For the majority of people, she was the only sovereign they had ever known. I am actually in the minority, as I do remember her father, King George VI. The Brownie ‘Promise’ I made when I was seven included the words “To serve The King and my country.” About a year later, the head teacher came into my school classroom to inform us that the King had died. I only remember seeing black and white newspaper photos of his funeral.

The following year, there was great excitement about the Queen’s Coronation. Streets were decorated, and street parties were held. My mother had a wool shop and I helped her make a display for the window, with the Union Flag in red, white and blue balls of wool surrounding a photograph of the young Queen.

On the actual day people crowded into the homes of those who actually owned a television, which were few and far between at that time. My parents arranged for me to visit a friend of theirs who did have a television set, and so I watched the Coronation on a black and white, nine-inch TV screen. As a nine-year-old, I confess to becoming somewhat bored by the lengthy ceremony, apart from the actual crowning when everyone shouted ‘God Save the Queen’. After that a few friends and I went out to play in the garden, but we were called back to watch the newly-crowned Queen return to Buckingham Palace in the ornate state coach.

Ten days after the Coronation, we had a school trip to London, at that time a five-hour journey by train. I’m not sure how our teachers coped with about thirty excited youngsters, but we went to Westminster Abbey and also saw all the decorations in the streets, especially the huge arches in the Mall.


We were outside Buckingham Palace, where a lot of people seemed to be congregating on the pavements. One of my teachers asked a policeman what was happening, and was told the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh were due to arrive back from a visit to Greenwich. The policeman then allowed us to climb into one of the VIP stands which had been erected outside the Palace for the Coronation. As a result, we had a wonderful view of the Queen when the open carriage came round the Victoria Memorial and entered the Palace forecourt.

That was my first sight of Queen. Since then, I’ve seen her three more times, and on one occasion I met and spoke to Prince (now King) Charles, but I’ll tell you more next time!

Find me on Facebook: www.facebook.com/paulamartinromances

Link to my Amazon author page:  author.to/PMamazon  

Saturday, September 24, 2022

Alberta History in My Writing by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

 


 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

https://www.bookswelove.com/donaldson-yarmey-joan/

I began my writing career as a travel writer and I drove and camped through all of Alberta, British Columbia, and the Yukon and Alaska, writing about what there was to see and do in those provinces, and the territory and state. I learned a lot of history, saw a lot of beautiful scenery, and met a lot of wonderful people.

The following historical excerpt is about Fort Macleod, along the Crowsnest Highway, from my travel book the Backroads of Southern Alberta. Fort Macleod, coincidently, is the setting for the novel, Illegally Dead, the first book of my Travelling Detective Series.

The Only Shadow in the House is set north and east of Edmonton, Alberta, and Whistler’s Murder takes place in Whistler, British Columbia.

After the Hudson's Bay Company sold Rupert's Land to the Canadian Government in 1869, fur traders from Fort Benton in Montana travelled north into present day Alberta and set up illegally trading posts called Whiskey Forts. They brought wagon loads of whiskey and guns to trade for furs with the natives. The watered down whiskey, laced with any or all of Tabasco, red pepper, tobacco, ginger, molasses, tea, sulphuric acid and ink, drove the natives wild and they brutalized and killed their own tribesmen, other bands, and some whitemen. Sir John A Macdonald, prime minister of Canada at the time declared that the area should be safe for settlers moving west and he formed the North West Mounted Police (NWMP) in 1874. They marched west and established Fort Macleod, which is southern Alberta's oldest settlement.

The downtown district, on 24th Street between Second and Third Avenues, was declared Alberta's first provincial historical site on May 14, 1984. There are many wood frame buildings that date back to 1890s and some brick and sandstone ones from the early 1900s.
The Empress Theatre opened in 1912 and was used for vaudeville acts, minstrel shows, silent films, political rallies and talking films. It has been renovated, but the original pressed metal ceiling, double seats in every second row, and the old radiators remain. The Empress Theatre Society presents movies or live performances during the summer.
The present-day Fort Macleod is a reproduction, but some of the log buildings inside the Fort Museum are original and house numerous historical native and North West Mounted Police-Royal Canadian Mounted Police artifacts. A Musical Ride is staged four times a day during July and August. Young men and women dressed in replica North West Mounted Police uniforms present an exhibition of horsemanship and precision, similar to the world famous Musical Ride.

Harry `Kanouse' Taylor, a former whiskey fort owner, set up a hotel in Fort Macleod after the arrival of the NWMP-the original name of the RCMP. Due to the changing times and transient population, there had to be certain rules in his hotel. They were:
1. Guests will be provided with breakfast and dinner,
but must rustle their own lunch.
2. Spiked boots and spurs must be removed at night
before retiring.
3. Dogs are not allowed in bunks, but may sleep
underneath.
4. Towels are changed weekly; insect powder is for sale
at the bar.
5. Special rates for Gospel Grinders and the gambling
profession.
6. The bar will be open day and night. Every known fluid,
except water, for sale. No mixed drinks will be served
except in case of a death in the family. Only
registered guests allowed the privileges of sleeping
on the bar room floor.
7. No kicking regarding the food. Those who do not like
the provender will be put out. When guests find
themselves or their baggage thrown over the fence,
they may consider they have received notice to leave.
8. Baths furnished free down at the river, but bathers
must provide their own soap and towels.
9. Valuables will not be locked in the hotel safe, as
the hotel possesses no such ornament.
10. Guests are expected to rise at 6:00 a.m., as the
sheets are needed for tablecloths.
11. To attract the attention of waiters, shoot through
the door panel. Two shots for ice water, three for
a new deck of cards.
No Jawbone. In God We Trust; All Others Pay Cash.

Friday, September 23, 2022

My Favourite Month by Victoria Chatham

 


AVAILABLE HERE


Of all the months of the year, September is my favourite month.

That might be because it is my birthday month. It is also the beginning of autumn, my favourite season. This, according to the poet John Keats, is the ‘Season of Mists and Mellow Fruitfulness.’ I love watching the leaves on the trees change colour from the green of spring and summer to gold and bronze, russet and red.

Cool, crisp mornings can be followed by clear blue skies and balmy sunshine. There may be a spell of Indian Summer, that dry, warm period that can occur after the first frost and before the cooler temperatures of October set in.

Or the mornings might shimmer with a gossamer-light mist draping late-season blackberries on the
hedgerows or making spiders' webs glisten. 
French author Lea Malot says, ‘September was a thirty-days long goodbye to summer,' while Virgin Woolf wrote, ‘All the months are crude experiments out of which the perfect September is made.’ That seems about right to me.

But the weather, like fate, can be fickle. During my first visit to Canada over thirty years ago, I went out in jeans and a t-shirt on a beautiful sunny September morning. In the afternoon, the temperature plummeted, and a blizzard blew in. I had to buy a jacket and boots and found traffic had ground to a halt which necessitated taking shelter for the night in a hotel. These days I am prepared for any eventuality.

Now the evenings are beginning to draw in, it's time to cozy up to the fire and start thinking about the next novel.




Victoria Chatham

  AT BOOKS WE LOVE

 ON FACEBOOK

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thursday, September 22, 2022

A mystery writer walks into a US Park Service visitor center and asks, "Where would you dump a murder victim?"

 

Although that sounds like the opening line of a joke, that's exactly what I did in Tuzigoot National Monument. After his immediate shock, and a bit of background, the ranger recovered. Owen spent the next fifteen minutes marking up maps and explaining the topography of the park. In the end, he'd pointed out a dead-end trail, that would indeed be the perfect place to dispose of a murder victim.

I told this story to my cop consultant, who chastised me. She said questions like that could make people question my sanity or get me arrested while my background was investigated. I laughed that off. After posing the same question to a different US Park Service Ranger at Montezuma's Castle National Monument, I was a little concerned by the sheriff's department cruiser that followed me most of the way from Montezuma's Castle back to my motel.

That said, local knowledge adds reality to a book. I've walked the trails of Tuzigoot National Monument, and nearby Dead Horse Ranch State Park. We visited the wine tasting rooms in old Cottonwood, Arizona. Our lunch at the 45-70 Cafe provided visual detail unavailable on any website or brochure. Yes, I created a fictional dude ranch and riding school, but they fit in the area and the smell of leather in the tack shop is real.

Does an author need to walk the sites in his books? Not really. But when I experience the country, and visit with the people, I can provide my readers with an almost tactile experience as they follow Jill and Doug Fletcher through the book.

As for Owen, the ranger I floored with the question about dumping a murder victim: After my walk through the park, he hailed me outside the visitor center. He'd looked me up on Amazon.com while we'd been on the trail and said he'd ordered a copy of "Stolen Past" (Set in Walnut Canyon National Monument). He asked for the title and publication date of "Dead End Trail" and promised to pass my information along to his superintendent and the other rangers. I hope you, and Owen, enjoy the book as much as I enjoyed doing the research and writing the story.

Hovey, Dean - BWL Publishing Inc. (bookswelove.net)

Wednesday, September 21, 2022

A Visit to Flight 93 Memorial, by Diane Scott Lewis

 


"Rowena is a star. Bless Derec Pritchard who loves Rowena for who she is. Their chemistry is fabulous. Readers will love to read this alternative view of American history." 

~ InD'tale Magazine

Buy LINK

Rowena, a young woman, perhaps on the wrong side, who sees her world exploding into anarchy during the American Revolution.


A few days ago I took my childhood friend to visit the Flight 93 Memorial, another shocking strike involving our country. The setting is beautiful but the story tragic.

September 11, 2001, when four planes crashed into the Twin Towers in New York, the Pentagon in Virginia, and a field near Shanksville, PA. Flight 93, where the passengers knew they had to stop the terrorists who hijacked their plane by storming the cockpit. The terrorists crashed it into the bucolic field instead of completing their evil mission.

The passengers sacrificed their lives to stop the anarchy. How horrified and frightened they must have been.



We stared off over the field where the plane crashed, a boulder marks the crash site. The remnants of the passengers are still there, and I felt a surge of the emotional loss. My friend crossed herself and teared up.



A gate built of the Pennsylvania state tree, a hemlock, was created with forty ax slashes, each one representing the people who lost their lives.



The Tower of Voices was built for the wind to sing through with the laments of souls sacrificed. 


The site is well worth a visit to see what heroes did to save the further destruction of our country. A visit that will resonate with me for a long time.


Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty dachshund.

To find out more about her and her books:  DianeScottLewis



Tuesday, September 20, 2022

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace (A A Milne poem)...by Sheila Claydon


Find my books here


This book covers some of the early history of Britain and links it to the present day.


They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
Alice is marrying one of the guard.
"A soldier's life is terrible hard,"
                                     Says Alice.

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
We saw a guard in a sentry-box.
"One of the sergeants looks after their socks,"
                                     Says Alice.


They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
We looked for the King, but he never came.
"Well, God take care of him, all the same,"
                                     Says Alice.

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
They've great big parties inside the grounds.
"I wouldn't be King for a hundred pounds,"
                                     Says Alice.

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
A face looked out, but it wasn't the King's.
"He's much too busy a-signing things,"
                                     Says Alice.

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
"Do you think the King knows all about me?"
"Sure to, dear, but it's time for tea,"
                                     Says Alice.


A. A. Milne's poem Buckingham Palace, written about his son Christopher Robin of Winnie-the-Pooh fame,  was one of the first I ever learned. Written in 1924 it was about the palace of King George V. When he died in 1936 the British people had King Edward VIII, who abdicated in less than a year, and  then George VI, the late Queen's father. After him came our much loved Queen Elizabeth II.

Now, as the whole world knows, she has gone. The guard at Buckingham Palace has indeed changed. At the very moment she drew her last breath, King Charles III became King, as is the British tradition. So far he is proving to be much more popular that the doomsayers have been predicting for so many years. Not even the unkind and ludicrous portrayal of him in the Netflix series 'The Crown' seems to have dented the affection being displayed by so many members of the British public. This is probably because, as a nation whose monarchy can trace its bloodline back more than 1,200 years, we identify with him and his ancestors. Their history, both the good and the bad, is our history.

Times are changing of course, but nearly every little girl in the UK still delights in dressing up as a queen or a princess, while young boys use sticks for swords and race to be first to the top of a hill where they crow that they are 'King of the Castle!' It's a game that has been played for centuries, in the same way that many of our centuries old nursery rhymes and folk tales evoke our past kings and queens. 

These stories, rhymes and games are part of us, as is the casual way we refer to members of the royal family by their first names, as if they were our relatives. We know them from their photos in the newspapers, from the stories of previous generations, from cinematic newsreels and the radio in the years after the war, and now, of course, from television and news broadcasts from around the world. I had two favourite books when I was growing up. One, the factual one, was The Little Princesses. Written by their governess after she left the palace, it was a book full of photos and stories about the then Princess Elizabeth and her sister, Princess Margaret. In it, despite the castles and the wealth, their lives were so mundane and ordinary that it was easy to identify with them. And I did. I, too, had to wear a brace on my teeth like Princess Elizabeth. I, too, liked dogs and horses. I, too, wore a plaid kilt with a warm woollen sweater, and a coat with a velvet collar and button up shoes, just like them. 
 
The other book was Children of the New Forest. Set in the UK's civil war of the 1640s, it is a story of 4 Royalist children whose Cavalier father was killed fighting for the King. Escaping from Oliver Cromwell's Roundheads when they set fire to their house, the children were kept safe by a forest verderer who pretended they were his grandchildren. Much happens in the story before the King is restored to the throne, but mainly I loved it because it was set in the New Forest in Hampshire, England, in a place very close to where I lived. Also the children's surname was the same as mine before I married, Beverley. Naturally I thought they were my ancestors and told everyone so until I was old enough to accept that it was just a story. It did, however, confirm my Royalist loyalty. I wasn't about to support anyone who was prepared to burn down a house with children in it, especially children whose surname was the same as mine! Ironically, my son-in-law is a distant descendant of Oliver Cromwell, but I've forgiven him for that!

One of my earliest memories is watching Queen Elizabeth's coronation on a tiny black and white television in a room packed full of people. As the youngest I had to sit on the floor in front of the adults, which meant I had the best view. I can remember being thrilled that this young and very beautiful woman was a real Queen, not a storybook one.

When she was crowned, every schoolchild was given a tall blue drinking glass with a gilt rim as a memento. It was decorated with part of the the royal coat of arms featuring the lion and the unicorn, Her Majesty's initials, and a royal crown. Beneath it was written 'Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II June 2nd 1953. There were street parties throughout the country too. I can remember mine. I wore a white dress with cherries embroidered all over it,  a fluffy, short-sleeved Angora shrug, and I had a white ribbon in my hair. It would have been my Sunday best. 

Whether the nation will be as excited when King Charles is crowned is unlikely in these changing times, although it will still be watched and celebrated by the majority of the population and royalists will tolerate the inevitable republican grumbles as they enjoy the panoply of the traditions that bind them to the past. Our interest in the royal family is, in part, because most of us, somewhere, somehow, have actually seen at least one of them. Rarely to speak to, but because they visit so many parts of the country during the year most of us have watched them cut a ribbon or give a speech, launch a ship, attend an event. Over the years I have seen the Queen, Princess Anne, King Charles, the Duchess of York, Diana when she was Princess of Wales, Elizabeth The Queen Mother, the Duke and Duchess of Kent, Princess Alexandra, even the now disgraced Prince Andrew.Those who are divorced also remain part of the fabric of our country and the royals, as they are known, work tirelessly for the people, turning up to do the most mundane things and always with a smile and a kind word. 

So now, in return, many of the people have turned up for them, in a queue that stretches for miles, waiting patiently in line to pay their respects to a much loved Queen while also welcoming her successor. To admire, too, the stoicism of the royal family as they cope with their grief publicly under the relentless eye of the cameras. 

I am writing this immediately after the Queen's funeral. As a nation, most of us watched the funeral and the committal, either from the streets as the procession passed, or in the comfort of our own homes in front of the television. And we were proud. Proud of the precision of our armed forces and police. Proud of every member of the royal family, and especially their children who all behaved so impeccably for hours and hours. Proud of the pageantry and the colour. Proud of our traditions. And proud too of having had such a much loved Queen. Now it is over we will mourn her passing for just a little longer before turning to welcome our new King. Charles is the 62nd monarch of England and Britain over a period of more that 1,200 years. This is not something to be lightly dismissed as an anachronism because it is the cord that binds us to our past as well as our future. It is also the cord that binds us to one another, something that the new friendships made and the many tributes given by the people waiting in that long and patient queue made abundantly clear.

Without it we would have to reinvent ourselves. 

Popular Posts

Books We Love Insider Blog

Blog Archive