From the Scullery

If you ring my doorbell and I answer draped in a woolen shawl, you will know I am writing. If you smell the smoke from a newly snuffed candle, or spy the butter in my pantry now residing in a new covered butter crock... you will know I am writing. And pretending.

These days I'm having lots of fun acting out tiny slices of daily life, lived by my characters in the late 1800s. These small touches help me smell and feel and taste a little of a world so removed from my own, yet so firm in its grip of my imagination. One day soon I want to bake damper. I want to light a fire outside and do some washing in the wind. A small load, mind you. Not all the bedding or anything. I want to milk a cow and churn some butter, and if I can do all that in my shawl with a candle burning nearby, all the better.

Today I am experiencing something my characters would also have enjoyed back in 1875. It's a public holiday here in Melbourne and most states around Australia. As we have since 1788,  on this day we observe the birthday of the current monarch.

For this generation it's Queen Elizabeth II, (wasn't she a cutie?)  but for my characters it was Queen Victoria.
In 1788, when the holiday was instituted to honor King George III, those who partied in Sydney Cove did so "with every demonstration of joy permitted." Each convict was issued three days leave and received half a pint of rum.

In 2010, we still get a three day weekend, although I'm not sure much thought is given to the birthday girl herself. These days, those who live in the north try for one last beach visit before winter sets in, and here in the south, this weekend marks the start of the ski season. Given the number of days I have snuggled under my beloved shawl, I would say winter has arrived with teeth bared.

So back to my writing. It's almost dusk. Another day is ending, but I'll light a candle and savor the glow. If you hear about the fire I nearly caused when the fringe of my shawl got singed, please remember, it's all fiction.

Unravelling the Past 

If you lived in 1880s and needed a fly trap what would you do? You may have added this cleverly designed glass fly catcher to your household possessions and outsmarted the many bugs looking for a free meal in and around your kitchen.
In some Australian homes and verandahs, a little pool of milk or sugar water was added to the reservoir at the bottom of a glass trap, along with a lighted candle in the base. When those pesky bugs came a crawlin, they were lured into the bottle through the top opening by the flame and the sweet smell of something promising. This is where the good times ended for the bugs, as they soon drowned in their gluttonous pursuits.
Just another random find from our weekend at French Island where we explored some of the tricks used by Victoria's early pioneers.

"You'll hang by the neck until you be dead."

Last week I visited the Old Melbourne Gaol Education Unit with Matthew and his class. This excursion was focused on the justice system and how the courts worked in the 1860s. Matthew and his classmates were given a script and some costumes and ushered into an old magistrate's court room to re-enact the 1863 trial of 24 year old Elizabeth Scott, the first woman to be hanged in Victoria, for the murder of her husband.
In bringing this trial to life the class was able to see the way in which women were treated by the men in authority at that time. With little representation in court, no opportunity to speak in her own defense and an all male middle class jury, poor Elizabeth was doomed. While modern day historians have failed in their attempts to uncover any evidence to confirm or deny her innocence, there is some speculation Elizabeth Scott may not have been guilty of the charges brought against her. Two local men, friends of Elizabeth, were executed along side her, also guilty of the same crime. And while the truth will never be known, the record shows three people died to pay for the one crime. At the end of the 'trial' the students had the opportunity to explore the human rights, citizenship and justice issues they have been studying.

We exited the courtroom through the prisoners’ dock and passed under an ornate arch into one of old Melbourne's cobbled laneways. We briefly saw the cells where prisoners waited their turn for court behind heavy doors and locks, before the children ran outside happy to be free after an hour in the courtroom. The drama was soon forgotten in the business of playing.

But the adults on the tour, couldn't easily forget Elizabeth Scott, who at 14 married an abusive pub owner in his 40s. Her parents had given her in marriage to an older man in the hope he would be able to provide for her and ensure a better life. They could never imagine the drudgery her husband would make her endure as she labored to keep their business going and care for their young boys.

I would've liked to learn more about Elizabeth Scott and understand the isolation and fear which ruled her days. What place did the other two men have in her life for the three of them to be embroiled in such a tragedy? Was there anything good to be said about Elizabeth's villainous husband, or was he already a drunk before they married? What happened to the young brothers after they were placed in an orphanage? 

Sadly there is no romantic ending to this story. Only unanswered questions remain in this sliver of our history, a murky window to the past. 
And what about that one remaining question?
Did Elizabeth's heart turn to God in those final moments before the noose slipped around her neck?

Where did it come from?

Ever wondered where a particular everyday phrase originated? Commonly heard sayings like

No strings attached,

Not enough room to swing a cat 

or

Red letter day are all used often enough and we get the gist, as most people use them properly. But they all have a story and a place of origin. History can sometimes tell us about the events which drew people to use certain words in combinations we have come to accept as a part of today’s language.

Has someone got you ‘over a barrel’?

If they have chances are you are in an unhappy predicament, or helpless. Simply put, you are not in control. 

When I was a little girl I though it was someone had me ‘in’ a barrel, trapped like a prisoner. And while I had my mistaken version to misquote, the essence wasn’t so wrong.

Early explanations of this phrase link it to 19th century techniques used on unfortunate drowning victims. If a limp body were bent over a barrel, it was thought the rolling motion would work to clear waterlogged lungs.  Sadly, it’s been suggested this would have killed anyone misfortunate enough to have almost drowned in the first place! 

Another more credible explanation dates to an 1886 college prank where students were rolled face down over a barrel as a public punishment. Shackled and toyed with for fun, this experience would surely have been one of complete embarrassment and helplessness. 

No one wants to be at the mercy of anyone else - to be bound and trapped in miserable circumstances. We avoid finding ourselves in a situation where we admit that someone has us “over a barrel” at all costs.

That’s why the rescue plan of God is so vital.  Who can do anything for themselves when they are tied hand and foot? When we consider sin’s hopeless entrapment we can only cry out to God for help. He has put into place a way of escape from sin and death through His son Jesus. We only need to call out to Him and He will smash that dirty prank into smithereens - barrel, ropes and all. 

Psalm 118:5 In my anguish I cried to the LORD,
       and he answered by setting me free.

                            Now THAT is a red letter day.........

 World Wide Words