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This was taken to be used by students in the class of JDWilliams for their picture stories. If you would like to help, take pictures of words around you and tag them 09picturestories
More information can be found here trailsidepd.wikispaces.com/Picture+Stories
With their iridescent emerald feathers and sparkling rose-pink heads and throats, Anna's Hummingbirds are a striking jewel at the ponds.
(Las Gallinas Ponds, San Rafael, California)
• i think my favorite is still the blue Ken sunglasses version (since 2020). Those shades make him look SO cool and bad-ass! Like he’s totally ready for a mission!
Those awesomely vibrant colors compliment his rich complexion so perfectly!
The silver lenses of his shades ties everything together, i think.
• The casual football jersey and denim. i love this look because it’s so relaxed. He’s dressed for hanging out and for kicking butt. It really accentuates his unmistakable 1970s vibe.
His molded afro really helps to authenticate the look.
• Obviously, my least favorite is the military gear, but that’s only because it’s so final and not at all versatile. He looks good though! i just need to experiment more with his military look until i find something solid like the other two.
What do you think?
... we took Minnie with us today. But, the weather just sucked...rain on top of rain!
We're all bummed. A deep, thoughtful girl, she has the sweetest face, I love
her little pixie nose...visiting Jillybug Manor...this is a custom by pariszhenpink!
Ai! Há tantos pensamentos que não dão mais resultado que um fole: ao inchar, aumentam o vazio.
Assim falava Zaratustra do F. Nietsche na pag. 64 (Relógio D'Água)
The mecca of technology, I am sure the likes of davecparty, djpoe, jamief, James Yeung, marianNYC, - Loomax -, Barry Yanowitz and CANEOS7E to name a few of my NYC flickr friends can tell me where this is? Love the pads of the feet hence the title.
Tumbling down the rabbit hole? Just do not try and bend the spoon. That's impossible. Instead... only try to realize the truth.
What is reality and what is a dream, it all merges into one!
I watched a free Shakespeare in the Park play in Central Park, Louisville. Fun!
One of my favorite quotes is Brutus opining on the rise of Rome's dictator, Julius Caesar:
"He would be crowned:
How that might change his nature,
there's the question.
It is the bright day that brings forth the adder, [...]
And therefore think him as a serpent's egg
Which, hatched, would, as his kind, grow mischievous"
—from William Shakespeare's play Julius Caesar
Ah, I see. It is also Shakespeare, not just the Roman Senate, who struggled with the nature of power. The powers of a dictator make a good man a snake, poisonous to Rome. Power and the structures of power changes a man. It corrupts. So how can checks and balances be designed to curtail the natural desire of the chief executive to dictate all things?
Shakespeare's Britain was painfully, slooowly evolving an answer to that question. There were Britain's civil wars. Almost two centuries later, it was the young upstart Americans who would provide a good answer, thanks to the abuses and inadequacies of their colonial rulers, Britain's government.
"It's always sad when we have to say fare-
well to the Zinnias....but, ya know, they
can't bloom forever. :( And, we know (if we
sow our seeds) we'll be blessed with them
again next Summer....yippee! So, adios,
adieui, au revoir.....and just plain ol' bye
bye, Pretty Zinnias....we'll miss you; but
we'll see you later!" :)
~Mary Lou
.
Johnny played to the crowds for laughs. It was a totally spontaneous characteristic, never rehearsed or forced, he had a natural talent for gaining a person's confidence and reeling them in, a devine gift for making observations and spitting them back out like a spent force. Everyone loved Johnny, they couldn't help but fall for his cheeky face and smiling eyes, the bold bravado and sense of assurance and self confidence that won over hearts and minds with consummate ease. I don't think I ever really hated him. Fear is separate from hatred, don't you think? I guess I always looked up to him being my older brother and all. Seven years the difference between us, he the strong one, me the ghost. Everybody loved Johnny.
In the summer of sixty four I entered the world, a tiny bundle of unplanned flesh and bones, pissing and screaming as the midwife handed me to my tired and emotional mother, laying me across her chest, beneath her sweaty facial features and red eyes, exhausted from all of the pushing and cursing that accompanied my less than text book birth. I don't think my mother ever truly forgave me for the scalpel blade that ripped at her flesh, the stitches that scarred her delicate abdomen or the invasive hands and suction cup that pulled for all it's worth to spin me around and retrieve me from her womb. It was raining when I was born. Five twenty five in the afternoon on January fourteenth, a violent storm lashing the pretty little village and it's cowering inhabitants as my father stayed away, preferring instead the comfort of the four walls of his workplace. Men were different back then, times were too. Childbirth was women's work, and husbands didn't need to be holding their wives hands and sobbing like a baby down at the business end of things, in touch with heir feminine sides as perhaps they need to be these days. At least hat's what my father would have me believe back then. Naturally I don't recall the events of my birth, I mean who would, these are the details that were subsequently given to me as I progressed through my happy childhood in the countryside that was to shape and protect me through my formative years.
My parents only wanted the one child, and in Johnny they had found the perfect son to mould into a mini-me of my proud and studious father. An heir to the family business, a gold painted addition to the 'J.S Lane & son' sign writing above my fathers humble little watch and clock repair empire, he was doted on, loved and adored. Then I guess I had to come along and throw a spanner in the proverbial works. A vacation to Paris, family unity, love in the air and a little caution thrown to the wind. or else some rogue birth control pills that were ineffectual. My childhood was normal enough, and my parents never once uttered a single word of disappointment in me, it was more in their actions and glances exchanged, my father never a man for any form of bodily contact being old school, army type, stiff upper lip and arms tucked behind his back as he faced the wall, his stern words rebounding off the garish wallpaper when he admonished me. And that seemed to happen a lot as I recall. You know, I can honestly say that I don't recall a single occasion that my father kissed me as a child, nor held me in a chance embrace, or called me 'son'. A second child just was not on the agenda, plans altered, the harmony unbalanced, the sibling rivalry to the fore.
Johnny hated me with a passion, though I always looked up to him and hoped that one day we would become good friends and myself something more than a punch bag both physically and emotionally. I was the butt of his jokes and a source for constant humiliation at school when he'd be sent to collect me each afternoon. I was his little puppet, and try as I might, I never quite managed to alter his, or my parents feelings towards me. I never wanted any part of the family business. If the truth be told I couldn't stand the musty smell of the old shop front, all those antique cuckoo clocks and Seiko watches that lined the cabinets like an army of soldiers and my father sitting at his desk beneath the light, looking old before his time as he sucked on a pipe filled with Old Holborn tobacco that rose into the air in plumes of chocking smoke. I'd be taken there after school and made to wait until closing time before we could al head home for tea, my brother full of life and cracking jokes, the bond between he and my father so evident and unbreakable. Was I jealous? I don't know that I'd describe my feelings as such. I felt left out, an outsider to the family, as though it was my fault that I had been born, a threat to the macho understanding of a father and his first born son. I was almost a rival to their love and Johnny always made sure that I was kept at arms length.
My only comfort was living life by the seafront that captivated my eyes and soul, seduced me with it's beauty and magnificence and offered me a safe haven in the form of a giant cave that only I knew existed. Accessible at high tide with my little wooden rowing boat, the soft sand welcomed me inside to a further stretch of dark seawater into which one day I dived headlong in the name of curiosity, taken to an underwater world of spider crabs and seaweed and up into a recessed cavern that became the focal point of my childhood pleasure. Away from Jonny I was king to rule, my own secret hideaway that even he could not contaminate nor destroy. The seventies were fun for me, safer days, less red tape and warning signs, protocol and health and safety doctrines to prevent me from having some fun. Gawdy tank tops that were worse than something your own grandmother would knit, seventeen and twenty one inch flared jeans and platform shoes. I didn't ask for much from life. I was truly happy there in my cave capturing seashells, writing my name on the walls, being free of the stigma and shackles of my family life. Seventy three and David Bowie was in the charts with 'Life on Mars' reissued on orange labelled RCA vinyl from 'Hunky Dory' a couple of years earlier. I can recall the excitement of each new single he released and the aroma of the freshly cut vinyl. I used to grab the Hoover and sing into the handle, miming badly, just a stupid nine year old doing dumb assed things. Johnny, aged sixteen, now spent most of his time at he shop, attending to the jobs that my father gave to him whilst Mother worked part time at the local Infant school to break the tedium of her monotonous existence, taking crafty G&T's each afternoon from the Gordon's bottle hidden oh so neatly behind the front room book cabinet in the little darkened recess, and flirting for attention with the PE teacher at the school.
The beatings continued along with the humiliation and name calling and Johnny always came out of any shit he landed in, smelling sweetly of roses, whilst I could do no right, it seemed at the time. But I had my cave and my little boat, and trinkets that I had moved there in sealed plastic bags that made my cave feel personal and home. But things can change in the blink of an eye I guess. What once seemed rock solid and so exquisitely personal can be laid bare, ruined, broken up in front of you in the blink of an eye, and I should have know that my big brother would seek to dominate and destroy all that I held secret and dear even though he had everything in life that he could possibly desire, including a stupid sibling as his fall guy.
Standing here now, almost forty years after the events of that fateful day, eyes surveying the confines of the outer section of my little cave with the same wonderment and wide eyes excitement as back then when I was no more than a snotty kid, I feel a certain numbness to the whole sequence of events, a detachment from reality almost as deep and abiding as the attachment I felt with my own family as I grew to dislike and despise them for how they treated me. Resigned acceptance, belligerent disregard, blatant indifference and the turning of the cheek to my requests to be heard, to be loved, to be wanted. I'm transported back to August 25th nineteen seventy three, me in my polkadot swimming trunks, standing here with Johnny ahead of me laughing and teasing me, aggressive stance and hands that slapped my face so hard I think I can still feel the sting, even now. He'd followed me and discovered my secret and now sought to destroy everything that was precious to me. I screamed in pain, tears streaming down my face, yelling that he'd never get to my comfort spot as I dived into the water and began to navigate the precarious channel through the rocks that lead to my personal Utopia of sand and memories.
Precarious, yes. But not to the sinuous flesh of a nine year old who had made that perilous journey through the seaweed that grappled and grabbed at my ankles each and every time, and the sharp bend in the jagged rocks where I almost turned back on myself and down through a gulley to the light of the cave end. The as larger framed and older boy with a lack of navigational skills, such distractions might snag and obscure, a t-shirt might perhaps snag on a jutting rock, and air and water mingle and mix in lungs that were ill prepared for being immersed so long as limbs flailed and tried desperately to free themselves.
I never really meant to cause Johnny any real harm. Nor did I actually kill him. The water did that as his lungs filled and he swallowed more than he could expel, nostrils drowning as his eyes bulged and his body became lifeless as it was impaled upon the gulley, a host of spider crabs witness to his final demise, the final crowd of crustaceans that he played out to. A terrible accident, a fluke as two brothers played in a cave, a distraught father who's entire world came crashing down around him that glorious August day and a mother too drunk and scented in sex as she lay in the arms of her lover to comprehend the death of her beloved eldest son until she'd sobered up well enough to grieve and realise just how little she liked this mess of a life.
Forty seven and lined with life's journey on these feature both physically and emotionally. This homecoming is of pleasure and pain as I retrace the footsteps of my childhood to this little cave that saved me from the madness and delivered me from the pain of life itself. The little shop has long since gone, changed hands, façade repainted, wood replaced with double glazing and plastic and now a boutique selling hand mad flower power bags that hark back to the era of my birth. My parents are marked by respectful headstones though I only visited once, maybe twice. Flowers for the dead seems such a waste of beauty and life to me, and it's not as though they get the benefit of the damn things, is it. The water still sits in the rear of the cave, and I have half a mind to dive in and swim through that gulley to remember my past, but I know that these old limbs would struggle somewhat these days. Times change, memories soften and the bitterness and acrimonious feelings are eroded like the sea to jagged rock faces, all smoothed and appealing.
I smile wryly as I recount the events that fateful day. Yeah, sure, fate played her part all right, and I'm grateful to her for my salvation. You know, Johnny played to the crowds, and then some. He could have had it all if not for his greed and insecurities, his hatred of the runt created in the heat of a passion that was a lie, so shallow and unworthy of his cruellest intentions. And me? I'm all grown up and doing just fine now with the money salvaged from the sale of the family business, a wife and kids who love me and I love back in oceans of touch and words. Just look at that little runt now.........
.
.
Written April 11th 2011
Photograph taken on April 10th 2011 in Botany Bay, Broadstairs, Kent, England
Nikon D700 14mm 1/100s f/16.0 iso200
Nikkor AF-S 14-24mm f/2.8G ED IF, UV filter
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You don't really think anyone is going to open a church in this weather? Said Jools. And at about the same time, a warden's wife was saying, you're not going to go and open the church are you? No one will visit a church on a day like this.
So, the madness of man wins out, as I did visit and found that the warden had just opened the church.
Sadly, Great Mongehmam wasn't open later, but looked interesting enough to demand a return visit ASAP.
As I now know, any settlement ending with "bourne" should have a stream source or running through it. And that is the case here, a winterbourne, though not as frequently running as the Nailbourne rises here and flows to Sandwich.
Northbourne lies to the west of Deal, in a patchwork of fields and woods that is most pleasant. It used to be near to Tilmanstone Colliery and the Davy Lamp hanging in the chanel remembers this.
I walk into the porch and there is the warden helpfully hanging the "church open" sign on the door. Come to visit the church he asked. Yes, is there one nearby, I quipped.
He showed me some interesting details, shred a bit of histor, then began his long walk back to Finglesham.
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One of the few cruciform churches to have been built in Kent in the twelfth century, on the site of, and incorporating fragments of, a Saxon building. Curtains help shut off parts of the church during the winter months. There is a good mass dial by the main door. The Lady Chapel contains the monument to Sir Edwin Sandys and his wife (d. 1629). It is one of the best of its date in Kent and shows the pair in recumbent position hand in hand. Surprisingly the wordy inscription was not added until 1830! The chancel was refitted in the mid-nineteenth century but the east window shows good quality medieval stonework of thirteenth-century date.
www.kentchurches.info/church.asp?p=Northbourne
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NORTHBORNE,
USUALLY called Norborne, as it is written in the survey of Domesday, lies the next parish westward from Little Mongeham, being so called from the north borne, or stream, which runs from hence into the river at Sandwich. There are four boroughs in it, Norborne, Finglesham, Asheley, and Tickness, or Tickenhurst, for each of which a borsholder is chosen at the manor court of Norborne.
THIS PARISH lies for the most part exceedingly dry and healthy, in a fine uphill, open and pleasant country, though it extends northward towards Howbridge and Foulmead, into a low country of wet ground and marsh lands. It is a large parish, for although it is very long and narrow, extending only a mile and an half from east to west, yet it is full five miles from north to south, till it joins Waldershare and Whitfield. The part of this parish containing the borough, hamlet, and manor of Tickenhurst, is separated from the rest of it by the parishes of Eastry, Ham, and Betshanger, intervening; and there is a small part of the parish of Goodneston within this of Norborne, and entirely surrounded by it. The soil of this parish being so very extensive, must necessarily vary much. It is, however, much inclined to chalk, and is throughout it very hilly; though much of it is very light earth, yet there is a great deal of rich fertile land in the lower part of it northward. There is much uninclosed land and open downs interspersed throughout it. The street of Norborne, having the church and vicarage-house within it, and containing twentysix houses, is situated at the north-east boundary of the parish. Near it is Norborne-court, the almonry or parsonage, and a house and estate, called the Vine farm, now in the possession of the hon. lady Frances Benson.
Besides this, there are several other streets, hamlets, and eminent farms, within the bounds of this parish, of which, those most worthy of notice, the reader will find described hereafter.
THE MANOR OF NORBORNE, which is of very large extent, was given in the year 618, by Eadbald, king of Kent, by the description of a certain part of his kingdom, containing thirty plough lands, called Northborne, to the abbot and convent of St. Augustine, in which monastery his father lay, and where he had ordered himself to be buried. In this state it con tinued at the time of taking the survey of Domesday, in the 15th year of the Conqueror's reign, in which it is entered under the general title of the land of the church of St. Augustine, as follows:
In the lath of Estrea. In Cornelest hundred.
The abbot himself holds Norborne. It was taxed at thirty sulings. The arable land is fifty-four carucates. In demesne there are three, and seventy-nine villeins, with forty-two borderers, having thirty-seven carucates. There are forty acres of meadow, and wood for the pannage of ten hogs.
In the time of king Edward the Consessor, it was worth four times twenty pounds; when he received it twenty pounds; now seventy-six pounds.
Of the lands of the villeins of this manor, Oidelard holds one suling, and there he has two carucates, with eleven borderers..... It is worth four pounds. .... Of the same land of the villeins, Gislebert holds two sulings, all but half a yoke, and there he has one carucate, and four villeins, with one carucate. It is worth six pounds.
Wadard holds of this manor three sulings, all but sixty acres of the land of the villeins, and there he has one carucate, and eight villeins, with one carucate and two servants. It is worth nine pounds; but he pays no service to the abbot, except thirty shillings, which he pays in the year.
Odelin holds of the same land of the villeins one suling, and there he has one carucate, with three borderers..... It is worth three pounds.
Marcherius holds of the same land of the villeins what is worth eight shillings.
Osbern the son of Letard holds half a suling, and eleven acres of meadow, of the land of the villeins, which is worth twenty-five shillings. He pays to the abbot fifteen shillings.
Rannulf de Colubers holds one yoke .......worth fifty pence.
Rannulf de Ualbadon holds one yoke, and pays from thence fifty pence.
The above-mentioned Oidelard holds also of this manor one suling, and it is called Bevesfel, and there he has two carucates, with ten borderers. It is worth six pounds.
In the reign of king Edward II. the 7th of it, anno 1313, the abbot claimed upon a quo warranto, in the iter of H. de Stanton and his sociates, justices itinerant, and was allowed sundry liberties therein mentioned in this manor, among others, and the view of frank-pledge, and likewise wrec of the sea in this manor in particular, in like manner as has been mentioned before in the description of the several manors belonging to the monastery, in the former parts of this History. (fn. 1) And the liberty of the view of frankpledge was in particular further confirmed by that king, in his 10th year.
King Edward III. in his 5th year, anno 1330, exempted the men and tenants of this manor from their attendance at the turne of the sheriff, before made by the borsholder, with four men of each borough within it; and directed his writ to Roger de Reynham, then sheriff, commanding that in future they should be allowed to perform the same with one man only.
In the 8th year of king Richard II. the measurement of the abbot and convent's lands at Nordburne, with 208 acres of wood, was 2179 acres and an half and one rood.
Salamon de Ripple, a monk of this monastery, being, about the 10th year of king Edward III. appointed by the abbot keeper of this manor, among others, made great improvements in many of them, and in particular he new built the barns here, and a very fair chapel, from the foundations. But after wards, in the year 1371, their great storehouses here, full of corn, were, by the negligence of a workman, entirely burnt down; the damage of which was estimated at one thousand pounds.
After which, I find nothing further in particular relating to this manor, which continued part of the possessions of the monastery, till its final dissolution, in the 30th year of king Hen. VIII. when it was surrendered into the king's hands, with whom this manor continued but a small time; for the king, in his 31st year, granted it, with the parsonage or rectory, to archbishop Cranmer, in exchange, and it remained parcel of the possessions of the see of Canterbury, till archbishop Parker, in the 3d year of queen Elizabeth, reconveyed it to the crown, in exchange. After which, the manor itself, with its courts, franchises, and liberties, continued in the crown, till king Charles I. in his 5th year, granted it in fee to William White and others, to hold, as of his manor of East Greenwich, by sealty only, in free and common socage, and not in capite, or by knight's service; (fn. 2) and they that year sold it to Stephen Alcocke, gent. of London, who next year passed it away by sale, with some exceptions, to Edward Boys, gent. of Betshanger, to hold of the king in like manner, as above-mentioned. His descendant, Edward Grotius Boys, dying s. p. in 1706, gave it by will to his kinsman, Thomas Brett, LL. D. of Spring grove, and he, in 1713, alienated it to Salmon Morrice, esq. afterwards an admiral of the British navy, and of Betshanger, whose grandson William Morrice, esq. died possessed of it in 1787, unmarried; upon which it came to his only brother, James Morrice, clerk, who is the present owner of this manor.
The fee-farm rent reserved when this manor was granted away by the crown, came into the hands of the earl of Ilchester, who in 1788 sold it to the Rev. Mr. Morrice, the present owner of this manor; so there is now no fee-farm rent paid for it.
A court leet and court baron is yearly held for it; at the former of which, two constables, one for the upper half hundred, and the other for the lower half hundred of Cornilo, are chosen. The present manorhouse is a small cottage in Norborne-street, built upon the waste for that purpose.
NORTHBORNE-COURT, usually called Norborne abbey, from its having belonged to the abbey of St. Augustine, was the antient court-lodge of the manor, before they were separated by different grants from the crown. It is said to have been in the time of the Saxons the palace of king Eadbald, who gave it as above-mentioned, with the manor, to the above monastery. Accordingly, Leland, in his Itinerary, says, (fn. 3) "A ii myles or more fro Sandwich from Northburn cummeth a fresch water yn to Sandwich haven. At Northburn was the palayce or maner of Edbalde Ethelberts sunne. There but a few years syns (viz. in king Henry VIII.'s reign) yn breking a side of the walle yn the hawle were found ii childrens bones that had been mured up as yn burielle yn time of Paganits of the Saxons. Among one of the childrens bones was found a styffe pynne of Latin." This court-lodge, with the demesne lands of the manor, remained but a very short time in the hands of the crown, after the reconveyance of it by the archbishop, in the 3d year of queen Elizabeth, as has been mentioned above; for it was almost immediately afterwards granted by the queen, for life, to Edward Sanders, gent. her foster brother. He afterwards resided at Norborne court, having married Anne, daughter and coheir of Francis, son of Milo Pendrath of Norborne, by Elizabeth, one of the heirs of Thomas Lewin, and nurse to queen Elizabeth. Elizabeth. His ancestors had resided for some generations at Chilton, in Ash, but were originally descended from Minister, in Thanet. They bore for their arms, Or, on a chevron, gules, three mullets, argent, between three elephants heads, erased, of the second. (fn. 4) On his death, about the middle of that reign, the possession of it reverted to the crown, where it remained, till king James I. soon after his accession, granted it in see to Sir Edwin Sandys, on whom he conferred the honour of knighthood, and had given this estate, for his firm attachment to him at that time. He rebuilt this mansion, and kept his shrievalty at it, in the 14th year of king James I. and dying in the year 1629, was buried in the vault which he had made in this church for himself and his posterity, and in which most of his direct descendants were afterwards deposited. He was second son of Edwin Sandys, archbishop of York, by his second wife. The archbishop's eldest son was Samuel, who was of Worcestershire, from whom descended the lords Sandys, late of Ombersley, in that county. Two of his younger sons were, Miles Sandys, of Worcestershire, and George, the noted traveller. They bore for their arms, Or, a fess dancette, between three cross croslets, fitchee, gules.o
Sir Edwin Sandys, though he had four wives, left male issue only by his last wife. From Edwin, their second son, descended the Sandys's, of Norbornecourt; and from Richard, the third son, those of Canterbury, still remaining there. On Sir Edwin Sandys's death, in 1629, his eldest son, Henry Sandys, esq. succeeded to this estate; and on his death, s. p. his next brother, Col. Edwin Sandys, the noted rebel colonel under Oliver Cromwell, well known for his sacrilegious depredations and insolent cruelties to the royalists, who died at Norborne-court of the wound he had received in 1642, at the battle of Worcester, His grandson Sir Richard Sandys, of Norborne-court, was created a baronet in 1684, and died in 1726. By his first wife he left only four daughters his coheirs, viz. Priscilla, the eldest, married to Henry Sandys, esq. (grandson of Henry Sandys, esq. of Downe, the son of Col. Richard Sandys, the younger brother of Col. Edwin Sandys, the great grandfather of Priscilla, above-mentioned). Mary, the second daughter and coheir, married William Roberts, esq. of Harbledowne; Elizabeth, the third daughter, died unmarried soon after her father's death; and Anne, the fourth and youngest daughter, married Charles Pyott, esq. of Canterbury, and they respectively, in right of their wives, became possessed of this, among the rest of his estates, in undivided shares, by the entail made in Sir Richard Sandys's will.
The third part of Henry Sandys, in right of his wife Priscilla, descended to his son Richard Sandys, esq. of Canterbury, whose surviving sons, and daughter Susan married to Henry Godfrey Faussett, esq. of Heppington, at length succeeded to it.
The third part of William Roberts, in right of his wife Mary, descended at length to his grand-daughter Mary, only daughter of Edward Wollet, esq. who carried it in marriage to Sir Robert Mead Wilmot, bart. and on his decease came to his eldest son Sir Robert Wilmot, bart.
The remaining third part of Charles Pyott, esq. in right of his wife Anne, descended to his only daughter Anne, married to Robert Thomas Pyott, esq. of Hull, but afterwards of Canterbury.
In 1795, all the parties interested in this estate joined in conveying their respective shares to the several purchasers undermentioned: to James Tillard, esq. of Street-End Place, near Canterbury, Northborne-court lodge, farm, and lands; to Robert-Thomas Pyott, esq. Stoneheap-farm; to Wm. Wyborn, the scite of the late mansion house, gardens, and LongLane farm; to Mr. John Parker, Cold-Harbour farm; and to several other persons, the remaining small detached parts of this estate. The whole purchase-monies amounting nearly to 30,000l. The whole estate contained near 1100 acres, all tithe-free, except about forty acres.
The mansion of Norborne-court, the residence of the Sandys's, appears to have been a large and stately building. It was pulled down in 1750, and the materials sold; and the walls are all that now remain of it, forming a very considerable ruin. Near the house was a handsome chapel, formerly used by the abbot and convent of St. Augustine, when they visited this mansion, and afterwards by the Sandys family. It is at this time nearly entire, excepting the roof, which has been long since taken off.
LITTLE BETSHANGER is an estate in the western part of this parish, which was antiently accounted a manor, and had once owners of the same name; one of whom, Ralph de Betshanger, was possessed of it in king Edward II.'s reign, as was his descendant Thomas de Bethanger, in the 20th year of the next reign of king Edward III. Soon after which, Roger de Cliderow, says Philipott, was proprietor of it, as appears by the seals of old evidences, which commenced from that reign, the shields on which are upon a chevron, between three eagles, five annulets. Notwithstanding which, it appears by the gravestone over his successor, Richard Clitherow, esq. in Ash church, that the arms of these Clitherows were, Three cups covered, within a bordure, ingrailed, or; at least that he bore different arms from those of his predecessor. At length, Roger Clitherow died without male issue, leaving three daughters his coheirs; of whom Joane, the second, married John Stoughton, of Dartford, second son of Sir John Stoughton, lord-mayor of London. After which, this estate was alienated from this family of Stoughton to Gibbs, from which name it passed into that of Omer; in which it staid, till Laurence Omer, gent. of Ash, leaving an only daughter and heir Jane, she carried it in marriage to T. Stoughton, gent of Ash, afterwards of St. Martin's, Canterbury, son of Edward Stoughton, of Ash, the grandson of John Stoughton, of Dartford, the former possessor of this estate. He died in 1591, leaving three daughters his coheirs; of whom, Elizabeth was married to Thomas Wild, esq. of St. Martin's, Canterbury; Ellen to Edward Nethersole, gent. and Mary to Henry Paramore, gent. of St. Nicholas, and they by a joint conveyance passed it away to Mr. John Gookin, who about the first year of king James, alienated it to Sir Henry Lodelow, and he again, in the next year of king Charles I. sold it to Edward Boys, esq. of Great Betshanger, whole descendant Edward Grotius Boys, dying s. p. in 1706, gave it by will to his kinsman Thomas Brett, LL. D. who not long afterwards alienated it to Sir Henry Furnese, bart. of Waldershare, and his son, Sir Robert Furnese, bart. of the same place, died possessed of it in 1733. His three daughters and coheirs afterwards succeeded to his estates, on the partition of which this estate was wholly allotted, among others, to Anne, the eldest sister, wife of John, viscount St. John, which was confirmed by an act passed next year. After which it descended down to their grandson George, viscount Bolingbroke, who sold it in 1791 to Mr. Thomas Clark, the present owner of it. The house is large, and has been the residence of gentlemen; a family of the name of Boys has inhabited it for many years, Mr. John Boys now resides in it, a gentleman, whose scientific knowledge in husbandry is well known, especially by the publication of the Agricultural Society of the state of it, and its improvements in this county, for which they are, I believe, wholly indebted to him.
THE TITHES of this estate of Little Betshanger, as well great as small, belonged, with those of Finglisham in this parish, to the abbot and convent of St. Augusting, and were assigned in the year 1128 to the cloathing of the monks there; and after the dissolution of the monastery were granted together to the archbishop of Canterbury, part of whose revenues they remain at this time. (fn. 5)
Mr. Boteler, of Eastry, found near Little Betshanger, the plant astragalus glyeyphyllos, wild liquorice, or liquorice vetch, which is very scarce, and has never been observed by him any where else.
THE MANOR OF TICKENHURST, now called Tickness; in Domesday, Ticheteste, and in other antient records, Tygenhurst, is situated in the borough and hamlet of its own name. It lies most part of it in this parish, but at some distance westward from the rest of it, several parishes intervening, and partly in that of Knolton. In the time of the Conqueror, Odo, the great bishop of Baieux and earl of Kent, was owner of it, and continued so at the taking of the survey of Domesday, in which this manor is thus entered in it, under the general title of the bishop's lands:
Turstin holds of the bishop Ticheteste. It was taxed at one suling and an half. The arable land is ..... In demesne there is one carucate, with four borderers, and a small wood. In the time of king Edward the Consessor it was worth four pounds, and afterwards forty shillings, now one hundred shillings. Edric de Alham held it of king Edward.
Four years after the taking of the above survey, the bishop was disgraced, and all his possessions were confiscated to the crown. After which, this manor came into the possession of a family, which took their surname from it, some of whom were witnesses to deeds of a very antient date; but they became ex tinct before the reign of king Henry VI. and it was afterwards the property of the Stoddards, ancestors of those of this name, of Mottingham, in this county, in which this manor remained for some generations, till about the latter end of queen Elizabeth's reign it was alienated to Peyton, of Knolton; since which it has continued in the possession of the owners of that manor and seat, down to Sir Narborough D'Aeth, bart. now of Knolton, the present owner of it.
In the year 1074, the bishop of Baieux gave to St. Augustine's monastery, those tithes which his tenants had; i. e. the chamberlain Adelold, in the villes of Cnolton, Tickenhurst, and Ringelton, and likewise of Bedleshangre, and of Osbern Paisforer, in the small ville of Bocland, all which the king confirmed by his charter. But the tithes of Cnolton and Ringelton, William de Albiney, in process of time, being lord of the fee of those lands, took away from the monastery through his power; and the tithe of Boclonde, Roger de Malmains took away from it.
Within this borough and hamlet of Tickenhurst are two farms, called Great and Little Tickenhurst, belonging to Sir Narborough D'Aeth, bart, both which pay tithes to the almonry or parsonage of Norborne, formerly belonging to St. Augustine's monastery.
NEAR THE north west boundary of the parish is the HAMLET OF WEST-STREET, containing five houses. In it is an estate, called WEST-STREET, alias PARK GATE, the first mention that I find of which is in the will of Roger Litchfield, anno 1513, who mentions his farm of West-street. This, with another farm called Parkgate, (the buildings of which are now pulled down) stood in Ham parish. Sir Cloudesley Shovel was in later times possessed of this estate, and after his unfortunate decease, his two daughters and coheirs. On the division of their estate, Anne the youngest daughter, entitled her husband John Black wood to the possession of it. He died in 1777, and was succeeded in it by his two sons and coheirs in gavelkind, Shovel Blackwood, esq. and Col. John Blackwood, of Cheshunt, in Hertfordshire, who made a division of their inheritance; in which partition this estate of West-street, alias Parkgate, was, among others, allotted to the latter, who next year procured an act for the sale of it. After his death this estate came to his widow, who sold it in 1790 to Mr. William Nethersole, the present owner of it.
ABOUT HALF A MILE from West-street is THE HAMLET OF FINGLESHAM, containing thirty houses. It is written in the survey of Domesday, Flenguessam, in which it is thus entered, under the title of lands held of the archbishop by knight's service:
In Estrei hundred. William Folet holds of the archbishop, Flenguessam. It was taxed at half a suling. There he has six villeins, with one carucate and an half.
After this, I find no further mention of this place for some time; but in the reign of king Edward I. in the year 1288, the king granted licence to the abbot and convent of St. Augustine, to appropriate to their use a messuage, and certain rents and lands in different parishes, and among others, in the tenancy of Norborne, at Fenlesham.
In later times I find that William Poyshe, of Norborne, by will in 1524, gave his place at Fynglisham, to John his son, and that Thomas Parker, late one of the jurats of Sandwich, by will in 1596, gave to Nicholas Parker, his brother's son, his house and lands in Fynglisham, called Fynglisham farm, situated in this street. His descendant, Valentine Parker, gent. resided here in 1669, and by will gave this estate to his godson, Mr. Valentine Hild, or Hoile, from whom it has descended to his great-grandson Mr. Thomas Hoile, the present owner of it.
ROBERT, abbot of St. Augustine's monastery, in king Henry III.'s reign, anno 1240, confirmed an exchange, made by his convent, of all THE TITHES of Finglesham and Little Betshangre, as well great as small, to the eleemosinary of his monastery, which tithes had before belonged to the chamberlain of it. (fn. 6) These tithes of Finglisham now belong to the archbishop, and are, with those of Little Betshanger in this parish, demised by him on a beneficial lease.
Through Finglesham, and over Howe bridge, the high road leads to Deal. From hence, the water, called the Gestling, or north stream, takes its course towards the river Stour, below Sandwich.
AT A SMALL DISTANCE southward from Finglesham, is the little HAMLET OF MARLEY, which consists of only four houses, one of which is that of GROVE, alias MARLEY FARM, the former of which is its proper name, though it is now usually called by the latter. It formerly belonged to the family of Brett. Percival Brett, of Wye, possessed it in 1630, whose descendant, Richard Brett, gent. left an only daughter Catherine, who married John Cook, formerly of Mersham, but afterwards of Canterbury, clerk. They left two daughters, Catherine, wife of Thomas Shindler, alderman of Canterbury, and Mary, and they joined in the conveyance of this estate, in 1727, to John Paramor, gent. of Statenborough; after which, it descended in like manner as Statenborough, to his niece, Mrs. Jane Hawker, afterwards the wife of John Dilnot, esq. who on her death became possessed of the see of it, which he sold in 1792, together with a farm in Finglisham, to William Boteler, esq. of Eastry, who resided here, and two years afterwards alienated them both to Mr. James Jeken, of Oxney, the present owner of them.
ABOUT A MILE south-westward, at the western boundary of this parish, is THE MANOR OF WESTCOURT, alias BURNT-HOUSE, stiled in the antient book of the Fædary of Kent, the manor of Westcourt, alias East Betshanger, and said in it to have been held of the late monastery of St. Augustine by knight's service, being then the property of Roger Litchfield, who died possessed of it in 1513, and in his will calls it a manor, since which it has always had the same owners as Great Betshanger, and is now possessed accordingly by the Rev. James Morrice.
Upon the north-north east point of the open downs adjoining to Little Betshanger are the remains of a camp, formed for the forces which lay here, under the command of Capt. Peke, to oppose the landing of the Spaniards, at the time of the armada, in 1588. About a mile further southward from hence, over an open uninclosed country, is Stoneheap, a good farm, which has long had the same owners as Norbornecourt, and is now by a late purchase, wholly vested in Robert-Thomas Pyott, esq. as has been already mentioned before. This estate is tithe-free, being most probably part of the demesnes of Norborne manor. It takes tithes of corn and grain, of eighteen acres of land in Little Mongeham, belonging to Mr. John Boys, and twenty-two acres in Norborne, late belonging to Sir Edward Dering, bart. separate from it, but by what means I know not.
AT A LIKE DISTANCE, still further southward, is WEST STUDDAL, formerly written Stodwald, an estate which some time since belonged to a branch of the numerous family of Harvey, originally of Tilmanstone, under which a further account of them may be seen. In the descendants of this family it continued down to Richard Harvey, who was afterwards of Dane-court; not long after which, this estate came into the possession of James Six, of whom it was purchased by Sir Henry Furnese, bart. of Waldershare, about the year 1707. After which it passed, in the allotment of the Furnese estates, to Sir Edward Dering, bart. who not long since conveyed it to Solley, of Sandwich, and he sold it to Mr. Thomas Packe, of Deal, whose daughter carried it in marriage to James Methurst Pointer, esq. who lately sold it to Mr. Laurence Dilnot, the present owner of it.
FROM HENCE over Maimage, but more properly Malmains down, is THE HAMLET OF ASHLEY, containing fifteen houses. In it is Ashley farm, belonging to Mrs. Elizabeth Herring. The rectory or parsonage of Ashley, called in antient records, Essela, was part of the possessions of the abbot and convent of St. Augustine, with whom it continued till the dissolution of that abbey, anno 30 Henry VIII. After which it was granted to the archbishop, of whom it is now held on a beneficial lease; the interest in which belongs to Isaac Bargrave, esq. of Eastry, in right of his late wife Sarah, sister and coheir of Robert Lynch, M. D. of Canterbury, and to Mrs. Elizabeth Herring above-mentioned, the other sister and coheir. This lease consists of the glebe of land, with the tithes of the hamlet of Ashley, West Studdal, Minacre, Napchester, and of others in Little Mungeham.
SOUTHWARD from the above, is THE HAMLET OF MINACRE, sometimes spelt Minaker, one moiety, or half of which, was formerly the property of Silkwood, and was purchased of one of them by Sir Robert Furnese, bart. of Waldershare. Since which it has passed in like manner as the rest of the Furnese estates in this county, which came to the late earl of Guildford, by his marriage with the countess of Rockingham, one of Sir Robert Furnese's daughters and coheirs, and his grandson the present right hon. George Augustus, earl of Guildford, is now owner of it.
The other moiety, or half of this hamlet, belongs to Mr. Leonard Woodward, of Ashley.
Still further southward, at the utmost limits of this parish, is another hamlet of five houses, called NAPCHESTER, which adjoins to the parishes of Walder share and Whitfield, the principal farm of which belongs to the earl of Guildford. There are no fairs kept in this parish.
Charities.
SIR RICHARD SANDYS, bart. of this parish, by will in 1726, gave to the churchwardens and overseers 5l. to be laid out in buying coals at the cheapest time of the year, and to be by them sold out to the poor at the same price that they cost, and the monies arising from such sale to be a fund, to be yearly employed for the same purpose.
The poor constantly relieved are about twenty-five, casually thirty.
THIS PARISH is within the ECCLESIASTICAL JURISDICTION of the diocese of Canterbury, and deanry of Sandwich.
The church, which is exempted from the archdeacon, is dedicated to St. Augustine. It is a large goodly building, consisting of a nave, chancel, and transept, having a large square tower in the middle, which has probably been much higher. There are five bells in it. The church is built of flint, with quoins, door, and window cases of ashler squared stone; some arches of the windows are pointed, some circular, and some with zig-zag ornaments. The western arch of the tower is pointed with triple dancette ornaments; the others circular. The chancel is repaired by the archbishop's lessee of the almonry. In the south transept, which is repaired by the Sandys's family, is a large vault, in which are deposited their remains. Over it is a most costly and sumptuous monument, having at the back a plain blank tablet; on the tomb the recumbent essigies of a knight in armour and his lady in a loose mantle. Above the pediment, and in other places, several shields of arms, with the coat of Sandys, with quarterings and impalements. This tomb is for Sir Edwin Sandys, second son of Edwin, archbishop of York. He had a grant of Norborne court from king James I. and died in 1639. (His marriages and issue have been already mentioned before). This monument was erected by him in his life time; but he who erected this sumptuous monument, and added the provisional blank tablet and escutcheons on it, with a thought of securing to himself and his posterity a king of immortality, left not one behind him, of all his numerous children, who had the least veneration for him, or respect for his memory; both the tablet and escutcheons remaining a blank at this time. In the nave is a memorial for Richard Harvie of Eastry, obt. 1675. In the church-yard are three altar-tombs, one for George Shocklidge, A. M. vicar forty-nine years, ob. 1772; arms, Three fishes, their heads conjoined in fess, their tails extended into the corners of the escutcheon; and the other two for the family of Gibbon.
The church of Norborne, with its chapels of Cotmanton and Sholdon, was antiently appendant to the manor, and was in early times appropriated to the abbey of St. Augustine; and in 1128, anno 29 king Henry I. was assigned by Hugh, the abbot of it, to the use of the eleemosinary or almonry belonging to it, which almonry was an hospital, built just without the gate of the monastery, for the reception of strangers and the poor resorting to it from all parts, and the relief of the weak and infirm.
After this, there were continual disputes between the abbots of this monastery and the several archbishops, concerning their respective privileges and jurisdictions relating to the churches belonging to it, among others, to this of Norborne, which at last ended in the allowance of the abbot's exemption from all such jurisdiction; archbishop Arundel in 1397 pronouncing a definitive sentence in the abbot's favour; all which may be found inserted at large in Thorne's Chronicle. (fn. 7)
In the year 1295, the abbot made an institution of several new deanries, for the purpose of apportioning the churches belonging to his monastery to each of them, as exempt from the jurisdiction of the archbishop; in which institution this church was included in the new deanry of Sturry. This caused great contentions between the abbots and the several archbishops, which at last ended in the total abolition of this new institution.
In which state this appropriation, with the advowson of the vicarage, remained, till the final dissolution of the abbey in the 30th year of king Henry VIII. when it came into the king's hands, whence the parsonage appropriate, otherwise called the Almonry farm, was granted the next year in exchange to the archbishop, and it remains parcel of the possessions of the see of Canterbury at this time.
But the advowson of the vicarage of this church, being excepted out of the above grant, remained in the crown, till king Edward VI. in his 1st year granted it, being an advowson in gross, to the archbishop, in whose successors it has continued to this time, his grace the archbishop being the present patron of it.
¶Though the church of Norborne was so early appropriated to the use of the almonry, as has been mentioned before, and a vicarage instituted in it, yet there was no endowment of it till the 1st year of the reign of king Edward I. when the abbot and convent, under their chapter seal, granted an endowment of it, which was approved of by the archbishop's commissary. He decreed and ordained, that the vicar should have the usual mansion of the vicarage, with the garden, and two acres of land contiguous to it, together with eleven acres of land lying at Donneslonde, and the way usual to the same; all which the vicars had heretofore enjoyed. And that they should have yearly two cows feeding, and the right of feeding them, from the feast, of St. Gregory until that of St. Martin in winter, with the cows of the religious wheresoever within the bounds of the parish. Also that they should have, in the name of their vicarage, within the limits or titheries of this church, or chapels of it, all the tithes whatsoever of sheaves, corn, and other vegetables, in orchards or gardens, being dug with the foot; and also all tithes arising from all mills so situated then, or which hereafter might be built, excepting of the mill of the religious, nigh to the King's highway, leading from Northborne towards Canterbury. Also that they should receive, in the name of the vicarage, all tithes of hay arising within the parish, or within the bounds of the chapels aforesaid, excepting the tithe of hay, arising from the meadows of the religious in this parish, at the time of the endowment. Also that they should receive, in the name of the vicarage, all oblations whatsoever in the church of Northborne, and the chapels or oratories, wheresoever situated, dependent on it, excepting the oblations made by strangers, not parishioners of the church, or chapels, in the chapel of the religious, situated within their manor of Norborne, which they had retained to themselves. Moreover, that the vicars should receive all tithes of lambs, wool, chicken, calves, ducks, pigs, geese, swans, peas, pigeons, milk, milk-meats, trades, merchandizes, eggs, flax, hemp, broom, rushes, fisheries, pasture, apples, onions, garlic, pears, and all manner of small tithes, within the bounds, or tithings of the church and chapels aforesaid, in any shape arising or to arise in future; and also whatsoever legacies should be left in future to the church and chapels, and especially the tithes of reed, rushes, and silva cædua, whenever cut down, within the bounds or tithings of the chapels of Cotmanton and Scholdon, to this church belonging, or at any time arising. But that the vicars should undergo the burthen of serving in divine offices themselves, or other fit priests, in this church and chapels depending on it; but that the burthen of providing bread and wine, lights, and other things, which should be necessary there for the celebration of divine services, they should undergo in the said church and chapels, at their own expence, excepting in the chapel of Cotmanton; in which the burthens of this kind, and likewise of the rebuilding and repairing of the chapel, used to be borne, by the lords of the manor of Cotmanton. In the payment likewise of the tenth, or other quota of ecclesiastical benefices, when it happened that the same should be imposed on the churches in England, or in the archbishop's province or diocese, the vicars and their successors there, according to the portion of taxation of the said vicarage, should be bound to pay the same for the said vicarage. But the burthens of repairing and rebuilding the chancel of the church of Northborne, and the chapel of Scholdon depending on it, within and without; and of finding and repairing the books, vestments, and ornaments of the church and chapel of Scholdon, which by the rectors of churches ought, or were wont to be found and repaired of custom or of right, and other burthens ordinary and extraordinary incumbent on the said church and chapel, the religious should undergo for ever and acknowledge; all and singular of which, he, the aforesaid John, archbishop of Canterbury, approving, confirmed by that his ordinary authority, reserving to him and his successors, &c. (fn. 8)
In 1396 there was an agreement entered into between the rector of East Langdon and the vicar of Norborne, concerning the annual payment of four shillings to the latter. In which the parishioners of East Langdon are mentioned as being bound to contribute to the repair of the church of Norborne.
The vicarage of Norborne, with the chapel of Sholdon annexed, is valued in the king's books at 12l. 11s. 8d. and the yearly tents at 1l. 5s. 2d.
In 1578 here were one hundred and ninety-two communicants, and it was valued at sixty pounds. In 1640 here were communicants two hundred and ninety-seven, and it was valued at Seventy-four pounds.
Here is a good vicarage-house, which with the homestall, measures two acres; and there are nine acres of glebe land beside.
cardstock: recollections/110/white, stampin' up strawberry slush
stamps: sweet stamp shop unicorn/monogram it
ink: memento tuxedo, various copics, fresh ink/grass
tsurutadesigns.blogspot.com/2015/08/think-pretty-thoughts...
Look and think before opening the shutter. The heart and mind are the true lens of the camera.
~ Yousuf Karsh
I've found shooting with film to be a very different experience than using a digital camera. While using my digital I usually like to work a subject from various distances and angles, shooting from all different perspectives to decide later which I prefer. Pressing the shutter on my Retina Reflex is an event. Each frame has value, or at least cost, and comes along with a build up of anticipation that lasts much longer than the split second it takes for a digital to spit out an image preview. In fact, I'm finding that a roll of film lasts me longer than I would like before I'm able to find enough quality subjects to fill it.
This image is from a test shoot with my donor camera. You can see the two missing leatherette pieces which cover the screws securing the front assembly.
Please take a look in Lightroom =)
You can see the reconstruction of this camera, along with some photos taken with it over the period of 53 years HERE
Disclaimer: This room is by no means finished yet. I think I need chunkier nightstands, I have to make the Amy Butler Pillow still, etc.
BUT I want to figure out something to go above the bed. I want a white mat with a white frame, and I'm using pink as my accent. Let me know if you have any ideas. Thanks!
Ok so it all started when I was born - literally. My parents were young when they had me, just 19 years old. My grandparents got guardianship of my brother and I when I was about three years old. My family has a history of mental illness on both sides, so I was "doomed" naturally. Schizophrenia, bipolar, manic depression, all disorders someone in my family was diagnosed with. My maternal grandmother is manic depressive, and things were very difficult growing up because it wasn't addressed. She didn't believe in therapy and thought that nothing was wrong. Therapy was only for "messed up" people, and she had an extreme stigma about it. There are so many instances of verbal and emotional abuse towards my grandfather, my brother, my mother, and myself. But if you spoke up, it was even worse, you wouldn't dare speak up against it. It was always better to endure it and hope the next day would be better. She was, and still can be, very unpredictable. You'd think everything was dandy, until it wasn't. Things could switch in a moment into a screaming, "you-don't-care-about-me-how-come-no-one-cares-for-me" mess. I never wanted someone to ever go through that, or to feel like they couldn't speak up. I was often the one to speak up, so my grandmother and I would fight often. Hence, the anxiety, people-pleasing, wanting to always keep the peace mindset that I have as an adult. She's always needed help for her mental health, but you can't make someone do something they don't want. If they won't address what's hurting, things can't progress.
My grandfather, my grandmother, my brother, and I tried going to group therapy once. It didn't go well, and was entirely unproductive in creating any change. The time was spent with my grandmother asking why she was always the bad guy and how no one ever talked about how they hurt her, and essentially made for a bad time for awhile at home. I did go to counseling in school for awhile, but it was in a group setting so it wasn't as exclusive as going to one-on-one therapy. As a teenager, I did got to therapy for a little bit, but I stopped going because my therapists kept leaving for other practices. And I felt like I was "fine". Plus, what good does it do when you live somewhere that's always stressful and you feel like you can't really talk about your feelings anyways? I didn't want that for my life, ever. I knew that I wanted to be different. I was always sad as a kid that I didn't live with my parents. I never had an answer when people asked me why I didn't live with them, honestly I still am not sure completely why I didn't and I'll be 29 this year .
My mother ended up having a drug addiction problem when I was in sixth grade. My mother is also bipolar, although I don't know exactly when this was discovered. My grandmother hated my dad, for whatever reason. So I just had no pull in my desire to want to live with a parent. My mother had always been around, and she lived with us and my grandparents at times. I saw my dad on the weekends and holidays. In the beginning of her addiction, my grandparents got emergency custody of my brother Jacob. So now they were raising three kids. When my mother made the decision to get clean from heroin, I was about 11 (I think, not sure of my exact age). I loved her so much, and I'll always remember driving down the road with her one day as she was crying and saying "I love you, you know I do, right?" I was the one sitting with her in the bathroom while she went through withdrawal. It was hard to see my mother so sick. I stayed by her side and slept in the same room as her at night because I was so happy she was back home. I also went to NA and AA meetings with her. I liked the cookies and snacks they'd have. I really had no business being around so much adult information at my age, but as I see it I was the support in my mother's recovery, because everyone else was just mad at her. Naturally, it makes sense that as an adult my mother uses me as support often. She's better now and has been clean for over 10 years.
Eventually, I did get the chance to live with my father and my step-mom the summer before seventh grade. For whatever reason, my grandmother had a moment and agreed to let me live with them. I was ecstatic! I remember hopping onto the computer and instant messaging my step-mom on AIM. I lived with them from the beginning of seventh grade to halfway through my freshman year of high school. Living there was such a change from what I was used to; more routine and structure, more "normalcy". I moved back in with my grandparents halfway through my freshman year of high school. Around that time is when my father was really starting to struggle with his mental health (that I know of). There was one night I remember he got so angry that my step-mom and I went in the basement with our dog. He'd torn off the keyboard holder from the computer desk, ripped the sliding door off the track, and threw the board into the pool. He wasn't going to hurt us and I think we knew that, but he was just SO aggressively upset. I remember he left and that night I woke up to the sound of him crying in the bathroom pleading to God. He got diagnosed bipolar around that time. I didn't leave because he was struggling, but because I felt like me being there was too stressful and I missed being with my grandparents. Things were still the same when I moved back in, it's like I never left. I think part of me is always going to feel guilty for leaving my brothers there, even though getting out made such a change in me.
I met a junior boy, C is what we will call him, when I moved back. He was my second boyfriend. I'd only dated one person when I lived in Leominster, and it wasn't for long. I didn't really know much about dating, or sex, or how any of it worked really. I feel like I just figured out a lot of it on my own, leading to many poor decisions. Part of the issue is that my grandmother believed that any talk of sex, birth control, or even asking to be on birth control would automatically lead to pregnancy. And most of what I saw growing up was not-so-healthy relationships. C broke up with me shortly after I made the decision to have sex with him, through a note, passing me in the hallway to lunch. One of my first poor decisions, and it got worse because my grandmother found out about it and threatened to bring him to court for statutory rape. For whatever reason I thought that having sex with someone meant love. I don't know where I came up with that, but it was what I thought mattered. And I also couldn't stand to be alone, I somehow put all my worth in being with someone else.
A few boyfriends later, I met P at a little music release basement party for a mutual friend. We were a hit instantly, and I completely ignored all of my friends when they told me the next morning to not get involved with him. Another poor decision. We became boyfriend and girlfriend. I was with him for 3 years almost. We smoked a lot of pot, he skipped a lot of college, he would call out of work to stay with me. My grandmother would call me out sick from school so I could spend a week with him at his dorm in Boston. He practically lived at my grandparent's house with me at one point. It was very toxic. We were very clingy to one another and I had no freedom. I couldn't even really hang out with my friends if he wasn't there too. He didn't like when I colored my hair without asking. One time, I dyed it black without asking and he screamed at me for a good hour through the phone. My friend that was with me had to answer the phone at one point and tell him to stop calling. All my worth and who I was was determined by him. I wanted to stretch my ears but didn't because he got upset and told me that I only wanted to do that so I could fuck his friends. He was extremely emotionally and verbally abusive, narcissistic if you will. And he needed help with mental health, yet another non-believer of therapy in my life, and meds would just make you a zombie so forget that.
When I got to college, P had failed out of New England Institute of Art and ended up at The Mount with me. This was problematic. We had a lot of the same classes and friends. I ended up getting very close to another guy, A, who showed interest in me being who I wanted. I remember being told by A that I was being treated like property. I wasn't happy with P anymore, but I didn't know how to leave. I ended up cheating, which is absolutely against my morals. P found out because A was angry I wouldn't leave P and told him everything. It was a nasty breakup and there was a lot of fighting. We had all the same friends and so there was some division and tension. I failed out of college because I skipped classes so I wouldn't have to see him. But even after the breakup, P found a way to always be involved in my business.
While I was dating P, I stopped talking to my father for about a year. My father was trying to look out for me in a particular circumstance and went to P's house on his lunch one day to talk with him. I was a dumb teenager so I chose my boyfriend over my father. During that year my father tried to commit suicide. I only found out because of someone anonymous on the internet. My father did not succeed and is much better these days.
After P, I had a lot of small relationships. I was trying to find myself and who I wanted to be. I stretched my ears. I went to a lot of shows, and I did get to live with my mother by the way, when I turned 18. Things were hard and she didn't exactly like who I was. A lot of criticism for my boyfriends, who I dated, who my friends were. Because I was already an adult, her trying to parent me didn't exactly mesh. I smoked a pack of cigarettes a day. I was very stressed all the time. I lost my best friend after P, but I also was so caught up in myself I didn't see how awful of a friend I was. She even ended up dating P for a few years, and that was very hard for me. I never took accountability. I was an anxious mess, that couldn't just be by herself. A lot of my relationships felt like I was a "light" for the other person who was looking to fill a void or get over someone else. And even knowing that so many times, I'd just stay sometimes because I was "needed".
Eventually, I would meet my now husband Joe a year (roughly) after P. Joe and I were best friends first. We knew each other first, and hung out as friends first. He would drive from Dracut to Athol almost every day, that's like 2 hours just to get to me, then 2 hours home. We would sit in my room and watch Friend Zone on MTV (how fitting, right?) One day we found ourselves just casually holding hands. This was new for me. I didn't see it coming. Our relationship crept up and blossomed instead of my usual just jumping into a relationship. Joe was the only one to ever stand up to P and tell him he didn't have a place in my life anymore. The only person where I never doubted if I was just filling a void from someone else. Joe cared about my interests and what I enjoyed, and has continued to throughout our 9 year relationship. He showed me what being valued as myself was like. This is love. And I am grateful, because he gives me space to figure out who I am and change if I feel like it.
The lesson from this is that I finally learned that I was enough as me. I didn't have to try to be anyone's ex, I didn't have to try to be anyone but myself. I learned that I had value as a person, and that I could be who I wanted, because I WANTED to be that person. I could be a light in someone's life, without putting out my own light. I learned that my body was not the only thing someone should want in a relationship, and that sex does not mean love. And most importantly, I learned that I didn't need to fill a void in someone, or try to have someone to fill a void in myself. Things don't work that way. You cannot fix a person, you can only be there for them. As far as mental health goes, my intention was always to break the cycle and take care of myself. I knew it from very early in my life. I mentioned that I stopped going to therapy for awhile. Two years ago I did start going to counseling again. After having our second child, I realized that I was really struggling and things were getting hard, I felt like I was falling apart inside. I couldn't cope strictly by myself. Last year I was diagnosed as bipolar 2. My counselor knew a bit sooner than when he told me, but I respect his reasoning. When he diagnosed me, he said that he did not tell me right away when he knew, because he knew that I would have been devastated, since he knew I did not want to be like my family. But I am not like my family. I love my family, and they are not bad people, they just needed help. I am the change in the cycle. I wanted better and I am creating better. I want my children to know stability and that mental health is as important as physical health. I am still working at being better every day, I will always have to, that's okay. I am open, I am accepting of myself, I know healing isn't linear. In healing, I have learned forgiveness.
In honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month I decided to make Think Pink Cupcakes.
I found the recipe in 500 Cupcakes and while I didn't fall in love with the taste they are pretty decent.
Look for the recipe featured on blog in the next couple of days!
Explored #323
Had to post another Monty pic, to balance out the stranger pic!
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Sure, it's a rust bucket, but it's a cool rust bucket! This old 1940 (I think) Ford dump truck sits at the Wigwam Village Motel in Holbrook, Arizona, along old Route 66.