An Ode To England And The Victorian Era

Good morning my darlings. It's just gone past 8 am, and the glow of daylight has been having a go with me forthwith. I have steadily repeated the affirmation that we are having a very cold Christmas such as the year of 1989. I have been longing for a wintery season for a happy Christmas. It seems to be working just now. We had one of the coldest days this far in almost a year. Are you pining for some unfulfilled dreams and are you in agreement that quirks sound prettier in British English? I hear every word I speak with pronunciation articulation, and they ring with a sound of posh and refinement. After seizing the moment of British English, I'm much more inclined to have the distinct recognition of language, and all of it makes me the happiest person living. I think a creative vocabulary makes life all the more magical. I remember being a wee little girl and noting to higher consciousness/ (God) (really, when I was a little girl I spoke to Jesus) I wanted to have a beautiful language. One of flurry, and fancy! I had want of articulation and a fountain of word variety that set me apart from others. I'm on cracking form. Well done me! There's no reason we can't change, or create pretty words with new meanings. The world is our oyster.

Why? I don't know; perhaps it has always been within me to hang back to my British roots of origin. You know I have come to learn that we desire particulars in this present life. If it comes manageable for us, the explanation is that when reincarnated those particles of our God-like higher consciousness memory (which we don't remember while mortal), and the lives we lived prior are seeping in through the cracks. Some folks fall back into a lifestyle of the past or love the past with exuberance. Our consciousness has touched on it, and it knows. Doesn't that put things, right? I jolly well believe so! Indeed, It does for me, and I'm reminded of Tasha Tudor. Do you recall Tasha Tudor invariably spoke in interviews of how when she pops her clogs, she was not frightened at all, and she was taking back off to the 1830s? She also spoke of how living old fashioned wasn't an arduous task for her; in fact, she said it came very quickly. I feel comparable in that I have acclimated to Victorian life quite quickly.

To be truthful, I find it easier to live with simplicity than I do all the luxuries of modern life. (Except for dental, now there's nothing quite like an atmosphere when one has dental difficulties.) I recall on several accounts; the first was when I went without refrigeration for three months, and I wasn't in the least unnerved by it. It's as if my soul knew how to survive, and I knew what to do intuitively. Or the time we had no electricity or gas for over two weeks and I managed. Whereas numerous folks of this world might be crushed without such luxuries/needs, I knew what to do and that made me halt and ask the crucial query as to why such tasks were curiously natural and straightforward. I suppose that's why I have invariably wished to experience many things because perhaps I'm meant to be a preceptor and inspire others along the way. The kind folks we meet along our life travelled country roads have a way of encouraging us along to know we are forever heard, understood and loved no matter. So if I might inspire you, my dear friend, always be mindful of that for yourself. I may often seem aloof or even at times a Mrs Sharp that has escaped my box. However, the difference is that I desire to help others as I know what feeling alone and misunderstood feels like and desire to encourage others to tell of their significance and power to create lives they love living. Even although we may not get on in some areas I know, we'd be dear pals because I like you. You might say, but Raquel dear, you don't know me, darling, but I would respond with," oh, that isn't true at all, now is it?" I do know that if you read my writings, we get on quite well, you know. After all, you wouldn't linger over the pudding if we didn't feel similarly (smile).

I'm making my daughter Zoë Kennedy a small-sized Victorian crazy quilt from Sawyers clothing. (Heres a small picture of a portion). I told her what I was doing, and she has requested it before Christmas; however, it's such a lengthy manner that It's not looking too promising to be finalised by Christmas. The hand stitching is very tedious and lengthy. I may have to alter the type of quilt. Perhaps a nice old-fashioned one and leave the crazy bits for another time. I have been spending my evenings by candlelight, and it's a bit cumbersome to fiddle about with stitches for hours on end by kerosene. I make no bones about it, and indeed I could work by electricity but what's the fun in that. I should elucidate something here. My entire family does not see the beauty in the lack of utilising modern accommodations, so yes, indeed they entirely do use modern conveniences.

In contrast, my folks, my beloved gardener and I live together; however, I'm not going to suggest they should not use electricity to inspire my book writing. I do what's best for my private quotidian pursuits, and I strive to keep in alignment with what encourages my authenticity as a Victorian writer (to the best of my abilities). If I'm in the main cottage, I rarely use electricity in my sleeping room. I use candles and kerosene lamps as much as possible. Otherwise, I go out to Scarlette Rose Cottage, and that always sets me right. If there is no option for running water (as of yet it has no current plumbing), one doesn't have a choice. However I will tell you that it does have the capabilities in place, it's just a matter of reconnection, as the cottage has been sitting for year's and hasn't been liveable. That will all change once it's nearer to completion as I am building a small outhouse privy version with a toilet. The luxury of modern convenience or lack thereof has a way of putting one's back up. I do all of this because it makes for an excellent and convincing writer. How else could I explain to you in my novel what it feels like for my lordship to remove my corset by cutting the lace harshly against my opaque skin unless I've been laced uptight? I suppose I could pretend and do my best in words, but living, breathing and wearing the clothing or living as if of that period feels more distinct and believable. Do you recall some time ago I wrote a post about a Victorian series of books that my friend suggested and I began reading them, but then laid them aside because they were rubbage? The woman's writings were forced and inauthentic.

I've continued on my quest to keep up my avid collecting of books, and I wanted to share a few with you. Bear with me as my obsession worsens.

I. Mind Your Manors: Tried and True British Household Cleaning Tips, by Lucy Lethbridge. This book is fantastic for knowledge of what made households gleam for centuries with white-glove approval.

II. An Ideal Kitchen: A wonderful guide for all who would be good housekeepers. It shares details about how to set up a Victorian kitchen to function for optimal advantage.

III. Looking for Anne of Green Gables: The story of L.M. Montgomery and her literary classic.

"We are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmastime." -- Laura Ingalls Wilder

The Little House on the Prairie book set needs no introduction. I've read these books since I was a wee little girl and yet when I relocated I never bought another set for my home library until a few months ago. My mum was stating that she had devoured up the books I had loaned her to read which were (Pride and Prejudice, Withering Heights and Jayne Eyre) so I wanted to uncover more books for occupying her mind. Unbeknownst to me, she had never read the Little House books, so I took to Etsy, bought a set, and she's nearly finished. I think she has one more to read.

I opted to set up the Victorian tree in the sitting room, making this Christmas a bit more manageable to take down in January. This Christmas season has been a bit anticlimactic. Although I am reminded of what magic feels like when I turn the Victorian Christmas music on, light an evergreen fir candle in the cottage window and set to baking gingerbread. Indeed the way to wage those wars is to find something that always makes one feel good and milk it no end. This is the art of taking joy and personifying the desires of one's heart.

I've not been mysteriously vacant, as a last resort for holding a secret I've just been illustrating Sawyers book {The Tale of Sawyer Lamb} and feel very much inclined to stay sat on this wave of emergence and full-throttle pleasure. I shall come up for a moment of breathing space at the appointed time.

Most affably yours til my next swim, Raquelxxx