Welcome

This blog is just to record my experience of writing a story. That is something I have wanted to do all my life. I guess it is now or never.

I am just doing it for fun. I do not really intend to publish it. Mind you, I shall give that a try if I ever get it finished :).

The blog is only intended for me to keep a diary of my thoughts and for some of my close friends, especially those at the Richmond Writers' Circle (bless them for their patience).

If you have found your way here by accident, comments are welcome - especially the kind ones.

If you are, like me, attempting to write your first novel, please share the ups and downs.

Saturday, 10 November 2012

Chapter 2 Scene 3.4

Recovery in the Kitchen. Eliza investigates the hearth

Chapter 2 Scene 3.4 link to Drive

More footage of Crowley and Boleskine - this time a little less frantic - here
BBC programme about Crowley and Boleskine


 This is an Edwardian kitchen. The one in this picture and the one in the next are, I suppose, close to what I envisaged for this scene - not exactly though.







I really think of the one my grandmother worked in. It was in the basement of a large house just off Kensington Gardens. There was a very long table (or so it seemed to me when I was small). There wasn't much activity in the house; only Colonel Mountenay lived there. My grandmother and another couple of elderly ladies sat round the table drinking tea most of the time. That is my memory. I particularly remember the servant bells like the ones in the picture below.

Here is my grandmother Sarah (She liked to be called Pollie by her friends - as in put the kettle on, she would say,) The place is Kensington Gardens, I think, with the Round Pond in the background. It is not far then from where she worked. The alien moonface in the pram is me.

At times like this you always wish you had better photos. I know that it is a bit out of place in this blog but, well - there you go.

By the way this picture would have been about 1950; Forty-five years after the events in my story. It is sixty - two years old so closer to then than now.



 I expect the hearth where Eliza found the charred scraps looked like this one.




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