The Death

THE DEATH

I must tell you, this morning Charlotte that’s Charlotte Lascelles, walked in after class had begun which caused Mr Crisis the science teacher to inquire sarcastically if her camel was running late. She paused briefly to think about the question then answered, she was late because the family had without any warning lost her father earlier that morning whilst shopping in Waitrose.

Mr Crisis apologised profusely saying “I am deeply sorry to hear that Charlotte that is very sad news” and inquired of his age, Charlotte perplexed replied in a matter-of-fact tone, “I am not sure, but I think about sixty-two.” 

“Well Charlotte, it is very sad news indeed, you are excused.” There was some whispered muttering among the girls. 

Mr Crisis with raised voice, ordered “Alright, alright girls face the front; it is something Charlotte’s family have to come to terms with, not something to be discussed freely among the class”. 

Death is always a sad time, like the death of Beecham the Castle’s long serving retainer. 

Rebecca inquired if a collection had been started for Mr Lascelles. 

Being a bright girl, it was Naomi that commented “well I cannot see how a collection is going to benefit her father seeing where he is, maybe a collection for her mother might be wiser” This triggered a rethink. 

There WAS a rethink after that suggestion and a collection was started to buy her mother a Hoover, or perhaps a jumpy castle. Tamsin suggested a Halloween costume. It was a collection if I remember started by the boarding girls, no not the day students. No hang on, hang on, I tell a lie it was not a real Hoover but a Chinese one. 

The good news for my gentle readers was that the mystery was cleared up later that afternoon. 

You must understand Denham Hall thrives on rumour, this rumour was directed back to Charlotte unbelievably, the rumour being she was eliciting sympathy, which to me did not ring true...or even make sense. 

The more alert of my readers would have guessed that when Charlotte said they had lost their father she was recounting his absence literally but omitted to add they had found him later wandering around the Chicken and Meat section later that morning... like he often does. I despair I really do, no doubt she was looking for sympathy because her cat had died earlier in the week. 

No it was not dementia, Mrs Lascelles said it was inattention, or something like that. Sorry for that distraction. 

It was during a Spelling Bee near the end of Miss Taylors’s English lesson. You might remember Miss Taylor took over from Miss Pringle. She asked Zanthe to spell CUCUMBER. There was a brief pause for thought as there always is with Zanthe, then she continued, “Q..... er U” ...... the lunch bell sounded and there was a noisy rush for the door, the room emptied leaving Miss Taylor statuesque, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. 

Gentle readers, just a little bit of excitement, this afternoon I heard young Stephanie was rushed to Hospital after she hallucinated in the headmaster’s office during a dressing down for insubordination. There was a rumour among the girls the hospital had given her an epidural; by the way I am not sure what an epidural is. 

It was Tamsin’s bizarre sense of humour that caused her to add that the doctor at the hospital had admitted he had also accidently removed ‘er ovaries for which ‘e apologized and said it was just a simple oversight, and that ‘e had said quote, “I have been overworked and been on duty all night, s’not my fault”.

Tamsin and I are going down to the shops after college. No doubt we will bump into Nathan. He is one of those Watford Boys Grammar school creatures. I would have thought any attraction Nathan might have had for Tamsin would have quickly disappeared after the Halloween dance when she sicked up all over him after gorging on.... I don’t know, oysters or something. 

Just to keep you all up to date, when I was at home last week I mused to Mother,” I’ve been experiencing some very strange feelings lately which I cannot explain. Like really, weird things”. 

“Its hormonal dear, it’s all hormonal at your age” she replied. 

“Mother it’s not hormonal” I replied annoyingly. You see my mother is a straight up and down person. I do ponder sometimes why she became a wife and a mother, and then an unbeliever in UFO’s and stuff and why she never became say a physicist or an explorer. 

“Mother, would you be interested to know what manner these strange feelings take?” 

“Well if you are so concerned dear, tell me a little more about these strange feelings.” 

“Let me give you an example. You remember when we met Charlotte, that’s Charlotte Lascelles and her family at Sainsburys the other day, well as we were leaving……......” 

As I was starting to explain, Mother took out a small hand mirror from her handbag and began repairing her lipstick. 

Exasperated annoying I replied, “Oh never mind mother, it is not important”.

Anyway,  it was Phaedra, she’s the troublemaker that commented to Zanthe that her sister had given birth to Siamese Twins, which came as a real surprise as you can imagine, as they never had Siamese Twins in the family before, it did not show up in the families’ genes or anything. 

Anyway Zanthe the new girl excitedly asked “really! how does she tell them apart?” 

I expected something like this from Phaedra. She replied “Well Naomi, it’s quite easy, his sister has long blonde curly hair, and apart from other stuff, has completely different looking private parts to her brother, oh and he has started shaving”. 

How Phaedra has stayed as my second-best friend for so long astounds me, she is so rude. 

An exciting evening was looming. After tea we had arranged to meet some of the other girls outside the Flavours of India Café before heading for the folk club. The Indian café used to be a hamburger place until the police found out they were selling more than burgers.and curries.

Denham Hall ....The book

 

The book Denham Hall is completed and is on sale at respectable, reliable, reputable and trustworthy booksellers. 

Roses are Red, Violets are Blue.

 

                                           

                

                                                             Roses are Red, violets are Blue 

You might remember the only reason my new book “Roses are Red, Violets are Blue” a romance novel, lacked the polish and depth of Anna Karina, or even Wuthering Heights was I only had a half hour to complete the book as I was meeting Symphony, she wanted to go down to the shops to buy some lip gloss. 

She prefers her name to be spelled as Symphonie, her mother it appears was not particularly hot on spelling. You might remember it was Tamsin that noted when Symphony first arrived at Denham, that IF her middle name had been say Ophelia or something like that her initials would be S.O.S.

I ask, what’s that got to do with anything? 

Anyways, Symphony better not let Miss Sefton catch her wearing lip gloss and stuff. 

It’s been at least 6 months and I have already sold two copies of my book Denham Hall. Tamsin made her parents buy a copy and the other one, well Tamsin’s mother’s friend, Mrs Fellows said she found a copy in a rubbish bin next to the bus stop, you know the bus stop outside Rickmansworth train station….in front of the newsagents. 

You would think people would pass a book on for other readers to enjoy. Anyway, the couple of quid royalties won’t go astray. 

The dorm is always a hotbed of gossip and last night was no exception, I overheard Zanthe, that Zanthe Perkins telling Naomi Brideau the new girl, the purpose of a belly button as she put it, was where they connect a bicycle pump to “blow babies up when they are born,” Anyways if Naomi had been following biology lessons, she would know that is not true. 

I hate Zanthe Perkins sometimes, she is a troublemaker. It was her that told Naomi, her sister  gave birth to identical twins, and when Naomi inquired  how does she tell them apart she told her, “Well her brother has started shaving, and his twin sister has long hair and has completely different looking private parts …….to her twin brother” 

It was Zanthe whose mother accused her of being a ‘wayward’ child, whatever that is and reminded her when she was having one of her tantrums, that’s Zanthe not her mother, that if it was not for her father and herself, she would not be here. Extending her right arm, with the palm of her hand and fingers pointing upright added, “and I am not going into the more finer detail’s young lady. Do I make myself clear?” 

I suppose it is no more stupid than the conversation Candice told us why she called her cat Caspian, no hang on it was Christine, yes Christine. She said the problem was the cat refused to answer to the name Caspian, that’s the reason they called her Christine, she pointed out quite rightly that was only because the cat had never heard the name Caspian before. Is this making any sense? 

What other gossip is there this week from Denham Hall? Mother rang to say Father is getting the Bentley serviced and they are currently using the Morris Minor. Mother says she finds the Morris more economical and apparently easier to park. Oh, and mother has taken a sudden interest in racing pigeons. This evening they are both driving over to the Carter-Browns at Ruthin Castle. Tonight is their Bridge night. 

As you all know over the years not much really happens from day to day, students come, teachers go. I will briefly sum up my last couple of years at college by reminding my gentle readers that Mr Crisis returned to Zeta Reticuli Two think it was, and Miss Sefton is still the college head. Rebecca Macleod, Charlotte Patterson, Candice Robertson, Blodwyn and Myfanwy Evans left college with me, as did Jessica Wyndham, Phaedra Gascoigne, Elspeth MacDonald, and Marlene Kuczynski. Most of the girls were from Boadicea dorm. 

Miss Frenzi was still Asst. Head and Miss Green was still the Maths teacher. Miss Franklin or Lu Lu the music teacher was still employed as was Miss Taylor, the maths teacher. I am not sure where Dakota Pugsley ended up …probably jail. One person I was never going to shake off was Tamsin Lacey, just joking, she was and still is my very best friend. 

On leaving college myself and Tamsin went to Edinburgh University to study for a M.A in Sociology and Psychology. We were hoping to assist helping on increasing the tourist appeal of Argyll Castle, particularly increasing the numbers of foreign tourists, as Inveraray Castle seemed to be attracting more tourist attention for the for some strange reason, but we intend to change that. 

I heard Father tell Mother that if Tamsin eventually got married, she and her new partner can live in the Gatehouse at Argyll Castle in perpetuity, rent free, not that Tamsin in the near future is looking to get married. Over the years many of our friends like the Evans girls and Phaedra Gascoigne visit us with their friends or if married with their husbands, they always get free admission. Mother, that’s Lady Delila and Mrs Dalrymple are still inseparable, Father told us they were currently interested into E.T.s and UFO’s and stuff and are trying to make contact with the visitors. 

Although father has retired, he still sits on a number of boards, so myself and Tamsin can quite adequately look after the secretarial side of things. Extra staff have been taken on in the coffee shop in anticipation of an increase in tourist numbers and has been increased in size. 

Bridgette Campbell.

Candice and her Emergency

 

 

   

                                   Candice and her Emergency or Magpies and Super Glue 

There is not a lot happening this week at Denham Hall or I would not recount this event as I concluded it was somewhat of a personal nature. It was during the first lesson of the morning, the science lesson when Candice put up her hand and asked if she could leave the classroom. 

Mr Crisis inquired as to the urgency. She said she needed to visit the toilet with utmost urgency, and she emphasised she was not about to waste time going into any descriptive details about her affliction. She added she was not going to discuss with Mr Crisis, Mr Briggs the handyman or any other males of the opposite species of her personal problems… thank you very much. 

You guessed it; Candice’s affliction was due to the runs. Tamsin had given Candice a prawn that she had omitted to tell her she had found on the floor in the concert hall after a dance with the Watford Grammar school boys. 

She had wrapped the Prawn up in her hankie and placed it in her purse and forgotten about it. If I remember correctly this happened once before but it was an Oyster, not a prawn that was the offender. Being good-hearted, unknowingly she had given the diseased prawn to Candice. Thus, the reason for the sudden onset of the ‘Pol Pots’ or the ‘Trots.’ The prawn had been in her purse for over a week. 

I despair, I really do! 

Anyways the good news for my gentle readers was Tamsin was made to apologise to Candice by Miss Sefton at callout at morning assembly in front of the whole school, a couple of days later. 

We were talking of ages and stuff and Zanthe told us she was “firteen and free mumfs” so being a couple of “mumfs” off fifteen I am a lot older than her. 

Oh, I must tell you this story. Well, it’s not a story really because it is true, you will not believe this but before I left Argyll Castle to study at Denham Hall college, I used to feed a family of Magpies. Well, I don’t know if they were like a regular family of Magpies, but they usually flew in together and I used to feed them mincemeat.

You might remember the time a magpie flew off with Mothers wedding ring when she removed it while trying to remove some super-glue off her fingers, but we managed to rescue it from the magpie’s nest in one of the castle’s turrets. 

I suppose I was about 14 years old at the time, and I was on summer holidays at home. I was reading a book near the rear entrance gate to the Castle when an adult magpie arrived and sat on the low veranda near the door and stared at me. I noticed it was carrying something in its beak. 

It was no more than a foot from me when it leant forward, and it dropped a gold wedding ring at my feet. I picked it up and realised it was a gold ring with two small diamonds and the letter R engraved on the inside. This time it did not wait to be fed, but after dropping the ring it at once flew off.

I found mother in the drawing room and told her what the magpie had brought me suggesting it was a gift in payment for feeding it. Well, it made sense. Mother agreed and said but we must find out to whom the ring belongs. 

Mother said she would deal with finding the owner, and that was the end of the story or so I thought. 

I was at college when she started making inquiries as to the owner of the ring. She was not having much luck and I suggested the magpie could have found the ring miles away. So, she began advertising in the Oban Times and the Argyllshire Advertiser. 

She had described the ring having two stones but omitted to mention the letter R engraved inside the ring so whoever claimed the ring would have been aware of what the letter R meant. But nothing, no claimants. I suggested to mother we could have the letter R ground off and I could use it……. sometime, like in the future. I reminded her of the saying ‘Finders Keepers,’ reminding her we had done our best finding the owner.

Now this is the part you are not going to believe. 

A few weeks later Mrs Dalrymple who had been invited over for tea was discussing the story about a man she had met several years after husband’s death and she was being pestered by this gentleman who had the hots for her, and he was insistent. He had even bought her a wedding ring in anticipation. 

But Mrs Dalrymple had no intention of marrying again, but he was not about to take no for an answer. It all came to a head one evening when they had a flaming row with her admirer and she had tossed his ring, well she had forgotten exactly where, but it must have been quite close to Argyll Castle. You see Mrs Dalrymple had not been at the castle when the ring the magpie had found was being discussed. 

Mother should have had a clue it might have been Mrs Dalrymple’s ring, and I told her so. The clue being the letter R, which was the first letter R of Rhonda, Mrs Dalrymple Christian name. We tried returning her wedding ring which she suggested I should keep as she has no intention of getting married again. I won’t argue with that. 

The following weekend Tamsin was staying with us at Argyll Castle, her father’s dance combo was playing at a Donald Peers tribute at the Women’s institute in Oban. Mother was complaining bitterly about Tamsin and of her piano playing; I prefer to use the word racket. The Bechstein was a getting a particularly heavy workout. There was no need for her to play Chopin’s Étude number er whatever it was at a fortissimo level; it was only recently Mother had the piano tuned. 

Dinnertime was a welcome interlude to interrupt Tamsin’s piano recital. I suggested to Mother we adopt Tamsin; she appears to spend more time at our place than hers. We were going to Inveraray after lunch.

Mr Pol Potts, Candice's Nemesis

                                                           

                                                                   

             Pol Pot, Candice's Nemesis

                              Candice and her Emergency.       (New series)   

        

There is not a lot happening this week at Denham Hall or I would not recount this event as I concluded it was somewhat of a personal nature. It was during the first lesson of the morning, the science lesson when Candice put up her hand and asked if she could leave the classroom.

Mr Crisis inquired as to the urgency? She said she needed to visit the toilet with utmost urgency. She emphasized she did not want to waste time going into any descriptive details about her affliction as it was of a purely personal nature. 

She told us later she was not about to explain to Mr Crisis, Mr Briggs the handyman or any other males of her personal problems, thank you very much. 

Mr Crisis surmised the problem could be one of an extreme personal nature and gave her permission to leave…like immediately. 

Anyways you guessed it was obvious, Candice’s affliction was due to the Runs. Tamsin had given Candice a Prawn that she had omitted to tell her she had found on the floor in the Teacher’s common room a week earlier after a birthday party for Miss Baker, one of the office staff.

She had wrapped the Prawn up in her hankie and placed it in her purse and forgotten about it. 

Being good-hearted, unknowingly she had given the diseased prawn to Candice. Thus, the reason for the sudden onset of the ‘Pol Pots’ or the ‘Trots’. The Prawn had been in her purse for over a week.

I despair, I really do! Anyways the good news for my gentle readers was Tamsin was made to apologise to Candice by Miss Sefton at callout at morning assembly in front of the whole school, a couple of days later. 

Oh, I must tell you this story. Well, it’s not a story really because it’s true, you won’t believe this but before I left Argyll Castle to study at Denham Hall college, I used to feed a family of Magpies. Well, I don’t know if they were like a regular family of Magpies, but they usually flew in together and I used to feed them mincemeat. 

You might remember the time a magpie flew off with Mothers wedding ring when she removed it while attempting to remove some super-glue off her fingers, but we managed to rescue it from the magpie’s nest in one of the castle’s turrets.

I suppose I was about 13 years old, and I was on summer holidays at home. I was reading a book near the rear entrance to the Castle when an adult magpie arrived and sat on the low veranda near the door and stared at me. I noticed it was carrying something in its beak.

It was no more than a foot from me when it leaned forward, and it dropped what appeared to be a gold wedding ring at my feet. I picked it up and realized it was a gold ring with two small diamonds and the letter R engraved on the inside. This time it did not wait to be fed, but after dropping the ring it immediately flew off.

I found mother in the drawing room and told her what the magpie had brought me suggesting it was a gift in payment for feeding it. Well, it made sense. Mother agreed and said but we must find out who the ring belongs to.

Mother said she would attend to finding the owner, and that was the end of the story or so I thought.

I was at college when she started making inquiries as to the owner of the ring. She was not having much luck and I suggested the magpie could have found the ring miles away. So, she began advertising in the Oban Times and the Argyllshire Advertiser.

She had described the ring having two stones but omitted to mention the letter R engraved inside the ring so whoever claimed the ring would have been aware of what the letter R meant. But nothing, no claimants. I suggested to mother we could have the letter R ground off and I could use it……. sometime, like in the future. I reminded her of the saying ‘Finders Keepers’, reminding her we had done our best finding the owner.

We had forgotten about the ring until one evening Mrs Dalrymple was staying over. She was talking to mother about her husband Charles, who had died before I was born.

Now this is the part you are not going to believe.

A few weeks later mother and Mrs Dalrymple who had been invited over for tea were discussing the story about a man she had met several years after husband’s death and she was being pestered by this gentleman who had the hots for her, and he was rather insistent. He had even bought her a wedding ring in anticipation. 

But Mrs Dalrymple had no intention of marrying again, but he was not about to take no for an answer. It all came to a head one evening when they had a flaming row with her admirer and Mrs Dalrymple had tossed his ring, well she had forgotten exactly where, but it must have been quite close to Argyll Castle. You see Mrs Dalrymple had not been at the castle when the ring the magpie had found was being discussed.

Mother should have had a clue it might have been Mrs Dalrymple’s ring, and I told her so. The clue being the letter R, which was the first letter R of Rhonda, Mrs Dalrymple Christian name. We tried returning her wedding ring which she suggested I should keep as she has no intention of getting married again. I won’t argue with that. 

The following weekend Tamsin was staying with us at Argyll Castle, her father’s dance combo was playing at a Donald Peers tribute at the Women’s institute in Oban. Mother was complaining bitterly about Tamsin and of her piano playing; I prefer to use the word racket. The Bechstein was a getting a particularly heavy workout. There was no need for her to play Chopin’s Étude number er whatever it was at a fortissimo level; it was only recently Mother had the piano tuned. 

Dinnertime was a welcome interlude to interrupt Tamsin’s piano recital. I suggested to Mother we adopt Tamsin; she appears to spend more time at our place than hers. We were going to Inveraray after lunch.

THE END.....I think

 

                          You lot can laugh 

The Stupid Looking Mouse was the final in a series of 68 short stories for Girls aged 12-16ish. If there is any confusion I would like to state categorically here and now these stories are a work of fiction, figments of my fertile imagination.

If there is any similarity to any events or to persons living or dead it is purely coincidental, like not real. 

 If you would like to read more exploits of the Denham Hall girls you will find them in my recently published book Denham Hall which can be purchased from any reliable, respectable, trustworthy and reputable booksellers. 

By the way Tamsin told Nurse Mayoh that Bridgette, that's me, had written the best book in the world. Cannot argue with that can I? I dunno I might start another series.

Readers are welcome to comment like  'has Tamsin got a regular boy friend and that'?   Bridgette

68..The Stupid looking Mouse

                 The Stupid Looking Mouse 

It was Candice, no I tell a lie it was Rebecca, Rebecca Macleod that was telling us in the dorm after lights out about her sister; I can’t think of her name. You know, she used to go out with a Kevin someone or other, who lives up the road a bit. She said her sister who was 16 and is a bit older than her used to have the hots for Kevin, well for a while. 

Anyways Kevin would call round most Saturday evenings and he and Rebecca’s sister would spend ALL evening by themselves in the lounge room kissing and hugging each other and that. She reckons they would spend ALL evening declaring their love for each other, as well as trying to teach her budgie to talk. How Rebecca knows this is beyond me. 

When Kevin came round on Saturday evenings the lounge was out of bounds for Rebecca. If she wanted to speak to her sister…….er whatsername, her mother told her she had to alert her sister first by giving one short, sharp knock on the lounge-room door, separated or followed by two sharp knocks, something like that. It could have been three sharp knocks with a space in between. I can’t be sure. No, hang on, hang on I tell a lie, there was no space. 

It was Charlotte mumbling under the blankets “Boys? Frankly, I reckon they are a complete joke and an utter waste of time, end of” and she generally knows what she is talking about. I thought that might wrap the conversation up for the evening, but not so. 

Zanthe exclaimed breathlessly “Tiffany, Tiffany tell’um about ‘cha worms.” 

“Er Yuk” screamed Sophie. 

Will this never end; anyhow worms are a personal and private things aren’t they, they are not something one discusses in public or even with friends, are they? 

Tamsin once told a boy who asked her to partner him in a dance she suffered from worms and that it is passed on as easy as Chicken Pox. 

The extra curriculum speech lessons organized by Miss Frenzi had yet to take effect on Zanthe. I had made mention earlier Zanthe’s father had been an aerialist in the circus and then joined the Treasury so was able to send her to Denham Hall. When he retired it was said her father re-badgered cars …..Whatever that means, also dealt in Lead and Copper and her mother took up welding, making custom jewellery…..just for a hobby. 

Zanthe said her mother and father on retirement, used to travel the highways and byways of Northern England taking part in wrestling and tug-of-war championships, although I would have to take the wrestling competitions with a grain of salt. 

It appears Miss Frenzi had noticed Tiffany scratching herself and out of interest had asked her if she suffered from worms. She replied not that she was aware. Miss Frenzi had ordered her to see Nurse Mayo in the infirmary who after a very brief examination gave her some special medicine for worms. I believe it was easier for her to take medicine rather than applying a cream, that’s Tiffany, not Nurse Mayo, as applying cream which I am sure you all know is a bit of a hit or miss affair. 

Now I did not want to relate this story but I was triggered by the Tiffany worm story. I knew Phaedra, that’s Miss Know-all Phaedra Gascoigne, would accuse me of being gross just for the sake of attracting new readers but it is true. The “worm story”, that is. 

We had an infestation of cockroaches in the Boadicea dorm until Betty Bounce the cleaning lady; Betty Bounce by the way was not her real name, the girls just called her that because Betty sounded too formal. Where was I? She, that’s Betty, had suspected that Tamsin was keeping a mouse in her wardrobe. 

I should have twigged it earlier when I noticed Tamsin carrying bits of bread into the dorm in her hankie. We found out eventually it was not a pet mouse at all she was feeding but a wild mouse. It was not a furry, cuddly looking mouse but a mean, stupid-looking mouse. In truth, I would not normally make a statement like that about the mouse to Tamsin as she might have taken it personally. 

Well, what happened was the cockroaches used to take advantage of the mouse’s generosity; this is all speculation by the way, but I suspect they helped to clean up after the mouse’s meals by feigning a friendship and by stealth taking advantage of this ‘friendship’ resulting in Boadicea dorm being used as a toilet. Betty Bounce was not amused, but as I wrote earlier this is all speculation. 

Tamsin was reported to the headmistress and was called out at morning assembly by Miss Sefton. We were all warned in the future not to keep wild animals, mice or monkeys in our lockers, all because of Tamsin. 

That cleared that mystery up. It was Charlotte that commented that Tamsin always spoils it for everyone. 

I thought that remark was a little unfair; Tamsin was only trying to keep the mouse a secret. In any case I didn’t think the mouse looked all that stupid so I amended the title of this story. 

Anyway back to the real world. Most of you would not be aware that Tamsin is a Macgregor. This is her mother’s ancestry so she identifies as a Macgregor. I admit in the past the Campbell’s and the Macgregor’s have had their minor differences of opinion….and killed each other for it. 

When there is a dance she will wear a skirt with the Macgregor Clan tartan. She is also a predator where boys are concerned. Let me explain. 

I may have mentioned this before but at dances I have seen her deliberately lose a partner who she had decided she didn’t like in the middle of an Eightsome reel. When the dance floor is full and dance partners are changing continuously it is the easiest thing in the world to lose one's partner, then the dance descends into full disarray, that is what Tamsin takes advantage of. With her partners finding they are standing outside the toilets desperately searching for her meanwhile she has paired off with someone else. 

I’ve even seen people wandering around the car park looking for her, or questioning people giving a brief description of her, like distinguishing marks, moles and tattoos and stuff, know what I mean? 

She is terrible like that. Four different partners during an Eightsome reel, come on its too silly for words. 

I’ll always remember the time she was approached by ‘Spotty’ McGauran who asked her to partner him in the Scottish Waltz and she told him she suffers from the worms ….and it is a communicable disease ….a virus that can be passed on as easily as cholera. I am surprised Miss Frenzi, the Assistant Headmistress does not take her own life because of her, that’s Miss Frenzi not Tamsin. 

She also has her own stupid version of Scottish history too, including the slaughter of us Campbell’s at Bannockburn. She said her grandad told her his father had nothing to do with it. He said he was hoeing or herding sheep at the time and heard about it on the grapevine. She is a quick thinker our Tamsin.

Tamsin’s family settled back in the Scotland at Loch Awe where they bought the old Presbytery. Our families met at a Scottish New Year’ Eve dance at Argyll Castle and became very good friends. I suspect it was the reason I and Tamsin both ended up Denham Hall. 

When we finish college in about one year’s time we will probably enrol at university in Edinburgh. Trouble is Tamsin does not take to directions easily; anyways we have a while to decide on our futures. Miss Sefton the headmistress always encourages the girls to go on to further education. 

I do worry for Zanthe though, I really do. 

Oh yes, before I go, Miss Taylor suggested I should have a book signing in the dining hall. Yes, I might do that and that Gascoigne girl, Phaedra Gascoigne better say something nice, rather than me being full of my own importance, now I am an author. She actually used a slightly different expression. 

I don’t know if I told you this, but it was I that decided on mother’s Christian name (apparently). As a child she was talking of names at the breakfast table. She spoke of her Christian name being Denise. As a 4 year old I told her that Denise was the most totally, stupid name I had ever heard of. Mother said “well Bridgette dear what name do you think I should use?’’ I suggested Delilah. She smiled and replied “alright dear, let’s do that”. 

She must have thought by the end of the meal I would have forgotten about this conversation but not so. As an adult she had forgotten how the mind of a 4 year old works. I was not about to let go. 

Ever since that conversation my mother officially answers to the name of Delilah, a name bought and paid for down at the Inveraray Council Offices. Father had immediately warmed to the name and pointed out to my mother, I suppose to allay her fears that opposed to the name Denise it was at least a classical name and convinced her to adopt it. 

Mother became Delilah Campbell more or less a week later; the change took place on my 5th birthday if I remember. Her parents Mr and Mrs Rachael Davenport of Oban were also surprised, as you can imagine.

Book Cover. Denham Hall.

 Book Cover, Denham Hall

Can be purchased from high quality,responsible,trustworthy

 and reputable bookshops 

67. Beijing Rhapsody

Beijing Rhapsody

Tamsin and her parents and I were having lunch in the Chinese takeaway, the ‘Beijing Nights’ in Inveraray, the new one, you know close to the Hotel George; the ‘dog-friendly’ one. I am not sure why we booked a table as we were the only patrons there.

Those of you that are native to this area will remember a couple of years ago, hang on it may have been longer, when a Mexican take-away the El Fuego opened up in the high street, I remember thinking at the time I don’t remember a clamour for foreign food in Inveraray, maybe Maccas that’s all.

Anyway, it was not that anyone was particularly keen to experience the excitement of dining in the El Fuego restaurant, and they were not all that keen on taking it away either and the business closed down a week later.

This was to be a new experience. While listening to the exotic eastern music we studied the menu. Tamsin decided to try Number 16, the chicken and chips with gravy and a Slushie. Mr. and Mrs. Lacey were more adventurous they ordered the fried rice and noodles with green stuff on top. I ordered a bacon sandwich, with the crusts cut off and a small Slushie.

While we waited we noted the absence of customers, this was not a good omen.

The waiter arrived and with an Asian flourish whatever that means, deposited Tamsin’s Beijing delicacy before her.

Tamsin leaned forward to get a closer look at her Asian offering and was horrified to find it had one leg missing. Tamsin is fussy about her food. She called the Chinese waiter person over and pointed out she had paid for a whole chicken, not a chicken with one leg.

He peered at the said chicken, turned it over and back again.

He looked at Tamsin inquiringly and asked: “sorwee missy is there a pwoblem?”

She pointed out seeing she had paid for a whole chicken she expected her chicken to have two legs, not one.

The waiter who appeared initially to be taken aback inquired: “were you hoping to take it for a walk or dance with it missy?” Yes, he had a sense of Asian humor, I like that in a person.

I heard Tamsin say something like “don’t you get Bolshie with me, mister”

He must have been new to the town, you don’t mess with Tamsin. I am going to have to have a word with the owner Mr. Min.

Seeing he was so disrespectful to my very best friend Tamsin, I expect him to be deported, that’s the waiter, not Mr. Chow Min.

Anyways order was restored after the waiter returned to the kitchen and returned with a chicken with two legs. Tamsin says as long as her chicken comes with two legs she will continue to patronise the place.

Referring to the dangers of messing around with Tamsin; be warned. At present she is having more attention than she would like from Nathan since his break up with that girl at the Rickmansworth Royal Masonic School for Girls; his attention has now been drawn back to Tamsin.

In the folk club I heard Tamsin ask Charlotte if she had any books on the beginners guide to cooking within earshot of Nathan hopefully to blunt his romantic ardour, she is going to have to do a bit better than that, if I know Nathan he does not take no for an answer….though he is ok with a yes.

The Carter-Browns are coming over this evening followed later by my mother’s friend Mrs. Dalrymple. I believe currently they are both experimenting with telepathy or perhaps it was remote viewing, that’s Mrs. Dalrymple and Mother.

I think they should first try putting each other under hypnosis; I don’t mean at the same time, of course, just one at a time and then attempt to put each other in a state of regression to discover what planets they both originated.

When Mrs. Dalrymple arrived she was excited to tell us she had just been voted the first chairwoman of the Loch Awe Paranormal Society (LAPS) for her work investigating strange noises in St Conan’s Kirk. The society at present is calling for new members as at present they are having trouble organizing a quorum.

It is not as if any ghosts have been sighted but strange noises have been heard. Mother suggested it maybe rats, or possibly pigeons nesting behind the organ; anyhow if they were church mice they would not eat that much would they? Although Mother and Mrs. Dalrymple are on similar wavelengths mother is much more practical.

Today is another day. It is the weekend and Tamsin is staying with us again, as I told mother I don’t know why she does not move in permanently, that’s Tamsin not mother.

Mrs. Pasta, the Italian kitchen lady brought her son Lambert to work with her; Lambert… LAMBERT! Who would name their child LAMBERT for heaven’s sake?

As Mother does not, as a rule, invite these young creatures from the opposing species into Inveraray Castle for Tamsin and me to peruse, not that I am stupid I know what mother is up to. At least she could have brought in a selection of them. It has been several years since I have seen Lambert; he is about a year older than me and Tamsin, he must be at least 16 years old.

Well, first I have to find out for whose benefit this match-making is for, before making a complete and utter twit of myself. He is a nice enough boy, it’s a pity he does not ride horses and stuff. 

Anyway, at the end of the day, we both decided we were not ready for relationships and stuff; our teenage years are hard enough to cope with as it is, but I do like Lambert. I should ask his mother if she could change his Christian name and call him something else other than Lambert.

For my gentle readers, I have saved the best bit until last. I have had an offer from a publisher who wants to publish my blog in book form. It will be titled, Denham Hall. Miss Sefton will be pleased; my book will be available in all good bookshops.

Shortly I will be doing book signings in the bookshop in Inveraray, you know the bookshop in Main street West, for heaven’s sake the one near the dog-friendly hotel, and then later in the week I am going to be interviewed by a reporter from the Rickmansworth Bugle, 

I am going to be so busy.

My publisher also said they will be sending me 50 free books to give to friends.

Tiffany said she heard Madeline Brown remark that ‘I was up myself’ I suppose she means I was full of my own importance, and why not indeed. Madeline had better lift her game or she won't receive a free copy nor will her obnoxious friend Dakota Pugsley.

Of course, I will be giving Miss Sefton a copy who I know will insist I donate a copy to the college library. It is going to be all go this week

Phaedra, that’s Phaedra Gascoigne suggested I preface the book with warning that some scenes and events in the book might be appear confronting and disturbing to some of my gentle readers who are easily aroused, particularly ‘Horror at Christmas’ thus discretion is advised.

. Mother will be beside herself.

No 1 - Ghosts of Denham Hall

Ghosts of Denham Hall

My name is Bridgette Campbell and my home is Argyll Castle and Mother and Father are the Viscount and Viscountess of Argyll. Now with the formalities over with, this is my blog. 

I attend a very exclusive and private Anglican Girl’s College, Rickmansworth Young Ladies College, as a boarder. It is also known as Denham Hall. It was originally the ancestral home of the Second Sea Lord of the Admiralty and 3rd Duke of Sussex, Lord Horatio Grantham. He might have made First Sea Lord if it was not due to a careless, impetuous indiscretion with young Esmeralda, daughter of the First Sea Lord with little or no heed to the resulting consequences. His exploits at the Battle of Trafalgar are thankfully better remembered than his nocturnal dalliances with young Lady Esmeralda. 

Well that is the story the senior girls used to tell the new students. 

I will refer to the Rickmansworth Young Ladies College as Denham Hall in deference to its rich history.

Adjacent to the hall was a small chapel and cemetery. Denham Hall was an imposing stately mansion built in the gothic style, rich in history and rich in ghost stories put about by successive first formers new to the school. It is now a private boarding school for genteel young ladies whose parents are the captains of industry, leaders of men, a few who had managed in the most part to avoid the courts. The college is so private that I was the only girl there. Sorry that was a poor attempt at humour. 

I digress. I remember someone saying we are not watching a hologram, we are living in it. Is our perception of reality just a grand illusion? I hope so. I was blessed with a vivid imagination although mother disagrees and says it is more disturbing than vivid so I would like to crank this illusion up a bit. For example with the threat of oncoming winter I would like to leave each year with the swallows and head for the sunshine. Does that make any sense? 

This was one of a number of random thoughts among many I had as I waited outside Miss Sefton’s office for Tamsin. 

You see Tamsin had been reported to the college principal by an alert villager who witnessed her riding on the cross bar of the grocer boy’s delivery bike. Thankfully our moral well-being was well taken care of. Tamsin told me later that the headmistress Miss Sefton reminded her that the moral and spiritual well-being of the girls had been placed in the care and trust of the college and that fraternization with the opposite, dare I say it, “SEX” or was it species, was strictly forbidden and was completely counter-productive to our studies. 

Rhonda is currently my third best friend and I would like to state categorically here and now it has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the fact her mother sends her regular food parcels. I remember thinking perhaps this generosity was atonement by her parents who mistakenly thought they had accidentally booked their daughter into a Russian gulag, who knows? 

It’s not that the food was bad at Denham Hall, it is just they never gave us junk food rich in salt, sugar and fat, and lollies in all the primary colours, supplemented by commercial grade pap. As far as I was concerned it was the only failing the school had, which I suppose did not detract from the school achievements, academically speaking.

I headed with a hurried step to the science room to find Rhonda hoping she would treat the news of the arrival of another parcel with utmost urgency.

We had a village tuck-shop and girls suffering from sugar withdrawals could take advantage of the school crocodile walks which took us into the village and past the little sweet shop where a girl fleet of foot could dash in and purchase a sherbet fizz or a bottle of Tizer without being observed by the rostered teacher. 

Sundays were very special days. On occasions the whole school would march down to the village to St. Mary’s Anglican Church when the weather was fine for the morning service dressed in our best uniforms; blue pleated skirts carefully tailored two inches below the knee, white blouses and blue blazers, wearing our white panama hats and white gloves. Rhonda once remarked that the performance reminded her of a dressage event at her local pony club. 

We were, by comparison to other private colleges, a wealthy place of learning. Patience always referred to our college as Denham Hall Pty. Ltd. It was Elspeth that pointed out that the college was so wealthy it was “lithted on the thtock exchanthe”. 

We were continually reminded we were genteel young English ladies, born of well to do privileged families whose allegiance was to England, its way of life, customs, history, flag, the King and the Empire; well when we used to have an empire that is.

Parents open day was a sight to behold. In the car park prestige cars were parked cheek by jowl, the combined value would have fed a small child in Africa for hundreds of years, maybe thousands, who knows? 

Denham Hall had gained something of a reputation at sports too. I remember quite clearly the swimming competition against Pixie Hill Camp, a government school. We had what is referred to as a ‘ring in’. What the Pixie Hill school coach was not aware was that Rebecca Tate also held the Southern Counties junior freestyle record for 100 meters, and was no slouch when it came to breast stroke either. Our coach Miss Frenzi thought it was pity to alert them. 

She was a great believer in the old adage, what they don’t know won’t hurt them. She reminded us it’s a dog eat dog world out there and only the strong survive. 

Miss Pringle was my favourite teacher. She was the English teacher and Deputy Head. Her eyes used to light up, or perhaps glaze over whenever I approached. My friend Tamsin thought it was terror, be that as it may. 

In the quadrangle during the lunchtime break I put forward the hypothesis to Miss Pringle that archaeologists may have got it all wrong. They wrongly assume that because the height of the doors of our ancestor’s houses was much smaller than they are today they must have been only about 4 foot tall. Not so, I suggested, as our front door is almost seven foot tall. One day in the future the archaeologist will again assume wrongly the people’s height averaged 6 foot 6 tall. 

So I postulated (that’s a good word by the way) that by the same reasoning our ancestors might not have been five foot tall at all, but only one foot tall. I should add here that Miss Pringle was only 5 foot 5 inches tall. 

It was at this point the conversation was cut short when Miss Pringle suggested we go to the playground and play with the other girls, which was a pity as Tamsin wanted to ask Miss Pringle if squirrels dream or why dogs chase their tails but badgers don’t.

Miss Sefton was our headmistress. She always smelt of moth balls. I put her in her late sixties. Patience, currently my very best friend, put her in the early hundreds. She always wore dresses that would not be out of place in a Barbara Cartland novel, that’s Miss Sefton not Patience. Her glasses were held captive by a gold chain. I was mesmerized by the huge cameo brooch she wore; visions of the Queen Victoria and the Empire sprang to mind. 

In the dorm we discussed at length if Miss Sefton ever had a male friend and if so were commitments of a permanent or personal nature ever discussed or rings exchanged? Was she ever given a Christian name and did she have a childhood? 

I would like to mention Mr Crisis, the science teacher, but when I tell non-residents of Denham Hall that he came from Epsilon Boötis and at present he is on a sabbatical I am accused of story-telling. He got into a lot of trouble recently when he accidentally took Rhonda off to his home planet by mistake. I’ll tell you that story another time. 

Mr Crisis was a total pain. He was always showing off. One day in the science class he hypnotized Madeline into believing she was a cocker spaniel. I don’t think she ever came out of it. 

A horrible rumour circulated, later was found to be untrue, that she forsook her family and struck up a strange relationship with the gardener’s dog. On open day I overheard her parents discussing whether or not they should get her micro-chipped. Actually to be honest I am not sure if they were referring to Madeline or the gardener's dog. 

Mother, on hearing of Madeline’s tragedy, and being somewhat of a fatalist shrugged her shoulders, raised her eyes to the ceiling and said to father at the dinner table “Ah well, nothing is certain in this life”. Who could argue with that rationale? 

Elspeth also wanted to join our gang. Problem was we had trouble understanding her. She told us her parents had made an appointment for her to see a Thpeeth Therapithed. She said his name was Doctor Perthy Thpenther. Using what I understood was speech therapy I had tried to get her to repeat words like disassociation and obsession. 

So I conclude with the question, who was the ghost that Phaedra said she saw in the chapel? Was it the ghost of Horatio still searching for his beloved Esmeralda?

No 66 - The Search for Mr Porcine Maximus

The Search for Mr Porcine P Maximus 

My regular blog readers will already be aware Denham Hall is an all-girls college of learning. As Miss Sefton the headmistress points out it is a college for genteel young ladies of established Christian families, founded by George the Second in 1730. It has a small boarding section consisting of four dorms and a day pupils section.

All phone calls for the boarders go directly to the front office. Day student parents are encouraged not to phone during college hours. Boarders are treated somewhat differently, like unmined gold. One must appreciate the fees Denham Hall charge their parents is somewhat similar to amounts governments give as foreign aid to developing countries; yes Denham Hall is considered a very posh college.

Elspeth refers to it as Denham Hall Pty Ltd or is it incorporated?

Gordon, the boy who sometimes collects the money at the door at the folk club and arranges free coffees and stuff for Tamsin, likes to show off telling his friends that Tamsin is his girl-friend and that she goes to a very posh college named Denham Hall and can speak a dozen languages, mostly those that are not spoken anymore (like Latin and Greek), which is not true. I am not sure if Tamsin is aware of this.

Anyways why boys want to be associated with Tamsin is beyond me.

Tamsin and I are the only pupils from Scotland. Her home is the old Presbytery at Loch Awe. My home is the big grey castle at Inveraray with all the turrets and stuff by the side of Loch Fyne.

Hang on I forget where I was going with this.

Oh yes, this is where things get a bit bizarre.

I turned into bed early as I was not feeling too well.

The last thing I remember before falling off to sleep was Tamsin asking “Bridgette why don’t you write a male teacher into your Denham Hall blog?”

Yawning I replied “Well, we already have Mr Crisis, but I could add another male teacher. I hadn’t thought of that, but what’s he going to teach?”

I was so tired I was having trouble keeping my eyes open.

Tamsin said “What about Physical Education, you know like P.E?”

I asked “What shall I call him?”

She said “What about Sir?” It was shaping up to be of those evenings.

Irritated I said “Don’t be stupid Tamsin, I meant his name”.

She thought about it and suggested “What about Porcine?”

I inquired “Porcine, PORCINE! …… what’s this Porcine got to do with anything?”

She said “He was a Gladiator in the Roman Empire days. He fought lions and stuff in the amphitheatre. Porcine Maximus - you must have heard of him”.

I said “You just made that up didn’t you? What happened to him?”

Tamsin replied “A lion ate him”.

I saw no point in continuing this discussion, but I thought I would indulge her and write this Porcine person into my Denham Hall blog. I drifted off to sleep.

It was a while later when I awoke I was told, to my horror, this Mr Porcine Peregrine Maximus person was wanted by the police. I was called to Miss Sefton’s office and was confronted by two policemen. They asked me what I knew of this man.

I said “I do not know him personally. As far as I was concerned he was just a figment of my imagination or rather Tamsin’s”. It was getting very silly.

The policeman said sternly “There is no need to cover for him. It is in your best interest to come clean on his whereabouts or you will have to come down to the station with us Miss Campbell this is a serious matter and we don’t not want to waste time hunting around the college to discover where he is hiding. Do you understand me?”

I asked “What’s he done?”

He replied “well, all I can tell you is it’s something to do with pigs”.

I ask “did he steal one?”

He answered “I have already said Miss that I cannot reveal the nature of his crime as he has not yet been charged, but what I can tell you Miss Campbell is …..” and pausing the policeman was struggling to explain the circumstances that had called for the arrest of Mr Porcine Maximus.

“How I can best describe it. He has been masquerading as a pig”.

I thought ‘oh no; this is like getting silly, like really silly’.

The policeman said “we are given to understand you introduced this Mr Maximus to the college confirming his suitability for the vacant position of PT Instructor and gave glowing references to Miss Sefton for the position. Is that correct?’’

I was at this point I was getting really annoyed and I replied forcefully “YES, BUT-ONLY-IN- MY-BLOG”.

“Miss Campbell I don’t know how long you can continue to use your blog as an excuse to hide this man from the law but it will not wash”. His voice appeared to change to a high pitched female voice. He continued “do you hear me Miss Campbell; it will not wash any more. We are losing patience with you.”

I was then called to Miss Sefton’s office. She said “Now sit down Miss Campbell. I have had the police here looking for this Mr Porcine Peregrine Maximus. Have you been harbouring him?”

“No” I shouted. “HE IS A CHARACTER IN MY FICTIONAL BLOG” and repeated “HE DOES NOT EXIST”.

“Well Miss Campbell blog or no blog the police seem to think he does exist and they think you may be hiding him” she replied.

Miss Sefton paused, leaned forward picked up a hand mirror off her desk, placed her elbows on the table then proceeded to draw with a black felt pen a pretend moustache on her upper lip. She put the mirror down then carefully put the tips of her fingers together, paused again then mused “Miss Campbell, knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad”.

At first I thought this was very silly thing to say in the circumstances and totally out of character for Miss Sefton. It was then I realised I was hallucinating.

It was at this point I woke up sweating and quite nauseous. I was taken to the infirmary and told I had experienced a nightmare. Personally I suspect it was the effects of consuming a tainted oyster that Tamsin gave me yesterday which she said she had found leftover on a plate after a party in the teachers common room….like a couple of days ago.

I am seriously thinking whether to give up this blogging altogether. I must take up another hobby. I have always wanted to do painting or something like clay figurines or stuff, but as I have my blog under submission for publication I thought better of it. Must not get ahead of myself.

It was Monday morning and decided I was NOT going to write this Mr Porcine Maximus into my blog regardless of what Tamsin suggests. I was not all that keen on the idea in the first place.

By the way, I sicked up a couple of times last night but I am alright now. I am going to have to have a word or two with Tamsin the next time I see her. She is a danger to herself …….and to everyone else.

A week later at home at Inveraray and here it is only a personal opinion I stress, there is nothing more annoying than the sound of a piano being tuned first thing in the morning when one is trying to sleep. Sometimes I think these things are done on purpose.

Thank you mother. Couldn’t you have arranged a more suitable time?