No 18 - Denham Hall Prize Giving and thieving Magpies..

Denham Hall College Prize giving and…

 Thieving Magpies and Weddings Rings

The event was the annual prize-giving although the students already knew who the prize recipients were. The prize-giving was a traditional event in that it was a formal occasion stretching back to past times of nobility awarding academic honours to the students.

Last year the prizes were awarded by the Marquis and Marchioness of Cirencester who had for many years been generous benefactors to the college, their children being past pupils, and again this year they would be presenting the prizes.

The teachers and senior students were assembled in the concert hall as well as reporters from the Rickmansworth Bugle and one from a national daily newspaper when Miss Sefton, the Headmistress, accompanied by the Marchioness mounted the stage.

The background noise from the students increased accordingly. Miss Sefton busied herself sorting the awards and certificates on the dais, discussing the order of the prizes before clapping her hands and calling for quiet from the students.

When Miss Sefton clapped her hands there was an immediate response. Two notable prize winners this year were Rebecca Tate, her extra-curricular activities included being the winner of the Southern Counties 100 metres ladies freestyle swimming championships who was to take out the college prize for the best athlete for the year, and Patience Beauchamp who had recently left the college and had returned to receive her honours in classical languages.

Tamsin, somewhat down in the honours list, was not to be disappointed and was awarded the prize for the most improved student. 

I asked myself “improved in what”? It was not for her general behaviour that’s for sure. One could say it was a consolation prize but that might appear to be catty.

Phaedra Gascoigne won the Ancient History Advanced Latin Prize for the highest achievement in Advanced Latin, and Eustasia Alexopulos, daughter of the Greek ambassador, won a commendation for her keen grasp of the Greek language.

It would take too long to go through the complete list of award recipients but the awards list was exceptionally encouraging this year. Again Miss Sefton called for silence then invited the Marchioness to give the closing speech.

Lady Elizabeth, the Marchioness, spoke of her daughter who was fortunate enough to attend Denham Hall and gave a lovely closing speech encouraging the students to keep up the high academic achievements particularly in the field of the classics and English literature and not to be detracted by modern influences.

I assume she was referring to iPods, iPads, Twitter and Facebook. She congratulated Miss Sefton and Miss Pringle for running a “tight ship”. All the girls were expected to go on to university.

As the college was a good step out of the town and to the nearest bus stop, my parents arranged a permanent account with Silver Service Taxis as did Tamsin’s and quite a number of the other students’ parents. Denham Hall had a small bus but was reserved for college use only.

Father made his considerable wealth from ‘coal and oil interests’ in Brazil and hiring an executive jet to allow me to commute between college and home to Oban was a normal occurrence.

I should mention Tamsin was now a regular visitor to our home. Her family had just recently moved to Loch Awe, Scotland and she was now almost a neighbour, so she would regularly commute with me between Stanstead and Oban in Scotland, along with any other girls who had been invited to stay for the weekend or holidays.

The following weekend I, Tamsin and Phaedra was met at Oban airport by Beecham who drove us to Inveraray Castle. On the way home we called into Tamsin’s home at Awe Grange then drove on to Inveraray. On the way home, Beecham filled us in with news that mother had her wedding ring stolen by a magpie.

On arriving home father said mother was beside herself with worry. It appears just an hour earlier the magpie had stolen her wedding ring when she put it on the window sill while trying to remove super glue from her hands.

Now things had gone missing before but we never suspected a rogue magpie as being the culprit. It was not the monetary value of the ring that upset mother but its intrinsic value. What made it worse was mother saw the magpie fly off with her ring.

As regards thieving magpies, Tamsin pointed out to father the BBC got it all wrong….again. She said she heard on the BBC evening news that recent research showed it was a myth that magpies stole shiny objects. Furthermore, Tamsin pointed out and, rightly so, SOME magpies steal shiny objects but others don’t. Not unlike some cats that hate peanuts. SOME do, SOME don’t, or that not ALL dogs bark, SOME do, SOME don’t.

She added, “Do you see where I am going with this?” I think I did.

In the library, we discussed Mother’s loss and magpies’ reputation in general. Phaedra noted that The BBC most likely researched a small cross-section of magpies that lived in a country area and not in an urban environment. 

 She also noted in a country environment people like farmers, newsagents, and country people were most unlikely to carry shiny things around with them. Tamsin said the same could also be said of tractor drivers and people who chop down trees, whereas in an urban area there are shiny things all over the place, if that makes any sense.

Pity the BBC did not pick up on this one.

That afternoon I was reading on the swing settee as Tamsin and Phaedra lay basking on the lawns when Tamsin said she saw a magpie flying to and fro from its nest high in the southern turret and then swooping down near the state dining room windows.

We went into the library and informed Father. Father said he would get a security person to take us to investigate. He said he did not want Beecham at his age wandering the castle’s turrets. Arriving on the roof we found the magpie’s nest very quickly.

There were young chicks in the nest, along with one of Mrs Dalrymple’s missing earrings, a tourist’s bracelet and what appeared to be a visitor’s cigarette lighter, a bank card, and some coins. This had been a busy magpie and one clever bird the BBC researchers must have missed in its research.

It did occur to me that the magpie’s young would have much preferred food rather than shiny stuff and small change.

It was initially thought mother’s wedding ring was not among its loot until Tamsin lifted one of the chicks to find it had been sitting on it. There was immediate joy when Mother was reunited with her wedding ring. Calm had been restored to the Campbell household and the weekend had not started.

No 17 - Séance at Inveraray

                                                         

         

                             Séance at Inveraray 

It was Patience’s last day at school. Not only was Patience Denham Hall’s head prefect, she was also the Boadicea dormitory monitor. 

The farewell was held in the dining room and also included were the sixth form girls from the other dorms. 

Being her last day at school the girls were excitedly clustered around Patience. She was very well-liked. She was also my very best friend and had been at Denham Hall as long as I can remember, well at least three years. On more than one occasion she had been our guest at Inveraray Castle. 

Among the crowd of well-wishers I could see Miss Pringle earnestly talking to Patience, no doubt inquiring about her plans for the future. 

Tamsin asked Jessica what Patience had in mind for a career. 

Jessica replied, “She is thinking of either studying to be a solicitor or going into teaching”. 

Tamsin said “I know what I would do. I would take up soliciting. Surely there is more money in it and far less agro”. 

Not hard of hearing, big ears Miss Pringle, looking over Patience’s shoulder, said crossly “I would be careful what you say Miss Lacey”. 

Tamsin answered defensively “But miss, miss …” 

I thought, ‘hello, we have been here before’. It was when Miss Pringle was explaining to the class that a farrier re-shoes horse’s hooves and a shoe repairer repairs people’s shoes. Tamsin had cried out “that’s cobblers miss”. That remark was enough for Miss Pringle to send Tamsin on a round trip to see the headmistress. Pleading with a “but miss, miss” to Miss Pringle did not help. After the visit to Miss Sefton’s office, I believe the misunderstanding was all sorted out. 

Patience’s impending departure also left me with a small headache. You see, as I wrote earlier, Patience was my very best friend now I am left with the problem as to who would take her place. At this stage, there are three contenders, Tamsin, Phaedra, and Jessica. 

Tamsin is the favorite for the top spot as she is currently my second best friend but at least Phaedra and Jessica will move up one place. Patience will remain on my Facebook friends’ list. 

It was the first week of the holidays and I was back with my family. I had invited Tamsin and Phaedra to stay at Inveraray which really pleased mother. You see mother had arranged another séance but after the disaster of the previous one the numbers were always going to be a problem. Father again found some lame excuse why he could not attend. 

Mrs Dalrymple was again going to lead the séance and the less experienced medium Mrs Pasta, the Italian kitchen hand, was to be a ‘back-up’. Again, Mr Flowers, the assistant gardener and his wife Betty had been ‘invited’ to attend. 

For my gentle readers, I should explain Inveraray Castle is one of the most haunted castles in Scotland. There are said to be a quintet of ghosts. Whether this is hearsay or not, who knows? It is said that the castle is haunted by the ghost of a harpist who was hanged in 1644 for peeping at the lady of the house. 

Tamsin commented the punishment was somewhat harsh, yes even uncalled for. 

Visitors have reported hearing a mysterious harp playing at the castle. But other stories relate a different tale. The legend goes that in 1644 the Duke of Argyll fled his castle to escape capture from the Marquess of Montrose. When he deserted, he left behind a young Irish boy who had been in his employment as a harpist. 

From the castle records, and here I quote ‘the marquess had deployed Irish mercenaries who, outraged that a fellow countryman could be in the employ of their sworn enemy, slaughtered the boy, leaving his dismembered body on the duke’s bed’. 

Again Tamsin commented on the needless severity of the said punishment. 

It is said when a member of the family is about to die in the castle harp music can be heard coming from this room. The last report of this ghostly phenomenon being when the 10th Duke died in 1949. Elsewhere in the house, a bagpiper has been heard playing on the balcony of the Brown Library. 

You can understand Mrs Dalrymple really needs to nominate who she is calling on the other side to avoid any confusion with the other spirits. As we assembled in the gallery we made sure Mr Winston the dog was removed from the room. We did not want a repeat performance of the last séance with signals that did not originate from the ‘other side’ but rather from ‘underneath’ by Mr Winston who had been asleep under the table. 

Candles were lit; the lights were dimmed. We held hands. Mrs Dalrymple paused as she composed herself then cast her eyes………er to the high vaulted ceilings. 

The séance commenced. Mrs Dalrymple intoned “Our beloved harpist, we bring you gifts from life into death. Commune with us. Please move among us”. 

I don’t know where she learns this stuff. 

Mrs Dalrymple repeated the request. 

Silence. Nothing. Zilch! 

“Spirit show yourself. Spirit reveal. Spirit come to me so I know you are real”. 

She paused. There was a sound but it was difficult to understand the spirit’s reply. 

Mrs Dalrymple asked “Mrs Pasta would you be so kind as to try and make contact”. 

There were definitely sounds. Whether it was a reply, well it was hard to say as the sounds made no sense. 

Mrs Pasta inquired of Mrs Dalrymple “Do you know if the slaughtered boy’s remains were left on the duke's bed or were they removed to the ceiling?” 

“Well Mrs Pasta, for the life of me, I am not sure why the remains would have been placed in the ceiling in the first place and regarding the boy’s remains being left on his bed that is most unlikely as well. If they were removed to the ceiling you can appreciate, after a while, there is a strong likelihood the remains would start to……………”  

Mrs Pasta visibly annoyed replied “Yes, yes I know. I know”. 

This was developing into a music hall script. Nevertheless, there were sounds coming from the ceiling. Tamsin was enjoying this. I can imagine her relating this story in the dorm after lights out. 

Spirits were abundant at Inveraray. There was a good selection to call on. I suspect this was Mrs Dalrymple’s last-ditch attempt to contact the ‘dear departed’. 

I whispered to Tamsin and asked if she would you like to have a go at summoning the dead. She declined. 

In desperation, Mrs Dalrymple was going to invoke the spirits with a tried and tested summons that has stood the test of time, but I suspect this one may have been lifted from a Black Sabbath. 

“Witches course through time; we are in need of assistance. Oh spirit come, we beckon you. Share your stories. Come until the morning light”. 

There was definite movement and sounds from the ceiling but no answer of a spiritual nature. 

Mrs Dalrymple instructed “You may release hands. The spirits are not ready to make contact with earthly entities”. 

She spoke to mother. “Lady Delilah, I must apologize again. We will have to try another time. At least we may have awoken the spirits and alerted them we wish to make contact”. 

Mother said “Of course Mrs Dalrymple but thank you for coming. We look forward to you conducting another séance in the near future”. 

The group broke up and retired to the library. Father was already waiting. He had returned from visiting Colonel Carter-Brown. Drinks were served to the séance guests and speculation as to why the spirits chose not to reveal themselves was raised. 

I had the feeling that father, by his demeanor, was up to something. He said little but was listening intently to Mrs Dalrymple’s account of the difficulty making contact with the house ghosts. 

Father said “your séance Mrs Dalrymple was most interesting. I am sorry you did not connect with the spirits living in the castle. My evening has been less exciting. I have been round to Colonel Carter-Brown’s place and he tells me maintenance men are going to have to explore the roof above the library here. It appears we have a family of squirrels living in the ceiling”. I think father was also beginning to enjoy this evening. 

But gentle readers wait there is more. Visitors to the castle have reported the existence of yet another spirit in the old kitchen - a more cheery spirit in the form of a laundry maid who has been heard laughing hysterically on a number of occasions. Maybe it was the reaction by our spirit friends with a sense of humour after witnessing Mrs Dalrymple’s séances. Was this their reaction to her efforts at summoning the ghosts of Inveraray Castle or maybe it might be a ghostly ancestor of Mrs Pasta do you think?”

No 16 - Denham Hall Senior Writing Competition

Denham Hall 

Now Rickmansworth Young Ladies College 

 Senior Writing Competition 

The recent gossip or tittle-tattle after lights-out concerning Mrs Sefton, the headmistress, who was seen speaking to a ‘male’ person of the opposing gender, was found later to be a mischievous rumour only. There was a slim veneer of truth in that, yes, she was seen having an animated discussion with a ‘male’, but only in her professional capacity and only after complaints had surfaced concerning noises emanating from beneath the floorboards of the concert hall, the result of the discovery of a family of mice that had taken up residence. I learned later the mice had been ‘encouraged’ to leave.

Another subject discussed after lights-out that surfaced regularly was the choice of career we had in mind on leaving college.

Tamsin’s inputs I think were more of shock value rather than desire. For instance, the desire to be a container ship captain or joining the SAS. I just cannot take her seriously. I initially wanted to be father’s secretary or a vet, but that all changed when I won the Senior Writing Competition set by Miss Pringle, the english teacher, so now I will become a famous writer.

It was an open competition with no set subject, so I chose to write a Children’s Picture Book Story. It is now in hard copy form on A4 paper thus it will remain forever in the annals of contemporary literature. I will ‘chronicle’ it here.

‘Chronicle’ - that’s a good word, by the way, might use that more often. I am hoping it will be reviewed by the Rickmansworth Writers Guild. I might try to continue writing fantasy as it is where Tamsin seems to think my mind dwells most of the time.

I trust the Watford Observer is notified by the college of the efforts of this budding, exciting new author. They may even request a face to face interview. Hopefully my manuscript will be passed onto the Guardian Newspaper for an in-depth review by their book reviewer, Rupert Tarquin-Jones, and discussed on his TV programme.

Baker Walker-Brown of the London Times might wax lyrical pointing out Ms Bridgette Campbell’s new novel, Moonbeam and Deirdre, is an example of the finest writing yet to come from the pen of Ms Campbell. Her work has been described as ‘soul-searching and poignant; a statement of the times’. Oops, I am getting a little carried away here.

Tamsin Lacey eat your heart out. My children’s picture book story follows. It is called Moonbeam and Deirdre. I wrote father and mother into the story. They will be pleased. I am hoping a book signing deal is not out of the question or fame resulting from the fruits of my work.
Deirdre is a Dragon. 886 words, Font size 11. Script Calibri body.

 Moonbeam and Deirdre 

Lord and Lady Campbell lived at Dunroamin Castle. They had a very attractive daughter named Miss Moonbeam.

Lady Delilah wanted to name her firstborn Persimmon but Lord Campbell said not only was it a silly name it would be difficult for the child to spell so they called her Moonbeam instead.

Now Miss Moonbeam had a pet Dragon named Deirdre. Deirdre had been shunned by the other Dragons because, well firstly she had a lisp and secondly she was so timid she would not breathe fire and smoke.

The Dragon appeared one day sitting outside of the main gates of the castle making awful noises. After a couple of days the gardener could not stand it anymore and let her in and took her to Lord Campbell.

Moonbeam asked if she could keep her and Lord Campbell agreed. The following day after a ceremony officiated by Moonbeam and witnessed by the castle’s dog Rover saw the dragon officially adopted into the family with the name Deirdre.

Lord and Lady Campbell lived at Dunroamin Castle. They had a very attractive daughter named Miss Moonbeam.

Lady Delilah wanted to name her firstborn Persimmon, but Lord Campbell said not only was it a silly name it would be difficult for the child to spell so they called her Moonbeam instead.

Now Miss Moonbeam had a pet Dragon named Deirdre. Deirdre had been shunned by the other dragons because, well firstly she had a lisp and secondly she was so timid she would not breathe fire and smoke.

The dragon appeared one day sitting outside of the main gates of the castle making awful noises. After a couple of days the gardener could not stand it anymore and let her in and took her to Lord Campbell.

Moonbeam asked if she could keep her and Lord Campbell agreed. The following day, after a ceremony officiated by Moonbeam and witnessed by the castle’s dog Rover, saw the dragon officially adopted into the family with the name Deirdre.

Lord Campbell called in the local dragon expert to assess Deidre’s age. He estimated her to be around 14,000 years old. Miss Moonbeam, after studying Deirdre’s teeth and claws, put her closer to 18 months old and wondered if she was being missed by her parents.

Dragon Deirdre spent the long summer days in the walled garden chasing butterflies and sleeping.

One morning Miss Moonbeam awoke and found, to her horror, she was covered in a red rash. Lady Delilah rang the doctor. “Doctor, Doctor. I think Moonbeam has the measles”.

Dragon Deirdre came in from the garden also covered in a rash. We all know dragons do not catch measles.

The doctor examined Miss Moonbeam and Deirdre and soon realized Dragon Deirdre was suffering from stress which, with dragons, was infectious and she had infected Miss Moonbeam.

The Doctor covered Miss Moonbeam all over in a special red cream for treating people infected by stressed-out dragons, a cream she always kept in the surgery and it seemed to work. Dragon Deirdre was to rest.

It was a week later Dragon Deirdre showed all the symptoms of a cold with watery eyes, a runny nose and sneezing. Miss Moonbeam suggested to her father that she was probably just a sickly dragon. Father said she has just caught a cold in her chest which will pass and to not worry.

Lady Delilah asked Miss Moonbeam not to allow Dragon Deirdre to sleep with her on the bed as the maids are complaining she claws at the bed-clothes in her sleep………….… that’s Deirdre not Moonbeam.

By now the villagers were used to seeing Miss Moonbeam taking Deirdre to the shops in the village when running errands for her parents. One Sunday morning Moonbeam asked her parents if Deirdre could accompany them to church.

The vicar had already agreed as long as Deirdre did not upset the church service. The only distraction was when the people fidgeted and turned round in their seats to see who was snoring during the vicar’s sermon. Yes it was Dragon Deirdre again. It was something that the Campbell’s were going to have to get used to.

One day Miss Moonbeam asked her mother, Lady Delilah, if she could take Dragon Deirdre to school for ‘show and tell’. This was not a problem and Beecham the chauffeur was told to make sure Deirdre wore a seat belt in the car.

During ‘show and tell’, when the teacher was not looking, the hated classroom bully amused himself by flicking rolled up pieces of paper with an elastic band at Deirdre. The dragon glowered back.

Throughout the morning lessons Deirdre lay on the floor by Moonbeam’s feet and every now and again she would break into snoring….. that’s Deirdre, not Moonbeam, and the other children would start sniggering.

Miss Pringle’s attention would be drawn from the blackboard and she would glare crossly at Moonbeam who would lightly tap Deirdre in her side with her foot and the snoring would stop……well for a while.

Dragons were not common at Moonbeam’s school. In fact, she was a first. Moonbeam embellished the story to the other schoolchildren that Dragon Deirdre was given to her by a wizard she met in a field.

It was also a day the school bully never forgot. Jealous of Moonbeam’s attention he walked up to Moonbeam and her sleeping dragon during the lunch break and kicked Deirdre lightly in her side asking “and where did you find the stupid dragon then?”

Deirdre reared up to her full 7 feet, looked down and directed a well-aimed flame that singed the bully’s hair. He ran screaming across the playground never to bother Moonbeam again.

As Miss Moonbeam went to meet Beecham she overheard one boy asking of his friend “who is that incredibly attractive girl with the dragon”? Yes, it had been a wonderful day.

The story goes that a male dragon turned up at nearby Ruthin Castle. Lady Delilah said to her husband “are you thinking what I am thinking?” A week later a letter arrived from Ruthin Castle informing Lord Campbell that, although they appreciated their very kind offer, one dragon was more than enough in any household and pointed out, and quite rightly so, that over time one plus one can equal more than two.
Bridgette Campbell, Sixth Form. Denham Hall.

No 15 - Kilchurn Castle

                                                                              

    Kilchurn Castle 

              Tamsin's Family Home in the Far Distance on Loch Awe

It was ‘lights out’ in Boadicea dorm when the discussion took an unusual turn. It was the subject of ‘boys’. It was only during the end of year dances the girls who did not have brothers were introduced to these creatures of the opposite species. Normally fraternization with boys was not encouraged. Miss Pringle said it was ‘counterproductive and not conducive for concentrating on one’s studies’.

It was Charlotte, who had just arrived at the college and is also my newest Facebook friend, who was convinced males were of a completely different genus. By the way, her mother is an actress.

Rhonda, speaking from experience having two brothers, declared “Charlotte, believe me, up close boys don’t smell as bad as some of their more disgusting habits. Also there is only a 50% chance you might, or might not, marry one of them one day”. Experience is the best teacher. Rhonda knew what she was talking about, except about the married bit.

I suspect Miss Pringle, the assistant headmistress, also regarded males as unnecessary baggage. She was in her late forties, early fifties, and still unmarried, as was our headmistress, Miss Sefton.

Boys did not faze Tamsin as much as the boys were intimidated by her. I am sure the concerned mothers of the boys at these dances warned their sons to keep well away from Tamsin but whether they paid heed to, or more importantly were encouraged by, their mother’s nervousness and advice was another matter.

Tamsin noted that in this modern-day and age Miss Pringle could propose marriage to Miss Sefton. Despite their age differences they were both single and were about the same height. I am not sure of the connection there but critically important were they were both C of E.

Incidentally, I find Tamsin’s reasoning patterns quite bizarre.

Briefly, there had been boys in Tamsin’s life, like Nathan whom she met at the Rickmansworth Folk Club above the fish and shop, the Ocean….. er something or other in the High Street, where he had taught her the only three guitar chords he knew in the key of ………well whatever. I felt that little liaison had been a bit one-sided from the start and was going nowhere. Hang on I just remembered, it was the chord of E minor. If Nathan thinks some unbridled pash might result from these free lessons, he had another think coming. Tamsin is not that sort of girl; she is a free spirit.

Then there was Grant ……er somebody or other who she met at last year’s college dance who she reckoned was quite hot. Then there was ‘gormless’ looking Pat O’ Reilly, a suspected pygmy from the St Joan of Arc Catholic School whom she was partnered in the gay gordons at the school dance . She said he was a ‘twit’. I suppose she knows what she is talking about. I mean she is rapidly coming up to just over 15¾.

The earnestness of the conversation waned as one by one the girls drifted off the sleep.

The following day after college we walked into town. Tamsin, observant as always, called attention to the fact that as most of the week is taken up by weekdays all that is left at the end of the week is two days to enjoy oneself. Who could argue with that?

Across the street, Tamsin spied Nathan, the traveling troubadour, with his guitar slung nonchalantly across his back. “Look Bridgette. There’s Nathan. He must be on his way to a gig at the Autumn Leaves Retirement Home for the Aged”.

I replied “But I thought you said he only knows three chords?”

“Yes. That’s right; he said that’s all you need to know to give a concert. Anyway he said a dozen or so verses and choruses of Where Have All the Flowers Gone and Whisky in the Jar will take up most of the afternoon, and if there is a call for an encore they could always get the ‘inmates’ (Nathan’s disrespectful word, by the way) to join in a sing-a-long of Kumbaya”.

As we moved on, her wannabe lothario waved cheerily and disappeared like magic into the colorful, exotic world of the hustle and bustle of the Rickmansworth Saturday morning shoppers.

Tamsin Lacey’s parents had retired and bought a property in Scotland at Loch Awe, not far from Kilchurn Castle. The castle is just ruins. It was built in the mid-1400s and was a base of the Campbell Clan for over 150 years. It is only about 10 miles from Inveraray so Tamsin and I are now almost neighbours. Her father had been a long-serving minister in the Northern Ireland government.

The following Saturday we were invited to stay overnight with Mr and Mrs Lacey at Loch Awe Grange.

There are terrifying moments in a young girl’s life. Moments such as when their mothers decide to pull out a nude photograph of them as a baby to show all the other guests on their wedding day.

Well, there was a defining moment in Tamsin’s life when she had to face up to life’s cruel reality. OK, I admit it was not quite the same.

Tamsin’s mother recounted to my father and mother about an incident when Tamsin was about eight years old when she had to face up to this ‘reality’ I referred to. Thankfully it was not a nude photograph that caused the embarrassment. It was just an event in a young girl’s life. Even so, I felt Tamsin cringe as the story was being told.

The story goes: it was at the breakfast table Tamsin said excitedly to her mother “mother, mother there’s a dog show on at the fairground today. Can we enter Princess?”

Her mother said, “She needs papers to prove she is a purebred dog to enter a dog show”.

Tamsin asked, “Can’t we get her some of these papers on the way over to the show-ground?”

“No. We cannot. A dog is either born with a pedigree or it is not. Princess is in the NOT category. Now eat your porridge.”

The scene changes as Tamsin and her mother and father were waiting patiently for Princess to jump into the car to go to the showground. Tamsin was already sitting in the back seat with Princess on the end of a leash encouragingly calling “Come on Princess, come on girl in you get.”

Mr Lacey impatiently said “For heaven’s sake Lydia put her in the car or we will be here all day”.

On the way to the showground, Tamsin leaned over the front seat and asks “mother can you call me Moonbeam?”

“Your name is Tamsin. Now put your seat belt on”.

As they arrived at the show-ground father said “Now Tamsin, we are just going to the refreshment tent. Don’t wander off. We won’t be too long”.

Tamsin strolled among the entrants and found a spare blanket on the ground between two other entrants. She sat down, searched her bag for her comb to comb Princess. The other dog owners continued prizzying and fluffing their dogs up and doing things doggy people do as the judges walked among the entrants.

The judges then approached Tamsin and Princess.

The lady judge put both of her hands up in a feigned surprise and said adoringly “what a lovely little chappie. What’s his name?”

Tamsin frowning, replied hotly “he is NOT a lovely little chappie. He is a girl”.

“Oh, I AM sorry. What’s her name?”

Tamsin replied “Princess”.

The judge cooed “what a lovely name”.

Tamsin said grudgingly “at least it’s better than Tamsin”.

“Well stay around for the judging. Today we are having a special category for the cutest dog and they do not have to be pure-bred”.

As they left a little girl sat down opposite Tamsin ready to take her photo thinking she was important. Tamsin put her hand up to signal her to pause while she combed her hair with Princess’s comb. The flash went off and Tamsin’s eye-balls burnt out for 150th of second and the showground went from an angry crimson colour then back to a nice colour image.

It was a moment that caught Tamsin’s parents completely off guard. On arriving back at the judging area they saw Tamsin on the stage holding a cup above her head like a Wimbledon winner with a sash around Princess to the cheers of the crowd, as the judge announced that the owner of the cutest dog in the show was a Miss Moonbeam.

Mr Lacey looked at his wife Lydia and mouthed querulously “Moonbeam?”

No 14 - Disturbed Spirits at Inveraray Castle.

                                                                                                                            

Disturbed Spirits at Inveraray

It was sheer joy. I was back home at Inveraray Castle for the weekend and Tamsin, who is currently my second best friend and Phaedra, who I think is in equal running as my third best friend, had also been invited. I had serious misgivings about mothers newfound interest of holding séances instead of her usual bridge parties. So did father.

Father had discovered what I had judged to be a pretty lame excuse not to attend the séance. He told mother he had to take a run across to Ruthin Castle to see Colonel Carter-Brown about carburetors and things.

The family retainer, Beecham, and his wife Symphony and also one of the gardeners and his wife had been invited to this séance as mother was having difficulty finding numbers. I was about to write ‘there had been some pressure applied’.

Beecham had been the family retainer as long as I can remember. I once inquired of father about Beecham’s connection with the Campbell family and he replied Beecham’s father had been employed at Inveraray for many years and lived in the grace and favour residence before his son Beecham was born.

The grace and favour property was passed onto Beecham and was situated in the village but once Beecham officially retired he and his wife moved to the gatehouse in deference to his age, as there was less land to care for and he was put in charge of the stables to keep his interest afloat, and a young lad, Andrew, was employed as his assistant.

At this point, it would be opportune to explain that our medium for these séances was a Mrs Dalrymple who lived next to the gatehouse; well actually down the road a bit from the gatehouse. Tamsin always referred to Mrs Dalrymple as the ‘mad lady’. Somewhat discourteous I feel but nevertheless true.

Gentle readers, I have some misgivings about Mrs Dalrymple’s séances and the evoking of spirits in Inveraray Castle. Having a long history, it could be fraught with many unforeseen dangers. It has been the seat of the Dukes of Argyll, chiefs of Clan Campbell, since the 18th century.

Incidentally, the foundation stone for the castle was laid down in 1746 and I have no doubt there are sleeping spirits, souls and ghosts living with us within its walls and I prefer they remain sleeping. I do not really want Mrs Dalrymple waking them up and I did not hesitate to tell father so just before he left for Ruthin Castle.

Mrs Dalrymple arrived at around 7 pm. No crystal balls here, no tarot cards. This was the real thing - a chance to talk to the dead or perhaps the living dead. Looking around the table there were 10 of us.

I, mother, Tamsin, Phaedra, Mr and Mrs Beecham, the gardener Mr Potter and his wife who sat next to Mrs Dalrymple then the kitchen supervisor, Mrs Pasta, an Italian lady. We three girls from Denham College really helped swell the numbers.

It was the first séance I had attended, as it was for Phaedra and Tamsin. Mrs Pasta was an old hand at this and was known in the district as being somewhat of an eccentric as well as a psychic herself which explains her friendship with Mrs Dalrymple.

We took our places around the table. Mrs Dalrymple briefly explained the etiquette of séances and asked that we all join hands.

She raised her head to the ceiling, closed her eyes and said “We are gathered here this evening to attempt to make contact with our dear departed loved ones and hope to put to rest the spirits and lost souls who wander the long corridors of the Inveraray Castle”.

There was a long pause. She eventually spoke, “Are you there?” I thought perhaps she might elicit a name in case there might be more than one resident spirit. There has been plenty of time for quite a number of spirits and wraiths to have made their home in the castle.

She repeated “Are you there?” She paused “give us a sign”.

Nothing!

Perhaps the ghosts, spirits or souls were really asleep.

Mrs Dalrymple called in the reinforcements. “Mrs Pasta would you like to try and summon our spirit friends?”

Mrs Pasta took over. “Don’t break the circle people”.

Pausing she continued “Who is there, please? We wish to make contact. Give us a sign”.

She repeated the request; there was a heavy thud from beneath the table. It was heavy enough to physically move the table.

“ER YUK” I froze. There was a sharp intake of breath from Tamsin.

Hurriedly Mrs Pasta said “Girls don’t break the circle. Quiet now; someone is trying to make contact”.

We gingerly peered beneath the tablecloth.

Relieved I whispered to Tamsin, “It’s only Mr Winston. How long has he been sleeping there?”

Phaedra whispered, “Does it matter? How did he get in?”

Mr Winston was our golden retriever; the Japanese tourists make a real fuss of him.

Tamsin whispered “who named him Mr Winston?”

I whispered “I did”.

She whispered again “That’s a stupid name”.

I replied indignantly “I was only eight”.

Irritated Mrs Pasta exclaimed “Girls can you please stop whispering. Bridgette who is under the table?”

Lowering my voice I replied “it’s Mr Winston”.

“I have never heard of such a thing. What is he doing sleeping under the table? Does he sleep there often? Can you ask him to kindly remove himself. Tell him we are in the middle of a séance here”.

“Mr Winston is a dog miss”.

“Bridgette, you can bad mouth him as much as you like but whatever your personal opinion might be of this Winston person it does not concern me. He is ruining my séance. I ask again would you kindly ask him to remove himself. Some basic respect for Mr Winston would also not go astray either”.

“But he IS a dog Mrs Pasta, like a REAL dog”.

There was a short intermission while Mr Winston was removed and the séance recommenced.

Mrs Dalrymple again took control. “Let us please concentrate now, this going nowhere”.

“Betty, would you like to contact your sister Emily who recently passed away?”

“Yes that would be nice” replied Betty.

“Right everybody close the circle. Let us really concentrate this time”.

The group settled. There was a pause when Mrs Dalrymple asked again “Emily are you there? Your sister Betty wants to make contact; a sign please”.

There was another pause, then a distinct cough was heard. Was it a signal from the other side?

“Betty I think we have made contact.” Excited, she tightly clutched Betty’s hand.

“Emily have you a message for your sister?”

This was followed by another cough. Mrs Dalrymple waited for further communication.

There was another rather throaty cough, followed by a knock on the door.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, how can I concentrate? Someone please answer the door”.

I answered the knock on the door. It was a message relayed by a cleaning lady from father.

She looked terrible. She sneezed, wiped her nose, composed herself and said “Lord Campbell asked me to inform you that he is running a little late and has left his mobile phone on the table in the study”.

Having delivered the dispatch she left with a hankie in front of face coughing heavily and noisily blowing her nose.

It was an exasperated Mrs Dalrymple that spoke next. “Lady Campbell, frankly I suggest there is little or no point in continuing this séance. Perhaps we can try another time”.

“Yes good idea, perhaps another time” agreed mother. I do apologize Mrs Dalrymple and to you also Mrs Pasta.

We left the spirits sleeping…… for the time being, that is. I guess it is back to bridge parties.
 

No 13 - Caroline. The Discovery: The Rickmansworth Man .

Caroline 

The discovery; The Rickmansworth Man 

The more alert of my gentle readers might notice immediately this is NOT ‘The Rickmansworth Man’. I was about to head this story with a picture of King George the Second, the founder of Denham Hall, but in retrospect l thought a picture of his wife Caroline might be more appealing, if that makes any sense.

I am sure you are already aware Denham Hall is currently known as The Rickmansworth Young Ladies College. It was given its charter by King George the Second in the 18th century.

It might also be of interest to know that the records show that there are two things that attracted George to his wife. One was her ‘ample physique’. There was another attraction, but for the life of me I cannot think what it was.

Anyways it was this attribute I first wrote about that attracted, nay captivated, George though it appears this attraction was not reciprocated when George took mistresses.

As a point of interest, George the Second was the last English monarch to lead his troops in battle, although I am led to believe he did not really have his heart in it.

To bring you up to speed, Denham Hall is NOT an elementary school, a comprehensive school or a state school, secondary or a grammar school but a very exclusive private boarding college for genteel young English ladies whose parents are.....Well as Tamsin so succinctly put it “whose parents are not short of a quid” although for a person who has had a lot of money spent on her education I thought she would have worded this observation slightly differently.

I should point out at present Tamsin is my second best friend. Rhonda WAS my second best friend but she without thought blotted her copybook when she criticized my new hairstyle, but she is still on my Facebook friends list. Patience is the oldest of us and is still my best friend.

It was another beautiful summer day, not a cloud in the sky. It was Friday and we were looking forward to the weekend. Breakfast was over and I headed for the library where I found Tamsin.

Cheerily I said, “Hi Tamsin. Who are you writing the card to?”

She replied, “Grant, it’s his birthday”.

Teasing her I inquired “why don’t you write ‘Run postman run’ or ‘Horsey, horsey don’t you stop. Just let your feet go clippity clop’ or something like that on the back of the envelope”.

Irritated she replied “I hardly know him. I have only met him once”.

Lowering my voice and looking over her shoulder I paused and whispered confidentially “You know ‘Run postman run’ sounds more romantic and more intimate than ‘Happy Birthday Grant’, kissy-kissy. Don’t you think?” (Makes kissing sounds).

Irately she replied “Bridgette that’s not funny”.

I had better be careful or my ranking will drop from first to second place in Tamsin’s Facebook friends’ list. At least she is not vindictive like Rhonda who deliberately unfriended me from Facebook once without even a by your leave. The bell sounded and everyone scattered.

We were looking forward to Friday afternoon because the following day was the start of the weekend but today Miss Pringle had received permission from farmer Benton to allow the girls to paint the old Flaxton Mill ….for art classes that is.

The old mill that once stood alongside the Chess River has been left high and dry after the river was re-routed. For those of you that are not acquainted with Chenies or the town of Rickmansworth for that matter, the Chess River lay not far behind the Red Lion Pub close to the Roman ruins.

To give you a roll call there was Tamsin, of course, Phaedra, Candice, Rhonda, Dakota, Elspeth, and Rebecca Tate. I was about to say ‘so was I’. We were all from Boadicea Dormitory. Unfortunately, the two Brecknockshire girls Blodwyn and Myfanwy were suffering from colds.
Oh yes, a new girl started the other day, Charlotte. I immediately put her on my friend's list but it goes without saying she is not all that high in the rankings just yet. Incidentally, we once had a racing pigeon named Charlotte. It never won any races.

After arriving at Farmer Benton’s field we arranged ourselves in pairs and prepared to get our easels and chairs from the school bus. I was paired with Tamsin which I thought might be a bad omen. Tamsin asked Briggs if he had brought any lemonade with him. Briggs had learned early to ignore Tamsin. I sometimes wondered if she has worms.

Artistic interpretations of the old mill were being painted on the girls’ easels in some really breathtaking, exotic colors.

Tamsin’s painting looked Primitif in every sense of the word. Some of the mixtures of her colours had never been seen in public before. They probably did not even have names.

The good news reached Tamsin at about midday when she heard that Briggs was erecting a fold-out table for lunch. The canteen had supplied packed sandwiches and lemonade as well as a flask of tea for Miss Pringle. The conversation over lunch was how we were spending the weekend. Some of the girls managed to go home for the weekend. Others played tennis or went to the movies at Watersmeet Cinema.

I would not be going home to Inveraray as my parents had been invited for the weekend to Ruthin Castle to stay with Colonel Carter-Brown.

After lunch Miss Pringle allowed us to wander around the Old Mill. To put you in the picture there were a number of legends about this old mill, although actually how many of them were true was another matter. It was built originally as a fortification and once sat by the river but later was converted into a water mill. In 1745 George’s troops suppressed the last Jacobite uprising led by Prince Charles Edward Stuart. It was said Prince Charles disappeared and he was thought to have escaped overseas.

I and Tamsin headed for the mill entrance and started to climb the stairs hoping to get a commanding view of the countryside from the second-floor window. The surroundings were idyllic. From way up high gazing out of the window, we observed the girls lying in the grass, reading or generally playing. All the internal mill structure had been removed and left as just a shell. On a number of occasions, a ghost was said to have been sighted around the fort and was given the name the ‘Rickmansworth Man’.

We left the mill but paused to look at the decaying water wheel. It was then that Tamsin cried out “Ooer Bridgette, I think there is something that looks like a skeleton under the water wheel”.

I answered “Is it an animal?”

“ER YUK, no it’s a real person I’m sure. Come and have a look”.

It was a human skeleton and partly covered in what appeared to be rags.

“Could it be a murder do you think? We had better tell Miss Pringle. She will have to get the police”.

We told Miss Pringle who took a closer look and immediately rang the police on her mobile phone and told us not to tell the other girls and to move away. Meanwhile Miss Pringle told the girls to pack up their easels and prepare to board the bus. When the police arrived Miss Pringle was advised to leave it in their hands.

It was a few weeks later at morning assembly Miss Sefton the headmistress told the students she had heard from the police and been informed the skeleton found at Flaxton Mill was indeed the skeleton of Prince Charles Edward Stuart. There had been DNA tests made, but most importantly, there was a gold ring found on the skeleton's finger that was engraved with the Prince Stuart’s family crest.

It was the legendary ‘Rickmansworth Man’. The prince did not flee to France but died in mysterious circumstances at the Flaxton Mill.

The Watford Observer had a field day. It also made the national news but Miss Sefton would not allow the reporters to interview the students, Bridgette Campbell and Tamsin Lacey.

She added the college was getting quite a reputation and, without mentioning names, first the Rickmansworth Chalice was found at the old roman ruins then the Rickmansworth Codex, the official Roman document of the establishment of the town of Rickmansworth was found at Raven Castle, and now the discovery at Flaxton Mill of the remains of Prince Edward Stuart or the legendary ‘Rickmansworth Man’.

Names or no names, nevertheless Bridgette Campbell and Tamsin Lacey’s names will most certainly be documented in the annals of the history of Denham Hall.

No 12 - Rickmansworth Rhapsody

They wanted to be featured

                                                                             

Rickmansworth Rhapsody 

Summer was a magical time at Rickmansworth Young Ladies College, formally known as Denham Hall; a very exclusive college of learning for genteel young ladies, a college for the daughters of Olde Albion from established families of substance whose parents were the Captains of Industry, Ambassadors, Political figures and leaders of men. Many life-long friendships were forged among the boarders at Denham Hall.

By 10pm in the middle of summer, the sun was still shining brightly, filtering under the curtains and reflecting off the dormitory ceiling making it difficult to get to sleep. I am not sure what triggered the conversation but the thrust of the discussion, as I remember, was ‘When I leave college I want to be…’

I was not surprised Tamsin took the lead. I would have been surprised if she hadn’t.

She opened with “When I leave college I want to be a Container Ship’s Captain”.

This was followed by suppressed audible groans from the other boarders.

I put the question to Candice.

She answered “I want to be a film star”.

Tamsin broke in “You cannot just WANT to be a film star Candice; just like Rhonda cannot just WANT to be clever”.

Rhonda raised her voice and replied irately “There is no need to be personal Tamsin”.

There was a pause. “What about you Bridgette?” asked Patience.

I said “I would like to be a neuro surgeon”.

Tamsin broke in again. “That’s going to take a bit of practice Bridgette” followed by a giggle.

This was going to be interesting. It was Rhonda’s turn.

“Rhonda?”

“When I leave school I want to be a teacher”. It was not met with a groan but rather more like someone sicking up from the direction of Tamsin’s bed.

It was Patience’s turn. She was the oldest of us. She responded “I would like to be the duty dormitory monitor like Nurse Mayo and throttle the life out of Tamsin”.

Tamsin retorted authoritatively. “That is not a profession Patience”.

Phaedra, Elspeth, and Jasmine refused to be drawn into the conversation.

That was where the discussion ended.

Another beautiful morning greeted the Denham Hall girls; the days were an endless summer. The smell of freshly mown lawns was carried high on the zephyrs of a gentle breeze, as did the heavy scent of rhododendrons which filtered through the open windows. It was the beginning of the weekend. In the huge dining room, Miss Pringle watched over the girls at breakfast time like a circling sparrowhawk. What will this new day bring?

Well, it brought Mr Crisis out of the science room for a start. It would take too long to explain, but Mr Crisis appeared one day
and was offered the position of science teacher by Miss Sefton due to the retirement of Miss Cribb.

The story goes - it was eventually discovered that Mr Crisis came from the Constellation of Epsilon Boőtis which is about 36 light-years from earth, so you see it is quite close. He was from the planet Tau Boötis which is one of the planets orbiting Epsilon and he said he was on a sabbatical. Tau Boötis yes, maybe, but I do not believe the bit about him being on a sabbatical. That stretches the imagination in anyone’s book.

Tamsin wanted to go to the shopping center to buy mother a small gift in return for the hospitality of staying for the coming
weekend. I pointed out to Tamsin she was not obliged to buy my mother anything as she is my second best friend; ………..that’s Tamsin not mother.

Stung, she inquired “What do you mean second best friend? Who is your best friend then?”

Exasperated I said “Patience is. Look Tamsin, it doesn’t matter, very best friend or second-best friend. It really doesn’t matter”.

She looked quite hurt.

We had a couple of hours spare before we were to leave for Scotland so we took a bus to the shopping center. I wanted to go with her in case she bought mother a packet of three triple-A batteries, a packet of cigarettes or even a meter for testing printed circuit boards or something just as silly.

While Tamsin went into the jewellers I sat on a seat in the main concourse next to the food emporium. The shopping center seemed to float on a sea of marble, with the dimensions of a cathedral, surrounded by huge windows like a mammoth conservatory or was it a goldfish bowl.

As I sat there a lady leading a large furry dog on a long leash passed my field of view. I held my breath for a heart-stopping moment as it paused momentarily to sniff the leg of an elderly lady shopper with a walking frame before it and its owner disappeared into the food hall. I had never seen a dog being taken for walkies in shopping centers before, not even a guide dog and certainly not sniffing around a food hall. I was still pondering this when Tamsin arrived.

I asked, “What did you buy my mother?”

She replied, “A brooch. What do you think Bridgette?”

“That’s lovely Tamsin. She will like that. Guess what I just saw?”

“An airplane landing?”

“Be serious Tamsin just for a moment. No, I just saw a lady walking a dog on a long leash in the food hall”.

Tamsin said “well it would have to be a blind dog”.

“You mean a dog for the blind”.

“Yes. That’s what I meant”.

I explained “But SHE was leading the dog. Dogs are not allowed in shopping centers”.

There was a long pause while Tamsin reflected on this anomaly or, better still, while her thought patterns booted up. She countered with “Well that’s what I said. It proves my point. It means the dog WAS blind. That was why SHE was leading the dog”.

I said, “But if the dog was blind why would she bother to bring it to the shopping center? It cannot see anything. Why not leave it at home?”

Again Tamsin thought about this briefly then said: “Well if she left it at home while she was doing the shopping the dog would keep bumping into stuff in the house all afternoon. That’s cruel”. It was a conversation best left alone.

This weekend father had hired an executive jet to fly Mr Crisis, Tamsin, Elspeth MacDonald and myself to Oban Airport where we were met by Beecham, the family retainer and chauffeur who drove us to Inveraray Castle. Both father and mother greeted us at the main gate.

Even at our earlier meeting, father was very impressed with Mr Crisis. He had previously told father he can move effortlessly between star systems as pure cosmic consciousness, not hindered by the constraints of space, time and distance and can take on the form of the species he comes into contact with.

Delilah, my mother, turned to Tamsin and said: “Tamsin my dear, Bridgette tells me you want to be a container ship’s captain when you leave school. Is that right?”

“Well, yes and no” replied Tamsin. “You see that was yesterday. I have now decided I want to be a vet”.

I covered my mouth to stifle my giggling.

Tamsin haughtily replied “there’s no need to be sarcastic Bridgette”.

Father looked at me, closed his eyes and shook his head.

It was to be an evening of Scottish dancing that had been arranged with a band in the saloon. When I told Tamsin about the live band that had been hired, she pointed it would certainly be a great improvement over a dead one.

Many of our friends were expected, including the Mackenzie’s and the Atholls. Tamsin and Elspeth had both brought their dress tartans for the event. I assumed father would find something for Mr Crisis to wear. There would be no need for him to go shopping at TartansЯus in the high street.

I warned Tamsin that tonight there was no way she was going to pull that same trick twice of stealing other girls’ partners who she preferred to hers by skilfully exchanging her own partner during a tricky maneuver during an eightsome reel. It was like a three-card trick with her, but I was wise up to her and I warned Elspeth about her too. I advised her to watch Tamsin like a hawk during these formation dances. Elspeth said “I am not that thilly. I know what Tamthin geth up to”.

The guests began to arrive and were shown into the state dining room. As the drinks were being served the noise level increased, aided by the children separated from their parents. The venue for the dance was in the saloon. Much of the furniture had been removed to allow the dancers more room. Here friends met and long-separated friends were reunited.

I must say, Mr Crisis looked splendid in the Campbell Tartan. The stories he will be able to tell his friends on his return to Tau Boőtis do not bear thinking about.

The band commenced with the eightsome reel the ‘Marquis of Tullamarine’. Tamsin should have been happy with her partner. Elspeth said he looked, as she put it, ‘quite hot’. I thought for a moment my partner for the night might be Elspeth before Beecham’s son Raymond asked me to dance. We danced reels, waltzes and quicksteps. I don’t mean with Raymond ALL night but with different partners. Just thought I would get that straightened out.

There was a break of about a half-hour when the second part of the evening started. That’s when Reginald……., er someone or other, asked me to dance. I wanted the evening to go on forever but a tormented vision of blind dogs in shopping centers kept interfering with my train of thought.

No 11 - Rickmansworth Jottings

 

  Rickmansworth Jottings.  

We had arranged to meet for breakfast in the Côte d'Azur café in Watford high street next to the garage. Pastor Dickie and his wife Mildred ordered the early bird special, beans on toast. I plumped for treacle on toast and Tamsin’s parents Mr and Mrs Lacey, who were visiting the college over the weekend, ordered the chef’s special. They took a courageous chance on this one as no-one was really sure what the chef’s special was.

Tamsin ordered the Carte De Jour, not too well done with béarnaise sauce, asparagus and a bowl of chips. I blushed crimson; if Miss Pringle our French teacher was present she would have had palpitations or convulsions and wondered what was the purpose of teaching school children French for years.

Tamsin does have her moments of pure genius however, proved by her brave but brief foray into the beauty industry. It was an internet adventure where she hoped to rival the ‘House of Yves Saint Éclair’ in Paris. Her discovery was a beauty product for the removal of unsightly ladies’ moustaches and private hair. Most importantly, what set it apart from the propriety brands was the user could actually harvest the base material needed for the hair removal themselves…tree sap.

We agonized for days over a brand name. I suggested ‘Airs and Graces’. My best friend Patience suggested ‘Air on a G String’. Finally, it was Tamsin who came up with a corker, ‘Brazilian Scream’. She reasoned this was the interpretation of the sound she expected to hear from the user as one ripped off the sap-impregnated elastoplast from the offending hair. We all concurred.

Even though we copyrighted the product, sadly the idea never found real favor with the general public.

Tamsin was keen to cement her mark in Rickmansworth and perhaps encourage the Rickmansworth Council to affix a blue commemorative plaque on a wall in the high street. We decided to move one step at a time on this one.

Our first opportunity came when the Red Lion Pub held a ‘Rickmansworth has Talent’ show. We decided even without a musical agent we could have a good chance of taking this one out. A name for our act was going to be a big problem. We eventually plumped for The Irish Rovers; plural you will note.

I was to play the washboard and sing. Tamsin played the tin whistle. We were to give a special rendering of ‘Whisky in the Jar’. I warned the organizer our version ran for 25 minutes but if they preferred a longer version we could accommodate them with like a special de luxe concert version that ran for 1¼ hours. In that one I have a washboard break of about 20 minutes.

He said as he had a dozen or so contestants lined up they would have to go with the shortened version.

I thought it was going very well. It was only after about 15 minutes when the pub was almost empty the grumpy organizer walked up to the stage and ordered us to leave. When I asked why, his excuse was the patrons were fed up waiting for the ‘Daddy Oh’. Well, that was their loss and Rickmansworth’s potential musical reputation down the drain.

While I have your attention I must recount one of father’s many anecdotes. He had previously related this story to Colonel and Lady Rowena Carter-Brown over a glass of port at one of our regular bridge parties; a story about a warship that was hit by a torpedo in the North Atlantic.

As the ship was about to keel over into the icy waters the ships, the pastor gathered everyone on deck and invited them to join him in the well-known hymn ‘Abide with Me’.

A small voice was heard to call out from the back of the assembled men. ‘What key are we in Jack?’ Personally I think it is an anecdote told in bad taste, and I did not hesitate to tell mother so.

I’m not sure if you are interested, but Colonel Carter-Brown’s wife, Lady Rowena, kept her title of Lady when she divorced her first husband, Sir Radcliffe-White.

I must tell you about my friend Graham. I hastily add he is NOT my boyfriend. I met him at a first aid refresher course. He partnered me in the resuscitation techniques.

I told mother about Graham attempting to kiss me on the……. erm escalator at the shopping centre. I told her I suspect Graham is experiencing his first sexual awakening. Mother said, “Bridgette dear of course he is. He a 16 year old male for heaven’s sake”. 

She also warned me not to continue to frolic with males of the opposite species on escalators in shopping centers.

 
 I did not realize mother had a sense of humour. I know father does because he married her.

It was mother that first accused me of being gullible and I believed her. Father must also think I am gullible. He recounted another one of his ‘untold stories’ concerning the Titanic that he said most people are totally unaware of. He said when it was sinking and only a few passengers and crew remained on deck the captain ordered the orchestra to lead the survivors in the hymn ‘Eternal Father Strong to Save’...…or something like that.

At the end of the singing, they were to observe one minutes silence in memory of those still struggling in the water after which the orchestra would then segue straight into the charleston, followed by musical chairs then the hokey pokey. Drinks would be served; fancy dress was optional. I asked mother how long had father indulged in bad taste.

Graham has just rung up and asked mother if I am free this evening. Mother exploded “free, FREE GRAHAM? She is not THAT cheap”.

I pointed out an advert to mother. ‘WITCHCRAFT LESSONS’. To galvanize her interest I pointed out there were discounts for seniors.

She said I can forget my birthday present. It is not going to happen. I think I will turn her into a frog.

Later I asked her to rethink her decision. I pointed out to her it was a simple mistake. The advert read ‘STITCHCRAFT LESSONS’.

I am afraid to sleep now because I might leave my earthly body and find myself on the outer edge of one of the universes as a bolt of pure energy …..and for all his faults I was beginning to like Graham.

No 10 - Rich Diversity of Denham Hall Young Ladies College

 

Rickmansworth Young Ladies College

The Rich Diversity of Denham Hall

Denham Hall is an old established place of learning built in the Gothic style in the 17th century receiving its Charter from King George, the something or other. I hasten to say not the mad one. With a recent name change to Rickmansworth Young ladies College it is a very exclusive boarding college for genteel young ladies from well-to-do established Christian families whose allegiance is to the Crown, the country, its flag, traditions, culture, Queen and Empire…… when we used to have an empire that is.

That brief witticism had been added to the college notice board with a black felt marker pen and was suspected of being attributed to a Miss Tamsin Lacey, but after an exhaustive investigative cross-examination in Miss Sefton’s office, the accusation was not upheld due solely to there being no witnesses.

It is known country-wide for its high academic achievements. So to be told by a visiting government education person that the school lacked diversity, to Miss Sefton that was like waving a red flag at a bull.

Tamsin told us she overheard Miss Sefton, the headmistress, who appeared visibly upset, telling Miss Pringle that a visiting government education person had pointed out that the school, despite its high academic achievements, appeared to be ‘struggling with diversity’.

She had never seen Miss Sefton so furious in her life. Raising her voice she angrily shouted to this government education woman “Struggling with Diversity? STRUGGLING WITH DIVERSITY? Good heavens woman, we have girls here from most of the counties of the United Kingdom.”

We have Bridgette Campbell whose family can be traced back to William the Conqueror, Elspeth MacDonald who can trace her family’s descent from the Norse-Gaelic Clan MacDonald of the 13th century. Tamsin Lacey, daughter of a Northern Ireland Minister. There is Candice and Phaedra from Northumberland and Bedfordshire respectively.

Then there is Sarah and Grace, Lady and Lord Simon De Rochefort’s twins from Buckinghamshire, Rhonda whose parents are land owners from Gloucestershire, Blodwyn and Myfanwy, two Welsh girls from Brecknockshire, and Rebecca Tate from Caernarvonshire whose father, Sir Roland Tate, is the British ambassador to the Wallis and Fortuna Island.

“DIVERSITY” repeated Miss Sefton under her breath. “For heaven’s sake, what the hell is this silly government person talking about?”

Tamsin said she was absolutely astounded by Miss Sefton’s language. She said she had never heard Miss Sefton use words like ‘hell’ before. I can assure our gentle readers Miss Sefton told this government person a thing or two in no uncertain terms and sent her packing with a flea in her ear.

But not before she pointed out that this year the school had already received applications for new enrolments for the new year which included one girl from the Island of Skye, one from Eire and sisters from the Isle of Man and, believe it or not, even one girl from the Isle of Wight.

“Just how diverse does this government woman want the college to be, for heavens sake?”

“Here we have students from all social backgrounds. Here I would like to refer to Dakota Pugsly whose father made his fortune out of scrap lead and despite this social diversity not once since the college was first given its charter by King George the second in the 17th century has there been any police on duty around the classrooms or playgrounds, no knifings being recorded by mobile phones, the use of drugs, beatings or bare-knuckle fights in my playgrounds among my girls on my watch. Thank you very much” adding “you can rest assured THAT is the way it is. THAT is the way it will remain, THAT is the end of the matter”. So it was.

That sounded pretty final to us girls too. Miss Sefton pointed out ‘Diversity’ had been a rigid cornerstone of the college principles for over 400 years as shown by the above examples. The travelling government education woman realized she was going nowhere with the debate with her bizarre interpretation of diversity, so decided to take the conversation in another direction.

She pointed out the violation of the Education Department’s view of blatant sexual discrimination after noting the flagrant use of gender-specific names on the toilet doors which could cause anxiety, distress, and hardship to those girls that might have a history of suffering from gender dysphoria or gender identity disorder, or even those that might be transitioning, but more alarmingly could contravene their Human Rights.

Miss Sefton assured her there was no history of ‘that sort of thing’ at Denham Hall, thank you very much.

The government education lady, after being taken well out of earshot of the girls, was reminded by Miss Pringle that whatever the government views were on modern-day biology or personal relationships, in this college, Denham Hall, they did NOT encourage discussion on unusual sexual exploits or stories about ‘Bill and Ben’, or ‘Sailor Jack’s personal relationship with the lighthouse keeper’ which was the Government Education Departments suggested as reading for 8 year olds in the Sex Education Syllabus.

Miss Pringle said stories about Bill and Ben were all very well in their place but it is important for the girls to learn Great Britain’s history and its place in the world, and also understand the reasons for the fall of Rome and its frightening similarity to that of Great Britain’s loss of empire and prestige, its reduced status in the world and its subsequent loss of sovereignty, but most importantly to understand the reason for its loss of direction and its slow descent into a festering quagmire of a disgusting morass of immorality.

She said she preferred her girls to read the classics rather than to discuss the unusual nocturnal comings and goings that Bill and his chum Ben might get up to.

Even Miss Frenzi, the sports teacher, bought into this discussion by saying that the NEW AGE teaching which dictates that no-one loses but everyone wins a prize is self-defeating. It would mean Rebecca Tate did not win the 100 yards breastroke event last year in the swimming carnival against the Government School Pixie Hill Camp but shared it with the other seven contestants, and likewise with ‘pass the parcel’ everyone wins a prize. It is silliness to the extreme.

She said regardless of a governments decree that backstroke is banned in all swimming pools, it will be ignored in the college pool as the likelihood of another swimmer being killed or maimed was minimal.

It did not end there I’m afraid. The news spread like wildfire that Miss Franklin, the music teacher or Lu Lu, on being told about the children’s story of this ‘personal relationship’ between the lighthouse keeper and another gentleman named Sailor Jack was allowed to go home after going quite pale and complaining of feeling a little queasy, and the same with Nurse Mayo who after experiencing the tremor’s was allowed to lie down in the school’s infirmary.

Phaedra, who appeared quite flushed after overhearing Miss Pringle's tirade on her views of the government’s suggested reading for 8 year olds said she did not want to experience another day like that one.

Miss Sefton told Miss Pringle, she was convinced Denham Hall was ‘an island of sanity in a sea of madness’. Tamsin went one better. She said Denham Hall was ‘an island of serenity in a sea of silliness’.

Now everyone is making up these comparisons like it’s a competition. Do you want to hear mine?

No 9 - Rickmansworth Young Ladies College Concert and Dance

 Tamsin Lacy at Full Stretch

Rickmansworth Young Ladies College Concert and Dance

It was the end of year concert and dance at Denham Hall or the Rickmansworth Young Ladies College as it is known today, an Anglican college. You might inquire about being a girl’s college from where did we field the boys from for this occasion. Good question. They were boys invited from the opposition, the sixth form of the St. Joan of Arc Catholic School. No sneakers, no hats on back to front and no visible tattoos, but suits, combed hair and smelling nice were the order of the day.

The venue was the Concert Hall at Denham Hall, a place of learning for genteel young English ladies from well to do Christian families. It was not to be a night of dirty dancing with the participant’s smelling like badgers, gyrating up and down like demented racoons at the local mobile disco in the pub in the High Street, Rickmansworth.

No. Tonight was to be a night to be remembered with the chance of creating new friendships, maybe romance; a night of waltzes, fox trots and quick steps culminating with highland dancing.

There was a short welcoming speech by our headmistress, Miss Sefton, followed by a brief reply by the headmistress of the St. Joan of Arc Catholic School….. I have forgotten her name.

The show commenced with Candice Robertson performing her card tricks; inviting volunteers from the audience to ‘pick a card’. Sporting a mustache made with a felt pen liberally applied by the make-up artist, Miss Franklin our Music teacher or Lu Lu as she was affectionately known, wearing a Fez and her brother’s suit, proceeded with her act. Just to set the record straight, it was NOT Miss Franklin that was wearing a Fez and her brother’s suit doing card tricks but Candice. All in all it was a professional performance, well more or less.

This was followed by Elspeth MacDonald playing the bagpipes which apart from the odd squeak “which had every mouse in the vicinity on edge”, not my words but Rhonda’s, was also a very admirable performance.

I had grave doubts about Sarah though. She should not have been allowed in the show as she had only been introduced to the indian clubs a week earlier. She was far too confident. I was not disappointed. The less said about her performance the better. Her act reminded me of the sound of skittles being knocked down in a bowling alley.

This was the part I was dreading. It was the turn of Tamsin, gymnast extraordinaire. I was about to say Tamsin cut a fine figure with a slim body, much like that of a stick insect, but on second thoughts and without being catty I thought she had put on a bit of weight.

Tamsin had alerted us prior to the show she was ‘going for the Big Four’. I suppose I have to explain what the ‘Big Four’ was. Tamsin was well aware the stage was just about the required width to finish her act with a flourish after performing a triple reverse somersault. The ‘Big Four’ was an attempt at 4 consecutive reverse somersaults, not a triple. What was worrying was this had never been attempted before, well not by Tamsin…..or anyone else for that matter.

This was typical of Tamsin. She had not thought this one through or rehearsed it. I suspect it was the rapturous applause she was expecting to receive after completing her performance, coming to a perfect standstill, no teetering and throwing her arms in the air that was the drug that had her fired up. I saw it rather differently as a blurred vision of Tamsin being catapulted off upstage left like a jet leaving an aircraft carrier.

To this point it was a perfect performance. I was so pleased for Tamsin but it was the moment of truth. It was the vision I wrote about earlier of seeing Tamsin, upside down caught in a freeze-frame as a blurred flash of crimson of her leotards, pausing before exiting stage left halfway to completing the fourth somersault. The triple reverse somersault completed she had run out of stage for the fourth and final reverse somersault. It was only the pianist sitting off-stage that broke Tamsin’s fall and prevented any serious injury……...to Tamsin that is.

Fortunately Nurse Mayo, the duty nurse, had a first aid kit handy with tweezers and everything with a box of elastoplast, bandages and some purple stuff in a bottle to repair Tamsin’s minor flesh wound. Also elastoplast for the pianist’s facial abrasions. Tamsin gave herself quite fright; I thought she was going to sick-up all over Nurse Mayo.

I feel the less said about Tamsin’s gymnastic presentation the better. No, to be fair perhaps her performance rated seven out of ten. The evening’s entertainment of the school's talent finished with a rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus by the school choir.

It was the yearly dance that followed that was the main event of the evening. Wearing a bandage on her arm Tamsin, who was wearing a spare clan tartan of mine, was paired up in the gay gordons with gormless looking Pat O'Reilly; serves her right. However it was a clever out of formation maneuver during the eightsome reel that she was able to skilfully exchange him for another girl’s partner. I never ceased to be amazed at Tamsin’s tenacity.

Phaedra was paired with a hot looking boy named Trent…. er something or other, and in the military two-step I was corralled by the only height-challenged student from St Joan of Arc Catholic School before I could grab hold of Grant. Life is so unfair. Personally I am really not all that fussed about these end-of-year dances.

It was lovely to see Miss Pringle dancing with Mr Crisis, the science teacher, during the ceilidh. What did intrigue me was why Mr Crisis was wearing a Scottish tartan when he was presently on sabbatical leave from his home planet in the Proximus Centauri system. I certainly did not recognize his clan colors. He must have hired them from TartansЯus in the high street.

Before I leave if anybody would like a photo of Tamsin at full stretch taken during her performance I am sure there are some copies still available in the front office, somewhere.

No 8 - The Rickmansworth Chalice

                                                                                                                        

      The Rickmansworth Chalice 

Mr Crisis our science teacher explained myths and mystics still flourish on this planet. They were germinated in earlier times of yore and spawned in the quagmires of superstition and fear and are still being kept alive today by ignorance and, yes, superstition. I am from intelligence that can exist as pure cosmic energy, a singular consciousness, a one-ness, or if I wish I can be of substance.

Bridgette, you and Tamsin, and your people are not even on the first rung of the ladder of evolution. Myths and mystics, thieves and scoundrels still guide you and you still listen to them.

I was explaining to Mr Crisis the legend of the mythical Rickmansworth Chalice. The legend had been documented in the history books down through the ages. It was said the gold and jewel-encrusted chalice was used at the marriage of Prince Rolf and his consort Princess Elspeth at Rickmansworth Castle in times when knights and the people pledged their total allegiance to their king.

In those days superstition was rife and it was believed the chalice held magical properties which promised two options; eternal existence or alternatively, on death, to sit at the right hand of God. Mr Crisis added, by all means believe in the golden chalice but not in its magic.

Father had invited Mr Crisis to our home at Inveraray Castle in Scotland. Tamsin currently my second best friend was also staying for the weekend. Mr Crisis was very keen to meet father.

It was the start of the summer break when we arrived at Inveraray. I took Mr Crisis straight to the library to meet my parents.

Lord Campbell extending his hand said “Good afternoon Mr Crisis. I have heard a lot about you from Bridgette. I would like you to meet my wife Lady Campbell, Delilah”. Mr Crisis bowed slightly offering Lady Campbell his hand.

Lord Campbell with a smile continued “my daughter tells me you ‘knocked up a device’, her words I stress, in the science lab and accidentally took yourself and a student named Rhonda off to Proximus Centauri or was it Epsilon Bootis? Either way, I thought this is a man I really must meet. I know my daughter has quite a fertile imagination so I will not bother you with closer questioning”.

“I agree Lord Campbell, but dreamers and humans with fertile imaginations have led to some incredible discoveries and innovations in the past and if we were to touch on the discoveries of these dreamers we can be here all day…and all night”.

Lord Campbell said “Mr Crisis, my ancestors were not dreamers but defenders. It was an ancestor of mine that led an army that fought for Robert the Bruce during the Wars of Scottish Independence against the English, and it was at the battle of Bannockburn in 1314 that he was wounded. The wound was not life-threatening but he was unable to carry a sword or a lance. Robert the Bruce bestowed large areas of land taken from the Lords of Lorne and conferred considerable wealth on him. It was later in the 18th century that Inveraray Castle was built”.

“It is a most magnificent home you have Lord Campbell”.

“Thank you Mr Crisis but I think we can dispense with the formalities don’t you? You may call me David”.

“Alright, David you can call me Mr Crisis. I will be honest with you, Crisis is not my real name as where I come from we do not have two names. One is quite sufficient and there is no equivalent of a Christian’ name”.

Lord Campbell chose to ignore Mr Crisis’s comment and said: “Right Bridgette, you and Tamsin can take Mr Crisis to the front entrance to meet the tour bus and join the 2pm castle tour”.

It was a beautiful balmy sunny day as we walked to the main gate. Passing one of the groomsmen I inquired of Mr Crisis did he ride?

Mr Crisis replied, “Ride what?”

There was no need to answer that question as Tamsin called out that the tour bus had just arrived. The bus disgorged its travellers, many from the Asian Continent. Mr Crisis, Tamsin and I followed the lady with the flag leading the group of tourists. Thus began Mr Crisis tour of Inveraray Castle. After a coffee break in the castle shop, we showed Mr Crisis the stables.

Mr Crisis and father really enjoyed their talk over drinks in the study. If Mr Crisis said it was so, it was so. Father realized early on Mr Crisis was not of this planet.

After two weeks in Scotland we returned to college and the following day Mr Crisis drove Tamsin and me to the Roman Ruins at Chenies. We parked the car at the Red Lion pub and walked across to the ruins.

Whilst Mr Crisis studied the legend on the green board of the layout of the Roman fort, I told Mr Crisis about the mysterious plate which was recently unearthed here inscribed with ancient Chinese symbols suspected of being from the 14 century Ming Dynasty, but after being sent to the Tate Gallery people in London, was found to be one of about 15 million or so plates manufactured in Shenzhen, China for the European market and heavily advertised on eBay as a baking dish.

Mr Crisis said, “Girls let me wander about the ruins for a while. You two look for bird’s nests or something”.

We did not find any birds nests or ‘something’ and I suspect Mr Crisis just wanted to get rid of us while he wandered alone around the site. A quarter of an hour later he called us over. He pointed out “there are three large trees on the far side of the ruins. I suggest you take a close look at the base of the middle tree”. Mr Crisis sat on a low wall of the ruins and Tamsin and I headed for the tree.

There was a hole that looked like a rabbit hole at the base of the tree and after looking around for a stick suitable for foraging, Tamsin started poking and prodding at the dead vegetation around the hole. It was such heavy going. We had to remove some of the dead leaves and dirt by hand.

Tamsin had her arm completely in the hole when she excitedly shouted “There is something here. I can feel it”. I warned her to be careful that it was not something that might bite her. She pulled her arm out of the hole holding a bundle that looked like potato sacking.

“Well, open it up” ordered Mr Crisis. We lay the bundle on the ground and slowly opened up the rough sacking. Tamsin screamed out “I think it’s the gold chalice”. It took a moment to realize what we had found. “It is! It is! It is the Rickmansworth Chalice. I am sure it is. Mr Crisis, what do you think?”

“Yes. Tamsin I have no doubt it is the lost Rickmansworth Gold Chalice. Maybe it was meant to be found one day. Who knows?”

It did not really surprise us when he told us where to search; Mr Crisis, his credentials such as they were. He talks of a singular consciousness, of pure energy and other dimensions in the same way I and Tamsin might discuss at length about who un-friended us on Facebook and why.

The discovery of the Rickmansworth Chalice was going to be the lead story on the national news.

The breathy news reporter on cue speaking to the camera said “On this site this afternoon a discovery as important to our countries history and particularly to the town of Rickmansworth as the Dead Sea Scrolls were to the Holy Land was found hidden beneath an oak tree at the site of the Roman Ruins at Sparrows’ Nest behind the Red Lion Pub at Chenies.

It will go down in history that the discovery was made by two students from the Rickmansworth Young Ladies College, Tamsin Lacey and Bridgette Campbell. Legend has it King Rolf and Princess Elspeth once drank from this gold, jewel encrusted chalice”.

Mr Crisis leaned close and whispered, “Girls the glory is all yours”. I turned and whispered to Tamsin “when we get back to college and tell Miss Pringle she will be beside herself”.
 

I turned and whispered to Tamsin “when we get back to college and tell Miss Pringle she will be beside herself.”

                                                                The Red Lion. Chenies.