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| Life and Times of Nestor Horaatio Plimsoll 8th
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So Nessy once again saw the sightes one would see from the top of the coach and along the road. He was spanked to be sure. He had been quite the hinge-neck on this journey. Looking at all and any angles at the sights that were new to him and of which he suppoesed he might never see again. There were castle ruins galore and dark waterways. there were fields in planting and some that lay fallow. The nature of the language of the locals changed and he was sure if he had time he might learn a little of each and every new dialect. But nothing was afforded him save what he could glean with his eyes. He finally, on this last leg of coach rides had found an almost comfortable means of sitting. Like a small schoolboy he sat crosslegged with his bum upon the satchel. Then in half and hour or so he would cross his legs underhim for a while and rest his knobby knees upon the rough cloth bag. All in all he was bounced and jounced, but learnt his balance and saved himself better than before.
At last the coach made its' final comfort stop. Nestor knew he must walk from here and find a ford or a boatman to carry him across the firth. He wondered if the firth was a small as it looked upon the map he had seen at his school upon the isle. It was part of the ocean he knew so prehaps it had some commanding size to it. He would find out when he arrived this he knew. He took but half and hour to eat one of teh lovely, and healthy pies Mrs. Towery had made for him. He'd called them 'pastys' all his life and folks here about who make true English called them 'pies'. He always thought a pie was a sweet pasty. but oh maybe 'tis an' may 'tisn't he muttered aloud to himself. He picked up his satchel foisted a last ladel of drink from the common bucket, and suddenly his eyes froze in horror. There in the bucket was... oh! Many things were common in the common bucket but some things were not to be tolerated. Scrabby fingernails were in the bottom of the lovely clear water. Nessy spat his water out and spat and spat and spat. He was quite disgusted. Somethings might be ignored in a waterbucket such as a fly or a bee. They could just be dippered out and done away with. His m'am would have been repulsed, his Da' too. Nessy sighed, tossed the water and its' horrid contents out. He looked 'bout and saw the little brook and a well, that the was the source of such nice water. He elected to refill the bucket from the stream. Nasty fingernails in the bucket could be nasty toenails in the well. The whole thought made a toss-up face appear on his tight features. Who would do such? He filled the bucket after he had swirled and swirled and swirled it with clean water. Then he replaced the nice freshly filled bucket on its' hook. His sense of the clean and the orderly was satisfied. Why even the lowliest person back home would never do such a thing. It was positivly uncalled for, lowly scoudrel of some sort smuggler or worse maybe... not a seaman for sure they took greater pains over good fresh water,... Nestor decided to think of something else. He picked up his bag took his bearings and started off away, toward the Northwest towards the great firth that seperated Scotland from England. Well Cumbria actually, he reminded himself. He had a fair right amount of excitement to see the Firth and the shores of Scotia! He walked with industry and let his curiosity entertain him.
After an hours' walk he found himself thirsty. After all the problem of the bucket he had never taken his drink of water. Nothing doing but finding a drink. He smelt a little tobacco smoke in the air and thought a cottage must be up the path he was on, prehaps a short piece. Surely some one would have a dram or two of water for a thirsty lad. He trotted a bit up a sort of sand and clay incline. About half way up a sight for sure hit his eyes. There in the front of him was a huge dwelling. It must be a ""mansion"" he thought, For it did not resemble a castle like the one on St.Michels Mont. As he walked towards it, more and more of it showed when he had topped the little incline he was struck dumb. Utterly speechless.
"Why" he said aloud 'der might be fifty or even a hunnert people as could live in such a place." A voice behind him spoke, "Ninty one serving souls, seven family members, and as many guests at any one time " Nestor jumped around startled to his heart and all eyes to view the body of the voice he had just heard. There behind him stood a tall elderly gentleman in a well cut suite. ""She's a sight for the eyes of boy from the South now ain't she laddie?"" Ay' it 'tis that sir, indeed it 'tis. With awe in his voice Nestor spoke a question. ""How sir be ye sure ay', come from the Southlands? South and west as I make it laddie.... a Cornwall lad maybe as fer doun' as the Mont itself." Nestor loved at once the brough of this fine gentlemans speech, his delicate manners and his kindly attitude. ""Tha'd be mos' correct sir,"" Nestor had relplied. Neu' laddie where might yourself be headed so late in the day?" There's nought but an hours good light left. Though tis spring the sea'll bring us a zepher out of the west this evening in 'bout an hours' time. He continued and asked with a sort of lighted lool in his eye. ""Has a stranger and a boy got a place t'lay his head of a night? No sir ay had aimed t'cross the Firth in time to reach my kinfolk this day. Ambitous lad I see."" Was the curioulsy droll answer. The elderly man smiled and took a pipe from his pocket. A boy won't make a crossing tonight here 'bouts." His voice was solemn. The firths just turnin' from low to high tide and the winds'll keep her choppy and no man in his sanity will row o'er this evenin' and if a man was to row o'er this evenin' no lad in his sanity would ride it. Nestor conseired well what the man was saying. He understood all to well what even a small set of waves against the tide might cause. ""Not two summers ago sir, ay was cought dead sure in a strange wave and'live'd to tell of the strange way of it. The man nodded knowingly. Aye' it can happen to any body that puts to the water in a boat or a ship". The sea and all her little nests' can ne'r be taken for granted. ''Nestor remembered then his need of manners and station. He bowed low and said. "Nestor Horaatio Plimsoll sir,,,, student; at yer service." Lord Ethane Menzies' at yours' young sir the gentleman inclined his head. 'Tis my aged father who is in the Manner House yon way that you can see. Some call it a castle, but its' been long andlong ago that it made defenses for or against the crown."" Nestor, at a loss for what to do next put down his catchel smoothed his second best jacket and replied " your servant sir, and bowed deeply." The 'Menzies just chuckled and returned his bow slightly. ""Come lad we must make the door 'er the weather breaks. Come, you're service to me is to be my guest this evening I know your mother laddie. Once upon a time I knew her well.
Nestor just stared with large eyes first at Sir Menzies' then at the manse more like a castle, but much more modern it seemed than most. He picked up his bag and in his most well mannered fashion fell into step beside the gent.
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Posted by lampoil on 2008-08-13 03:50:15 | Rating: | Views: 75
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Another beautifully written installment! Write on, girl! The pauses in between are painful!!
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Posted by BootLady
on 2008-08-16 19:26:59
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awed, as ever, by the words that flow from this pen........
clear as watter over a mossy log,
I wanted to include Lampol's email address to a message
composed this morning that was shared with selective friends,
but didn't have it. So, forgive me, I'll tack it on here.
I've gone my path in life, and done what I've been given;
and, it's most diverse from hers. But, it's as though we are
as it was with a cloesest play mate when I was little, and
we'd "play house" by drawing the floor plan of the house in the
dirt with a stick. And then saying, "you be the mommy & I'll be
the daddy, and apointing othere roles to other kids that might
be there,and we'd enter the front door and walk through the house.
I feel that intimet with Lampol. So, far removed as we are
on this grown-up level. But, she's sort of where my mother was at,
and, I think this is important for her to share it with her.
"Hay, look at this neat pine cone over here." "Wow, that's an
ant hill."
It's not important to me to fling this out into the greater
blogisphere with"tags" for whoom-ever-may to find it.
Treasures are sometimes meant for a very fiew.
Many close friends on my email list, that i would have liked
to share this with, even my some of my kids, I knew better than
to trouble them with it.
smokyji@gmail.com
___________________________________________________ ____________
IN LAK ECH
(You are my other self)
from the Mayan civilization
from the perspective of the spoken word
emerging from the subtle impulse of "thought sound"
this then
may be a universal term in the vocal utterances of mankind
and may have greater power
held as an impulse in the heart
as we move into the day.
a constant blessing before us bouncing off all we see.
"The little Russian spiritual classic, "The Way Of A Pilgrim"
on the "Prayer Of The Heart"
developed by the Desert Fathers in the 6the century,
and passed down in the "Phylocalia", Russian Orthodox clasical
mystical text that says the "Prayer Of The Heart",
(which is a long cumbersome phrase totally closed to me)
"Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner",
eventually becomes reduced to, "The Prayer Without Ceasing"
as a subtle impulse of the thouhht repitition of name "Jesus."
or, a walking mantra.
I like this "advanced technique" I may have discovered here
by repeating the thought sound....... "IN LAK ECH."
Maharishi would such a meditation keeps the power of the sound
on the level of the intellect
so one can never transcend into the infinite with it.
but, that makes it fine, as a walking mantra,
as he had to abandon that practice when Blane Saunders told
him her son, Christian, was bumping into trees.
One littyle kid wrecked it for everybody.
"If one? Why not everyone?"
on the Cognitions of Brighu>
http://spiritlibrary.com/center-of-the-sun/in-lakec h-ala-kin-the-living-code-of-the-heart
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Po3gEthClQY
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Posted by SMOKY
on 2008-08-17 13:29:51
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bootlady I'll try to do better!!!!
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Posted by lampoil
on 2008-08-17 18:05:09
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smoky you walk some deep levels....
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Posted by lampoil
on 2008-08-17 18:05:51
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I'm astounded to the level of trust in strangers in this time period. A person's word their promise! Oh things now lost in time, some things we ought to find again.
Simple things such as a water pail for all to drink out of makes you wonder how anyone was never not sick!
Wonderful story Lampoil!
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Posted by anotherdaze
on 2008-09-29 09:08:53
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