I forgot to write a little about myself. I am a retired school teacher with a passion for gardening and the Brontes'. I have a walk through flower garden that stops traffic in its tracks and I am perfectly happy working in it. I use rocks of all sizes to good account and statues, one I call Emily. I do geanealogy, write poetry and my memories and collect all I can on the Brontes, words and images. I paint in oils, only for fun and have no training and no talent, only determination. I love walking with my black labs, the same dogs that Heathcliff used in hunting, in the movies, at least.
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Where did Heathcliff go for 3 years when he ran away and what did he do to transform himself into wealthy gentleman? Three years is not really much time, so he must have got into something lucrative and perhaps illegal. Was it smuggling, slaving, rum running, or piracy? Any ideas? Rosi
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There, I corrected Heathcliff's name. In a book I am reading about Emily Bronte, it explains that Heathcliff''s mysterious beginnings and his mysterious disappearance and transformation are all part of his character. Because we know nothing about him except for his life at the Heights and his identification with the moors and with Cathy, he becomes a part of that place; like the rocks, the heath, the sky and the wind. All else is shrouded in secrecy and does not matter. It is the Heights that matter and the passionate struggle taking place there that is bigger than the outside world. Rosi
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I have always wondered what it was like to be a Bronte sister in a house with no plumbing, and a cold house, at that. How did they wash? Was it always a sponge bath with the basin and pitcher? Did they ever have a bath? Did they fill up a round metal tub in the kitchen on Saturday nights and take turns? How did they wash their hair and with what soap? How did they maintain their dainty appearance in spite of no plumbing? Was water piped into the house or was it carried?
As to the toilet? The outhouse in the yard - was it clean - was it roomy - how did they manage with their long skirts and petticoats? Did they use it at night or did they use chamber pots? How uncomfortable was it? What was life really like for them? Would love to know? How did Aunt Branwell cope? I have never read anything about this side of the Bronte household life. Where did they heat water for all the scrubbing of floors and laundry? Did they soak their feet before the fire after long cold walks?
Would love to know. Also, would love to see the sisters as wax figures. Any chance of this, do you think?
Rosi
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As difficult as it was, Charlotte is always described as neat, tidy, and clean. Emily may not have been so particular, but I bet Ann was. Branwell always seemed to be described as looking as though he just crawled out of bed with his hair up in a red tangle. Of course, Patrick Bronte was immaculate but maybe Aunt Branwell was a little stinky as she clung to her false hairpiece, her bonnet and the fireside.
As to the teeth, dental care was nonexistant and Charlotte's teeth were bad and ached. I don't know how she stood it. With so many females in the house, the " monthlys" were another problem and must have kept the laundry girl busy.
And to think, none of these things are ever mentioned or inquired about. Real life at the time must have held many secrets about how to cope with no facilities.
My mother, who was wed in 1937, brought up 10 children with little or nothing. There was no electricity for the first 10 years and no plumbing the first 15 years. I was 10 when we got an inside toilet, and that was no great advantage as it was always plugged up with so many using it, especially the teenage girls. I am well aquainted with outhouses, but I cannot imagine how a woman in great, wide, long skirts and petticoats would use one. Rosi
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Previously, I wrote about visiting Haworth with my daughter on a backpacking holiday in 1986 and about the enchantment we both felt . The enchantment was much deeper than I described and this little incident was the cause.
My daughter and I made our way from Liverpool to Haworth by bus, arriving in Leeds to spend the night at the Golden Lion Hotel. Our two bus drivers had convinced us we couldn't get to Haworth that day and had suggested we stay at that hotel, a real treat for us backpackers, as we usually stayed in youth hostels. The next morning, we caught another bus and we on our way when some kids, who were rather jolly in the back of the bus, caused us to turn around for a look. There, several seats behind us, were two men, one of whom, was the double of my father who had died, three years before, in 1983. We kept taking little looks behind us and suddenly both men moved up close and the other one began a conversation. " Hi, Canadians, he said, I have relatives in Grand Bay, do you know them? "
I finally said to the man who looked like my Dad, " I can't help staring at you because you are just like my Dad,- the bone structure, the hair, and the sweet and gentle manner you have about you. I can tell you are a kind person like he was."
The man burst into tears and so did I. Both my daughter and I found the hairs on our arms and on the back of our necks standing up. The man said, "I'm going to my friend's house for dinner. I was in the war, and I missed my wife. I never saw her."
Just then, it was their stop and they hurried off the bus before I could ask anything. I was in shock and my daughter was spooked. We saw everything through a haze.
Back in Canada, a book about angels took my eye. I opened it at random and read, " How to know when you meet an angel ... the hairs stand up on your arms and the back of your neck "
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Hi Lisa, I have 4 kids, two girls and two boys, the oldest is 43 and the youngest, 33. My oldest daughter, Lisa, was 20 and I was 40 when we backpacked around Europe, staying in youth hostels. We passed as sisters. We went on a big trek around Europe before getting to Yorkshire, but nothing compared with the raw beauty of the moors.
I have no training as an artist at all and only began as an outlet form the stress of fibyromalgia, a chronic pain syndrome. When i paint I don't feel the pain. Gardening works for me as well and I have an amazing garden. I will have to post up a picture of it.
I paint faces mostly, of family and of interesting characters. I have a few landscapes but I love the emotion of faces.
I am working on a web site for my home town, Kingston, a small historic village and one for my Mom and Dad's family history. There are links to them on my profile and there are family paintings posted there.
I am beginning a series of paintings on myself, when young, in an effort to reclaim the lost innocence of childhood, I guess. I have one that is still wet and needs work. I will post it on my profile. Rosi
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