Born Catherine Sawbridge on the 23rd March 1731, she gained an informal education in her father’s library alongside her brother at their family home in Kent. She moved to London in 1760, upon her marriage to Dr George Macaulay and three years later published the first of her extensive eight volume History of England that spanned from the succession of James I to the Revolution. Part way through the third volume of her history, her husband passed away, leaving her widowed with a single daughter (Catherine Sophia) from the marriage. She remained in London for a while, before moving to Bath in 1774 where she met her second husband William Graham. The marriage caused scandal. As the brother of her physician, son of a saddle maker, and only a mere Surgeon’s Mate1, William was considered beneath Mrs Macaulay. They remained together until her death on the 22nd June 1791 at the age of sixty at their home in Binfield on the Thames, near Windsor. In her memory, William dedicated a memorial to her in the …
‘How can you forget where you left it?’ Samantha demanded, shooting Michael a withering look before closing her eyes and counting to ten. In a moment she would let out a deep sighing breath and give Michael her best, why do you insist on embarrassing me stare before ordering another drink from the bar and forgetting the subject altogether. 1,2,3,4- ‘I mean really Michael!’ Michael blinked, confused as to where the last 6 seconds had gone and why she hadn’t ordered a large glass of red wine. She wasn’t following the natural order. ‘It’s a bench!’ Samantha spluttered. ‘You cannot misplace a bench! Especially not one of yours! They’re massive and made of wood. WOOD MICHAEL! WOOD!’ Everyone else in the pub had fallen silent now, the hum of conversation dying as all eyes turned to stare at the couple having the argument. Or rather, Samantha yelling at her bemused husband since Michael rarely said two words to anyone about anything. ‘I could understand a nail or two, perhaps even your level metre, but misplacing …
Like a dropped stitch I didn’t see your absence until much later, when the narrowing become obvious but I couldn’t find the courage to unpick all that I had done.
She gave out her heart like a library book, not minding if it came back dog eared, tea stained, well thumbed. When she handed it to me I could see the tear stains left over from previous readings and didn’t have to ask if there was going to be a happy ending. I just took it with care, did not leave on the windowsill to collect mould or yellow in the sun. I did not cram it, to the bottom of my bag, or leave it to shunt for space with the biros and pencils left loose and jostling down there. I kept it well past the return date. She was surprise when I asked if she could renew my loan. Daily Post Prompt: Borrow
So the last time I wrote one of these posts was at the end of September which was three months ago. Not great for someone planning to try and write one of these a month but oh well. What Am I Currently Reading: A couple of these books have been carried over from September I’ll admit. ‘Between Silk and Cyanide’ and ‘Go Set A Watchman’ just haven’t been grabbing my attention in the last few months and as such they’ve sat lonely on the bookshelves with their bookmarks gathering dust. I will get back to them, I just don’t know when. Hopefully soon. ‘Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell’ by Susan Clarke is something of a mammoth read. I borrowed a copy from someone at work to read but I’ve decided to buy my own as it’s taking me forever to get through it and I feel bad hanging into their book for so long. I’m making my way through slowly but I doubt I’ll be finished with it any time soon. ‘A Dance of Chaos’ …
“Once upon a time,” Illany panted, beads of sweat clinging to her eyebrows as Kilogi’s sword bore down on her own. “There was a princess who didn’t want her crown.” She shifted her weight and twisted Kilogi’s weapon to the right exposing his left side. “Her father said no,” she continued, throwing herself forwards and smirking at crack of ribs breaking and Kilogi’s gasping howl. “She would carry her responsible just as he did.” Kilogi stumbled and dropped his sword. “So she gave the crown to the blacksmith.” Her blade was against Kilogi’s neck. “And said make me a sword.”
(Source: http://lh6.ggpht.com/_6oxx_tG-VHQ/S6vI8kpAklI/AAAAAAAAGBg/aiEuzJK97WI/LouisFaurer1960Paris_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800) Paris. The city of love, of romance and she was almost there, just a few stop and a fanfare of screeching breaks would announce the arrival of Miss Tanya Fay, New York’s most elusive model. Betsy crowed into the window beside her, their bodies juddering in time with the train as the French country side slipped past, snow still deep on the ground, hiding any indication of the past thirty years from the passengers. “Mademoiselle, perhaps you and your comapinon would like the come back inside the carrige?” She turned to find the conducter stood behind them. Polite smile firmly in place as the rest of the carrige shot them dark looks from behind books and newspapers. “I’m afraid the cold is coming in,” he explained. “Some of the other passengers have complained.” “Oh let them!” laughed Betsy, pulling Tanya towards the window again. “Who are they to complain about us?”
The first thing she did was put in mirrors to open up the space.“See,” she told him, “Look at how much bigger the rooms look now!”Instead of looking he kept his eyes fixed on the T.V screen.“The place looked big enough before,” he said. “Don’t see why it needs mirrors in every room now.”She shook her head and dropped her hands to her hips, hammer still clutched loosly in the right.“It’s called interior design,” she huffed. “Most people pay for someone’s help with it,”“Oh trust me,” he mutter, “I think I’m going to.”
“Have you ever thought about travelling the world?” he asked her, sliding into the seat across from the one she’d snagged in the corner of the coffee shop. “I hear Nepal is nice this time of year.”“Nepal?” she said, drawing her cappuccino a little closer. “Why Nepal?”He shrugged and fiddled with the handle of his cup.”“I just said, I heard it’s nice this time of year.”“Then go.”“I would, but I can’t alone.”“Girlfriend?”“Not got one.”“Boyfriend?”“Not my type.”“Mother?”“That would just be sad.”She narrowed her eyes at the stranger.“Just take a friend if that’s all that’s stopping you.”“Now that’s a great idea. Hi, my name’s Mark.”“Tammy.”“Tammy, nice to meet you, I think we should be friends.”“We’ve just met, like two seconds ago.”“And already I sure you’re the sort of girl who wants to see Nepal.” (150 Words)
Just click and you’ll find the link beneath the image. Can you think of any prompts that really need including? Leave the title and the link in the comments then!