Sun stones and navigation

In the 1960s a British trading ship wreck off the coast of Scotland gave us a large crystal slab of rock found in Captains cabin. Ship was 17th Century and so did this crystal guide ships in fog and low cloud across the oceans?

How. Well we have only guess as seaman ship was lost when steam replaced sail. The crystal bent light in beams and the sun could be traced by leaning to stone crystal in angle to where they thought sun was in sky . May have taken a time but once located a course could be made even in low cloud and fog .

If so the craft came from the Vikings and called sunstone but not one has been found of that time. Only in their tales and sagas of travel do they often mention Sunstone in navigation. Always mysterious until now. Historians cannot agree that sun stones ever existed only drama in saga but how did the Viking long boats sail all over the world with no fog and mist navigation?

The crystals come from Iceland which must be another logical clue . Some have tried and found 92% accurate by trail and error. Known as Iceland stone it can work as a way to find the sun by rings.

Vikings used all ways to navigate as master seamen. By following whale migration .By stars in sky .By sun and by education in wave structures they reached America 500 years before Vespucci or Columbus. Settlement has been found in todays Maryland named after our Queen who was half sister to Elizabeth Tudor.

Nova Scotia too walls exist to show that at some time in 6th century Vikings landed and built shelter in what they called Vinland or land of wild grape land .Could relate to Maryland more I suspect.

In Hereford cathedral is the treasure sea map of time of Leif Ericson Viking prime minster and sailor explorer. Its called Mappa Mundi and show America,Russia and even further south near New Zealand . They had gone all around the oceans and sea rivers and inlets on raids and although they were feared they settled as any other farming survivor in all fertile parts of our globe. We can trace back and find we all may have 3% of Viking DNA or more. A strong bloodline and an inventive race. In north of England they still speak almost Viking language . A man called Jack Cragg who once I knew was a Yorkshire man living in hills in Cumbria .He was more Viking than I have ever seen a man be in talk. Hard at times to understand his talk yet it was mixed with English. Words I traced back to Norway and Vikings . Farmers up in the Penine hills, the very backbone of old England, many speak like old Jack.

Until we find a Viking long boat wreck intact as much as possible we just cant say what the Viking sunstone was. Mentioned in tales of great seaman ship but what was it really? Mystery to all and Crystals from Iceland may just have been what they meant by Sunstone to locate the sun in foggy sea mist.

By taking a DNA test one may be surprised to see who you really are .i did and 87% British isles 3 Percent Norway 6 % Gaul 2% Italian and 12% English rest unknown.What it tells me is Im English Briton with Norse and French and English modern. With Roman on top .So likely was an ancient Briton taken by Vikings of married into them. Rome marched in and again mingled the bloods but like old Hobdenious in the poem by Kipling I am a Briton of the clay . I was happy with the two DNA tests that almost matched exact.

Vikings ended up serving the Vatican guard and giving armies to the Pope . Harold Hadrada who died at battle on York 1066 was King of Vikings and a Pretorial guard of Bazantine Church of Christian belief. He had been told by Pope to back the attack for takeover of King Harold Of Englands claim to the throne of dead King Edward Confessor. Man who gave us Westminster Abbey. The attack by William the bastard of Normandy was Viking also and so a two way attack would finish King Harold and really Harold Hardarda was caught with his pants down at York surprised defense at rest on riverside in sun . We know that his intel told him that another attack was launched at Hastings some 400 miles down the country. On foot after battle no rest his army arrived on time and met head on the Norman Viking army of King William. He still may have won but William had brought heavy war horses and now sent in cavalry to break the bowmans and spear carriers line .Result, the end for Harold. His broken bones sword and axe cut show he was butchered by Williams Knights . The bone found in the church show also he was allowed a burial in holy ground.

Sharp tactics by a Pope again lost us one of our best Kings in history and turned native British into serfdom . As Chesterton said we are the people of England who have not spoken yet. When we finally do it will be British fury for the first time in centuries if ever before did happen.

The back Postern gate was left open and we told the Governments not to drive a tunnel to France and make us so open to invasion .NO no they assured us then in came vast armies of enemy from ISA .We can hold our own on top but from inside we can be taken over as Vikings did to Saxon so can todays none English plan against us. What is among the refugee is Isa Islamic fighters. Made men and women hell bent on trouble . We had it from the IRA now do we face it from the Islamic armed mindless cruelly induced people mind taught to hate and blame us for everything .Perhaps history should tell us to be aware and on guard. I bet someplace in this a Vatican plan exists deep down in the relics of riches and sexual scandal.

When tests had been completed using calcite crystal it was found to be within just i percent out in over all accurate readings. Therefore logic tells us this Crystall was used before Vikings even had compasses .Starts at night and sun by day kept then on course and if foggy mist hung down all day the simple fact is rings of the sun show in the crystal and even no sun it can be located in these magnetic rings the sun spreads out across the globe and reflect in crystal face. Conclusive evidence i think but time will tell if we find a wreck of a longboat and a crystal in it .Not many such vessels have been found but the few that have come to light badly decomposed no sign of anything we can call a sunstone has ever been discovered .Time will tell but my bet is on calcite Crystal from Iceland .

Yours Sir Kevin.

Copyright Kevin Parr Bt 2021, June

The man of oak story

The dark musty scent of wet leather .The dry coat of powder .The lost road to freedom and the forest broken like ship masts in the wake of a storm . He could wait no longer the morning yellow and bright had loomed over the lintel. He woke, moist and itchy, desperate for warmth as the waste land on sourced earth announced the fall of dust on his head.

The room once had looked homely but after cannon had boomed and in came the roof not a trace of humanity remained.

He rose from the floor and stretched the weary bones of his frame skywards to the bluest of sky seen in patches above his head. Holes in the blasted shot roof allowed almost a full view of the heavens above him.

The battlefield was filled with blood run into mud and only the dead played the part of stone. Waterloo was won and Napoleon had been captured in Paris and sold to the British by the hands of the restored Kings subjects. Once so loyal now his captors.

Emile Valoise in his dirty mud stained moist denim army blues looked at himself in the water barrel, reflection as some one else he had not seen in years. His face grey and unshaven his head bandaged with his dead friends shirt to stop the blood and keep out infection. It was hard dry now and felt like a rat on his head. The sun was trying hard to shine and Emile searched for food of any sort. He found none in the house .

He had escaped the fate of so many others left in death broken and torn on the field. He had run for his life a mile into this fallen brick built lodge. Once a grand gate house to a manor of the rich. Now a forest of broken trees and dead birds.

Suddenly he heard a voice and crouched at the window to see a French Grenadier rifle at his head.

Name rank and number,the voice demanded.

Emile Valoise Sargent 4th infantry French army under General Salte. Payroll number 56455579 Valoise Private.

‘ Private eh! What happened to Sargent Valoise? Cried the Grenadier lowering his weapon.”

“Acting Sargent .Rest of the men dead. And you ?

“Anton, Private, Grenadiers under Salte. You and I are the left overs. Road blocked by British .Not a hope of escape .Best remain until we may find a way out of here at night. “

” In shook I with head wound stumbled into here. Must have passed out and woke about five minutes before you appeared . “

‘ The battle finished us off .Which of us that remained rounded up like so many cattle by the Prussians who galloped on the the field at the end to assist the British in a clean up of us all. Shock .Man I tell you we did our best and look at what it is now. Two sorry survivors feared for our lives in this mud bowl called Belgium. “

Emile smiled sardonically,’Rain at least has stopped. ” but Anton looked around him to see a door in the broken wall and did not listen. His mind now on treasure . He advanced sword in hand and pulled back the bricks and rubble to see the framed doorway in tact.

Soon the pair found them selves in a room . The dust having settled displayed a fine laid out table of silver dinner service dressed deeply in cobwebs.

The men amazed drew near and with passion growing seized the silver plater of goods. Dragging it to the edge of the oak table a cloth of red satin came with it like a wedding dress tail it followed behind.

The road to Brussels had been blocked and now only a patrol sought escaped French soldiers at gates on city. All other roads had guards too. It was then that the silver landed on the stone flagged floor crashing like sword fight and pistol blast.

Anton took up a silver salt boat all ornately dressed in rose buds and leaves al silver up to the curved roll of the handle. A lid which under it lay a salt knife and hammer to help crush the hard rock salt. He was just slipping it down his shirt when a voice boomed out from the dark corner came a man the size on an oxen .His hands 15inch across. With haunted black eye he took in the thief and lifted him up in air and spun his so well that the silver item fell back into the woners hand. He now hurled Anton across the table .He hit the wall so hard it broke his neck . Emile ran to inspect but his associate was dead .He looked up at the giant and asked if he had any mercy for Napoleons soldier .

Under his arms the dead Anton and the struggling Emile were handed over to the British lines that same hour . Colonel Grant looked happy to see the great ox of a man . The shook hands and the giant moved away as the prisoners led away by troops and that would be an end to the tale if not for that fact Grant wrote of his Belgic Giant who had fought so well for him that day and had vanished home to find it hit by cannon . British army had to build it back as it was .. It was all the thanks this giant of a man desired .Who he was .No one ever knew

Yours always Sir Kevin and thank you all for following my work. It means so much to me.

Copyright Kevin James Parr Bt 2o21 June

Scottish Mist.

It was late afternoon on Thursday 12th . 1847 The Earl was dead. His doctors gathered in long silence and dark frock coats huddled in conversation. The youngest stood motionless against the wainscot wall near the open door to his uncles bed chamber. The preacher now blessed the body and all in silence marched past the one time war hero at Waterloo.

Soon the carriage dressed in black cloth drawn by a pair of the Earls best hunters taught long since to double as coach horses stood stock still muscles twitching under the shine of well groomed Geldings .Well matched in all ways they waited in silence as the coffin of their beloved master was loaded inside and a cavalcade of hooves joined the slow procession down to the chapel on the very edge of the estate.

The company had seen the noble buried in the family plot and now sat dinning in the dead mans house. Traditional feast of fare and table fit for kings laid out by the servants worried over remaining in service.

It was two days later that Mister Raymond Morris opened his case and produced the will in front of the assembled relatives in the front lounge room of the house.

Over all all of them had benefited rather well but the house lands and estates with income of 4000 pounds a year fell to young John the only son left that war had not claimed.

Morris made it clear that the bulk of his Uncles funds over 2 million pounds will come to John ,the new Earl on his marriage only.

John at age 19 had nothing further than the glass of Port in front of him and marriage a distant shore.

His uncle wanted him to have sons to pass down for ever the old Scottish castle and estates. Morris hammered this message into Johns mind but as quick silver it melted away in his brain. He was down from Oxford reading law and had no intent to scurry off to marry any one .

Besides 4000 a year paid his bills and kept up the house . He desired only another glass of tawny Port and Stilton and he was bound for that train back to the city of Dreaming Spires.

Morris made an exit and on way to town in the trap with Lord John he hinted at a way out of the way to millions . John smiled but cash did not motivate him and he had loved the old Blue as uncle. Nothing more was said the rest of way.

Back in his rooms he paid 4pence to his loyal fag and so ventured back into his rooms and piles of books. In less than an hour his mind had left the day and into the future he read. Exam was in less than a month and he needed to gain ground to take the Barr test if all went well.

Back in Scotland the Trust took care of employment and three lost jobs . All kitchen staff as one master to dine for as long as exams lasted in his final term wages lost some one had to go. Cook and pot washer left only in kitchens. Butler informed the House maids that brass still needed polish and silver too. Fires blacked and leaded each morning by maids, and coals whitewashed by the garden staff. Brought to kitchen rear door at 7am daily .

Slowly the manor went on as it had since the first Lord had occupied the seat. Early on the milk arrived the Cook helpless as only the staff to feed. No big dinners and exciting parties to watch the dancing from top gallery door .

Finery and gentility a miss and no sign of it returned as Lord John as a silent saint who dared not speak back to a dog .Cook said openly he cannot run an estate like this he is a monk really not a man like the Earl was.

“Times are changing Cook. Lord John is young he will come around as a court fighter I think.”

She looked hard at the aged Butler having little to do. He saw that eye and he vanished as Cook was someone not to vex. The day was dry and velvet in her summer outfit. The gardens look at their best and from a distance, in the thickets of the last rose border a cold clear eye was observing all it had to see. No one saw the figure of a darkened figure as life went on in progression before it. Then no one was allowed to see behind the thin veil that shields the dead from life .

Dawn was breaking over Oxford Camera and the yellow stone of Cotswolds that it was built of shone in the first rays of June sunshine . Lord John opened his windows on the the grass lawns if Quad and sipped the tea brought in for him . It was 8am and results had arrived in the assembled hall. He was able only to hope as he raced down the six steps from his floor.

He waited with baited breath and beating heart as he opened his mail. It read so well he cried in passion and ran full tilt back to his rooms to pack for home. He was now a Solicitor and the world opened for him. Joy of joy as he marched in from the pony trap ride from station. Butler took his cases and followed him in.

“Sir if you had used the telephone we could have lined up outside to meet you in old custom of duty sir.”

John looked around him,smiling. “Yes but you see I passed with flying colours man so forgive me it was last thing on my mind.Will not happen again .i know how you love tradition Morley. A glass of whiskey and one for your good self whom has been vexed. “

‘ I say sir how very generous of you Ill drink it in my room. “

‘ You can drink it with me cant you it is a toast. ”

‘ Er! Not done in polite circles.”

” Morley my good man it is my wish and from today I do not drink alone. Its mine wish .Cary on.”

‘Of course my Lord. ”

John made a few changes in the place over the first three weeks . He personally took it upon himself to bring back the three who had been pushed out without warning and without months pay.

Cook looked over the running of kitchens and was busy over the roast tin when he marched in. “Cook .Sit down. here a glass of Port each I think and none of this cant drink when me.”

Cook amazed said nothing this was not that youth of old she could see.

‘ Now Helen you have served my family for 40 years . Are you happy carrying on. “

My Lord I have no place to go .Please dont send me away sir”She cried

‘Not a chance of it. Your my cook now. Enjoy that odd drink together dear your part of the family. ”

‘ Sir i do not know what to say?”

“Say nothing then. Just popped in to ask if Thursday is fine as i am planning a small party .just say 100 people for dancing and dinning later . No problem is it.?

A party a real party Oh! no sir it perfect a real kitchen again. “

It is inviting all the Trust and to say how I intend to run my estates myself. “

‘ Yes sir . Game of lamb .”

Leave that to you Helen. ”

On reaching the lounge Morley awaited. ‘YES ”

” Sir a ;lady rang to say she agrees and told me to inform you as she knew how busy you could be. ” Morley look sideways at the vanishing figure of his employer but John smiled broadly and relaxed in his easy chair to read the news sheets. ”

The castle busied with life as preparations bustled along all corridors below stairs.

The party night arrived and all sat dinning with mixed conversations. The faces of each trust member puzzled the 100 dinners and all upstairs servants mouths gasped when suddenly Lord John stood up to make a speech.

“I may address the subject of my quest . You see dear Trust it is now I need my inheritance to run my estates and I wish. I think I have a happy ship and my place is set . I am working day by day as lawyer from office on first floor and I need an office it town to buy and start my practice. Time is ripe to act upon this. There for I know that many of you will be glad to go back to your way of life and not have the trouble of meeting and chasing money interests on my behalf I will be doing all that myself from today .So it is my grateful thanks to you all for your kept promise to my beloved dead uncle and for working in my interest. Thank you all. ”

He sat down and five stood up. He looked stern and impartial at them.

‘ Lord John this hardly can be as certain mention of a marriage is in the will and before that we will not allow access to your funds .im sorry but its clear and in print “

” I see that you are sorry but so am I .May I introduce you to my intended .Dear please stand up and let then see you. “

All looked at each other until eventually a young and very beautiful girl stood up


“My name is Lady Mary Sackville Ward. Lord John Douglas is my intended husband and has been for over two years so. This is not my first visit here . I thank you to observe my engagement ring .We marry on 12th of MAY just two weeks from now . Over to you dear John. ” She sat down softly as the shocked guests remained on feet.

‘Sit down please will you all. .Morley please tell cook we are ready for the puddling.It is my own delight so enjoy. “

The kitchens now buzzed with the news and one of the richest families in England marrying into Douglas clan made big news in the London Press.

It was a love match .Mary had meet John In Oxford two years before hand and both knew that fate had acted in their meeting. He decided to make her his just four days after exams and she said she would ask her parents for permission. That phone call was all Lord John was waiting for that day at home.

They married In the Estate family chapel and honey mooned in Venice. 1900 came about and saw them with grown up family and a happy ending at last

In the early morning mist of late October Lord john walked to the stables .He looked up and saw in the door way a man he knew so well. It was The dead and buried Earl who smiled at him and vanished so fast Jon thought it Scottish mist and doubted he was able to comment on it. Inside the loose box his sons mare had foaled . He leaned over the top rail and looked as his son looked up. ‘ Who was that old chap father ?”

‘ who”

‘ Said you ran well his home and walked out to the door. Funny sort of chap “

‘ really he spoke to you Henry. Dad I would not say he did if he had not now would I “

Lord John smiled knowingly and said no more.

One hopes you reader liked it. Yours Sir Kevin

I admit much of this story is true changing all real details the core is fact ending as happened .

Copyright Kevin Parr Bt 2021.

Past has power over us.

We today think the past is gone and for those whos passion is perhaps not on history we can be forgiven, only as its education, so why will it matter today.

Fair enough but what you fail to see that past and the future are forever linked. I will try giving examples of this fact know to me.

In the year 1213 a very concerned King John was being threatened by war as the French had Vatican permit to invade England. The Vatican was an enemy to us long before King Henry V111 dissolved the power of Rome over us. The Vatican sent Spains navy in 1588 to murder our Queen and enslave the British. All that happened was Spain lost and it bankrupted Spanish King.

King John contacted the Pope and asked for Vatican to protect Britain .John signed the papers and so passed over control of his throne to Vatican. A Papal Bull was written and posted to all nations hands off England the message. John had wriggled well out of danger but it cannot just stop there.

Even though King Henry cut Vatican off and stopped the taxation flowing out of Britain to Rome it did not stop this paper Bull of 1213 being made null and void.

King John had very bad press but few mistakes did he make in reality. Yes he had a temper such as his own father suffered. Angivin to the last John did not fall to his Barons as history records. In fact he spent nearly a full 12 months writing what we call Magna Carter . Great Charter in English. Liberatum in truth. He researched it well and told his court he would sign it if they did handing some power over to his Barons and Earls. Hence the arranged meeting at Runnymeade but 4 miles from Windsor Castle Royal residence . Token of justice was designed to impress his peoples.

So what happened to this 1213 record? Vatican owns the original and more of it is unknown by times today. In one of two ways it still could help us or destroy us . Master copy paper not in British records office .Not in Royal documents open to inspection by historians. Well! in truth ,open to public but then who ever bothers to be armed with fact and read old papers? I do ,then it is my interest.

Any power over Britain is not a good thing to boast off. Vatican and Mafia walk hand in hand so do we worry . Perhaps the answer is yes. The Vatican is a power house built in back of the poor. History records the evil that goes of and many Italian children have vanished outside of its gates . Read Italian news papers of the chidrens bones found in Vatican drains. Child sex is wide spread in its folds

What happened in 1213 was in the past but it affects us today in 2021 almost the same . A Royal document alone is mighty but linked to Vatican could be dynamite in wrong hands .

As Britain has forgotten it Vatican have stored it the matter still is when will it come back to haunt us. Then a clever lawyer may deduct protection today may help us out of danger in act of defense. It could also bring back the Church of Rome in England on the down side.

Politics are not my job only facts I deal in .Once checked am I opening a Pandora box or hoping for definite split with Vatican. I do not like having links to such a place but then who am I to preach.

Short blog today as life goes on in the gardens now summer has reintroduced herself and work is to commence.

G-d be with us all. Hope it was of interest .Thank you my readers love you all.

Copyright Kevin Parr Bt 2021.

Multum in Parvo

After so many comments on my last blog takes me further into garden design history in this blog I hope it helps the garden lover in all of us.

We have talked of Vita and Major Lawrence Johnston as garden builders. Here I give you the main reliable start of Arts and Craft Movement in garden build all over England.

It is why so many gardens exist in UK . We first look at the books read by gardeners in the 1880s. Thomas Hayton Mawson 1861-1933, who made a business of a nursery in Bownness Windermere Cumbria but who designed many gardens in the world .In 1892 he published a book entitled “The Formal Garden in England.”

It was perhaps the greatest influence of all of them. Gardens sprang into being all over England.

We also must add a church architect called J.D. Seddings 1838-1881 who gave us many good ideas of garden use.

Then the real champion of Arts and Craft must be William Morris .A wallpaper designer and garden enthusiast. Morris was famous in all sorts of design for the interior but gardens to him where rooms outside.

Arts and crafts is a style that suits me even now. It is clean cut using local materials stone brick and it stood against the then modern run of the mill factory made items of full production. The layout was simple using hedges and spaces and vista work .It could be classical or modern for its day. House designed and built for arts and craft garden makers to buy are perhaps the most beautiful ever built using the ideal plan of light and gentle bright rooms.

Morris was a leader in this and many followed him read him and studied reading books or Mawson who was the real influence on Vita and Lawrence Johnston. Along with many others large or mid sized garden s all work in this style.

Johnston even had a tall gate made to set in front of the sinking red sun with the sunset shining orange red through its frame lights up the way down the avenue of tall hedges boxing that light in .The result is terrific to witness and shows what can be done with an idea. He did much that same at his French house at Seire de Madone at Val du Gorio outside town of Menton France. Hidcote he left to National Trust and it was the first gardens they accepted to retain. It made its designer owner happy as Hidcote will live forever after his demise. All garden builders must think this way or would we want the work of building a garden large. I think in the end Johnston was a man who really offered his work to G-d.

As did the craftsmen of our middle ages think the same or we would not have so many master pieces of architecture as we have now.

Prince Charles went on about good architecture and less concrete buildings without a soul. He was mocked by the architects but he was right all the time. Best buildings are the work of craftsman and that should be treasured and loved by the public as own heritage. To make the land productive is a pure thought. For a gardener who makes to blades of corn out of one must be seen as a blessing on all of us.

The back breaking art of design build is not for everyone perhaps but what is made once the work finishes is a garden. The planting up in fresh turned manured borders is the thrill after work is over . It is not easy ever but the real enthusiast will not flinch or dither .From a plan in head or set down many times and perfected on paper the work commences. Today it is a one man with some help job .Then in 1880 Edwardian England the rich who built gardens brought in teams of men and horse to do the job. The modern garden plan is similar to that but loosing none of its ideas and adding many more through power of electricity and such we build our way through it all.

I as a hobby designed a few gardens for others on paper plans at weekends after work. It paid not that well all the time as people are hard to please but it gave me the will to find the land and build my own my way.

Good gardens besides the plantings must have height to give climbing plants a place, Tellis gazebo and arched walk . It must have places to sit and relax . Benches near lily and rose bush in the main drive a rose bower and mermaid pool fountain. Avenues to stroll down and interest around each corner to make you walk to the next room. Mine is a folly in centre with three lanes off it .vistas and benches and statues of Rome. The hidden rooms,some are linked to stroll through each one see the flowers and mixes of colours . Come to a hedge and find the way out is a challenge. Once discovered leads you into a rose tunnel dwon to a tall gate and into another lane of hydrangier and yarrow mixed with green path between 12 foot wide. This takes you down to the Dial garden room .A resting place of soothing plant colours and a bench to sit and see borrowed vista of far off fields and wooded hill. A window looks out through the hedges .

From here into the pool water fall garden from that into the wild flower meadow and back to the main gates . a gentle passage takes half hour .A good look at each work may take you two days as always some change by natures plan.

If Vita sat and looked at her gardens as I know she did her mind gave her the answers as my mind relates to this way of expanding the dream of invention and perfection thus may come.For a gardener is never fully happy with the way they have gone. Always another plant to go in there and change that into this and move that over here ,now thats better,for now.

Dont know why we are such but all gardeners have to create I have found none of us are still for long .Some have to build and move on from greatness to try another design in another garden as with Major Lawrence Johnston did in France .Vita bless her built rooms to satisfy her longing to find the best plan she could build. She achieved this in spade fulls so did Johnston in between army wars and service to England he planted hedges and left for France to fight in South Africa Boar war .He returned to see his hedges grown and went on to design the gardens until called up to fight First World war. He survived but was so damaged it changed his life. He went on to build at slower pace on on Englands best gardens . He was born In France became a nationalized English man and died in France building his new gardens.

What then is it in our human state that forces us to build gardens. This is the question that haunts me. One that no real answer explains it. Is it man wishing to get back to Eden and G-d. Is it more simplistic we are hunter gathers and forest is our historic home. We cleared the trees to plant food. Gardens in fact we had then.

Gertrude Jeakle came later but till in that arts and craft design club .Her work can be seen all over Britain with partner in business Edmund Lutchens who went on to build Government buildings in design and parctise in Colonial India.

Could it just be we are timid animals in older age and around us want walls for total privacy. A world of our own sort of ideal. Some lovely colours some gentle water sounds on hot days .A pleasant view to see. Or is it part of all this and more? We could simply say we love plants but that in its self cannot be the whole reason we can grow in pots a garden if that was all it is. Something perhaps to leave you with to have a think as to why you love gardens .More so who you are and why want to build and own one is the deep down question.

If we look at great Italian gardens built by Cardinals bustling to impress to win the race to be Pope we loose all faith in gardening as it is not a competition to my mind.

To have a garden built to your exact designs is a to me a greater thing than owning a new Jaguar Sports car in life. So what is it that makes us tick us garden worthies. Because it is painting in flowers .It is art and skill and woodwork and metal work and machines. It is planing it is watching seeds grow to be planted out as part of me. It is hobby that takes up all of my time building it. It never ends really as always the eye sees improvement. To sit and take this picture in is perhaps pride in my art. Then we are told pride is a sin. So is gardening a prayer ,yes it is .And there it is my answer to myself at long last .

The Garden.

Hail to thee,blithe spirit !Bird thou never wert, That from heaven,or near it,Pourest they full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.

The lady Vita Sackville West set her sail to a forsaken estate in the lovely county of Kent. Her husband a dipolmat and author Harold Nicholson too had a part to play in his wifes adventure.

Born at Knole House,the largest home in the world, she the elder lost her inheritance owing to law .Her younger brother took the titles and the property and so left his sister Vita with nothing but a small allowance.

Determined to survive they bought Sissinghurst a fallen down ruin with one feature tower belonging to the old estate that was no longer in existence.

It took courage to effect that house and gardens and Vita shone brightly as her art was performed. Her famous moonlight white garden is a real artists design. She poured her self,her very soul into the build of that garden. It has been copied all over the world by lesser mortals. Her genius shown only in the original.

On saying this I must be fair as one knows she made at least two visits to the already established gardens of Hidcote by creator owner Major Lawrence Johnston.

Vita took many ideas from him and his work. Hedged rooms and vista drives were not Vitas ideas at all. Much of older gardens are echoed in her design. What they accomplished was amazing and Sissinghurst deserves the awards it has in visitor figures as a top set of gardens I so agree.It was laid out as she wanted it and her magic began to be seen.

Hidcote is perhaps a greater set of gardens in some ways but then its creator as true art design master had the money where it was easier to do what comes in to ones head. Vita eventually had poems published and income was made to expand her ideals . She loved plants .Roses and Iris her favorites Id say. Her husband the classical straight drives and statues to Vitas soft borders and gay abandon of an almost cottage style garden maker formed her style.

When she had a gazebo built and draped that rose rambler Mulliganii spread over it something happened and she saw it as it happened. The green turns to white and a white garden any time looks good but see Vitas white garden in the moonlight to know what a gal she was. I was lucky to see it in full swing.

Never so sure of her self she meet Virginia Wolfe as a writer far greater than herself and she went to see her to learn .They had an affair that lasted until Wolfe drown herself, her mind in upset stammer. Poor Vita was so broken but Harold seemed to settle her mind down over time. He must have loved her well to accept that he came second in her life.

What a gardener is must be what Vita was .Determination to succeed was her drive .Art was her gift and imagination all gardeners must be born with to achieve not just a garden but a masterpiece. A sort of living painting of another more peaceful, delightful world. An escape from many things a mind can hold .

I listened to her read from her poem entitled The Land. Her velvet smooth but carved out words in that ruler of old world truth hit me as my great aunts had done with something in a woman I admire. That English inner strength and forthright moral courage that must be seen as almost powerful though never severe . Her voice is a thing no longer heard in todays world.In this I point not to her alone but to her sex of femine knowing and ability to be heard. In this Vita had the passion of a writer along with the land she loved called England.

It was in the 1950s I first heard her speak and I just had to listen it was that kind of voice that offered education to a young lad, wet behind the ears, and a garden lover from birth. Desperate to gain a single fact .Delight in words and learn of plant names all filled a boys willing mind.

Like Monty Don I can say I have visited many gardens 100s of them all over this being my take of a arched tunnel deer proof passage unto another garden room.

Europe and Vita garden still holds my heart. Sissinghurst has not the grandour of Tivilli or The gardens at Versailes nor the coves of Alsatia and the India gardens of Tajmahal .But in its simple glory it is a pallet of an artist from deep down in her soul. It is real and living. All else as lovely as it is is really not alive in quite the same way. Just thought I had to say all this no matter what. Vita was the survivor in the end. Her work serves for ever as long as England shall live to remind of us who she was .Now that is power my friends .To leave this world with a message and a gift her soul may rest in peace. Or is she still wandering around her plot .Observing the many 1000s of interested mortals .Who knows?

Hidcote was part of her plan to build in her style as new garden owner Vita had to see what all where up to before ever starting on her ruin lands and home.

From the bathing pool she took her round hedge lawn idea from.

But we all do this in our dreams and thoughts hopes and desires .Only some of us make it work in the end. For Vita her own idea over shadows all .Here her white garden was her most iconic idea.

The White garden Sissinghurst castle Kent England. Complete the work of Lady Vita Sackville West . Must be seen and scent remembered as no photo does it full justice. Vita came to call it her moonlight garden .The white shades of flowers in bloom on a soft warm summer night of a full moon and clear sky tell of the tales of Omar Kyam and the mind travels back in time on an English dream of scented linen whites and magic in the air we breath .It has been copied all over this world .Iconic power to influence the gardener in us all. Then not one can capture the simple magic this garden weaves .

Vita died as she lived trowel in hand and plants in her mind. March 9th 1892 ,June 2nd 1962.

Thank you all for your support .Sir Kevin. G-d bless us all.

Copyright Kevin Parr Bt 2021

Hero on a stolen horse

The wind was a gust of magic over the sweet warmth of a scented night. He lay outstretched in the King of Englands stables in his native France. The hay so warm ,his mistress fair in his arms . The snort of a brood mare with her foal warmed young Claude that someone was near by and he melted away as the groom walked to see the mare was happy to spend a night in a loose box with her charge.

It was next morning as he saddled the Prince of Englands horse. Proud Charles had escaped the claws of Puritan England .Cromwell had missed him in his search to find the youth . Here in France with his retinue of followers in the house of Versailles he had nothing but charity to live on. Claude had risen form nothing to be a footman in the service of Royal England in form of Charles himself.

The Royal had promised all that when he was King he would pay all debts with English gold. Claude was his loyal servant but he had not been paid since starting service with the English Prince Charles. Like so many others he heard only promises and illusions of great grand measure passed as nothing but hunger and cast down eyes. The glory of working for Royal Charles was all it was. Some had indeed seen the light and vanished into the night. Claude had grown up in the coastal Norman town of Domfront . His mother poor his father a miller but able to feed her family any way they could . This promise of riches drove him on as nothing else seemed on the cards just then. Domfront was either fish or barter. A small coast town not known for gentility or honesty

Claude had promised his mother to send home what he could from his wages but Claude soon found Royal Charles had no money at all only debts and his name got him by in life in the French court of his relative King Louis .

Mrs Duval had brought her son Claude up as a kind nature child who loved horses and farm work at the local employment needed from time to time .He also had a charm and a roving eye for the ladies.

Cromwell had died .The news filled the palace halls .The English had heard it too. Charles now wrote to the English Ambassador to see what could be a plan.It was 1659 two weeks after Cromwells death and eventually Prince Charles was heard and by 1660 he was crowned King in Westminster Abbey with all pomp and circumstance .His dead father had been executed in 1649 as a traitor and young King Charles 11 was careful not to follow suit.

Johnny Wilmot wrote ,Here lies a great and noble King whos promise none relied upon .He never did a foolish thing nor ever did a wise one.

It was said in the Kings company but Charles laughed at the truth that Wilmot had spoken.

Meanwhile Claude was constantly at the Kings door demanding his back pay .Charles sent many messages but never saw a soul he owned before becoming King .

Claude had no cash to go home to France he had sailed with the English back to London hoping for his job back as horse master. But all he got in London was a head cold . Pushed from pillar to post he sat hungry and still he hoped for pay from the King. Like so many he was cast aside and forgotten by Charles.

Claude had no choice his English was not that great his French accent strong. His fate was to steal a horse and escape .He held up a coach that was easy money and he was gracious and gentle in his robbery that his name was to carry back to King and council. From then he dressed in the finest fashions and booted he road armed with a small gang of musical soldiers . He played a flagulet a sort of modern day recorder very well indeed and he took it with him every place. They robbed many places around the Capital roads.

Duval with his polished French accent and gentlemany advance made him so admired by the ladies that his fame raced on before him. He was said to have been good looking smart and able with a passion for good horses and fast rides.

He is said to have stopped a carriage and on seeing a beautiful lady seated ,he,asked her husband if he may dance once with his wife. He aided her down on to the heath in the moonlight and even in ridding boots danced so lightly to the music played by this fellow robbers that the fair lady on return to her seat kissed Duval so lovingly that he spared her husbands purse and asked just for the price of music to be paid . One gold coin was handed over and Duval bowed and rode off at a gallop .

This story of truth raced all around the nation and Duval was made famous for his gentle ways and graceful manors. He had tried ahrd to see the King he had served but that old adage never rely on a Princes promise came back to haunt him now.

As all highway robbers Duval liked to spend his ill gotten gains in the Hole in the Wall tavern in London . One evening he was so drunk that the tip off by the bar man brought in the army who arrested him. He was executed at Tyburn and buried in Covent Garden chapel central isles in London.

Before the funeral he was laid out in the Tangiers Tavern by his friends who had somehow stolen or paid for his remains ,for those interested to see. Some 4000 ladies filed past his body in tears.It went on daily until a judge had to stop the never ending show of sorrow.

Duval became the Robin Hood of his day and is held in memory even today if the women by coach load who pay to be near his grave today are anything to go by.

In 1970s working in London I decided to visit The Hole in the wall in Chandos street. I saw before me a dark room full of Blackjack leather tankards and chair bench and tables of the period that nothing has changed since that fateful evening in January when Claude Duval was dragged to his death out of its doorway . Claude Duval 1643-1670. On his grave stone is an inscription that helps to sum up this man. “Here lies Du Val :Reader,if male thou art,look to thy purse;if female ,to thy heart .”

Thank you for reading. Yours always Sir Kevin.

Copyright Kevin Parr Bt 2021

Seeing is believing.

It was summertime in 1978 The ride down the mountain side from the North Yorkshire town of Hawes rolled along down to the village of Ingleton where I had bought my first house. In the car with me my wife driving and we had been to see her mother in Wensleydale hospital. Although the summer day was lovely at 4.50 pm a sadness was lingering in our minds as her mother was on her last.

It was reaching the end of the mountain as we descended a large golden sun startled us as in the wrong place .We though it could be the moon nearing earth and a sort of panic transpired and the nearing sound on a wagon from Amy Road Stone quarry behind us seemed to be watching the disc in the sky too. Then it happened the disc flipped over to be a vast vessel glowing orange .It was in the shy and then so close to the car it was terrifying . A mirage as if loocking at an electric light bulb in a darkened cellar and the light goes off but you can still see it for many seconds unto eyes adjust. Well! that is what we saw.

Later we all agreed it was not earthly. Six cars one heavy goods wagon all sat in the village centre and talked it over . The ship was only seen when the sunlight hit a metal turret on top of a vast bowl. In this we saw portholes and still orange it drifted slowly down to the shore line of Morecambe Bay .It was now all silver as we drove down the slope we could see how big it was .If one can see a Rugby field it was perhaps three times as vast . Green lights came up in lines from the sea edge but as we came closer in that cars we could not see where under this flying town a hatch. However all green lights vanished inside the craft. At this it rose into the sky level with us and vanished. I think the speed so fast was the reason.

Next day a news paper published in Preston Lancashire England named Craven Herald and another named the Lancashire reporter I think . Lancaster Guardian had front page photo of what we had seen day prior. Clear as daylight and taken by a man in his garden in Lancaster area. Two days later all news print of that day Government took up. On Tv news it was called a hoax by James Callahans Labour Government. Then came the lists of people who had seen it so in comes the met office Raf and all said they had lost a weather balloon and it explained it as so many rang to tell them it landed in Morecambe Bay.

What utter sad lies as I witnessed that whole event and swear before my G-d that it was not just a space ship of alien advanced knowledge as we could not hope to emulate such a ship as we saw. It was a colony of travel on its way back home.If the green rods in lines drawn inside that craft was fuel for powering that vast ship and it was taken from our earth perhaps that is what we are .They come to refuel and ignore the slow pace of advanced cave men as much as we would ignore monkey in the jungle. If it was some sort of mineral energy it was powerful enough to set that ship in motion so fast it fooled my eyes as nothing I have seen or now could compare with it.

In writing this I hope others who know exactly what happened could contact me as once all the north of England talked about this .Now I maybe the last one living to have seen it. I am not a lair nor a fool I do not expect many to believe we are not alone in this space we live within. So it is aimed at the few that may be terrified to speak as I believe black cars black suits took charge of negatives and cameras of many you had sent in photos to Preston news publishers .In truth I contacted this said concern some years ago now and long after the dust had settled. The young lady who took my request from information checked records and came up with nothing .Said she would ask her boss and come right back to me.It never happened I hoped it would as to be wary of reprisals is one thing but Government hit squads may have made sure even micro film library records can be taken to stop us knowing .But then I do know as it was the most remembered day in my life and have have had some really important days to recall.

I know until you see such yourself jury will be out for you I understand. Only this I will say is we are a grain on salt on a farm yard floor. What a vast waste of space if we are an example of advanced life. We have not run that far from the caves we lived. Car is 130 years old out of date by far . Tv is perhaps our best and followed closely by telephone 100 years ago. We advanced in 40 million years is laughable .One sight of that ship confirmed it all to me You may well see yourself as happy and the best of best but that is normal . Having seen and observed for almost 6 minutes this event marked it out to me we are as far from that as we are from inventing time travel yet it must exist . How else can ships come through space at such speed from one side to another taking 3 months to our sixty years. A life time just trying to leave our own planet never mind that farthest oceans we can ever imagine .lands that man human has seen filled with highest order and technology so advanced we would be kept as pets or worse slaves .Yes in all the ages we still have not seen them only in few very important interludes .Bible is a book of aliens visits .One man taken for ride in the sky some 5000 years ago. A chariot of the Gods the Hebrews called it .The man came down unhurt said they showed him the world as it looked as a bowl of gruel(Porridge) Some USA space chap told us similar in the 1980s I think. Was it Alan Shepard .Cant say I am bothered as if they had the power of a peanut I may believe all they say. Man is his own fool if he cant see we are being lied to by the men in black space pilots are landing here under great duress Id say to simply refuel and be gone but as its all so mysterious to most of us any sight sighting of a dot in the sky brings out the many who make tv shows on the subject and I know they have not seen as clearly as we saw but want to believe we have billions of travel ships around just our universe, my mind is in orbit, think just how vast is space ?

Love never dies

Cold was the night and cruel was the wind that huddled under the house eaves of the roof. Rattling her windows and tormenting her mind .Unable to settle down to sleep. She arose and pulled back the curtains to see if the greenhouse still stood in place. To her disbelieve between that boundary border shrubs a man in his night cloths looked up at her. Smiling and moth like warm in the now pouring cold rain driven by winds it was him.

Then she woke up from the dream and there on her side table the photo of her dead husband smiled out of the silvered frame into her open eyes.

For Alice Dent nothing seemed fair .Nothing seemed real .She was a 34 Year old woman .Alone and pining for her husband who had passed over 3 years before.

Jim Dent had a car in bits hoping to find the time and the cash to restore the old British Jaguar that had sat in his garage too long. Alice had meet Jim at Adult college of mechanics as he took the class eager to know students . Basic car maintenance cost 45 pounds for 12 weeks one night a week lessons hands on course for absolute beginners.

Jim was 30 and single and was teaching to earn enough to restore his car. His real job was radio op in Kendal hospital. Not well paid but he loved it and the many listeners loved him too. The night class of 12 people of mostly under 40s included Alice Desensclane who wanted some knowledge of engines to fix her ever broken down Mini van made in 1965 and past its best.

The lessons came to be the best night in her week. Jim had sorted out her problems on the engine she had on bench he had showed the class how to find cause and how to fix the faults. She had picked it up faster than all the rest and felt a certain new confidence in doing so.

Jim had seen this and made another problem for her to find .He moved on to the next bench .A young man from Stavley village some way out of town. He found it beyond him and had really had enough .Jim started basic and slowly gave him head way. He knew Ted was not a mechanic but a law student with car problem but he deserved the best of his teacher for the price he had paid to attend. Jim gave this lad all his time that period and Alice alone felt she wanted him at her side. it suddenly came to her during a lesson weeks ahead that that wanting him near was nothing to do with his engines but because she had fallen deeply in love with the curly haired lovely man.

The course ended in test and Alice must act fast as she had known for five weeks her needs to have him hers. She just could not find a way to connect. She felt all pent up inside like pain dried up in excited panic showing a ship sailing smooth on top . Deep and lost she feared she must make her move or regret and be bitter. Results announced she had passed and marked top. It was a happy last day indeed for all had passed and all felt able. Jim shook hands with all and came to Alice who looked up into his eyes trying to open her lips to speak but words just remained unsaid .She felt the heat of his soul in that last hand shake. He had left the room and all stood around talking.Some giving contact numbers and her head was down .She said her goodbyes and then her phone rang. “Hello .” she uttered . Hello yourself its Jim. Fancy a coffee with me Alice.juts to say our farewells in private. ”

Alice froze solid it was her wish but no words came out. She struggled an OK and walked out of the room happy sad down cast unsure then before he stood smiling .He took her across the road from the college into a cafe where he ordered coffee and cakes.

She sat bolt upright trying to look relaxed . In less than a year they were married and Alice lived for him alone .Jim was an easy going man and she knew he adored her. He showed it in every way. That winter he restarted on the Jaguar and over two years worked on it. Alice loved to help and learned so much about that car that when he had finished he handed her the keys . For weekends they went summer driving her at the wheel on the way out Jim driving back home. Live was so sweet and easy in his care and he thought the world had granted hin an angel then it happened .

23rd November 2018 4.34pam . He had an early afternoon show on hospital radio and raced out to bus it home and gave Alice a ring on his phone. He did not see the car driven by a 14 year old thief that hit him and ran over him. He was dead on arrival at Lancaster Hospital.

Alice was taken by police to identify him as like Jim he had no wallet with him no identity only the number he was dialing gave police a clue . She screamed so loud when she saw his body so mangled so oily and torn. She had to be given shock treatment as she had lost her way in pain..

The man below her smiled up to her window and waved .Then vanished .Her dream was over so was her life as the pills she took had sat waiting for 3 years over due .

Her doctor signed her death certificate and Alice Dent was laid to rest next to her husband Jim in Saint Marys church yard Kendal Cumbria on the 9th of March 2021.

The mourners were few as Alice had not made many friends she was not that sort of girl .Jim knew this and they lived for each other said the Vicar as they lowered her down. Behind him stood a man in blue pyjamas hold close a lady in pink bed nighty .No one saw them watching but I did, rising from the grave behind them. Love never dies you see nor do we, only a door takes us into another world, a world that the living cant see or feel. Alice knows this now Jim could not wait to hold her again. How do I know, I am Jim.

It is my hope this short story is worthy of your read. G-d be with us all.

copyright Kevin Parr Bt 2021

The Maxwell Girl.

Some time ago I read an account of Robert Maxwell the financier and corporate business magnet who fell off his boat and died. His court hearing set up so well avoided. Maxwell had been able to steal his own workers pension funds among many other deals or nasty work he existed life on his terms beyond earthy justice . You will remember the case Im sure so no point in continuing part one of this case in question.

Ghisaliane Maxwell Roberts own daughter is spending years being held without trail in USA as a British subject is wrong. A typical American way of torture. Now devoid of any real acusal she is held on charges not brought. This is no good to her defense team as how to plan is impossible as they dont know what she is accused of.

The facts are Maxwell lived separately from her said lover Epstein who killed himself in jail cell by hanging to avoid being found guilty in child sex traffic business. Maxwell left her home in England to be with Eptein. Now facts are thin as to what transpired. Did Maxwell procure victims for Epstein rich customers to violate or is she an innocent in all of this.? The trial may come near sorting this out. Or not as maybe.

On the tape records of Epstein sex island show Prince Andrew,Donald Trump and sex fiend Bill Clinton enjoying a holiday. 3 men with absolutely nothing in common but on thing, sex with young girls, or why are they partying with sex trafficer on that mans private island. It makes no sense other than they paid to have sex. No other reason can there be. Not guests as business was Epsteins only way of life .He was a supplier of sex with young virginal girls.

Maxwell is photographed in the arms of Epstein yet she says she lived alone and not with him. He was not her lover so why was she there? Was she paid to do a job? What job was that one finds ones self wondering?

Was she a hostess , no not good enough in features perhaps. Was she a madam controlling the many captured young women? Was she a close friend of Epst? May be one or all of them. She knows in her own heart and trail may open this case right out or just use her as escape goat for Trump, Clinton and Prince Andrew, and others to walk freely out of this horrid consorted case of pure evil.

Maxwells brother may ride to his dear sisters rescue but what can he say he is not accused of ever being with Epstein . How can he know what transpired?

It is a nightmare for her lawyers and unjust to hold her and not grant bail. They need to accuse her or let her go. Not enough hear say or late acusal from female who say she was raped by her and Epstein. You cannot hold anyone on this bail must be. This all points to Yanks making her the only point to carry the case since Epstein is dead. As long as she is being held a prisoner over 2 years and longer held unlawfully by Yanks we know the intention is for her to die in custody or carry the can leaving all concerned to walk away un touched . Law must call Trump Clinton and Prince, randy, Andy to the stand and open the whole case before justice or never again hold heads up but in shame.

I am not declaring Maxwell innocent only justice is not here in this case she is the sacrificial lamb to hide the many twisted minded mob who used and paid Epstine for his services and record shows them all on that island with Geoffrey Epstine alone. No excuse can be accepted one cannot jail the only witness and hope she dies of same end as her boss, lover ,friend. I can bet many sit hoping that she will take her own life but my guess is she is a survivor and my hope is for the victims to win against the might of the establishment no matter how rich and protected they all are. Then see how guilty Maxwell is in compliance if nothing else. Her time held must go towards her sentence if ever there is one proclaimed.

A trial date has now been given for July .But will this be as i suspect another none starter no one called as witness as all could be found guilty of sex crimes with captive sex under aged victims and open a whole new bag of worms . My guess she something will happen between now and July as they cant afford her to take the stand in her defense as names will be mentioned by her defense. I think she has not a snow balls chance of freedom and 50 50 towards her arranged death. It is why the law has been broken to hold her so long. It is a set up ready to go into action. A time bomb ready to explode if not as Prince and ex Presidents head will roll and one knows justice will be done at last. Do I think justice exits in this singular case. I do not. Guilty or not she is English and must be sent home to be judged. Keeping her in a cell they say is filthy is the states duty to keep prison cells clean .it is an excuse used by Yanks who cannot will not hand us back the killer they shield who drove down a boy outside barracks who had no diplomatic immunity and fled by flight to America to hide from justice. Britain asked twice and told no. So we tell the lousy Yanks to ship this prisoner home or we cut off any contact with them as enemy number one. They owe billions and go around like sporing lions with no claws . Not the American public but their CiA and government. I say it is a criminal case of kidnapping a British subject and holding her until she dies without charging her covers all the sins of the rats and sinners who used children for sex. Maxwell may be innocent we cant say only a British legal system can judge her.

Thank you for reading my blogs again dear you.

Yours Sir Kevin.

Copyright kevinparr Bt 2021.