O is for Ouch

When you are required to work from home, getting up gets difficult … Getting up is difficult anyway, but when all you are required to do before you start work is to get dressed and start up computer, it’s just that extra bit difficult to get yourself motivated.

This morning, though, I was up and about and getting ready for a day of web meetings, typing and all other things in between, and my cat decided to punish me. Let me explain.

Recently, my cat has taken it upon himself to push me to feed him earlier and earlier in the mornings. If I take too long to potter around before going downstairs to the kitchen, he gets impatient and starts to bite. Usually, he goes for the knees. Painful, but able to be endured with a grumble.

This morning, he decided to shake things up a bit. He went in for the cuddle, and chomped down firmly on my nose.

Let me tell you, I did not just grumble. Loud decibels ensued, along with the cat looking at me as if he was deeply offended that I was angry at him… and why wasn’t I making any movements to go downstairs and fill his bowl?

Obviously, having very sharp teeth, he gave me a nice old hole in the top of my nose, and there was a nice bead of blood forming… just what I needed when my face was going to be on webcam for the entire day…

So after a rocky start to the day, the cat and I have had a fairly decent day. He eventually decided, after he had broken his fast, that he would take himself off for a sleep in the sun.

How are you coping with working from home? Are you going crazy? Do you have pets that like to make themselves known to you at inopportune times?

Stay Safe. Stay home.

K is for Katherine of Aragon

…And we’re back to the Tudors. More specifically, we’re back to December 1485 when a little Spanish princess made her way into the world. Her name was Katherine, and though she was but a mere girl, she was already destined for greatness.

Born to Isabella of Castille and Ferdinand II of Aragon, Katherine became a part of one of the most powerful families in Europe. She was a hot commodity—being highly sought after as a way for other European provinces to form alliances with Spain through marriage, and thus have Spain on their side should they engage in any sort of war.

One such country just hankering to sink their claws into the young princess, was King Henry VII and his wife Elizabeth of York. Their own reign rather tenuous (the Wars of the Roses having ended not that long beforehand), they were looking for a strong backing, should their reign suddenly go southward—so they planned a marriage between Katherine and their eldest son, Arthur.

In order for the marriage to become a “done deal” Henry VII and Elizabeth of York had to jump like circus dogs through a multitude of hoops before Isabella of Castille was satisfied that her daughter would not be deposed from her rightful place as Queen of England. Eventually, Katherine set sail at the age of fifteen to an unknown country—a place where she barely spoke the local language. Everything she knew and was comfortable in, was to be forgotten for a new way of life.

Katherine was married to Arthur for less than five months, before Arthur conveniently dropped dead, and all of those hoops that were placed perfectly by Isabella began to dissolve into dust. So the poor girl was left a widow at the age of sixteen, unable to go back to her home country, and still mostly unable to speak the local language.

Luckily, Henry VII and Elizabeth of York had a back up prince—let’s be honest, if they didn’t, they’d be royally screwed—and fortunately for them, they’re son Henry thought Katherine had a bit of somethin’ somethin’. Thus, via papal dispensation, Henry and Katherine were married in 1509 (seven years after Arthur’s death).

Henry and Katherine were married for about 24 years before Henry’s efforts to pull the pin on their marriage finally paid off so that he could marry his mistress, the infamous Anne Boleyn. Though, I believe that Henry VIII did genuinely love Katherine for a time after they were married, it is evident that their marriage was not always a happy one.

Henry became continuously disheartened by Katherine’s series of miscarriages—their only living issue, a girl named Mary. Henry’s obsession with producing a legitimate son overtook his affection for Katherine, and his tolerance of her stubbornness and piety became almost non-existent. Thus, the youth and vigor, the promise of fertility and the manipulative nature of Anne Boleyn took seed in the young(ish) king’s mind and would not desist in its grasp. Unfortunately Katherine could not hold onto her man.

Katherine was a devout Catholic—brought up so by both her parents. She was taught that her duty was to her parents and when she was married, her husband. Everything that she did was to please Henry. She found it hard to understand why she just could not please him. She did not realise that he was lost to her.

After cutting himself off from the Catholic church, Henry VIII made himself of the Church of England and thus wrangled his high-standing clergymen to consider the matter that was plaguing his conscience. Basically, he made all of his churchmen scared that if they decided against what Henry wanted then they would lose their heads.

After their marriage dissolved in 1533, Katherine was sent to dank and dark house after dank and dark house which did no favours to her health. Though she did not decline so quickly as to snuff her light out there and then, she was sickly for three years before things finally caught up with her.

Over those years, she never stopped in calling herself the Queen, though she was threatened on multiple times with execution if she did not desist in calling herself thus. In her eyes, because the Pope had not declared her marriage to be null and void, she was therefore legally married to the king, and his marriage to Anne Boleyn was not at all legitimate or legal, which as it so happens was what Henry ended up thinking in 1536 when Anne Boleyn, too, could not give him the male heir he so wished for—again, their only issue was a girl, named Elizabeth.

Unfortunately, this realisation came too late for Katherine, and she passed in January of 1536, just months before Henry gave the order for Anne to be beheaded.

Katherine is usually represented as a stubborn woman who never really let go of her Spanish culture and values. Her life was first run by her faith and then by her husband. If she believed that her husband, or what her husband was trying to get her to do, went against the ideals of her faith, she wasn’t afraid to rebel against it.

She was a woman of strong morals, who showed care and love toward those who may not ever return the favour. She was always the “better person”.

Perhaps, some people could take heed from her. They could have a worse role model. Don’t you think?

C is for Cindy Anstey

For those of you who don’t know, Cindy Anstey is a Young Adult author who specialises in historical fiction with a dash of mystery and a pinch of romance on the side—nothing heavy like the Outlander series, just nice and light-hearted and lovely.

Her debut novel was called Love, Lies and Spies and it was what made me fall in love with Cindy Anstey and her writing. Love, Lies and Spies (let’s call it LLAS) surrounds a young 19th century woman named Juliana who desires nothing more from life than to be left in peace to study ladybugs. Yup, ladybugs. Her family does not approve. Juliana should be finding a husband—clearly, a more important pasttime than researching insects.

It is on one of her many research expeditions that she meets Spencer, who she quickly realises is a spy for the war office—ooooooh. Spencer obviously doesn’t want people finding out about his spy status, and Juliana doesn’t want her family finding out that she is still venturing out to observe as many ladybugs as she can, thus, they form a pact to play act a romance to cover their tracks.

The thing that I love about Anstey’s writing is that it is so easy to read, it’s almost conversational. Though I read a lot of dense novels, I really love easy-to-read books. They have the ability to suck you into the plot, and make you a fly on the wall whilst things almost happen in real time, which is exactly how I felt reading her books.

From LLAS, I continued to read her books pretty much as soon as they came out—with the exception of her latest, The Hummingbird Dagger, because I am currently on a friend induced book buying ban (I went a little crazy earlier in the year and she told me that I had to read 17 books before I could buy any more, but don’t you worry, The Hummingbird Dagger is one of the first that I will buy!)

To date, Anstey has released:

• Love, Lies and Spies
• Duels and Deception
• Suitors and Sabotage
• Carols and Chaos
• The Hummingbird Dagger

And I cannot wait for more! If her books sound up your alley, check her out! Trust me!

NB. I have not been sponsored not commissioned to sing praises of Cindy Anstey. I just really love her work!

B is for Budapest

At the beginning of 2018, I was lucky enough to be able to travel to the beautiful continent of Europe … on my own.

This was the first time I had traveled overseas solo, and I have to admit that I was scared. I had heard stories of people getting lost, people getting killed in freak accidents, people being scammed … all whilst travelling alone. How was I going to survive?

Easily, apparently.

I began my journey by visiting Iceland for a week from which I flew to Prague and stayed for 3 nights. From there I took the train to Budapest and also stayed there for 3 nights before I finally ended my journey with my soulmate —the beautiful England.

Though I would love to sit here and chat to you for hours about the entirety of my trip, the title indicates that sacrifices must be made, and that Budapest must be the focus of my discussion this week.

Budapest.

It was so beautiful, though I didn’t get to see nearly as much of it as I would have liked.

My first morning in Budapest, I woke up to a thin blanket of snow covering EVERYTHING. I had never seen anything like it … Australians don’t experience much snow. It’s more like a furnace set way too high over here … especially during the summer months. I felt like the typical tourist when I crouched down inside doorway of my apartment and took a photo of the untouched snow on the path.

One thing that is so vastly different about Europe in comparison to Australia is history (and we all know how much I enjoy history). We just don’t have the tangible history over here. In Europe, there are castles and walls that were build nearly a thousand years ago.. and they well preserved! It’s incredible.

I spent my three days in Budapest, walking past all of these magnificent buildings, getting lost in the inner-workings of the city. I am sure that I would have looked like the tourist I was, taking photographs every few seconds (I get very snap-happy when there is a camera in my hand).

There are four things that stand out in my memory that I saw in the beautiful Budapest:

1. The Shoes on the Danube
   This memorial was one of the non-negotiables of my trip. It was one of the main reasons I had decided that Budapest was a definite on my itinerary. The Shoes on the Danube a group of iron statues of shoes of all different sizes and styles. They were put there in memory of the 3,500 victims who were shot into the Danube River during 1944-5. The victims were lined up along the river, and asked to remove their shoes before being shot by Arrow Cross Militiamen into the river and floated off downstream.
   When I went to go and see this beautiful and heartbreaking memorial, the atmosphere was eerie. There were red roses that had been placed in, around and over the statues, that had formed icicles due to the snow of the night before. Small dishes with tealight candles where placed carefully throughout the memorial and they, too, had ice crystals surrounding them. Though there were so many people there who had also decided that they wanted to see the Shoes, I still felt as though I was the only person there. It was here that I stood, and yes took photos to commemorate my visit, but I grieved for all those people who lost their lives and those families who lost their loved ones.
2. Pigeons almost covered in snow
   Whilst walking, I came across a small park beneath the hillside where the citadel lies. It contains the statue of Queen Elizabeth. Again, the snow was blanketing everything, creating this sterile looking whitewash. Around the statue, sits a series of park benches which no one would have sat on unless they were wearing 40 layers of thermals and at least one waterproof layer, but the eeriness was renewed with a force when I saw a coat that had been abandoned the day before draped over the arm of one of the benches, icy and sad, surrounded by pigeons crouching and hunched in on themselves to protect themselves from the cold. I wanted to stay there all day, and take in this sight that I expected only from a fantastical fiction book.
3. Fisherman’s Bastien
   The Fisherman’s Bastien is one of those buildings you expect to be the setting of some medieval war epic. It has Disney-esque turrets, gigantic stones and intricately detailed stone carvings in the most unlikely of places. To walk within the Fisherman’s Bastien was truly magical. I could not manage a faster pace than a stroll, because to go any faster would be a disservice to the magic that the Bastien provides.
4. The Memorial to the Victims of the German Invasion in Szabadsag Square
   I happened upon this memorial entirely by chance. I was on one of the many expeditions I took during my three days in Budapest where I was wandering around with my head swiveling from side to side like a sideshow clown and not paying any attention to where it was I was actually going. Luckily I had a map, so I didn’t have to sleep on a park bench or anything like that. Phew!
   The memorial was built overnight in July of 2014 to commemorate the anniversary of German Nazi Occupation in Hungary and it has always been a source of controversy and disdain. The Hungarian people believe that the memorial distorts the true history of the country during the period of Nazi Occupation and that it aims to acquit the Hungarian government of the role they played in sending its Jewish citizens to concentration camps.
   I found it fascinating to see the protestations of current residents printed on sheets, laminated and hung opposite the monument—to read the stories that people shared of those in their families that had been impacted by what they perceive as the government’s contribution to the German Nazi Occupation in Hungary. I found it a very grounding experience to be able to witness the impact that a statue built to commemorate an event that happened almost about 70 years ago could spark this amount of hatred. I found myself wanting to know more about the families and their desperate desire for justice.

I guess, in conclusion, what I am really saying is, that Budapest is worth a visit. It has a magic to it that just yearns to be experienced. Trust me, it will be worth it. I promise.

A is for Anne Boleyn

I’m about to starting voicing an unpopular opinion — I don’t like Anne Boleyn. I know, I know, it’s a lot to deal with on short notice. Take a minute. Process it. Let it sink in. Yes, I do no like Anne Boleyn. I said it. It’s out there. Let me tell you why.

For those of you that don’t know who Anne Boleyn is, let me give you a quick run down. Once upon a time (1491, England) a man named Henry Tudor was born. He was the second son of King Henry VII of England and his wife Queen Elizabeth of York. Little Henry Tudor grew up to be a tyrannical douchebag—aka Henry VIII.

Now Henry VIII was the guy who married a tonne of woman and had all sorts of creative ways of getting rid of them in order to marry again … Anyway, Henry VIII married his dead brother’s wife, Katherine of Aragon, at the age of about 18 she was a bit older (cougar!) and she was a Spanish Princess (fancy!) by which time he was already King and was already getting the hang of doing whatever the hell he wanted 100% of the time.

He was married to Katherine of Aragon for about fifteen years before he decided that Katherine was useless, barren and he wanted to give her the flick. Around about that time, nineteen-year-old ANNE BOLEYN showed up flaunting all her youth and love of everything French before the king (keep in mind that Henry VIII was in his mid-30s by this stage, um, ew). Henry immediately decided that he wanted to “tap that” and tried desperately to sleep with the nineteen-year-old, to which she said “if you like it then you better put a ring on it”, very Beyoncé, right? Which basically set this massive snowball rolling that ended in many lives being lost and Katherine to be sent to some backwater hellhole that was so dank and damp that she died.

Thus, Henry and Anne were married and they lived happily ever after (YAY) … for three years before she was found guilty of a long list of grievances and was ultimately beheaded (AW!).

Here ends the history lesson for today…

So, let me tell you why I don’t like this woman:

1. Most people that love her say that she was the epitome of feminism before people even knew what feminism was. I say: WRONG. Anne Boleyn was made to do what she did due to what her Uncle and her Father wanted her to do. They were so driven by their own greed for power and control in the English court, that they shoved, not one, but, two of the Boleyn girls under Henry’s nose. One came out the other side known as “The Great Whore” (Nice nickname, huh?) and the other did little better coming out the other side, well, without a head! Sure, she wasn’t told to become queen, but you can’t tell me that she got to where she was because she was an icon of the feminist cause. She was manipulative, self-centred, and well under the thumb of her father, who she wanted more than anything to please.
2. She was determined to flip Henry VIII’s life upside down and inside, taking any and all people as casualties along the way. Because of Anne Boleyn, Henry VIII threw a long marriage out of the window. Perhaps he would have put Katherine aside for a younger model regardless due to his lack of a son and heir, but then again perhaps it was Anne and her male family figures calling the shots. He also completely reformed the church system in England because she refused to become his mistress. I am all for her saying no, for the record. That’s great. Go her. BUT, to me it seems overly excessive to ask someone to completely reform the church of a country which was formed for hundred years before you were even born just so that YOU can get married. Henry was excommunicated by the Catholic Pope and instead became head of the Church of England. His people had to renounce the faith that was so firmly embedded in their lives. People were executed just because they couldn’t bring themselves to change their religion was in order to suit a greedy king and his power-hungry girlfriend. As I said: excessive.
3. The marriage only lasted 3 years! After all that fiddling around for YEARS trying to make the conditions optimal in order for them to be married, Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII’s marriage lasted for next to no time at all. Her history of being manipulative to a series of other men came to light, rumours were regarded as true and she ultimately met her demise. Though I find the scandal surrounding her downfall quite interesting, this doesn’t sway my opinion of her, mainly because most of what she was convicted of, there is no evidence to substantiate the claims.

Regardless of my opinion of her, Anne Boleyn’s demise was not something that anybody deserves. She was beheaded on the 19th of May, 1536, for adultery with a plethora of men, including her own brother (again, evidence was very sparse to substantiate most of this). So, although I think that Anne Boleyn was a spoiled brat who took things way too far in order to please her daddy and her uncle, she is still pretty interesting to have a read about.

Z is for Zoology

I’m a sucker for animals—an absolute sucker. Shove me in a room full of animals and I am one happy lady … except if they are snakes, frogs, insects or arachnids. I can’t do those. They freak me out. Any other animal, though, and I am as happy as.

I’m that person that will walk down the street and my eyes will just zero in on the dog happily walking on the lead with its owner. I’m the type of person that will walk down those same streets, passing those happily trotting dogs, and have her hands itching because all she wants is to make friends with the dog.

Pat the dog, my brain says, pat it! Make it love you!

A couple of years ago, I went with a couple of friends to a wildlife park. I had an absolute blast. We spent the entire day walking around, meeting the animals. The first animal that we saw was the giant tortoises. I think we spent ten to fifteen minutes in front of them alone. What can I say? They were incredible, and they were having breakfast. That takes a while; they’re tortoises, after all.

At this particular wildlife park, they have kangaroos roaming free. It was amazing. After purchasing a bag of pellets, we had a train of kangaroos following us around just begging us for handfuls of pellet treats. I made some of my best animal friends on that trip.

Animals make me happy. Who wouldn’t want kitty cuddles, or puppy cuddles? They’re the best kind. Animals have just as much personality and love to give as any human. And most times they are more pleasant to deal with.

So what’s your favourite type of animal?

Y is for Youth

I am not old, by any means, but I am also not that young any more.

I have my whole life ahead of me, yet a quarter of my life is gone.

Recently, I had an experience that had this jarring effect of changing my perception of myself due to others perceiving me in such a different way. That’s as clear as mud, let me explain

Recently, I went to see the film Rocketman. Great film. You should see it. I digress. The lady on the counter took one look at me, and began:

“Now, you are aware that this film is restricted. It is MA 15+.”

My companion and I, confused, replied, “That’s fine.”

“So, one adult and one child?”

It was then that I realised that this woman, through no fault of her own, thought that one: I was my companion’s daughter and two: I was under the age of 14, the highest age to be classified as a “child” at the cinema.

To be honest, I was flabbergasted. Flattered, but flabbergasted. Age fourteen was about thirteen years ago. Surely, I didn’t look that young? Obviously, to this poor woman, who was now very embarrassed indeed, I was.

I started to think about my everyday life and how I looked to those around me? Did I come across as a teenager still? What was it that made her think I was so young? And if I do look that young, when is it that people will start looking at me and see me at my age?

It wasn’t the first time I had been told that I looked young for my age, and I wager it won’t be the last.

So how do the people around you perceive you? And what can you do to change that?

And dear cinema lady who made her faux pas, I am far from offended. I hope you think back on that time and laugh, for I most certainly will.

X is for Xiphoid (A new word for your vocabulary)

Xiphoid – adjective.
Definition: In the shape of a sword.

I know, I didn’t know it either.

When I find out new words, I get excited. Not because I am a genius and, therefore, there are limited words that I don’t know. I am not a genius, and I never will be, but I get excited because I love etymology. No, not entomology – I hate bugs. Etymology – the origins of words. I know, I’m weird. Tell me something I don’t know.

Whilst at Uni, I wrote a historical piece surrounding Katherine Parr and her resting place of Sudeley Castle. In this piece, the sections from the perspective of Ms Parr were told in etymologically correct language for the time period (late 1540s). Every word, except for one, was painstakingly researched as to the accuracy of the language for the time period. I spend hours making sure that it was correct. The offending word that I couldn’t find replacement for? Admiral. Though the word was around in the 1500s, it was not used in the context of a high-ranking naval officer until the early 1600s. The more you know, right?

So when I come across a new word, like Xiphoid, I get excited because I can research its history. And let me tell you something: (according to http://www.etymonline.com) it has been around since the 1740s. That’s amazing, right? No? Just me?

Well…

Anyway …

What are your favourite words? How long have they been around for? Did they have a different original meaning? When did their meanings change?

W is for ‘Wonder’

Have you read Wonder? If you haven’t, you should.

Wonder was written by R.J Palacio and was published in February of 2012. It has since become a major motion picture and has received great acclaim.

I feel as though Wonder has the ability to speak to souls. Auggie Pullman, the story’s protagonist, is a young boy who was born with a facial deformity – something that he is very self-conscious of. Due to his facial deformity he has always felt like the ‘other’ to everyone else’s normal. On a regular basis, he hears words directed at him like ‘freak’ and ‘disgusting’, and after hearing them so often, he takes them to heart.

But Auggie’s homeschooling days have come to an end, and his parents are sending him to a school. Auggie has to face those kids that utter ‘freak’ under their breaths head on.

Palacio’s ability to create a world so realistic and relatable is a true gift. Though a vast amount of readers can not relate to having a facial deformity, they can relate to being teased, outkast and downtrodden by their peers. They look at Auggie’s character, and can see the eagerness he has to be accepted and liked and ‘normal’ – something that everyone has gone through at least once in their lives.

Palacio also explores the extreme differences between self-perception versus outside perception. It is easy to get caught up in your own self-perception – which usually manifests negatively. I know that I get caught up in the ways I believe I have failed/fallen short, rather than looking at myself in a broader sense. She does this by allowing Auggie’s family have a voice. They have their own perspectives explored to accompany Auggie’s in the most heart-breaking, yet beautiful way.

Without giving too much away, I feel as though this book is of the utmost importance and that EVERYBODY should read it. So, please, if you haven’t read it, go out and buy yourself a copy.

What are you waiting for?

V is for Victoria

I have been watching the television series Victoria. It’s incredible.

When I bought it, last weekend, I had heard limited things about it. I heard that it was good, but had no idea as to what the focus of the programme would be, other than Queen Victoria.

As a lover of everything to do with the English monarchy, it was in my hand, paid for, and out of the store before I knew it. I was anxious to start watching. Queen Victoria has always been a subject of interest for me, but one I never pursued much further than watching The Young Victoria on television once. I suppose this is not much different.

There are a couple of things in the life of Queen Victoria, I have since learned through watching Victoria and the subsequent research I have undertaken, that stick in mind more than others.

1. Queen Victoria was not the daughter of a king. She was the niece of William IV, and due to an obscene amount of luck, though she had three uncles to contend with for the role monarch, she became queen.
2. Her name was not actually Victoria. She was born Alexandrina Victoria, and when she became queen, she adopted her second name.
3. She married her first cousin, Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg. Though their marriage was originally somewhat arranged, they fell in love quickly and deeply. They had nine surviving children.
4. She reigned for just under 64 years (from 1837-1901). Up until recently, she was the longest reigning monarch of England when she was overtaken by Elizabeth II (girls rule!!)
5. She was eighteen when she became queen. There was a lot of speculation surrounding her youth and her sex and whether she was able to rule a kingdom, but she pressed on and became one of the most admired and respected monarchs the United Kingdom has ever seen.

Victoria has Jenna Coleman in the role of Queen Victoria and Tom Hughes in the role of Prince Albert. Both work stupendously together, and tell a wonderful story with the help of their co-stars, producers, directors and alike.
On the whole, I love this television thus far, and cannot wait to see more.

I think it has sparked my motivation to learn more about Queen Victoria. Before you know it, I may be able to spout her life story at length and by heart.

So from one short lady, talking about another short lady, I bid you adieu. And I advise you to watch this incredible love letter to a most admired monarch.

See you Tuesday!

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