Lady Jane Felsham's House

Lovejoy wasn't like Agatha Christie's Poirot or Sherlock Holmes, even if the A&E channel in America played all three TV series in the early 1990s. Lovejoy primarily investigated antiques: where they came from, who had made them, and why people wanted to buy or sell them. His love for these authentic artistic creations of the past often clashed with his ability to operate a profitable business. Unlike Poirot or Holmes, Lovejoy was a slippery character, a lovable rogue. Hard to define but easy to like. Impossible to trust, yet with a heart of gold. 

His friend, Lady Jane Felsham, was someone you could always relate to. She might have married into an aristocratic family, and live in a mansion, yet she was an ordinary woman, and ran a successful interior design firm. Lovejoy's antics infuriated her at times, both for personal and professional reasons. Her husband Lord Felsham never approved of their friendship. Still, her loyalty to Lovejoy was unshakable.

When her husband abandoned her to live in another country with another woman, Lady Jane remained in Felsham Hall. Her marriage might be over in spirit, if not in actuality. Still, was a principled woman who believed in doing the best with what she had been given. So she continued to reside there, and lent her time, money, and title to civic and charitable causes. 

Lovejoy helped her carry on with running the affairs of the old and important house, as well as aiding her business and charitable efforts. Their friendship matured, and might have become something more. But then her husband returned, and told her that he had lost all his money and his ancestral home. Left without a choice, and little more money than she had brought to the marriage, Lady Jane departed Felsham Hall to pursue a new life elsewhere. 

Nevertheless, the house, and Lord Felsham's ancestral grounds, remained a part of the series, even after his uncaring, irresponsible actions forced Lady Jane to pursue a new life elsewhere. Lovejoy's old rival Charles Gimbert returned to make Felsham Hall his home. Gimbert was a nefarious character, who loved antiques for the money and power they could give him. Lovejoy never really liked Charles, but he remained nearby, somehow unable to leave the manor house--and his link to Lady Jane--behind. 

In the final season, Charles Gimbert inexplicably vanished. After awhile, Lovejoy realized that, like Lady Jane's husband, Gimbert had also lost the manor through financial mismanagement. So once again, the antiques dealer again lingered, continuing to look after Felsham Hall.

At the beginning of the series, Felsham Hall was just another old house, and Lady Jane merely another beautiful woman. By the series' end, Felsham Hall had become a beloved place, the center of Lovejoy's existence. Just as it tore at Lovejoy's heart to leave the house and grounds, it hurt us too. For Lady Jane and Lovejoy's spirits had seeped into the bricks and mortar, the rooms and passageways, the gravel drive, and the manicured grounds.

The locals may know the mansion as Belchamp Hall, but for fans of the series, it will always be Lady Felsham's house. We met one such local walking her dogs, cute little Norfolk terriers, the morning we visited Felsham Hall. She said the hall, located in her little village of Belchamp Walter, sees few visitors these days. Still, over twenty years after the series ended, Lovejoy fans still come. Many, like us, from overseas.

It was just a moment in time, a brief visit. A walk along the familiar drive, an attempt to capture via photographs the house and the grounds. A moment to inhale the spirits of Lovejoy and Lady Jane. 

And then, all too soon, it was time to leave. Time to turn my back on the manor, and depart through those gates. Lady Jane rode through those gates in a taxi when her husband's actions finally forced her to leave.  Lovejoy packed up his business and drove through them in his little pickup truck at the end of the final episode. So I wasn't doing anything my friends hadn't done. Still, having just arrived, and knowing I would never return--it was hard to Felsham Hall.

Like so many people, I lack an ancestral home. But for a brief moment, I was able to return to a beloved house where I had been a frequent and welcome visitor. I finally saw with my own eyes, not just through the TV screen, a place inhabited by friends I had cared for, and people I loved. People who had made the place special, even if they, and their traditions, had been entirely fictional.

Farewell, Felsham Hall. Thanks so much for allowing me to visit.

Dragon Dave

An Italian In Panaca Part 2

Norfolk Broads, England

Sitting around a big table, at the B&B in Panaca, my wife and I enjoyed chatting with the Italian couple seated across from us. The man in particular seemed to drive the discussion. He clearly enjoyed engaging with us, and we discovered a mutual interest in England. 

We told him about the places we had visited in England, and he told us of the places they had visited. Freshest in our mind were memories of our 2017 trip, when we had explored the university town of Cambridge, toured the Norfolk Broads, and seen Norwich Cathedral. Yet we shared experiences from our other trips as well.

As Europeans, the Italian couple's way of life seemed closer to that of people in England than ourselves. Yet we discovered that they loved many of the same things we liked about England, and disliked the things that bothered us as well. We had visited some of the same places, and were able to compare notes on our stays in those areas.

He and his wife lived halfway around the world from us. They didn't even share the same first language. Yet in this man and his wife, we had found a kindred spirit, someone with mutual interests, and a similar, while still different, point of view.

That's incredibly rare, in my experience.

Norwich Cathedral, England

After awhile, the woman brought out breakfast. She had never asked anyone what they wanted, and gave everyone the same thing: a flour tortilla filled with eggs, cheese, hash browns, bacon, and sausage. We probably wouldn't have ordered it, but we enjoyed our breakfast burrito. Still, it was a far cry from most of the B&Bs we visited in England, where you're given a menu to order from, and they prepare your food exactly like you want it.

The one part of the conversation with our Italian friends that stuck with me was the man's description of Brexit. In America, Brexit is an afterthought, given little or no real attention. Many people may not even know what it means. 

I had viewed the Brexit process as a change in regulations that businesses and ordinary people in England and throughout the European Union would adapt to with a modicum of discomfort. But the Italian gentleman told us about people living in his country who had lost their jobs because of it. He spoke about Italian businesses that had shut down because they would no longer be able to do business with England as readily as before. He talked about the people living in nearby towns and villages suffering because local companies had ceased operation. 

He spoke about families that were being broken up because of it. Britain's membership in the European Union had made it easier for citizens of different countries to marry and live together. Britain's withdrawal from the EU meant family members would have to physically move from one country or another, either for work, or to raise their children.

Thus, Britain's withdrawal from the EU represented a tragedy for his friends and neighbors. Yes, they would find a way to navigate the legal and regulatory changes, to adapt, and to move on with their lives. But in the meantime, they were separated from their loved ones, struggling to get by, and wondering how they would put the broken pieces of their lives back together. 

Despite having visited England five times, and talked with many Brits on each of those trips, I never understood the full implications of Britain's desire to leave the European Union. I may not understand why Brexit is occurring, any more than I understand why the United States seems to be retreating from processes and structures that have historically led to greater international cooperation. At least now I better understand how Brexit will affect people living in England and European Union countries in significant ways. And that's all because I took a less-traveled road on our vacation, and stayed in a little town called Panaca.

Dragon Dave

An Italian In Panaca Part 1

As we drove along on our winding, less traveled route through Nevada, it was interesting how quickly the landscape could change. In one area, you'd have prime agricultural land. Then, a little while later, you'd be passing through a wild area full of Joshua Trees. One moment the sky would be bright and clear, with a few innocuous puffs of white cloud passing overhead. The next moment, we found ourselves traveling under a dense dark cloud layer, with heavy rain evident in the distance.

Our first stop that evening was a little town called Panaca. If it was in England, I would call it a village. But I'm not really sure we have villages in America, so I'm calling it a town. 

Most people would drive past Panaca with little thought of stopping. It's just a spot on the map with a name, a few stores, a church, some historic buildings, and no restaurants. Houses lined wide, quiet streets, had nice size yards and pretty gardens. For families with children, there was a centrally located campus for their elementary, middle, and high schools. 

We stayed in a Bed and Breakfast, and after walking around town that evening, we sat in our rooms and made up a light dinner for ourselves. We watched a movie on our computer. We read, and went to sleep. It was a pleasant enough evening, aside from the noise coming from the living and dining room.

You see, while we were ensconced in our room, people came into the house, talked and laughed, and ate dinner. It was a little noisy, but we had headphones to use with the laptop, and those overrode the noise. At the time, I wondered if the female proprietor were having some friends over. But given the lack of local restaurants, I wondered afterward if groups of people contracted with her when they wanted to go out somewhere for dinner. 

The following morning, we left our room, and gathered for breakfast around the big table in the dining room with everyone else. People chatted, and the host eventually brought us some hot tea. We were never asked what we wanted to eat. While we waited, my wife and I started talking with the couple seated across from us. We shortly discovered that they were from Italy, and on vacation in America. 

At first the woman talked most. But once the man got started, he led the discussion. I couldn't make out all his words, but his gestures and energy were a joy to behold. He said he rarely used his car in Italy, and relied on public transportation to get around. He kept his car in a box, he said, and got it when he needed it. (My wife later suggested that box meant garage).

He loved coming to America, and exploring the backroads of our nation. Driving here was so much easier and pleasurable than in Italy. He loved seeing the national and state parks, and taking long drives like following historic Route 66. He was sad that this year was a short trip: only two weeks! While he never looked forward to driving in Italy, he found our road system restful and scenic.

My wife and I enjoyed chatting with him, and we were sorry we would never see him and his wife again. They were so friendly and charismatic! We would have liked to have learned more about their daily lives in Italy, and what we could expect a trip there to be like, should we plan one.

Dragon Dave

Clive Cussler and Solar Power

Last year, my wife and I traveled to Salt Lake City. Rather than take the well-traveled highways, we opted to take a more wandering route. So north of Las Vegas, we pulled off the main road, and right away, we saw this really cool solar power generating plant. Or perhaps I should say a really hot solar power generating plant!

I've seen plenty of wind power plants, but not many solar ones. It was neat to drive past these long lines of panels soaking up the sun, and think of all the free energy they were collecting. I found the towers really intriguing. I wonder what their purpose is?

Since that day, I've watched a movie called Sahara, based on a Clive Cussler novel. The movie follows Dirk Pitt, a treasure hunter/explorer, as he and his team search for a lost Civil War battleship in the African desert. The movie is a little like an Indiana Jones movie, or the Mummy movies starring Brendan Frasier. 

In Sahara, Dirk and his team are on the run from the villains pursuing them when they come across a modern solar power station. Unfortunately, the facility is run by the bad guys, and the power they're producing isn't as "clean" as solar power is supposed to be. While they investigate the site, Dirk and his team get captured. They have to fight for their lives, as well as the welfare of the entire world. At one point, they battle the bad guys atop a tower very much like the ones in the photo above.

The facility in the above photo appears to be called the Southern Paiute Solar Project, operated by a company called First Solar. It's located on an Indian reservation, where it benefits the local Native American population. The energy collected there is transferred via transmission lines hundreds of miles to power over 100,000 homes in Los Angeles, California. 

As you can imagine, that's just a small portion of Los Angeles' energy needs. Still, I remember being given demonstrations on the potential of solar power way back in elementary school. It's great to finally see a plant like that in action, and know the energy it's producing doesn't come from coal or gas, which cause pollution and contribute to global warming. 

Say, I wonder if there's a civil war battleship, buried out there under dirt and sand, on the Moapa River Indian Reservation. You never know: it might be worth checking out. Anyone got Dirk Pitt's phone number?

Dragon Dave

An American in St Edmundsbury Cathedral

In 2017, we visited the city of Bury St. Edmunds, where we met an American living in Britain. I have no idea of her official legal status, but she has lived there for decades, as her husband's business originally took them there. Perhaps she and her husband had dual citizenship. Perhaps they live with a visa. In any case, she and her husband were retired now, and she graciously donated some of the time she could have spent with him to be a docent in her local cathedral.

Because of their historic status, many churches and cathedrals in England can only be updated within strict guidelines. St. Edmundsbury Cathedral seemed to have escaped these restrictions, and sported all types of modern upkeep and improvements. The management strived to present the cathedral as it would have looked when it was new. Thus, there were lots of little improvements, like the colorful shields that hung in the altar area. These, as I recall, were reminders of the important landowners and aristocrats who would have originally founded and supported the cathedral.

While we marveled at the beauty of their sanctuary, the American woman and her fellow volunteers helped string banners up along one wall. These banners, she explained, had been made by local school children. Through their artwork, they celebrated the importance of the cathedral, as well as the community's spiritual life. When I told her that many American's perceived the British as largely disinterested in their churches, she was shocked. For her, the spiritual life in Britain wasn't just alive, but thriving!

At noon, we took our packed lunches outside, and toured the ruins and their beautiful gardens. Benches were situated all over the grounds, and provided beautiful, scenic views. But the sun was obscured by clouds, and a cold breeze promised to make sitting outside a shivery affair. So we headed back into the cathedral's dining hall, where we purchased a pot of tea, and a slice of cake to accompany our sandwiches.

When the table next to us came free, who should sit down there but our new American friend. She proved graciously amenable to continuing our dialogue. She shared with us everything that appealed to her about Britain, and why she and her husband continued to live there, instead of spending their retirement years in the United States. We learned that much of what appealed to us about her adoptive country appealed to us as well.

In the British TV series Lovejoy, Ian McShane played the title character, who traveled around the country buying and selling antiques. St. Edmundsbury Cathedral may never have been used as a location, but the production used several other places in Bury St. Edmunds, such as public houses and parks. Lovejoy celebrated a reverence for the old, and the need to preserve it. At the same time, the itinerant antiques dealer wasn't wholly against the modern. He simply didn't want people to confuse the two. The differences--what separated the old from the new--were important, and should be recognized, as well as celebrated. That is what I'll remember of my visit to Bury St Edmunds, as another American celebrating past and present in their magnificent cathedral.

Dragon Dave

Rudyard Kipling and the Seven Sisters

My journey to the Seven Sisters along the south coast of England, back in 2013, keeps coming back to me. Maybe I'm watching James Herriot working in harsh Yorkshire conditions in an episode of the TV series All Creatures Great and Small, and remembering all that verdant Sussex farmland we walked through to reach the shore that day. Maybe I'm watching a movie like "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire," in which Harry and his friends travel there to see the Quiddich world cup. Maybe I'm watching the Agatha Christie's Poirot episode that was set there, or remembering how Sherlock Holmes retires to a cottage there in the movie "Mr. Holmes."  

Maybe I keep remembering it because the day was so memorable.

We didn't have a car that trip, so we took the bus out there from Brighton. We didn't pack a lunch, because we didn't have a fridge in our room. We didn't eat until late afternoon, because after our long walk through the wind and rain, there was nothing but a tea shop and a big carver restaurant nearby, and we wanted something easy but nourishing, like sandwiches of burgers. 

Still, we'd had a feast for the senses. We'd talked to farmers, fellow walkers, and locals giving their dog a good long walk. We'd walked along a muddy path beside blackberry bushes, and people building a fence. We'd stopped to photograph cows. We'd seen this place of wild beauty, collected seashells, and tried to repair an umbrella that broke in the strong winds. We'd experienced more in just those few short hours, than we do in some weeks.

So after boarding the bus for the return trip to Brighton, we remembered our ramble through the fields to the coast, and watched outside as the bus took us through small towns and villages. We were looking for something simple "cheap and cheerful," but saw nothing that appealed. Finally, when we reached the town of Rottingdean, we disembarked. The town was on our itinerary, as we wanted to visit the Rudyard Kipling gardens, which we had heard were beautiful. But first, food!

From the restaurant of a hotel, we watched the rain pelt the outside patio and beat against the windows. We heard the gusts of wind grumble and roar. But we were warm and dry inside, enjoying our plates of fish and chips. We took our time, ordering a second pot of tea, as we were having the second and final meal of the day, a late lunch or an early dinner, or "Linner" as Lionel would have called it, in the sitcom "As Time Goes By."

As we were leaving, we asked a worker for directions to the Rudyard Kipling gardens. It took him a little while to connect the author's name with a nearby park, but we told him the address, and he finally made the connection. Then he said, "Oh, they'd be closed now."

And then it hit us, as we walked outside, how late it was. The streetlights were on, and the drivers returning home after their workday had their headlights on. The bus had been an enjoyable, and social, means of transport, but all the little stops it made cost us in travel time. So we didn't get to see the Rudyard Kipling gardens.

Perhaps some day I'll return to Rottingdean, and see the gardens named after the famous author. I read The Jungle Book and The Second Jungle Book recently, so Rudyard Kipling, and that day trip to Seven Sisters has been on my mind. It's interesting that the town made such a lasting monument to him, even though he only lived there three years. But then, just as that was a highly memorable trip for us, Kipling's stories will never be forgotten. 

Dragon Dave

Mapp And Lucia And Lifeboats

At the end of Cromer Pier, in the county of Norfolk, England, you'll see a ramp descending into the sea from a large brown building. Inside this branch of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution, you'll find the Tamar, the ship that slides down that ramp and sets out to aid those in peril on the sea.

With its dual, 1000 horse power engines, the Tamar can race off to a vessel in distress. The rescuers inside, clad in their waterproof gear, sit in seats designed to absorb the impact of hitting storm waves at anything up to 25 knots per hour. Once the crew arrive, they can pull a vessel out of dangerous waters, or tow it back to port, even if it weighs up to seven tons. 

Should they need to transfer people to their ship, or pull them out of the sea, they have any number of rescue items easily within reach. Metal arms swing out. Ropes and winches deploy. The threatened are hauled aboard to safety, and either transferred to a helicopter, or transported back to shore. Despite its compact size, the Tamar can hold as many as one hundred people, although passengers might find conditions a little cramped. 

In E. F. Benson's novel Mapp And Lucia, society matrons Elizabeth Mapp and Emmeline Lucas are swept out to sea when a storm hits the English seaside town of Tilling. Friends spy the two clinging to Lucia's dining room table amid roiling waves. They send out a plea for rescue to local fishing vessels, the coastguard, and the Lifeboat station. But none of the ships can reach the women fast enough. After awhile, with no further sightings, the ships give up their search for the women, supposing them lost to the sea.

Had powerful and capable ships like the Tamar existed in the 1930s, E. F. Benson would have needed to work harder to convince his readers that the local Lifeboat station had failed to rescue the leading lights of Tilling society. As for Lucia's dining table serving as a short term raft...well, that's timeless.

Dragon Dave

Condos, Pottery, Cats, Squid, and Matt Kindt in Kauai

The plus of owning a timeshare is that it forces you to go on vacation each year. You buy into the program, you pay the annual fee(s), so you make sure that it's worth the cost. It's an investment in yourself and your family. You travel to places you might never visit if you had to justify the entire cost of the trip aside from the need to use the timeshare. But one thing they always sucker you into at these resorts is "Let us give you an update about how the program has changed. We'll give you free money for your time!"

This year's presentation was the most ridiculous I have ever heard. They wanted to sell us points for an additional week, but promised that those points would effectually be worth three weeks. Plus, they would supposedly take care of the car rental and flights for these trips. Well, the Devil is in the details of these arrangements, and usually, after you've bought into the program, you find the details aren't nearly as glorious as the salesperson described.

"But hey, now you'll be a V.I.P. member. Is it better to be a V.I.P.? Don't you deserve to treated like a V.I.P.?"

What really got me was the price of the program. Believe it or not, the salesman wanted us to invest $100,000 so we could supposedly spend three weeks in Hawaii (or anywhere else). Of course, this assumes they don't change their program in the future so the V.I.P. points are really only worth one week, and all the details they promise work out exactly as promised. But then, they wouldn't make any more changes to their program, right? They wouldn't want to sell you anything else in the future, right?

The mind boggles. I mean, you could nearly buy a real condo in Hawaii, that you could live in year-round, for that kind of money.

Anyway, after the presentation, we looked at our vouchers. What could we do with our free money? There were shops where we could purchase souvenirs. There were restaurants where we could enjoy a few nice meals. And then there was a little pottery studio, where we could pick out a project, paint it, and take it home with us. Now, that sounded like fun!

I painted lots of ceramics in my youth, but the pieces had always been completely fired. I painted them, sprayed them with a protective coating, and they were done. This studio gave the pieces an initial firing, that would allow the clay to be painted on. After that, they required an additional firing. Instead of paints, we were given a selection of glazes to use. For our first project, my wife and I each chose a tile. Then we got started.

As it was Kauai, the garden island of Hawaii, it rained several times while we painted. The hours sped past as we painted, and the rain beat down on the thin roof of the lattice-enclosed patio. Several cats strolled past, and one, named Captain Terrible, visited us regularly. He leapt onto the table, stepped over our work, and insisted on regular petting. But hey, you need a painting break now and then, right?

Some of the glazes were hard, while others were liquid. But a drop of water transformed the most solid of glazes back into liquid again. There was no white paint, so any place we wanted to remain white, like bubbles in the water, we left unpainted.

When my wife finished her first tile, she started another. By the time I finished my first tile, she had mostly finished her second. So I opted for a simpler project, a little ornament we could hang on our Christmas tree next year. That is, assuming we spend Christmas at home next year, and don't travel somewhere else instead.

The day we left Kauai, we stopped by the studio and picked up our projects. It was interesting to see how the colors had changed from being fired in the kiln. All our tiles were white after their initial firing, but mine had a tinge more red than my wife's pieces. Maybe that slight difference in the clay accounts for the water in my ocean scene being turquoise, while my wife's stayed a truer blue. Also, despite three coats, my water still looks faded and streaky. "Oh, that's the light shining through the water," my wife suggested. Sadly, the green lettering of Kauai on the tile got burned away, but the fish and squid came out good. 

I didn't see any squid during my snorkels, but I did see an octopus. (Sadly, that was on the first day, before we bought our underwater camera). The squid are cool. They remind me of the giant squid in Matt Kindt's comic series Dept. H, which takes place in a research base seven miles beneath the ocean. The squid in my tile seem more amiable than in Matt Kindt's comic, and unlikely to attack a human observer. But hey, what do I know about squid? If I was smart, I never would have purchased a timeshare, and would never agree to sit through yet another "Let me tell you how our program has changed" presentation.

Dragon Dave

Peter Benchley & Beauty in the Deep

There's a lot to see and do in Hawaii, and much of it happens at the beach. If you're like my wife and I, that means that some of the best moments occur beneath the waves. We used to buy disposable cameras, but that meant getting film processed, which added to the total cost. After a few years, stores on the islands stopped developing film with less than a one-week turnaround. So we brought the cameras home, and had the film developed locally.

Eventually, the cost and bother got a little much, so we stopped buying these disposable cameras. This allowed us to spend more of our time looking around under water, as opposed to worrying about catching a fish just right. But it did mean that what we brought home from our snorkeling trips were only memories, which we couldn't show to friends.

This year, we opted to spend our Christmas in Hawaii. As a present to ourselves, we purchased an inexpensive digital camera. It was about 7-8 times more expensive than one of those old disposables, but we'll save on the cost and hassle with developing. On this trip, we probably took more than the equivalent of those 7-8 disposables. After the time not using a camera, it added a new dimension to our snorkeling.

One thing that's stuck with me from Peter Benchley's novel The Deep was that sharks were not necessarily voracious killers. (This aspect doesn't translate to the film version). At one point in the book, an inexperienced diver sees a shark approach, and immediately shoots it. Later, the dive leader berates the man, pointing out that he had been the attacker, not the shark. That shark would now swim off and die, because he had not bothered to assess the shark's level of interest in him before firing his harpoon gun.

If you've read The Deep, you know the villains of this story are distinctly human in nature.

I may have some of the particulars of that scene wrong, but it's my strongest memory from the novel. The film version of his first novel Jaws made everyone petrified of going to the beach, or into the water. In The Deep, Benchley seemed to be saying: okay, I told a story about one shark terrorizing a little town. That doesn't mean all sharks prey on swimmers. 

Still, I'm not planning on swimming with sharks anytime soon.

Whether we're talking sharks, fish, eels, or anything else you find underwater, the general rule of not touching anything remains the safest advice. Still, most of the sea life you find underwater are unlikely to attack you. The sea life we typically encounter belong to three groups: 1) They try to keep their distance from you; 2) They approach to study you; or 3) They flat out ignore you. 

Whatever category they belong to, this year I often wished they'd stay still for a moment. You know, so I could snag the perfect photo. And then there's the question of the lighting, which is always changing with the movement of the water.

By far the coolest fish I saw this year was this flatfish. As it had both eyes on top, my wife and I think it's a flounder. It had such an interesting movement, like a piece of parchment flowing through the dense water. When it saw me, it altered his direction away from me. Then it tried to hide from me.

Can you see it, blending in with the surface of the rock? It had such interesting body markings. Some fish have a dark mottled body, as if they're wearing a military camouflage suit. This one, when it blended in with the rock, was absolutely stunning.

But then, that's why we snorkel. To see everything that's going on in Hawaii. Even if much of it occurs beneath the waves.

Dragon Dave

Baroness Emma Orczy: Walking With A True Woman

In the early chapters of Baroness Emma Orczy's 1911 novel A True Woman, Louise Harris and her fiancé Luke de Mountford take a walk through Battersea Park in the Chelsea district of London, England. I can't remember if they actually walk across it, but Orczy mentions nearby Albert Bridge. And why not? It's beautiful! Just be careful if you walk across in a large group. You'll see signs posted reminding your party to break step every now and then. Otherwise, the bridge might collapse, and dump you into the river Thames!

As they stroll through Battersea Park, Luke mentions to Louise that a newfound relative is visiting London. Apparently one of his uncles had a son, and he's visiting London for the first time. The man doesn't seem to want anything more than to connect with his family. But Louise is aghast that Luke hasn't mentioned this man before. If his claims are true, the newcomer will replace Luke as the inheritor of the family fortune.

I can imagine Luke and Louise walking through the placid, tree-lined walkways of Battersea Park. Surrounded by such tranquility, Louise would have contemplated how the possibility that Luke might not inherit his surviving uncle's money would change their future plans. Up until now, Luke has devoted his life to being his uncle's right-hand man, managing all the family's investments and finances. He has no inheritance of his own, no income to fall back on. In this age of gentility, Luke would fall far below Louise's position in society. From society's standpoint, he would have nothing to offer her.

Sadly for Luke and Louise, this is exactly what happens.

Despite scientists' declarations that the fog that used to choke London's streets in a thing of the past, fog as thick as pea soup flows into London a few months later. It swarms around famous landmarks like Picadilly Square, and dampens the enthusiasm of crowds waiting to see the latest plays in the theatre district. Luke, now dispossessed, drives Louise and her father to an embassy party in her father's car. As he's no longer invited to such high society functions, he boards a city bus. After watching from afar for far too long, he has decided to confront his usurper in the man's club. He may no longer control the family finances, but he must convince the man to send their ailing uncle off to Spain for his health.

A few hours later, the usurper is found stabbed through the throat in a horse drawn cab. The cab driver cannot attest to the identity of the person who boarded the cab with the usurper, so thick with the fog. The next morning, Luke's walking stick is found in nearby Green Park. Secreted inside the walking stick is a stiletto knife. The blade has blood on it.

My wife and I walked past Green Park after visiting the Prime Minister's residence back in 2011. I remember a nice flat green expanse of lawn. But it was the evening, and we were hungry, so we didn't have time to explore it. If we had, I suppose we might have found someone's walking stick, and become an integral part of a murder investigation!

Luke is put on trial for his cousin's murder. Despite months of public pressure, Louise has refused to break her engagement to Luke because he lost his fortune. As she loves him, and believes in him, she attends the inquest. During a break in proceedings, they join with the fashionable set by walking the Ladies Mile in Hyde Park.

My wife and I explored Hyde Park in 2013. We saw the Rotten Row, where people rode their horses. E. F. Benson mentions the Rotten Row in several of his novels, such as Dodo, A Detail of a Day and Scarlet And Hyssop. While the Rotten Row stretches across the south area of Hyde Park, the Ladies Mile ran along the North. We had a great time exploring this historic park, along with our fellow walkers, cyclists, and horseback riders.

Thankfully, I wasn't suspected of murder at the time. This made it easier for my wife and I, as we didn't have to ignore everyone around us gossiping about the mountain of evidence against me. But then, my wife is a true woman. Had I been under suspicion, my wife would have stuck by me, just like Louise did with her beloved Luke.

Dragon Dave