<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270</id><updated>2012-01-27T15:57:26.456-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Writer of Queens</title><subtitle type='html'>About Queens and Princesses........... Empresses, Tsarina's, Ladies in Waiting, Royal Protocol, Palaces.....Life in the......... Royal court, their families and other tidbits...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>46</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-4569607077538718260</id><published>2009-05-01T16:59:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T10:32:00.405-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What happened that cold winter....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Sfti11OMAXI/AAAAAAAAAww/FgzvwiGpxO0/s1600-h/AAAAA+Snow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Sfti11OMAXI/AAAAAAAAAww/FgzvwiGpxO0/s320/AAAAA+Snow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330963260882289010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Part II of A Queens Mother...&lt;br /&gt;And...as I was saying on the post below...what happened when they got to Sidmouth was so terrible that... WELL, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm getting ahead of myself here.&lt;/span&gt; Victoria's mother and father, The Duke and Duchess of Kent, arrived at Sidmouth on Christmas Day during quite a snowstorm. Here they would spend their holiday at the sea. The "cottage" was very close to the sea...only about 150 yards from it.  The Duke had just gotten over a gastric upset but was feeling better. Little did they know that it was to be one of the coldest and severest winters anyone could remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days after Christmas, the Duchess of Kent was sitting in the drawing room. It was a quiet afternoon and baby Princess Victoria was with her.The quiet was literally shattered as a bullet blast through the drawing room windows. It turned out to be a local boy shooting birds...and he'd misfired. The royal couple did not want him punished, however, it must be prevented from ever happening again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The days were sunny and cold, but the nights were bitter. The Duke wrote that the nights were "rather canadian." During the day the Duchess walked near the sea with Princess Feodora (Victoria's half-older sister) and worked hard on her English lessons. She was still speaking fluent German, and had a hard time conversing in English. The Duchess took some sea baths and the Duke spent time writing letters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About January 7th, the Duchess began to worry. Baby 'Vickelchen' was restless and she feared the baby wasn't feeling well. The Duke also caught a cold. However, he insisted on going outside with Captain Conroy--his equerry--to look after the horses. He returned later chilled to the bone and wet. The next day his cold got worse--quite. He couldn't even walk outside with the Duchess. He rested but was not better the next day. They were expecting company and the Duke would &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not hear &lt;/span&gt;of cancelling. He wanted his guests to come that evening. As a wife and mother, the Duchess must have worried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night, his fever rose. Alarmed, the Duchess summoned the doctor the very next day. The doctor didn't like the way the patient looked at all and was concerned. The Duchess was determined to take care of him and nurse him back to health. She worried, though, about his cold room. It had such a draft. Even with the fireplaces lit it wasn't sufficiently warm. She wrote to a confidant that her beloved husband was very ill but that she was nursing him to the best of her ability. Feodora also caught a chill but the baby Victoria seemed better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then the doctor decided that he needed to bring in the dreaded leeches. They believed that blood letting would bring down the fever and so they were applied to his chest. On the 12th of January, the Duchess had the Duke's bed moved to a warmer room. It was really imperative to keep him as warm as possible. His fever has risen, he had pains in his chest and other symptoms. The doctor decided to blood let him again when he became delirious. And when that didn't help him, he needed to be bled again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He was being tormented...couldn't anyone see that? &lt;/span&gt;the Duchess thought. It anguished her deeply to watch him suffer through this...with all these blisters on his chest. He wasn't getting better...he was getting weaker. She sent for the royal physician--begging for him to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor that was there urged her to rest but she couldn't. She stayed by her husbands side  and hand fed him all his medication herself. She tried to comfort him and reassure him. She spent a few minutes when she could with Victoria, but was upset and inconsolable. Here they were in this place--this frozen place at the sea--and all alone. They were so far from help...so secluded. It was more than she could bear. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh,&lt;/span&gt; why had they come?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there was more to bear. The doctor decided that the Duke should be cupped, which was another form of blood letting, but this one more painful. The Duchess would barely watch the scene as this went on hour after hour. Her dear husband was near delirium and in great pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon though, one of the royal doctors arrived. It wasn't the one she had hoped for, as he was tending to the King. The new doctor decided that more blood letting needed to be done. They had already taken 6 pints of blood from him. But...he was a strong man. He had always been one of the very strongest of the Princes. He &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;would&lt;/span&gt; pull through. If any of the King's sons could, it would be him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Duchess of Kent wrung her hands in misery as she watched this blood letting go on ---for days. It was so painful for the Duke that at one point he cried when they told him they needed to do it again. His wife felt it was weakening him---yet, no one listened to her. Anyway, she had trouble communicating with the doctors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Word was sent to the Duchess's brother---Prince Leopold. Leopold had been married to the Prince Regents daughter, but unfortunately, she had died in childbirth. The Prince and some others headed to Sidmouth in the frigid cold. It was an icy cold that Leopold would never forget. They arrived to find the Duke in a terribly weakened state. Soon after they arrived he used the last of his strength to sign his will. His wife remained at his side--she would not leave him-- and was holding his hand tightly as he took his last breath and passed away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They had cherished each other and the Duke had shielded her in all ways. What would she do without him? Here she was in a foreign country, barely able to speak English. Yet...baby Princess Victoria was in line for the Throne and as much as she wanted to FLEE---she could not.  Prince Leopold reminded his german sister that she had a destiny to fulfill.  Victoria must stay in England. Yet, she couldn't believe that her husband was...&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;gone.&lt;/span&gt; He had protected her...he had been her dearest friend and confidante. And...the royals did not like her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was then that she found out that since the Duke was in terrible debt, there was not even enough money to pay for the trip back to London.  Victoria was only 9 months old...and Leopold felt sure they (the royals) wanted to drive the Duchess from the continent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In late January they left the cottage, never to return. Leopold took his sister and the children back to....well...actually...they didnt know where she was to go. The Prince Regent wasn't fond of the Duchess and it wasnt known if he would allow her to return to her home at Kensington Palace. They couldnt go to Claremont (Leopold's home) because there had been an outbreak of measles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not knowing what to do, Leopold begged Princess Mary, the Prince Regents favorite sister to help him. She interceded and permission was granted for the widow to return to Kensington, and a letter was dispatched to Leopold as they journeyed back.Thank goodness!  After all, the Prince Regent couldn't throw a widow out in the cold, could he?  But when they arrived home, there was more bad news. The creditors wanted to be paid, and the Duchess had nothing. Not only was she coping with being a widow, she had no source of income and the creditors wouldn't leave her alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several requests were sent to the Prince Regent to help. Here she was---a widow with children, and one in line to the Throne of England---certainly, something should be done to help her. She deserved some pity. And the Prince Regent said...NO! He wouldnt throw her a pence. He would give her nothing.  The creditors took everything--furniture, glasses, linens, horses and carriages. They took anything that wasnt nailed down and was worth anything at all. The Duchess was left with nothing. Nothing. Can you imagine her thoughts and anxiety as she watched her possessions being carried out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No husband. No money. No things. And she had a baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much has been said of Victoria's mother. I wonder, though, if that happened to you...what you would have done?  And, this reads like fiction. Sometimes the real thing is crazier than any fiction one could imagine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And thats how Queen Victoria's mother started out... in that, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;oh, so wonderful year &lt;/span&gt;of 1820....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-4569607077538718260?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/4569607077538718260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=4569607077538718260' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/4569607077538718260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/4569607077538718260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2009/05/what-happened-that-cold-winter.html' title='What happened that cold winter....'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Sfti11OMAXI/AAAAAAAAAww/FgzvwiGpxO0/s72-c/AAAAA+Snow.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-4985001025851854443</id><published>2009-03-29T10:35:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T10:01:07.471-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Queen's Mother</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Sc-aVEPBdqI/AAAAAAAAAv8/i6WjBrtUpyI/s1600-h/zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzduchknt.jpg"&gt;s&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Sc-aVEPBdqI/AAAAAAAAAv8/i6WjBrtUpyI/s320/zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzduchknt.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318639371652527778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Sc-Z4dmTeEI/AAAAAAAAAv0/Zb-CRN5LXs4/s1600-h/vic22.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Sc-Z4dmTeEI/AAAAAAAAAv0/Zb-CRN5LXs4/s320/vic22.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318638880244856898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;You may have noticed that I've neglected the blog, but I do have a good reason and I'm getting back to it now---and have stacks of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;to be read &lt;/span&gt;Queen biographies piled high. First off, I decided to go back to work full time and also got a promotion and so the job needed my undivided attention, as you can imagine. And you know how that is. There was much to learn and it's been exhausting. I was also offered a contract for "&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;yal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; Wat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;er&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;c&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;olo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;rs&lt;/span&gt;" which is a romantic historical--with many true details of the life of Young Queen Victoria in it-- and I've been busy working on that. Edits, edits and more edits. But it came out beautifully...and will be released soon in A DANCE OF MANNERS, by Highland Press. It's a Regency Romance Anthology. The cover is up at the top right, and it came out lovely. There will be four other regency romances in the anthology by some very talented authors. If you haven't heard the term regency, it simply refers to a period of time in England from about 1800 to 1830 approximately (that's the long regency period).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It came as a shock to me---this whole book thing!---but, as you know some of the best things in life come unexpectedly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may have heard that the movie "Young Victoria" was released in England this month. I've been following this closely. Queen Elizabeth seemed a bit &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;disappointed&lt;/span&gt; in some of the details of the movie, but overall I think she liked it.  Sarah Ferguson, the former Duchess of York, was instrumental in getting this movie made due in part to her fascination with Queen Victoria---alas---I am fascinated with her too.  I've got a copy of the screenplay which I hold dear. And I've even dashed off some emails to some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;VIP's&lt;/span&gt; involved with the movie. The United States hasn't yet announced a release date, if any, but I hear there are negotiations underway. No one has ever done a movie on her young life. I think people will be surprised when they see that Victoria had a thrilling young life and she isn't the Queen in black widow's weeds as they'd been lead to believe. That's only part of her life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my novella, you'll get a feeling of what it was like for her living in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Kensington&lt;/span&gt; Palace---alone, with only her governess and her "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Mamma&lt;/span&gt;" for company. She was shielded, lonely---and many of her relatives simply couldn't bear to be near her German mother. And did you know that Victoria was conceived in a race to have a new heir for the Crown after her cousin Princess Charlotte died &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;unexpectedly&lt;/span&gt; during childbirth? It was a terrible shock to the nation. It threw the royal family into a tizzy, and quite frankly things were never the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much has been said and written about Victoria's mother---the Duchess of Kent. She was a minor royal in Germany when she was introduced to the King's son, the Duke of Kent. He was looking for a wife in the race to produce an heir. She had two other children from her first marriage---a girl, Feodora and a boy, Charles. She was a widow. She took to the Duke of Kent. He was kind to her...very kind. He took care of many of the details and worries which concerned her. She genuinely cared for him and he genuinely cared for her too. The Duke had given up his long time mistress---which hurt him---but he knew that he must produce an heir. In order to do that he needed to marry and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;have any&lt;/span&gt; future child on English soil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Unfortunately&lt;/span&gt;, it wasn't as easy as all of that. His brother, the Prince Regent who had recently lost his own daughter Charlotte, didn't care for his brother at all. He wouldn't lend a hand to help his brother establish a residence in England for his future wife or help him with his mountain of debts. He didn't care less that his brother had married this minor German royal and that she was soon expecting a baby. The Duke of Kent reminded his brother that his wife might be carrying the future sovereign of England. The Prince Regent couldn't care less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason the Prince Regent was called "Regent" was because his father, the King of England, was locked away in Windsor Castle and had been declared insane. Therefore, the King needed a regent, someone to make the decisions for the crown. The Kings eldest son did that and was therefore known as the Prince Regent...and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; where you get the term "regency" from. From the time the King went insane until the time the Prince Regent became King was known as the "regency" period. (Actually, the time until the death of the Prince Regent who was King at the time of his death is known as the long regency period.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough of that. Here we have the poor Duchess of Kent....expecting. She has two other young children and she needs to leave her beloved home in Germany...and travel to England which was an uncomfortable and long trip for someone in her condition. And did anyone care? Did anyone help her? No. And she didn't even know how to speak English.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the Duke of Kent's sisters intervened and spoke to the Prince Regent about preparing a place for the new couple who would be arriving in England, but the Prince was simply not interested. Did he hate the fact that his own daughter had died and that someone else would be succeeding him as sovereign?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many letters flew back and forth from Germany and England. The Duke and Duchess of Kent knew they weren't being welcomed with open arms. It must have hurt the Duchess to know that. She had done nothing wrong. Her whole life was being turned upside down with this move to England and she was even having a baby. No one would give her husband the respect he was due, as one of the King's sons. The baby was due in May. The Duke and Duchess of Kent knew they needed to set off well in advance of that date so that the baby was born in England. It had to be. They could not take a chance that if the baby was born early they were not in England.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a long and tiring journey and one of the Duke's most trusted servants came with them. His name was Sir John Conroy, and he was very helpful to the Duke and Duchess. But one day...none of them could have known...Sir Conroy would be involved in a bitter dispute with Victoria and the cause of much misery. But, none of that had come about yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they arrived in England, they were given apartments in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Kensington&lt;/span&gt; Palace. The Duke of Kent was appalled. The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;apartments&lt;/span&gt; were in a total state of disrepair. (OH, and let me say that these apartments are not what WE would think as apartments....several bedrooms, a small drawing room...a library.....NO. They were massive apartments with at least two floors. There were servants rooms, a kitchen, libraries, bedrooms and sitting rooms, drawing rooms...even small ballrooms in some....) Still though, there were terrible drafts coming in through the windows, much of the wood was rotted in the window frames, it smelled damp, the rugs were threadbare, paint peeling and it was generally run down. Although the Duke of Kent was stretched for money, he somehow made arrangements for the interiors to be fixed adequately and he and the Duchess ordered furniture---even nursery furniture. Although ignored by the royal family by the most part, they were supremely happy when they moved into the apartments only several days before Princess Victoria was born in the middle of May.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Duke of Kent was simply overjoyed! He doted on his wife and the baby Princess and spent much time in his new library which had been decorated elaborately. It was a happy time for the couple, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;although&lt;/span&gt; the Prince Regent treated them terribly on the day of Victoria's christening. He treated them so harshly that the Duchess of Kent was forced to hold back her tears. The Regent would not even agree to the parents choices of names for their child. She was to be known as Alexandrina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several months later, the family traveled to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Sidmouth&lt;/span&gt;, near the sea. It was to be their Christmas holiday. It was the coldest winter there in many years...at least as far as anyone could remember. They were excited to be there, but I suspect that with the wind, the terrible cold and snow they were hesitant to stay... and what happened there not only will chill you to the bone...you will never forget it as long as you live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'll write about that next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-4985001025851854443?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/4985001025851854443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=4985001025851854443' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/4985001025851854443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/4985001025851854443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2009/03/queens-mother.html' title='A Queen&apos;s Mother'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Sc-aVEPBdqI/AAAAAAAAAv8/i6WjBrtUpyI/s72-c/zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzduchknt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-2649181223511600651</id><published>2009-03-28T10:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T10:31:49.560-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Many thanks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Sc4xnanU3eI/AAAAAAAAAvk/9xL2MzWPoFE/s1600-h/Proximade_Award+which+is+intended+for+friendly+bloggers+by+cinderella+world+of+royalty+march+2008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 178px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Sc4xnanU3eI/AAAAAAAAAvk/9xL2MzWPoFE/s320/Proximade_Award+which+is+intended+for+friendly+bloggers+by+cinderella+world+of+royalty+march+2008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318242763200060898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Cinderella from the World of Royalty kindly awarded me the Proximate Award which is given to "friendly bloggers"...and so I thank her for that. I refer to the&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; World of Royalty&lt;/span&gt; often. I now have the luxury of awarding it to eight other friendly bloggers--and all excellent blogs as well, and I daresay far better than mine! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;                       Tea at Trianon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;                       Scandalous Women&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Medieval Woman (Reading, Ranting and Raving)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Enchanted by Josephine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Sandra Gulland Ink&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Writing the Renaissance &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Passages to the Past&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Jane Austen's World&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Reading the Past&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Versailles and More&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;You might notice I chose ten--&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;forgive me&lt;/span&gt;---I couldn't help myself.  They're all fabulous and unique. (I'm pretty sure that some of them have already won this award and some other awards as well.)  Pssst...I won't say anything if you don't.  And if you have the time, you won't be sorry if you browse through any of the above. You'll get lost in them, I'm sure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-2649181223511600651?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/2649181223511600651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=2649181223511600651' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/2649181223511600651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/2649181223511600651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2009/03/many-thanks.html' title='Many thanks'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Sc4xnanU3eI/AAAAAAAAAvk/9xL2MzWPoFE/s72-c/Proximade_Award+which+is+intended+for+friendly+bloggers+by+cinderella+world+of+royalty+march+2008.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-2630987816540007461</id><published>2009-01-22T17:50:00.024-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T18:40:29.855-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pictures for a gray January</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXkAuo0CrLI/AAAAAAAAAuo/Mu6B3-rboxs/s1600-h/2678802850097483192TVzdpR_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294263638180408498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXkAuo0CrLI/AAAAAAAAAuo/Mu6B3-rboxs/s320/2678802850097483192TVzdpR_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXkAgPoX-8I/AAAAAAAAAug/MsJN-Vih5yc/s1600-h/2395569810097483192LqdnjC_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294263390902418370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 231px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXkAgPoX-8I/AAAAAAAAAug/MsJN-Vih5yc/s320/2395569810097483192LqdnjC_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXkASeht79I/AAAAAAAAAuY/XNO54lxEi4U/s1600-h/2294330450097483192fhlZxV_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294263154382860242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 315px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXkASeht79I/AAAAAAAAAuY/XNO54lxEi4U/s320/2294330450097483192fhlZxV_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXj_v29-xkI/AAAAAAAAAuA/uYi0O35Zkso/s1600-h/2911029480097483192lAZydP_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294262559648433730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXj_v29-xkI/AAAAAAAAAuA/uYi0O35Zkso/s320/2911029480097483192lAZydP_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXj_hLKxuVI/AAAAAAAAAt4/YHGSzLy0WME/s1600-h/2273791940097483192GpUiQM_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294262307372775762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 255px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXj_hLKxuVI/AAAAAAAAAt4/YHGSzLy0WME/s320/2273791940097483192GpUiQM_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXj_I93vmRI/AAAAAAAAAto/77mBw3S7mk0/s1600-h/2461226700097483192ZoaohS_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294261891486423314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 258px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXj_I93vmRI/AAAAAAAAAto/77mBw3S7mk0/s320/2461226700097483192ZoaohS_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXj-tetZAJI/AAAAAAAAAtY/-TlwukLwzrg/s1600-h/2667530070097483192AgIeAQ_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294261419265032338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXj-tetZAJI/AAAAAAAAAtY/-TlwukLwzrg/s320/2667530070097483192AgIeAQ_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXj6ygBXCHI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/sc_b2Nv6YlE/s1600-h/2851690390097483192csZAqI_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294257107470059634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 226px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXj6ygBXCHI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/sc_b2Nv6YlE/s320/2851690390097483192csZAqI_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXj6mszgZEI/AAAAAAAAAtI/N_mv0m3ubpw/s1600-h/2744339360097483192iSMNHD_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294256904743183426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 269px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXj6mszgZEI/AAAAAAAAAtI/N_mv0m3ubpw/s320/2744339360097483192iSMNHD_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXj6ZzUUZTI/AAAAAAAAAtA/idQTddIzjik/s1600-h/carrie++++picture.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294256683153122610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 234px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXj6ZzUUZTI/AAAAAAAAAtA/idQTddIzjik/s320/carrie++++picture.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXj6MI9lK9I/AAAAAAAAAs4/gijXK04wde8/s1600-h/2976455000097483192HvehzB_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294256448445164498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXj6MI9lK9I/AAAAAAAAAs4/gijXK04wde8/s320/2976455000097483192HvehzB_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXj5Oc14ETI/AAAAAAAAAso/59NVyaCOSwY/s1600-h/fffffffff2490771740097483192ddeYQz_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294255388629668146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 253px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXj5Oc14ETI/AAAAAAAAAso/59NVyaCOSwY/s320/fffffffff2490771740097483192ddeYQz_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-2630987816540007461?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/2630987816540007461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=2630987816540007461' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/2630987816540007461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/2630987816540007461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2009/01/pictures-for-gray-january.html' title='Pictures for a gray January'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SXkAuo0CrLI/AAAAAAAAAuo/Mu6B3-rboxs/s72-c/2678802850097483192TVzdpR_fs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-8754057507848466807</id><published>2008-06-04T16:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-04T17:55:04.622-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Queen, but Mistress</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SEcEG9VRWOI/AAAAAAAAAeg/XukO3wNhjsg/s1600-h/MISTRESS+OF+THE+SUN.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208136011666774242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SEcEG9VRWOI/AAAAAAAAAeg/XukO3wNhjsg/s320/MISTRESS+OF+THE+SUN.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Yesterday, Sandra Gulland's new book titled Mistress of the Sun was released in the United States. For those of you who aren't familiar with her, she is the critically acclaimed author of the trilogy of novels about Josephine Barnoparte. I've mentioned the trilogy before on my blog because I enjoyed them so much and Sandra really brought the Empress Josephine to life. And because I love QUEENS so much---well, of course I loved that. Her new book is about the life of Louise de la Valliere who was the much beloved mistress of the famous Louis XIV of France. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;I'm amazed at her work, really. I was lucky enough to chat with her recently online in a royalty group and she graciously agreed to tell me about the process of writing the book. Right now she is on a publicity tour throughout the U.S. If you have a chance to read the book, please do so. I can highly recommend it. I was lucky enough to get an advanced copy and I can tell you that I was immersed in the court life which took place centuries ago in France. Louise was not a Queen...but, if things had been just a little different, she &lt;em&gt;might&lt;/em&gt; have been. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Here's the interview:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;*******&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Sandra, one of the reviews for your new book really caught my eye...."&lt;em&gt;No one gets more deeply into the heart and mind of a historical character than Sandra Gulland. In Mistress of the Sun, the joys and sorrows of Louise de la Vallière are so real and immediate that I now feel as if Louis XIV's first mistress was a dear friend." --&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;Susanne Dunlap, author of Lizst's Kiss&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;How do you manage to give your characters such depth and such soul? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;It comes down to imagining what it was truly like for a character — but this is not something that comes naturally or easily. It takes countless drafts to reveal a character's emotional reality: What was it really like for her? How did she really feel? Creating multi-dimensional characters is also something that develops over time, over many drafts. A character may be wooden and one-dimensional in early drafts, and then slowly begin to round out, to flower. Details make a difference. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Please tell us about your new book, Mistress of the Sun&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Set in 17th century France, Mistress of the Sun is a novel about Louise de la Vallière, a name that will likely be unfamiliar to people outside of France. As mistress to Louis XIV, the Sun King, she was, in effect, the "real" wife to one of the most powerful and charismatic kings in history.It's a remarkable period, at the early stages of modernism, yet with strong elements of the Middle Ages. Witchcraft was no longer punishable by death, for example, but that didn't mean it wasn't practiced: and with dire results. What interested me most was the use of "bone magic," a type of witchcraft practiced on horses.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Why did you choose 'The Mistress' ? What was it about Louise de la Valliere that appealed to you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Louise was reported to be shy and timid, yet she was something of a tomboy, extraordinarily daring on horseback. She was sincerely devout, yet she became France's official "fallen woman." Like Josephine, she was an unlikely young woman to rise to such a prominent position. She was of relatively modest birth, an unambitious and, although cultured and intellectual, a somewhat unsophisticated young woman. It was the contradiction of all these elements that drew me to her ... but most of all, it was her amazing horsemanship. Clearly, this was a young woman who was spending most her her time on the back of a horse. She was not at all typical of the women of the period. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;You seem to be drawn to royal figures. What intrigues you about them? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;On a practical level, I’m interested in the lives of real people, and royal lives are documented. I will read a biography and get interested — so visibility is part of it. With both Josephine and Louise, however, what interested me is that they were not born into that royal world ... so it’s not hard to identify with them. They are like strangers in a foreign land, and we make that journey with them.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Could you tell us a little about your writing process for "The Mistress of the Sun?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I started to write about Louise after I finished The Last Great Dance on Earth, the first of the Josephine B. Trilogy. I thought I would take a year off from Josephine’s story and sketch out the rough draft of a novel about Louise before returning to Josephine. (An unrealistic plan!) I was about six months into a novel about Louise, and quite caught up in it, when I was offered a contract for the Trilogy. At that point I had to drop everything and jump back into Josephine’s world. I put my notes and pages about Louise in a box: I told myself I would get back to this novel after I finished the Trilogy. Of course, it was many years! In 2000, after the publication of The Last Great Dance on Earth, the last of the Trilogy, I opened that box. By that time, I had three novels published, and I knew a bit more about what it took to write a historical novel. For one, I needed to do considerable research. It took time for me to collect resources and become comfortable in a 17th century setting. In particular, I also understood what a challenging story Louise’s would be to tell, that it would be hard to make work, impossible! After writing a (flat) first draft, I decided to write about La Grande Mademoiselle instead. That didn’t work either. So I thought I’d add Athénaïs, Marquise de Montespan, into the mix: that didn’t work. You have to understand that each of these dead-ends took a year. Then I tried mixing the three stories together: what a mess. Ultimately, after many years, I sent a draft that told the stories of both Louise and La Grande Mademoiselle to my agent. She reported back that she really liked Louise’s story. I was so relieved! Later she mentioned, over lunch, as if in passing, that La Grande Mademoiselle didn’t really come to life for her. I returned home pleased with the feedback—until I realized that the part that didn’t work was well over half of the manuscript. At that point I decided that I was just going to have to brave it and tell Louise’s story. I went back to my original notes and started again. It was a long, arduous process: many, many drafts, and many up-to-the wire additions and deletions. It wasn’t until the very last that I knew how it would end, for example. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;I know it is now available in Canada. When will the book be released in the USA? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Mistress of the Sun is officially out in the U.S. June 3. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Before you wrote your current book, you were very busy with your Josephine Bonaparte trilogy, which is so widely popular. Could you tell us a little about what you loved about Josephine and the process of writing about her? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Josephine was a lovely person to spend a decade with. She was savvy and sympathetic, loyal — a really good people-person — but the most amazing thing about her from a writing perspective is that she was right at the center of what was happening in France through many changes in government. She had the best view, you might say, of anyone. Through her eyes, you could see it all unfolding. There aren’t many people in history with such a dramatic life story, both on the personal and political levels. For a novelist, Josephine’s life was like a treasure chest of riches. I was astonished that more hadn’t been written about her. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Do you miss Josephine? Was it hard putting her books away and preparing for a new subject?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;It was quite hard to finish the Trilogy, knowing that that would be the end of my close involvement with Josephine and her world. I felt numb for a period of time. After about six months, I made the bold decision to sell my collection of Napoleonic books: on a practical level I needed room for books on my new subjects, but also, I think I needed to draw a line for myself, make it clear that I wasn’t going back to that period in history. I kept a small shelf of my favorites, my treasures, but let the others go: hundreds of titles. It was wrenching, but the right thing to do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Now that you have finished Mistress of the Sun, do you miss Louise?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I’m very fond of Louise; there is still a strong connection for me. I think if I had to chose between Josephine and Louise (and it’s impossible, of course), I would prefer to have Josephine as a friend, but I would prefer to be Louise — not to have her life, which was so hard, but to have her ardent passion. What I will miss most in moving on from Mistress of the Sun is researching 17th century horsemanship, which was a significant and fascinating part of all my years working on Louise’s story. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Personally, I can't wait to get my hands on a copy. I'm sure many readers feel that way. Is there anything you'd like your fellow royal lovers to know about Louise de la Valliere?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;The French translator of the Josephine B. Trilogy recently read Mistress of the Sun and reported back that he liked that I wrote about, in his words, “women of silent power.” I like that. Women of the past were often silent—and silenced—but that didn’t mean that they were without power.Can we look forward to another book in the future about a royal subject? No doubt! I’ve been thinking about a member of the royal family, La Grande Mademoiselle, the Sun King’s cousin — an early feminist, an eccentric, the wealthiest person in Europe. If I do write about her, it will be a departure for me, for she was born and raised with the expectation that she would be a queen. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;******&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Sandra&lt;em&gt; is&lt;/em&gt; the ultimate "Queen Writer" !! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-8754057507848466807?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/8754057507848466807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=8754057507848466807' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/8754057507848466807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/8754057507848466807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2008/06/not-queen-but-mistress.html' title='Not Queen, but Mistress'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SEcEG9VRWOI/AAAAAAAAAeg/XukO3wNhjsg/s72-c/MISTRESS+OF+THE+SUN.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-1685473620370691727</id><published>2008-04-25T08:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T08:53:07.358-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Coming Full Circle</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SBHPiIek6MI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/QEjINcuJqog/s1600-h/aaaaaaaaaaCircleStar%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193160030633126082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SBHPiIek6MI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/QEjINcuJqog/s320/aaaaaaaaaaCircleStar%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;What does &lt;em&gt;this &lt;/em&gt;have to do with a Queen?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Oh, and by the way---The &lt;strong&gt;Abdication Part II&lt;/strong&gt; is below...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;You're thinking--well, what is this western picture all about? And what does it have to do with Queens, or royals? Well, I'll tell you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I have a firm grasp on my royal studies--I still need help. I need someone to look over my royal fiction and give me good boot when I use too many adverbs, use the wrong pov...and someone to tell me the truth. Luckily for me, several years ago I met a lovely girl from Britain who doesn’t live that far from Windsor Castle. She was a writer too, and a good one. We started swapping work. I was in New Jersey, reading of her heroines in New York or Arizona or Alaska...and she was in England reading about the English royals in London or at Windsor. It was sort of odd, but I suppose I wanted what she had...and she had a hankering for the US. She helped me with my Americanisms and I'd tell her if something wouldn’t ring true with us Americans. We systematically went though many manuscripts--mostly hers, I have to say...because she was more prolific than me. I'd try systematically to do several Chapters every week and send them to her at 9pm or 10pm my time so when she was waking up in England she'd have them waiting for her. I guess we complimented each other...because I gained confidence as a royal writer...and I remember when she told me "I felt a chill go down my spine" after she read one of my royal pieces. And I guess I did something good for her, because she was pounding out the work and taking my suggestions....and her hard work's been recognized. Resplendence Publishing offered her a contract for one of her manuscripts---called Circle Star—and that's the cover for it. It's just out this week. She is a wonderful author if I do say so myself. And her name is&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;Tatiana March....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I've been so excited about this. She's a published author. The book kept my interest from the minute I read the first scene on a ranch in Arizona until the end. The heroines name was Susanna Talbot, which was almost my name! My mom's maiden name is Talbot, and she almost named me Susanna or Sue-Ann Talbot, so I wrote Tatiana about that, and we giggled over the coincidence. What’s the chances of that? And I also told her to hurry it up and write more because I was curious about Susanna and Connor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tatiana and I worked very hard on several manuscripts and I came to love all her heroines. We talk about them as if they were family. And her hero....ooh, especially Connor, in Circle Star...is especially sexy and has a sort of animal magnetism. And Susanna ruins his life...and then years later, in a twist of fate---can only keep the ranch which is rightfully hers if she marries Connor...&lt;em&gt;that is what her father decreed&lt;/em&gt; in his will. Well, she has no idea where he is ...and, even if she finds him by some miracle... will he even speak to her, much less marry her?? It's a page turner, for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes in life you do well because of the people you've met in your life...they enrich your life...and make you a better person, and a better writer. And that's why I wanted to pay tribute to Tatiana today, and announce her first book, because she has worked so hard--as hard as anyone I've known, and she's enriched my life---the other side of my life that I don't talk about on here much...except to casually mention my CP or the fact that I've critted quite a few chapters. But she is a real person who has an extraordinary talent I think. She is very proud of me, and I am very proud of her. And if it wasn't for her praise of my royal knowledge and writing ability...I probably wouldn’t have ventured into the blog world or had the confidence to send proposals to agents, and sit and type away at my fiction. She's the one that tells me I have guts and talent when I feel like throwing in the towel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's just a wee bit from the book...AND, I must say, she gave me a sensational excerpt! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The sensitive boy was gone, replaced by a hard man. The amber color of his eyes was exactly as she remembered, but instead of the gaze that had been gentle, sometimes a little shy, their expression was flat, almost dead. Even in repose the full lips conveyed bitterness. When he turned his head toward her, she cried out again. A thin white scar ran along the left side of his face, from cheekbone down to the jaw.&lt;br /&gt;“Little Susanna, all grown up.” His voice rang deeper and a little slurred. “You took your time.”&lt;br /&gt;Her lips began to tremble, and she couldn’t speak.&lt;br /&gt;“You’ve finally succeeded in tracking me down. Are you just going to stand there and say nothing?” Connor lifted a hand to the bartender. When his glass was filled, he picked it up, but didn’t drink.&lt;br /&gt;“You knew I was looking for you?” Susanna forced out the words. Her knees buckled, and she clung to the edge of the counter for support. The storm inside her mind blew with a thousand winds, all whistling different needs and wants. More than anything, she ached to reach out and touch his face, make it come alive again, the way it used to be.&lt;br /&gt;“I can read,” Connor said. “I saw it in the newspaper.”&lt;br /&gt;“But you didn’t come, or telegraph, or write.”&lt;br /&gt;“Why should I?”&lt;br /&gt;Susanna shrugged, feeling helpless against the hard barrier around him. “Curiosity?” she offered.&lt;br /&gt;“I mind my own business and expect others to mind theirs.”&lt;br /&gt;This time there was a flinch. She wouldn’t have known if it hadn’t been for the glass of whiskey in his hand, full to the brim. Some spilled over the edge, onto his fingers. Connor raised his hand and tossed back the rest in two gulps. “What’s that got to do with me?” he asked as he propped the empty glass on the counter.&lt;br /&gt;“My father had you in his will.” Susanna lifted her chin and fixed her gaze upon his hard face. “That’s what he wanted to tell you that day, when you ran away. That he was leaving Circle Star to both of us together.”&lt;br /&gt;Nothing changed in that stony expression. Not one flicker.&lt;br /&gt;“Didn’t you hear me?” Susanna demanded, suddenly furious. “I hadn’t told him about … about that other thing. You ran off like a fool, when he was offering to make you his heir.”&lt;br /&gt;“So? I ran off. That’s all in the past.” She could sense a decade of emotion packed into those few words – regret, anger, pain. She was fairly certain that if Connor hadn’t been drunk, his voice would have revealed nothing.&lt;br /&gt;“No, it’s not all in the past,” she told him. “My father never changed his will. You can still have half of Circle Star.”&lt;br /&gt;“Can have? Is there something I have to do first?”&lt;br /&gt;“Yes.” Susanna lowered her eyes to her clenched hands. She uncurled her fingers and tilted her face up to him. “You’ve got to marry me.”&lt;br /&gt;She could feel him stiffen by her side. Then, with an exaggerated casualness, he reached into his pocket and tossed down a few coins. “Get the lady a shot of brandy,” he called out to the bartender. “She looks a little shaken.” Picking up his hat, he turned and weaved his way across the room to the front door, while Susanna remained by the counter and watched him go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ooooh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tend to be picky with my fiction because my head is usually in biographies or history books. But Tatiana's fiction satisfies my cravings. Sometimes I wonder how she thinks up some of this stuff. If you'd like to check out her new book, Circle Star, just go to Resplendence Publishing at &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.resplendencepublishing.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;http://www.resplendencepublishing.com/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;You can also say hello to her on MySpace at &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/tmromance" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;http://www.myspace.com/tmromance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, you see… this doesn’t really have to do with royalty…&lt;em&gt;but yet it does.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-1685473620370691727?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/1685473620370691727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=1685473620370691727' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/1685473620370691727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/1685473620370691727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2008/04/coming-full-circle.html' title='Coming Full Circle'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SBHPiIek6MI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/QEjINcuJqog/s72-c/aaaaaaaaaaCircleStar%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-7624911394866107321</id><published>2008-04-01T13:54:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T14:34:04.566-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Abdication, Part II</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R_J5Fml5wLI/AAAAAAAAAeI/PMYsisf_XR4/s1600-h/aaaaaaawallis-simpson-1-sized.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184339258222690482" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 210px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 331px" height="320" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R_J5Fml5wLI/AAAAAAAAAeI/PMYsisf_XR4/s320/aaaaaaawallis-simpson-1-sized.jpg" width="210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184339004819620002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 312px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="320" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R_J422l5wKI/AAAAAAAAAeA/Vmg6X-Cr-AA/s320/aaaaaaaaaaaaaaFortBelvedere350.jpg" width="332" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R_J4nWl5wJI/AAAAAAAAAd4/Dt4uzvNHsWQ/s1600-h/aaaaaaaaaaaking_edward_VIII_big.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184338738531647634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R_J4nWl5wJI/AAAAAAAAAd4/Dt4uzvNHsWQ/s320/aaaaaaaaaaaking_edward_VIII_big.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;So here’s Part II….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wallis is in Wonderland---or so her husband Ernest says. Wallis has the security of her marriage, but also the security of knowing the Prince of Wales can arrange things just so...and much of their relationship can be kept under wraps. The British well-to-do are aware of the affair...their friendship, but the royal subjects have no idea. And anyway, the Prince will soon tire of her...won't he?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wallis found herself overwhelmed by the Prince's attention. He began calling the flat, demanding her help at the Fort and at his residence in London. He wanted her and Ernest for weekends, and he wanted her to be a guest at Ascot. He loved her meals and the way she planned them and he thought she was a wonderful decorator. He couldn’t get enough of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Prince gave orders to Osborne---the head man at the Fort---that he should take orders &lt;em&gt;directly&lt;/em&gt; from Mrs. Simpson. Well, that was never done. It just wasn't. Mrs. Simpson flew into Osborne’s life and turned it upside down. His job was to draw up the menus but suddenly she did them personally. And she was rearranging furniture, taking down curtains, deciding what should stay and what should go into storage. To Osborne's horror, not only did he have to watch this American woman change life at the Fort, she decided that he should personally take over the daily flower arranging that was done by the maid. Osborne was horrified. Even more terrifying, she entered the sanctuary of his pantry and decided a card table should be set up. Osborne hated the no-good stupid, flimsy thing, but…it’s what the Prince wanted...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wallis relished all these new projects and enjoyed seeing the Prince's enthusiasm at her results.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there was Mr. Finch at York House in London. He had been with the Prince of Wales since the Prince was a boy. Naturally, Mr. Fitch knew how the royal households should be run, and was treated with the utmost respect. Athough Mr Fitch never stepped over the line, if he felt the Prince had gone too far, he did not hesitate to tell him so. And not only that, he oversaw everything at the London residence. Well, at least he thought he did until Mrs. Simpson arrived. She began making purchases for York house and demanded Mr. Fitch be the one to serve and mix the cocktails when there were guests. Fitch thought the woman was ghastly! He did at times mix the drinks...and this silly routine had started when Thelma Furness was around. But now Wallis felt that in his own home, the Prince should never mix drinks for his guests and it was beneath him, thus giving the duty to Fitch. He did do his best to mix and serve, but then Wallis told him that ice must be served in the cocktails. The British &lt;em&gt;never&lt;/em&gt; used ice in their cocktails. Just wasn't done. In Fitch's mind, she had gone too far. Ice? Was she mad? He refused to do it. There would be &lt;em&gt;no &lt;/em&gt;ice. And soon thereafter he was pensioned off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Most of the servants remained quiet and did what they were told. Wallis took over the kitchens, told the cooks and the maids how she wanted things to be done. The servants were shocked and upset when Wallis and HRH would arrive back at 2 or 3am, interrupting their sleep and demanding something to eat. Again, that just wasn’t done to the servants. Meals came at scheduled times. Even their Majesties ate at scheduled times and would never think of rousing them from their sleep, lest there was some kind of royal emergency.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Princes "set" or friends were equally horrified. Wallis was so common and so typically American. Her voice was brash, and they found her quite pushy. Certainly, she didn’t know her place. They were horrified at how she took charge of things, and ordered the Prince around. She'd say whatever she felt like—ordered him back and forth and to make matters worse—he seemed to actually enjoy it! It was a spectacle, to be sure. No one had ever seen anything like it. Wallis was far, far too familiar with him. It was simply—well—scandalous!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The well to do and the aristocrats whispered under their breaths. Was the Prince crazy? Had he lost his mind? He would be King one day! How could he allow this to go on? Did he have no dignity? They found Wallis to be crude and abrasive. They were forced to be polite to her face, for His Royal Highness’s sake…but the whole thing was rubbish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wallis may seem like a monster. She did come in like firestorm, to be sure. But you have to remember that she was doing this because it was what the Prince asked of her. He wanted someone to take charge and make decisions. Everything she did was unusual, different, stimulating, at least from his point of view. The Prince felt free. In his life---made up of rigid royal rules---there was not much freedom to be found. But Wallis, to him, was a breath of fresh air. He hung on her words. He enjoyed seeing her ways to prepare food, to entertain. She was lively and innovative. And she did much good. She got him to eat better, drink less and keep to his timetable and be prompt. For all the negatives, there were positives. And perhaps he enjoyed the shock on people’s faces. And also, let’s face it, she took care of him. In her own Wallis sort of way, she watched out for him…at least he felt like she did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wallis's mother had passed away after her marriage to Ernest Simpson, and her Aunt Bessie became her most trusted confidante. Here is a sample of one of her letters to her Aunt during this time:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I haven’t had a party here for well over a month. Have a lousy temporary cook and still the curtains are away. Can't get PW (Prince of Wales) to ask the Grants--not his type. Still eating but can't gain too much----worry combined with excitement and never a chance to relax. It all takes a certain amount of tact handling another swan song before 40. Let me know when to expect you. I would like one or two country dresses, 1 linen, 1 wool--and Mary will have two pairs of shoes for you. Both dresses blue I think on printed linen for that one or white trimmed blue. If asked to Ascot I haven’t an idea what I could wear there and then there is the rest of the time I have the pale blue and brown from last year for one day and I suppose a print for the other. He demands one look chic. I know you’ll be tired of hearing all this but it is rather thrilling for me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shortly thereafter, she wrote this to Aunt Bessie: "After writing to you from the Fort, I have had an invitation to the Prince’s Ascot house party which starts on the 19th and ends on the 25th. He is giving me the ticket and the party doesn’t go until after lunch and you only go the 2 big days so my best number from last year and the other thing will do. I can’t resist going so it would be better (for you) to come before Ascot, or after as I wouldn’t want to rush off just as you arrived unless you wouldn’t mind being here those days without me. Ernest can’t go---(1) the ticket (2) the time from the city (3) clothes. Trying to get this on the boat tonight. All love"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you can sense, Wallis was busy, excited and had a lot on her mind. There was much she did not tell Aunt Bessie...but Bessie wrote her very sternly soon after that. And Wallis replied, "Darling,---You did gave me a lecture and I quite agree with all you say regarding HRH and if Ernest raises any objections to the situation I shall give up the Prince at once. So far things are going along beautifully and the 3 of us are always together in the little spare time PW has this time of year. Don’t pay attention to the gossip"… and also…“Mentally I'm quite sane about it all but I am not given much time to do things. Also, I am going over some of his 2 houses for him which fills up my days so much. Hurry over to see me and then you'll realize that everything is OK."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have to wonder...what she was thinking?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aunt Bessie did arrive in England, and that summer, the Prince decided that he'd plan a summer holiday. He rented a villa near Biarritz. Conveniently, Ernest had to work, but Aunt Bessie would accompany Wallis as a chaperone. No one was fooled however. Five other people accompanied the Prince, Wallis and Aunt Bessie---mostly his aides and one of the aide's wives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The newspapers in England kept this hush-hush, but the other papers around the world did not. One afternoon as Wallis and the prince enjoyed a drink at the ocean; there was a commotion---a drowning boy. The Prince dove into the waters, rescued the boy and as a result of that, news spread like rapid fire that the Prince was there. And then...it happened. Pictures were taken of the Prince, with this woman. The story, with pictures, appeared throughout the world the next day. The pair stayed in seclusion for the next week. Soon after, they departed by boat to Cannes, and other visitors joined them. They encountered some storms, rough seas and enjoyed some stops during this long, summer journey. At one point, they blatantly stayed in the Hotel Miramar together. During that stay, he secretly bought jewelry for Wallis, and once safely back on the boat, surprised her with a gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In September, the boat docked in Genoa and Nice and Wallis and the Prince spent some quiet time together, boating, on the clear blue waters. They motored to different places with their group, but also managed to go off together, alone. It was at about this time that photographs were taken of the Prince, with just his shorts on. Never before had the Prince of Wales been photographed so...well, relaxed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One has to wonder what Aunt Bessie thought of all this, and what their friends thought as well--and also, what they saw. It certainly wasn’t all as innocent as it appeared. I often wonder what Aunt Bessie&lt;em&gt; really&lt;/em&gt; said to Wallis. Bessie was not shy in her letters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In her Memoirs, called the Heart Has Its Reasons, Wallis says of this trip, "Searching my mind, I could find no good reason why this most glamorous of men should be seriously attracted to me. I certainly was no beauty, and he had the pick of the beautiful women of the world. In fact, in my own county, I would have been considered securely on the shelf. The only reason I could ascribe his interest in me, such as it was, was perhaps my American independent of spirit, my directness, what I would like to think is a sense of humour and of fun, and, well, my breezy curiosity about him and everything concerning him...Then, too, he was lonely and perhaps I had been one of the first persons to penetrate his inner loneliness."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously by now it was crystal clear to everyone on the trip-- including Aunt Bessie --that the man was attracted to her. Still, she was a married woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in London, the summer turned into a crisp fall. Aunt Bessie went home to the U.S. by steamship and by now the Prince was giving her money…for clothes at least. Wallis was beginning to have some power, and her company was coveted. Her phone was ringing. She was also arranging for her friends to stay at the Fort. The papers in the US were filled with stories about her. Wallis had read some and seemed rather proud of herself. In her letters to Aunt Bessie, she actually explained that things were just fine between her and Ernest and told her Aunt to ignore the gossip—there would be no divorce. She and Ernest had had a long talk, she explained, and things would just go on as usual…the three of them being the best of friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best of friends? Wallis had to be lying to herself. Its doubtful Ernest really believed that. Certainly, Aunt Bessie had seen enough to know that things would not be able to go on &lt;em&gt;as usual&lt;/em&gt; …at least for long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the end of the year, Wallis was enjoying a wonderful respite from the Prince and happily told Aunt Bessie that he was at Sandringham for Christmas. She rested, after buying 250 gifts for the Prince’s servants. She positively glowed remembering her introduction to the King and Queen, at the Prince’s brothers wedding the month prior, and made note of the jealous eyes of the Brits, as she and Ernest were introduced to their Majesties. The Prince had arranged it. (And a little secret for you---Their Majesties were not happy about it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Prince gave Wallis a Cairn puppy that holiday whom they named Mr. Loo. And then it was 1935. In hindsight, we know that 1935 was the most turbulent year of her life, but also the most thrilling. &lt;em&gt;But Wallis had no idea of what was to come.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winston Churchill said, that the Prince, “Delighted in her company and found in her qualities that were as necessary to his happiness as the air he breathed. Those who knew him well and watched him closely noticed that many little tricks and fidgeting of nervousness fell away from him.” His closest aide in the year to come, Walter Monckton said, “No one will really understand the story of the Kings life…who does not appreciate…the intensity and depth of his devotion to Mrs. Simpson. To him she was the perfect woman. She insisted that he be at his best and do his best at all times, and he regarded her as his inspiration. It is a great mistake to assume that he was merely in love with her in the ordinary physical sense of the term. There was an intellectual companionship, and there is no doubt that his lonely nature found in her a spiritual comradeship. …He felt that he and Mrs. Simpson were made for each other and there was no other honest way of meeting the situation than marrying her.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marrying her? Impossible. She was divorced, and he would be the Head of the Church of England. The church didn’t believe in divorce. He could not marry a divorced woman—especially an American one at that. And anyway—even if somehow he was free to marry her—she &lt;em&gt;was &lt;/em&gt;already married. Still though, the Prince was thinking…planning…dreaming…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In January, Wallis noticed that Ernest wasn’t as interested in hearing the latest news of the Prince, and at times did not make it home for dinner. If the Prince made a suggestion to visit—say the Dorchester, for a little fun---Ernest would plead an early morning and decline. And when Wallis excitedly told him they were invited skiing with the Prince, he told her he had no interest in going. Wallis did mention though, that Ernest thought she might accompany him on a trip to New York instead. Was Ernest trying in his own way to win his wife back? In her memoirs Wallis was clear that her heart was set on going skiing in Austria. She noted that shortly after she told Ernest she wouldn’t dream of missing the skiing trip, she heard the door to his room &lt;em&gt;slam.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she went skiing. And she knew she was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things got progressively worse. Although Wallis did not admit this to her Aunt, the Prince was really upsetting the apple cart. By now, he tended to overstay his visits and keep Wallis occupied far, far too much. Wallis would make a promise to Ernest that she would be home on a certain day at a certain time, and something that the Prince wanted to do would take precedence over Wallis’s need to get home. I have a book by Michael Bloch, of their intimate correspondence. In one of their first letters to each other that has survived, she lashed out at him:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“David Dear—&lt;br /&gt;I was and still am most terribly upset. You see dear one can’t go through life stepping on other people. I know that you aren’t really selfish or thoughtless of heart but your life has been such that you have been the one considered so that quite naturally you only think of what you want and take it too without the slightest thought of others. One can arrive at the same result in a kinder way. I had a long quiet talk with E. last night and I felt very eanum (their made up for very much or very emotional) at the end. Everything he said was so true. The evening was difficult as you did stay much too late. Doesn’t your love for me reach to the heights of wanting to make things a little easier for me. The lovely things you say to me aren’t of much value unless they are backed up by equal actions…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this time, Wallis was struggling to keep control of her life, as it began to unravel. “David” clearly wanted her by now, and knew that Ernest was getting upset. They had invented their own private language and even Wallis admitted that he was saying lovely things. The Prince was used to getting what he wanted. But then again, he had never met the likes of anyone like Wallis…had he? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this may run into a three parter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R_J4NWl5wII/AAAAAAAAAdw/KmOCmfyN3Rw/s1600-h/aaaaaa+++++2639215.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-7624911394866107321?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/7624911394866107321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=7624911394866107321' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/7624911394866107321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/7624911394866107321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2008/04/abdication-part-ii.html' title='The Abdication, Part II'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R_J5Fml5wLI/AAAAAAAAAeI/PMYsisf_XR4/s72-c/aaaaaaawallis-simpson-1-sized.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-5404086235888649163</id><published>2008-03-16T21:53:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T17:29:58.969-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Announcement</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R93PlabAUfI/AAAAAAAAARo/viZSXFXFaio/s1600-h/Victoria%2520family%2520Portrait.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178523388200636914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R93PlabAUfI/AAAAAAAAARo/viZSXFXFaio/s320/Victoria%2520family%2520Portrait.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I promise I'll do part 2 of The Abdication &lt;em&gt;soon,&lt;/em&gt; but I did want to say that I've started a &lt;strong&gt;brand new blog&lt;/strong&gt;, and its called: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Queen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Victoria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Revealed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm busy at work on it, and to be honest, there are many sites on the internet where you will find information on Queen Victoria and her family, but as of now, I've YET to find one exclusively devoted&lt;em&gt; just&lt;/em&gt; to her. Since she reigned from 1837 to 1901 she deserves some more attention. So many people have written about her, but how many people really understand her? Since I have been studying her since 1988, and have read almost every biography available and countless diaries and letters and other information and I &lt;em&gt;simply can't get the woman off my mind&lt;/em&gt;, I decided, &lt;em&gt;Ah, what the heck, I'll start the blog&lt;/em&gt;. And maybe later I'll do a website. I also write more about her than any other Queen, and so she deserves her own blog. It wont only be about her---it will be about her delicious love affair with her beloved Albert, her children , their homes and her personal life. There is SO much to be told, and I believe in the years to come there will be a new interest in her life...especially the younger years. Anyway, the site will be ready SOON---there will be movies on there, wonderful links, links to on-line biographies, and honest to goodness peeks into her real life. I think you'll enjoy it. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And, if Queen Victoria has never been your cup of tea, please stay here to read about other Queens. But I think you'll see a different side to Queen Victoria that the one that is generally discussed. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I hope you'll enjoy my new "sister" blog &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Queen Victoria Revealed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, which should be ready in the next week or two. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;~~Cheerio!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Okay, back to the Abdication...part 2. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-5404086235888649163?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/5404086235888649163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=5404086235888649163' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/5404086235888649163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/5404086235888649163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2008/03/little-announcement.html' title='A Little Announcement'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R93PlabAUfI/AAAAAAAAARo/viZSXFXFaio/s72-c/Victoria%2520family%2520Portrait.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-1405841744205641696</id><published>2008-03-11T20:23:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T08:44:11.937-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Abdication</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R9ci8qbAUTI/AAAAAAAAAPg/d85oCtwv6Ic/s1600-h/edward-wallis2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176644722260726066" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R9ci8qbAUTI/AAAAAAAAAPg/d85oCtwv6Ic/s320/edward-wallis2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R9cioabAUSI/AAAAAAAAAPY/38Vb-ZB73C4/s1600-h/4252_1078244145.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176644374368375074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R9cioabAUSI/AAAAAAAAAPY/38Vb-ZB73C4/s320/4252_1078244145.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;The Abdication...have you heard of it?&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;In 1936, King Edward gave up his throne for the woman he loved. If she couldn’t be crowned with him, at his coronation, then he would not be crowned either.&lt;br /&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;And that was that. And there would be no arguments about it.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;He was determined to marry Wallis Warfield Simpson and have her by his side. He couldn’t live without her--he really couldn’t. She was as necessary to his existence in 1936 as was food to living. And he said he would not be crowned with a lie on his lips.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;As you may know, there has been endless speculation, and there still is...&lt;em&gt;what&lt;/em&gt; was it about her that captured the Kings heart? But I wonder...did she want to be Queen? Or be kept as the Kings favourite? Yes, I think so—to both questions—at least for a time.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;As events heated up in their relationship, the Prince’s brother Bertie, who was next in line, was in shock. His wife Elizabeth was not only in shock, she was angry. Her husband had &lt;em&gt;never&lt;/em&gt; been reared to be King. He had not been trained for it. His personality wasn’t suited for it and he relished their private life together, and his time with their young daughters. This couldn’t be happening. WHO was this American, divorced woman? Well, The Duchess of York hadn’t cared for Wallis for quite some time! One reason for that was... one afternoon as she was leaving a room, Elizabeth suddenly turned back to look, and found Wallis making fun of her while there were others in the room. It hurt Elizabeth deeply. There was no love lost between she and Wallis. But she cared for David. Why would he throw it all away? No one in the family could believe that he would dare do it. It was just desperation speaking. Queen Mary, the King's mother, paced back and forth at Marlborough House. To even hear the word 'abdicate' mentioned...or to think of it, however fleetingly, was more than the Queen could bear.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;As you can see, she wasn't a raving beauty, but she did have fashion sense and dressed rather smartly. And because she was southern and born in America, she had grown up with a sort of southern charm in her genes and she had the ability to make guests feel very comfortable and relaxed, when she felt like it.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;She really didn’t like England. At least when she first moved there, she didn’t. Oh, the dirt that came through the flat windows…especially when there was fog. Everything would have to be cleaned, even the drapes. And it rained. And she missed her Aunt and mother.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;So...let's continue with the Abdication story---so I dont confuse you. We'll start at what happened before the crisis. I'm doing this from memory because I really don't feel like reading at the moment. Maybe later I'll get their love letters and add in a little of them.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Wallis, a young American woman, was divorced after a turbulent marriage with Win Spencer. He was quite abusive. Not many women left their husbands in the 1920's and 1930's –so it shows what kind of a woman she was. She wanted to live. She wanted to enjoy her life. But...she also worried often about stability and money. There never seemed to be enough, and she had anxieties about it…quite a bit of anxiety.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;After her separation and divorce, she enjoyed herself and spent many evenings with the young political people of the day near Washington DC, and the up and coming in society that associated with them. She attended parties, dinners and was always in demand. For quite awhile it amused her. But eventually she got tired of it all. Time was passing by. She was young now, but what would she do later on? How would she support herself? She needed to protect herself. So, when she met Mr. Ernest Simpson at a party and he took a liking to her, she was sort of thrilled...in a quiet sort of way. He was a businessman, and his prospects looked good. Most of all, he was kind and polite and the two of them got along well. He looked after her welfare.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Well, she did it. She married him and settled herself in a London flat. Ernest worked for the family business and he worked very hard. Wallis stayed home and took care of the house, except in those days...couples who made "enough" money hired a cook and housekeeper. So Wallis did that, and kept herself busy with letter writing, shopping, consulting with the cook and watching to make sure there were no dust bunnies under the couch. And I mean it. She would not tolerate that. She worked fastidiously to decorate the flat. Everything had to be just so. Everything was placed in the rooms to look its best. She wasn't rich, but her flat was comfortable and rather pretty. She had good taste. She arranged flowers very beautifully, and often there was a bouquet on the piano. Her favorite bric-a-brac was stragetically placed on tables in her drawing room. Not only was she good at decorating, she enjoyed it.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;She was bored though. One of her friends in England---Consuelo Thaw---was the eldest sister of Gloria Morgan Vanderbilt and her twin sister Thelma Furness. Consuelo's husband was a diplomat that Wallis had known in the States. So there were luncheons and introductions to new friends in Consuelo’s circle….and there was always a friend or two passing through England to keep Wallis busy. And Consuelo's sisters were famous---Gloria was famous, obviously, because she married a Vanderbilt, and Thelma...well, she was the Mistress of the Prince of Wales.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Wallis kept busy interviewing cooks and housekeepers because they seemed to come and go quite often. It was hard to get good help. As her circle of friends grew, she found that she enjoyed going out for evenings at the theater. Just as importantly, she was becoming a good hostess as well. Her dinner parties were fabulous, the food delicious, the conversation exciting. Wallis had a knack for that. She'd give a lot of thought to her parties...who to invite...who should sit where...what couples would mix well… what would be appropriate to eat and what was in season...nothing was left to chance and and best of all, she loved surprising her British friends and Ernest's business associates with southern dishes that they'd never had...such as crispy fried chicken or ribs. Her party invitations began to be coveted.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;As her friendship grew with Thelma little by little, she implemented something else...the cocktail hour! For an hour or two her door would be open, and everyone was welcome to drop by for a cocktail and some chit-chat. This was something done in America, but not in England. Society was curious. And Wallis enjoyed the fact that she was climbing up the ladder. Ernest was happy to see her happy. Wallis continued to write home to her mother and her (rich) Aunt Bessie about these events in her life. Often Wallis mixed the cocktails herself in shakers. She'd also serve hot and cold canapes--grapes stuffed with cottage cheese and biscuits with meat. What she served was different...unusual. And she didn't mind spending time in the kitchen making sure things were being done properly. The well to do English housewives of the day would never consider doing such a thing. But Wallis knew what she wanted and eagerly watched over the preparatons by the cook. Her guests noticed that.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;And then IT happened. Wallis and Ernest were invited to spend the weekend with the Prince of Wales and his other guests, at Fort Belvedere, which was the Prince's favorite residence. It was usual for him to have weekend get-togethers with select friends and couples . Depending on the time of year there would be gardening (his favourite!) , swimming, hikes, card games, bag-pipe playing by the Prince and delicious, hearty meals in the evening, sometimes followed by bridge or dancing. (He also loved needlepoint--Queen Mary had taught him that. Many a guest walked in and their jaw dropped.) The Prince wasn't a big lunch person--dinner was the big deal. It just so happened that a couple needed to drop out at the very last minute on that particular weekend, and so the invitation (or summons) was extended to Wallis and Ernest. They were thrilled, to say the least.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Over time...the visits became more frequent. It took some time for that to evolve. It evolved naturally and slowly over a period of time...well over a year's time. The King liked Wallis and Ernest, and even came to their flat for dinner. And more time passed...while Wallis just soaked in the excitement of it all, sharing her news home in letters. She was becoming closer friends with Thelma Furness, who was the Prince's girlfriend. She hob-knobbed with aristocracy and some of society's best. She shopped for the best deals on clothes and food.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;You have to realize that the Prince of Wales, in 1934 to 1936 was a handsome man, with boyish good looks, and golden hair. Women loved him from afar. He had traveled the world. There was a charisma about him—an excitement. He was dashing—and a daredevil. His parents were never too happy with him. King George and Queen Mary wished he would settle down and stop his night life...and they didn't approve of some of his "fast" friends, which were called the "Prince's set". He was known as David in the family, and David knew that his parents disapproved of much of his lifestyle. The King said privately, “That boy will ruin himself within a year once I am gone.” However, the Prince was extremely popular with his subjects.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;One day as Thelma and Wallis were having lunch, Thelma asked Wallis to do her a favor. Since Thelma was taking a steamship to the states soon, to be with her sister Gloria, she asked Wallis if she would "take care of the little man," and "make sure he doesn't get into any mischief." Wallis said yes.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I can't tell you if it was her "southern hospitality" or openness---or if she had something else in mind---but within days of Thelma's departure, the Prince was a fixture at the Simpson's Bryanston Court flat. Wallis and the cook were pulling their hair out. It was costly to have him there. Everything needed to be perfect and clean—and add in flowers, good food, new dresses---and cook always had to prepare something extra. Wallis never knew if His Royal Highness would be stopping by &lt;em&gt;just&lt;/em&gt; for a cocktail, or if he would agree to take pot luck supper with them. Often HRH jumped at the chance to share their "pot luck" dinners. (Obviously Wallis told the prince they were 'pot luck" but in reality Wallis knew exactly what was being served and there was plenty made!) Ernest was often tired when going to work the next day, due to many of the late hours they were suddenly keeping. Wallis's nerves were on edge--this pace was maddening. She had to oversee each and every detail, and take care of her appearance.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;It was obvious that the Prince enjoyed Wallis's company. She talked to him---actually conversed with him and gave him her opinions. Usually, he got responses from most people such as "How wonderful for you, sir " or "Very nice, sir." But Wallis was different. She'd ask him about his day. She listened to him and would ask him questions. She could see he was attentive to her and instinctively she knew he needed attention. Was it her that he wanted, or what she gave him...which seemed to be genuine understanding? On occasions, she spoke her mind, too, if she thought he was wrong. He enjoyed it. He wasn't used to being told he might be wrong. This was new and stimulating. And this was new to her too and &lt;em&gt;very &lt;/em&gt;thrilling. Who wouldn’t be thrilled by such attention?&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;While Thelma was gone, Wallis became his unofficial hostess, and she and Ernest accompanied him to nightclubs or the theatre in London. Sometimes Wallis went by herself due to Ernest's schedule. After awhile, it become customary that when the Prince was at the flat, at a certain time, Ernest would excuse himself and say that he had work to attend to, or he needed to go to bed because of an early day ahead. What was Ernest thinking as he left them alone? As a subject, we know that he was devoted to his future King. As a husband, I fear he was uneasy.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;There was also an uneasiness in society. As they got to know Wallis better—or rather, as Wallis was thrust in their face—they found her voice and laugh irritating and grating, and they felt she was brash and genuinely unsuitable to have such access to the future King. "Typically American," they whispered. What could His Royal Highness see in such a person? At this point the whispers were just among the well to do.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;And Thelma...well, she did come home. There was a suitor, the Aly Khan, who had been attentive to her while she was away, and the Prince had heard about it. You have to wonder...did he really care? Clearly, he was besotted with Wallis, laughing at her jokes, watching her closely, loving her American ways and enjoying being near her. When Thelma returned to England, and she saw the Prince again at The Fort, she reported that he was rather aloof. He wasn't rude to her...he just wasn't the same. Her instinct told her something was not right. Later that evening during dinner she watched a scene which must have made her heart fall to her stomach. Wallis was leaning in to the Prince and laughing, and when the Prince picked up a piece of lettuce with his fingers, she playfully smacked his hand. In shock, Thelma saw this and knew that you did not take those sort of liberties with royalty. And then Thelma says Wallis looked in her direction, and looked at her intently and Thelma has said in her memoirs that it was then that she "knew Wallis had taken very good care of the little man."&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Wallis always maintained that was simply untrue. Wallis claimed that she never did anything but try to be kind and friendly during a time when the Prince was lonely. But by now, even Wallis knew there was more to "David's" feelings than just being a little lonely...she knew he was attached to her...even needed her.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Her Aunt warned her in her letters to be careful, saying that nothing good could come of this. Aunt Bessie warned her that someone would be very hurt. Wallis dismissed it. Ernest Simpson called the whole thing "Wallis in Wonderland." Up until now, Ernest was usually by her side in public, but how long would he be able to do it? How long would this go on? People were talking. And what would happen to Wallis once she was discarded? She would be discarded, wouldn't she? After all, she was a married woman. Ernest worried about Wallis’s state of mind and what would happen to her once the “fairytale” ended. He didn’t want her to be hurt, yet he didn’t want to stop her from enjoying this once in a lifetime thrill.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Wallis was excited, yet nervous and loosing weight and having stomach problems. The Prince called everyday, and he was demanding her attention. He wanted her at the Fort and at Ascot. He wanted her opinion on his households and her help. But she was married, and couldn’t just give the Prince &lt;em&gt;all &lt;/em&gt;her time. She was married, after all. She could tell Ernest was edgy. Was he upset with her? She vowed to herself that somehow…somehow…she would try to give each man the attention they craved. Sooner or later, the Prince would tire of her. Shouldn't she try to enjoy it while she had the chance?&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;And then…&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;This writer of queens got tired, and so I will finish the story another day…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R9cXLqbAUPI/AAAAAAAAAPA/5-Wgajg7P3A/s1600-h/4252_1078244145.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-1405841744205641696?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/1405841744205641696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=1405841744205641696' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/1405841744205641696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/1405841744205641696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2008/03/abdication.html' title='The Abdication'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R9ci8qbAUTI/AAAAAAAAAPg/d85oCtwv6Ic/s72-c/edward-wallis2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-7693533491197909901</id><published>2008-03-04T06:23:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-04T08:47:37.531-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Bit of Royal Austria...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R80x9N2gCDI/AAAAAAAAAO0/TSCZGyok214/s1600-h/schonbrunn_wideweb__430x276.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173846474678601778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 447px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 336px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="205" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R80x9N2gCDI/AAAAAAAAAO0/TSCZGyok214/s320/schonbrunn_wideweb__430x276.jpg" width="418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;...A stunning picture of the inside of Schonbrunn Palace in Austria. You can almost feel the coolness of the marble and if you're quiet, you may even hear the echo of heels as ladies in waiting hurry down the corridor. Imagine a grand ball taking place in one of the great rooms, walking up one of the ornate staircases or peeking into the private imperial apartments. The Schonbrunn is magnificent and not unlike Versailles in France. For centuries the Austrian Royals---the Hapsburgs---lived there and played there. There is a room that is named after Marie Antoinette. Yes, she lived there for part of her life. After all, her mother was the Empress Marie Theresa. Generations later, Emperor Franz Joseph met his future Bavarian bride, Elisabeth, as she entered the country before their marriage. Elisabeth, also known to us as Sisi or Sissi, was taken to the Schonbrunn Palace.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;The Austrian Royals are &lt;em&gt;very&lt;/em&gt; interesting to read about. Lucky for us there are many generations of them to choose from. There's Empress Marie Theresa who adored her husband and her many children--it was a real love match---and she was bereft when her dear husband died. Later, there was Sissi. She had everything—almost everything—that could make a woman happy. Well, almost. Yet, she was never fulfilled; her marriage was never what it could have been. Although she was magnificently beautiful, her mother in law Sophie ran her life, took her children and did not allow her to assume her rightful place. Or was it her husband, Franz Joseph that allowed it to happen? If he had intervened on behalf of his wife, how different would their life have been?&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;About a year ago I met a writer who was busy studying the Hapsburgs, and had become consumed by their rich history. She was knee deep in a novel at the time, and we emailed each other back and forth, discussing the Hapsburgs, their personalities and the etiquette of the Austrian Court. I really do this in my spare time and it’s great to meet other royal lovers and writers. Her novel is now done. Her name is Jennifer Linforth, and the finished novel is called:&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Adelrune&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;What Jennifer found during her study was very interesting. She read about the mental illness that ran through their genes and became curious about a female family member who was kept hidden from the public and spent her days in the secluded rooms of the Schonbrunn palace. This got Jennifer thinking, and she came up with a brilliant story. The heroines name is Adelrune, but Adelrune is different from other women. She has a form of autism. Jennifer explains the condition below for us:&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Hans Asperger once said the difference between those with Asperger’s Syndrome and those not on the autism spectrum was as fine as a line drawn in the sand. His claim was we are all in some ways a bit ‘Aspergerish’. He first published his definition of this syndrome in 1944, bringing to light the traits of social isolation, intense obsession with one interest, awkward movements and mannerisms and a difficulty forming friendships. Prior to his work with autistic children in Vienna, many suffered asylums and were left to die. He viewed his patients as ‘little Einstein’s’ children who, despite their social development disorder, would possess great talent come adulthood. Asperger died before his findings and work with children became wildly noticed. It was not until the early 90’s that Asperger’s Syndrome became a recognized condition on the autism spectrum. Today, one out of 150 children and one in eighty boys suffer from autism. I wanted bring to light what life might have been like for an autistic young woman in 1866. She was far from the imbecile she would have been labeled as during this time period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Jennifer wrote her story against the backdrop of the Austrian royal family. Adelrune, who has a form of autism, tries to do her best as she is thrust into the mayhem of the extended imperial family. Now, how awesome is that? The hero, a grand duke, is not what he seems and keeps Adelrune comfortably in the dark about his true identity as a royal. I asked her for a bit of the novel to post on my blog, and she was kind enough to give me something. Here is an excerpt featuring Adelrune and the confusion surrounding a most royal hero….&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;“Are you seeking your escort, Fraulein? Pardon my impropriety, but I cannot help but notice you seem as nervous as frightened rabbit. May I assist you?”&lt;br /&gt;Adelrune spun and stammered at a rather handsome gentleman. “I am not a rabbit. And yes… my escort… that would be proper... but no, I am not looking for him.” She fussed with her gown too anxious to stand still. What did she know of balls?&lt;br /&gt;The man followed her scans of the crowd. “If you are searching for the Kaiser, he never dances until the cotillion.”&lt;br /&gt;“I care not for the Kaiser.” She pulled on a bone of a hoop. “I am looking for Duke Algrasser—my escort—so I can be certain to avoid him and the grand duke of Styria, so I can be sure I do not.”&lt;br /&gt;A servant walked by balancing a silver tray.&lt;br /&gt;“Champagne?” The gentleman lifted two flutes and handed one to her.&lt;br /&gt;Adelrune jerked back. Champagne? Yes… she heard of this curious drink. Hesitantly, she accepted the thin crystal glass. Pale yellow liquid bubbled and shimmered in the light. She could not tear her eyes away from how it sparkled. Lifting it to her nose, the bubbles shot straight behind her eyes, making her ears tickle. The gentleman laughed and touched the flute to his lips.&lt;br /&gt;“The Grand Duke?” The man sipped. “You are acquainted with his imperial highness?”&lt;br /&gt;“No, I am acquainted wit his royal highness and I am rather fond of him. I know no one of imperial rank.”&lt;br /&gt;Adelrune sipped as well, avoiding the man’s skewed expression and raised brow. The sweet champagne made her curl her lips into her mouth. No wonder the aristocracy enjoyed life. She took another taste.&lt;br /&gt;The din of the ball fell away as Adelrune relaxed. Small glances over her flute allowed her to observe the ladies and gentlemen around her. Hardly as regal as them, she felt a bit insignificant in such opulence. She lifted her shoulder. What did it matter? She was in Kaiservilla, by the command of the grand duke!&lt;br /&gt;“Shall I have the pleasure? Is your dance card full already?”&lt;br /&gt;Adelrune took another sip of champagne. And to think Becca did not believe her when she said Klaus would love her openly. The gentleman to her side leaned it to her, jolting Adelrune out of her inspection.&lt;br /&gt;“My what?”&lt;br /&gt;“Your dance card.” He indicated the small book and lead dangling from her wrist.&lt;br /&gt;Adelrune stared at it. She wondered what such an accessory was; the letters on the front were foreign to her. The man gestured for it again and with a bit of hesitation she handed it to him. He scrawled in it.&lt;br /&gt;“Tell me, what are your favorite flowers?”&lt;br /&gt;Adelrune blinked. What did that have to do with dancing? More champagne met her lips.&lt;br /&gt;“Edelweiss.”&lt;br /&gt;“Rather lofty for a cotillion bouquet, don’t you think? You will have to settle with roses from me for that dance. No man can gather enough edelweiss for a bouquet.”&lt;br /&gt;“The grand duke of Styria can.”&lt;br /&gt;“His imperial highness? Gathering edelweiss?” His laughed bounced across the marble.&lt;br /&gt;“No.&lt;em&gt; His royal highness&lt;/em&gt;. Truly sir, I suggest you keep things straight lest you look like a fool.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Okay, okay...back to the blog. Great huh? Don't you feel like you were there with her? And doesn't Adelrune have a will of her own? I'm happy to say that right now Jennifer's manuscript is being seriously considered for publication. Nothing is definite, but I have no doubt Adelrune will find a publisher. The story is unusual but compelling. I think Jennifer Linforth's name is soon going to become much more recognizable to the public. Not only will Adelrune certainly be snapped up shortly, she has recently sold another novel to Highland Press. It's called Madrigal, and it’s the continuation of Phantom of the Opera—so the girl is no novice. I don't have any other details about Madrigal, (you can find them on her blog and website) but I'm sure when it's released it will do very well... and I wouldn't be surprised if Adelrune was published at about the same time.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Jennifer has explained to me why she loves the Austria of the mid 1800's. I can totally understand her fascination because I, too, love anything royal. I asked Jennifer to write down for us what fascinates her so much about the time period. Here is what she said:&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The world is growing weary of that most costly of all luxuries, hereditary kings.&lt;br /&gt;—George Bancroft&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;It was the softly seductive voice of Uwe Kröger, a star of the German stage crooning out “Die Letzt Tanz” (The Last Dance) that lured me to Austria. Kröger played the role of Der Tod (Death) in the musical sensation, Elisabeth, as beloved in Germany and Austria as Phantom of the Opera is in the United States. While it was a story of Sisi that whet my curiosity about Austrian history, it was the life of sadly retarded Kaiser Ferdinand I of Austria, Apostolic King of Hungary and the last crowned King of Bohemia that sealed my fate…&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Susan asked me to blog about why I am drawn to Austrian history. I’d love to say it is the sexy allure of the Hussar uniform. I simply cannot resist a man in tight red pants with a fraternal sash strapped tightly against a well sculpted chest, but it goes deeper than that. The Habsburg history is as proud as it is shameful, as glorious as it is humble, as sane as it is insane—literally.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Many identify with Elisabeth of Witteslbach the Kaiserin of Austria. She never anticipated the crown of Austria —that right belonged to her sister Helena, but who was to refuse the Kaiser? Ruled by an overbearing mother in law, she was the picture of sympathy. But Sisi’s history was troubling and disturbed. Many novels and movies I stumbled across depicted a sweeping romance between her and Franz-Josef. But the more I studied Franz-Josef, the more I sympathized with him over Sisi. Here was a man who had no choice but to grow into an emperor. Follow his life to that of his son—a man drawn to the plight of the commoner, determined to see Austria move forward into the 20th century, but repressed by an ancient duty that bound him to his bloodline, the Catholic church, and the thoughts of 600 Habsburgs before him.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;The passion for their family name and such divided views for the future of their country, drew me to the Habsburg family. And sitting on the throne during one of Austria’s most bloody times was a man of little brain, but apparently great heart. Reading about Ferdinand and the history of mental illness and epilepsy in the Habsburg family made stories roll through my mind. I stumbled upon the history of an archduchess severely retarded and condemned to live in the secluded areas of the Schonbrunn palace. I was already a ‘branded’ author with a pending series depicting the life of a madman. Music was a theme in all my works as well. I could set fascinating stories in the backdrop of The City of Music and center them on a royal family begging to be brought to the foreground. Mention Austria/German history to someone of my generation (I am 36) and we instantly blurt, WWII. But what of WWI? What of Sarajevo? What of the Prussian War? What of the Habsburg curse…&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I grew up learning about the English monarchy. As an author I am surrounded by fellow writers who set historicals in England and Scotland. Face it— England and Scotland sell. But it is not the ISBN that lures me to be an author, it is the history. And since I always colored outside the lines, I am proud to be a writer bringing to life the Habsburg history--tragic, romantic, adventurous, proud, and unrivaled in its resilience&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;…I think she described her fascination well. She's really got me thinking about the Hapsburgs...and perhaps she has stirred something in you too. There are many, many wonderful authors...but I find it unusual to find one who truly loves the royals in such a way. When you love something, you make it come alive. The love you have for the subject shines through. For those of us who adore the royals and dream about them, I think we have something to look forward to...now that Jennifer is on the scene. I have no doubt that her work will be very entertaining. I'll keep you posted as to when Adelrune will be available and perhaps sometime in the future she'll give us a longer teaser. I hope so, because I just loved it. Sorry folks, I can’t ask her to give away all her secrets now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;And a little about Jennifer Linforth. She lives off the brisk coast of Maine with her husband and daughter Abigail, who is only 15 months old. Besides finding the time to write with a toddler around, she also teaches environmental education at a local museum and is also a ranger—yes, a ranger!—at Acadia National Park. Her weblink is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.jenniferlinforth.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;http://www.jenniferlinforth.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt; and her blog: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://jenniferlinforth.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;http://jenniferlinforth.blogspot.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt; Her primary blog—From Idea to Publisher is found on her Live Journal: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://madrigalist.livejournal.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;http://madrigalist.livejournal.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;. She can also be reached via myspace at &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/jenniferlinforthauthor"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;http://www.myspace.com/jenniferlinforthauthor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I wish I could tell you that Adelrune will be available next month for purchase...but, I can't. Sadly, we royal lovers will have to wait a little longer to read her rich story of love and mental illness in the &lt;em&gt;secret&lt;/em&gt; world of the Hapsburgs... Personally, I can’t wait. Oh, and if you have any questions for Jennifer about her novel or about Austrian royalty, just ask…and we’ll get the answers posted promptly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-7693533491197909901?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/7693533491197909901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=7693533491197909901' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/7693533491197909901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/7693533491197909901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2008/03/bit-of-royal-austria.html' title='A Bit of Royal Austria...'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R80x9N2gCDI/AAAAAAAAAO0/TSCZGyok214/s72-c/schonbrunn_wideweb__430x276.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-7547219256384607589</id><published>2008-03-02T09:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T11:22:32.433-05:00</updated><title type='text'>All she wanted was to be a mother....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R8q0OiAQObI/AAAAAAAAAOs/nK2FY8tHcLE/s1600-h/Queen+of+France,+Anne+of+Austria.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173145283727473074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R8q0OiAQObI/AAAAAAAAAOs/nK2FY8tHcLE/s320/Queen+of+France,+Anne+of+Austria.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Imagine being engaged, promised or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;betrothed&lt;/span&gt; to be married at 10 years old? And then being married at 14 years old, to another teenager, who happened to be the heir to the French Throne. That's what happened to Anne of Austria. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;On November 25, 1615, the teenagers, both royals, married. Anne was then the wife of Louis XIII. They say that the couple consummated the marriage quickly. But, for a variety of reasons it appears there was long stretches of time that the royal couple were not intimate. Could it be that Louis was unkind to Anne? Perhaps Anne missed her homeland and her family. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;During the 1620's, there were rumours of pregnancies. A pregnancy was a must for the Bourbon Line. The couple must have a male child. It's recorded that Louis himself told an ambassador that his Queen had four miscarriages. In thinking about this young girl, fair, with a sweet smile.. about 20 years old, I feel for her. Not being able to get pregnant is enough to throw the strongest of women into a depression. If you add in the possibility of more than one miscarriage, how tragic for this Spanish Princess. What pain she endured. She must have wondered why she couldn't conceive or carry a child. At times she must have feared being sent back to her homeland. If Louis had wanted to...well, he could have acted to have the marriage annulled. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Louis's younger brother wasn't loosing sleep over Queen Anne's infertility. If she didn't produce an heir, he was next in line to inherit the French crown. The Queen's marriage wasn't hostile, but it definitely wasn't pleasant. That we know. Anne traveled to the different royal residences, prayed, enjoyed the theater very much---she prayed more---and she enjoyed eating. And she loved sweets. Sounds like us, don't you think? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;She wasn't the most popular Queen and she knew it. She continued to pray about her infertility. and it wasn't only Anne that prayed. Many of the religious of her day prayed for her. While the faithful prayed, there was scandal, gossip and Anne was even suspected of conspiracies against her husband. None of this could have been easy for her. To make things worse, she had been married now 20 years---yes, 20 years--and still there was no child. You have to imagine that in her heart of hearts, Anne was near to giving up. She was in her thirties. It would be rare to become pregnant at that age. In the 1600's, she was considered old. Her marital relationship wasn't the best as we know and obviously that brings its own problems. And even somehow, if there was some miracle...would she have a boy? And if she did have a boy, would he even live? Child mortality rates were very low. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;November and December of 1637 were interesting for several reasons. In December, we know that the royal couple spent at least one night together under the same roof due to an unexpected storm. (Surely there were more as well.) And in November, a monk in Paris claims to have had a vision. He claimed that the Virgin Mary appeared to him, telling him that the Queen would indeed become pregnant and that he should inform her of this. The monk sent word to the couple. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;When Brother &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Fiacre&lt;/span&gt;, the monk, finally met personally with the King and Queen several months later, Anne was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ecstatic&lt;/span&gt;. She was pregnant! Her doctor had confirmed it weeks before. It was a miracle, a miracle! It appears that the Queen felt it was so. Whether it was a miracle or not...I certainly do not know...what a wonderful story! I can almost imagine her joy and happiness. At age thirty six, she was carrying a baby, finally. She must have been on cloud nine, or whatever they called it in the 1600's. It was generally thought by all that this baby would be a lucky child, protected by God. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;The baby that was born on the 5&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; of September 1638, was the &lt;em&gt;famous&lt;/em&gt; Louis XIV. He was certainly a lucky King, a great King. But we're getting ahead of ourselves. At that point, on that warm September day in a room that overlooked the river Seine, there was a healthy Dauphin born. The birth was witnessed by many of the Court. To say there was rejoicing would be an understatement. As the afternoon wore on and the witnesses left, Anne rested. It would not be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;stretching&lt;/span&gt; the truth to say that the fragrance of flowers flowed through the open windows of Anne's room as she laid in bed that day, looking at her robust son. No doubt she feel asleep exhausted, but with a smile on her face. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Anne adored her son. She spent much time with him, although it was not the court &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;etiquette&lt;/span&gt; of the day. None of that mattered to her. She played with him and took him outside. Her baby was considered very beautiful and she enjoyed fussing over him and combing his hair. He inherited her soft, warm brown curls. Her joy was compounded when she gave birth to &lt;em&gt;another&lt;/em&gt; boy named Phillipe two years later. She waited half her life for these miracles that had eluded her for so long...so she didn't waste a moment. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;She adored being a mother and the children came to her often. Little Louis loved Anne and formed a very close attachment to her, as most boys do. And it did not fade. This attachment remained with Louis. Although Anne loved both sons, she clearly adored her eldest. Did Anne show him this preference to prepare him for his future role? We can only guess. But whether the three of them shared a bath, played, shared dinner....or prayed together... the time they spent together was special, sweet and lasting. Anne gave them a real childhood and a feeling of safety. She was their constant. They didn't see their father nearly as much as their mother. And the brothers played as brothers do...laughing sometimes and fighting at other times. It was evident to all at court that these boys were the joy of her life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;And they said she couldn't do it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Well done, Anne!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-7547219256384607589?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/7547219256384607589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=7547219256384607589' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/7547219256384607589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/7547219256384607589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2008/03/all-she-wanted-was-to-be-mother.html' title='All she wanted was to be a mother....'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R8q0OiAQObI/AAAAAAAAAOs/nK2FY8tHcLE/s72-c/Queen+of+France,+Anne+of+Austria.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-1592153856485306983</id><published>2008-02-15T19:19:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T20:10:34.111-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Year</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R7Ysrhyn2NI/AAAAAAAAAOE/M0PEwuZoGVs/s1600-h/zzzzzz1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167366748770916562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R7Ysrhyn2NI/AAAAAAAAAOE/M0PEwuZoGVs/s320/zzzzzz1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R7YsgRyn2MI/AAAAAAAAAN8/o-DtTeo0Y9Q/s1600-h/zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167366555497388226" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R7YsgRyn2MI/AAAAAAAAAN8/o-DtTeo0Y9Q/s320/zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;I happened to come across a couple of books that looked worthwhile--royal books, of course--and thought I'd share. "Charlotte and Leopold" looks interesting---Charlotte was the daughter of the Prince Regent and Caroline of Brunswick--and should have been Queen and would have been...if she hadn't died during childbirth. Talk about a nation mourning! It was devastating to England when she died--everyone was grief stricken, similar to the way people grieved when Diana died. And although Leopold wasn't a favorite of the royals, she adored him and he cared for her deeply. They lived at Claremont, a huge home, which was filled with happiness and activity. It was there that she died. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;The other book is about "Marie Therese" who was the daughter of Marie Antoinette. You dont hear much about her, but it appears someone has done a book. I can't even imagine the poor girl's pain...going on without her brother and mother and father. But, she did. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Another daughter I wonder about is Hortense, daughter of Josephine Barnoparte. But I do have a book about her, so I really should read it so I don't have to wonder anymore. But....time....do we ever have enough time?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Speaking of time...since the end of November I have been working 6 days a week at my job. I work at an insurance company and we were about as busy as I've ever seen them. I didn't have a minute to read, write, critique or blog. After hours on the computer, who wanted to read or write? I managed a few hello's on my space, and on my email. I got through half of "The Diana Chronicles" by Tina Brown...not bad...not bad. Its a bit sensationalized, I thought. But if you have a chance to read it, I don't think you'll be too dissapointed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;This is the first week where my life sort of got back to normal! I dont usually work 6 days. So, after a bit of rest I've started surfing, and I came across a wonderful royal group called WORLD OF ROYALTY. It's a group for royal lovers---obviously---but whats nice about it is that you can set up your own royal page just the way you like it, and get involved in different royal groups and topics. Its not exactly a forum...its sort of a my space sort of thing for history and royal lovers. Here's the link in the event you want to check it out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://worldofroyalty.ning.com/"&gt;http://worldofroyalty.ning.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;How did I find this wonderful little place? I was surfing one of the sites I like called Royalty n u --- and it looks like the owner of that group started this one. If you'd like the link to Royalty n u, its &lt;a href="http://www.royalty.nu/"&gt;http://www.royalty.nu/&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;I'm so happy at last that these busy months are over! I've missed my royal books and sites and all my writing friends. I'm &lt;em&gt;so, so&lt;/em&gt; proud of a couple of my friends who've made some very nice sales this year! 2008 is going to be a good year...I can tell. I'll wait till their books are out before I say anything. (One is scheduled to come out in April!) I've also been tipped off about a big, delicious, &lt;em&gt;juicy&lt;/em&gt; biography that will be coming out probably in 2009. I was lucky enough to talk with the author and give her my opinion on the personality. Not trying to be secretive here... I'll share it with you as soon as it's ready to come out. I got to read a bit of it and believe me, I was in my happy royal fog for days. You will be too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;What am I reading now? I'm trying to finish "The Diana Chronicles" and I'm also reading "Born to Rule" by Julia P. Gelardi. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;And "The Other Boleyn Girl" will be coming out in the movies soon. Phillipa Gregory is the author of that masterpiece. The story is fiction...but it should be good. The stills from the movie look excellent. Overall, I think it'll be a wonderful year for those of us &lt;em&gt;who love the royals...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-1592153856485306983?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/1592153856485306983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=1592153856485306983' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/1592153856485306983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/1592153856485306983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2008/02/new-year.html' title='A New Year'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/R7Ysrhyn2NI/AAAAAAAAAOE/M0PEwuZoGVs/s72-c/zzzzzz1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-4286593828682625705</id><published>2007-11-10T18:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-11T09:34:17.056-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Russian Romance</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RzY6P65r4sI/AAAAAAAAANo/EMaXNBLsehQ/s1600-h/romanov%27s.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131352870618915522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RzY6P65r4sI/AAAAAAAAANo/EMaXNBLsehQ/s320/romanov%27s.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Sometimes you just feel like reading something nice...just a little bit of romance to break up the day or to allow yourself some light reading. You know...that 'nothing' sort of reading that just makes you feel good. The Romanov's are good for that, and I'll tell you why...Nicky and Alix (the Russian Tsar and his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Tsarina&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;) were madly in love and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. If you strip away all the details of the government of the day, take away some of their numerous &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;servants&lt;/span&gt;...and put them at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Livadia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, which was their home at the sea...well, you have sort of a normal family. They didn't have the white picket fence, but, oh, &lt;em&gt;who cares&lt;/em&gt;---they had the stone white walls around the palace! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Alix had loved Nicky for years and years and probably wouldn't have married anyone if she hadn't married Nicky. And she almost didn't! In her own mind, the differences between her religion and his were insurmountable. She couldn't be crowned as Empress of Russia, knowing in her heart that she did not believe in their religion. It was wrong, wrong and wrong. So, she kept telling Nicky no. This went on for the longest time. Now...here you've got this Princess who has a handsome Tsar begging her for her hand...and she loves him too...yet she can't say yes. You have to give her a little credit. Her beliefs were very strong and in her heart she could not lie to God. It's a long story, and there's much more to tell, but finally, at a family wedding in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Coburg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, he got the news he had been waiting for. She said YES. I have a book here with some of their very private love letters to each other, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;diaries&lt;/span&gt;. I thought I would share some of them...so you can see them as the real people they were...excited, in love, missing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;each other&lt;/span&gt;... so, we'll start with Nicky. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Coburg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, April 8, 1894&lt;/em&gt; ~ 'A wonderful, unforgettable day in my life - the day of my betrothal to my dear beloved Alix. She came to Aunt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Michen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; after 10 o'clock, and after they had talked, she and I had our discussion. God, what a mountain has fallen from my shoulders; with what joy I have been able to delight &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;dear&lt;/span&gt; Papa and Mama! I spent the whole day in a haze, not quite knowing what had happened to me!' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nicky, Diary - April 11, 1894&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Palais&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Edinburg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Coburg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; ~&lt;/em&gt; 'Slept splendidly in Uncle Alfred's rooms downstairs to the left of the entrance. The weather was much warmer than in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Coburg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, everything was in full bloom and the scent wonderful. After coffee with the whole family, sat with Alix answering telegrams. Her attitude towards me has changed so much during the last few days, I am utterly entranced. This morning she wrote three sentences in Russian without a single mistake! At 11:30 we went together by char-a-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;banc&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Rosenau&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, where her late parents, a brother and sister, are buried in a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;pavilion&lt;/span&gt;.' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffcc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffcc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nicky, April&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;12, 1894&lt;/em&gt; ~ 'Woke up to a beautiful day. Went with Alix to have coffee with the Queen; now I must call her Granny. The infantry played under my windows like the dragoons. Wrote telegrams with Alix. At 11 0'clock went to church with the Queen. Looked at the group photographs taken before and after Ducky and Ernie's wedding. Alix and I went together to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Rosenau&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; by char-a-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;banc&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Quite a number of people of people have gathered to play lawn-tennis and drink tea. Sat with my delightful bride. With Aunt Marie's permission, have moved from the castle into the cottage in her g&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;arden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, next to the villa where Alix is staying. I am in Alfred's rooms, as he left today for Potsdam. Its very cosy, convenient and, most importantly, near to her.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nicky, Diary- April 15, 1894, Good Friday - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Coburg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; ~ 'At 10 o'clock went with Alix to breakfast with the Queen; it is so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;strange&lt;/span&gt; to be able to drive and walk alone with her, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;without&lt;/span&gt; feeling at all embarrassed, as if there was nothing unusual in it! The weather started to deteriorate, but we nevertheless set out on foot to the antiquary and to the wicker shop, where I brought a number of baskets for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;mushroom&lt;/span&gt; picking as well as a chaise-lounge for the camp. Alix gave me a ring. How funny it seemed to put it on my finger for the first time! Went with my darling bride to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Rosenau&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; by char-a-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;banc&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. We gathered flowers along &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; way and walked up to the house. Learned that the Queen would remain a further day &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;because of&lt;/span&gt; the brisk weather in the Channel! During the service I carried the Shroud with Uncle Sergei. Dined with the Queen at 9 0'clock. Afterwards there was music, while some people sat in the adjoining room and talked. Returned home, sat for a further hour with dear Alix, she is calm and happy. Poured with rain.' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alix to Empress Marie, &lt;strong&gt;her future mother-in law&lt;/strong&gt;,&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;April 18&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, 1894, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Palais&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Edinburg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Coburg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; ~ 'Darling &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Motherdear&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, Nicky tells me I may call you so, oh thank you so much - you are too kind and good to me. How can I thank you and dear Uncle enough for the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;magnificent&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;present&lt;/span&gt; you were so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;awfully&lt;/span&gt; kind as to send me. It is much too beautiful for me! It gave me quite a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;shock when I opened up the &lt;/span&gt;case - saw those &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;beautiful&lt;/span&gt; stones. I thank you ever so much for it, and kiss your hands most tenderly. I feel so proud to have your lovely order, and am most grateful and thankful for it, and the sweet egg and dear letter - all touched me deeply. Only two days still, and then darling Nicky and I have to part, it makes me feel miserable, but I am sure that his little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Motherdear&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; is longing for him. You will let him come to England this summer, won't you, because it would be too hard to be parted so long, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Grandmama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; is looking forward to his visit so much. He has quite won her heart, as he has of all those who know him.' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nicky, Diary - April 20, 1894&lt;/em&gt; ~ "Awoke with the melancholy feeling that the end had arrived of our soul to soul existence. After coffee I went with Alix to visit the widowed Duchess, who lives quite alone in her castle on the hill. At 12:45 I went with Alix to the station and said goodbye to her. She is going to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Darmstadt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and from there to England with Victoria (her eldest sister) to visit the Queen. How sad it seemed when I returned home! As if on purpose the weather had started to clear up and the sun broke through. Yes, it's no fun without her!'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;N&lt;em&gt;icky to Alix, April 20, 1894 - this sad Wednesday - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Palais&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;Edinburg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Coburg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; ~ 'My sweet darling beloved Alix! Oh! It was too awful saying goodbye like that, with a lot of people looking on from all sides! I shall never forget the sweet sad and yet smiling expression of your angelic face &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;looking&lt;/span&gt; out of the window as the train was beginning to move! To know that you had to spend 9 hours in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; small compartment nearly by yourself - was cruel to me and especially the thought that I was of no help any more! The coming home was more than unpleasant and when I came into my room, where you had just been a few minutes before, I could not keep back my tears. But then oh! what a delightful &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"&gt;surprise&lt;/span&gt; - on my table in the bedroom there lay a note from you, my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"&gt;darling&lt;/span&gt; little girl. Thank you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; thank you for the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51"&gt;soothing&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52"&gt;comforting&lt;/span&gt; words you wrote in it. Oh! really those few lines did me good!' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alix to Nicky - April 20, 1894 - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Darmstadt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; ~ 'My own precious Nicky Darling, I am lying in bed, but cannot go to sleep before I have written to you, as speak alas, we cannot. Oh, how I miss you, it is not be be described and I long for the two hours all alone with you. No goodnight kiss and blessing, it is hard. But our thoughts will meet won't they? Your dear telegram made my heart rejoice, and I have got it lying near me. What a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54"&gt;delight&lt;/span&gt; it will be to find your letter in Windsor. And there you are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55"&gt;rattling&lt;/span&gt; away in the beastly train, whilst I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56"&gt;comfortably&lt;/span&gt; installed in my own 'sweet house' - It reminds me all so much of last week - how &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_57"&gt;glad&lt;/span&gt; I am that you have been &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_58"&gt;here&lt;/span&gt; a&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_59"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; know my rooms a bit. I want you &lt;em&gt;badly&lt;/em&gt;. Forever and ever your dear photo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_60"&gt;stands&lt;/span&gt; before me, and makes me feel lonely. I shall write &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_61"&gt;tomorrow&lt;/span&gt; from Windsor.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alix to Nicky - April 22, 1894 - Windsor Castle&lt;/em&gt; ~ 'My own precious Nicky dear, I have just arrived and had breakfast with Granny. How it reminded me of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_62"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;Coburg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and made me miss you more than ever. But there the delight t finding your sweet letter for which many tender kisses and thanks for the flowers. I am going to put them in my Bible and Prayerbook- they smell still excellently. The comfort of having your letter is great and I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_63"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know how often I have read it in these few minutes and covered it with kisses. How I miss your kisses and blessing. The journey went off well and the crossing was splendid, not a movement and I do not feel very tired. Granny has a tiresome cough. The whole journey I kept your coin in my hand and played with it and looked at the photo - a little comfort. Not only that I miss you, but Ernie too, everything reminds me of a few weeks ago where we were here together and I feel quite lost without him. Granny tells me she has written to you - she wrote to me even to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_64"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;Darmstadt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Aunt Beatrice is going up to London for some function, so Granny, I and the children will be left to ourselves. Your letter has made me too awfully happy. I also feel shy to express my feelings...we shall have to conquer this weakness, don't you think so?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Queen Victoria to Nicky - April 22, 1894 - Windsor Castle&lt;/em&gt; ~ 'Dear Nicky, I must thank you very much for so kindly sending me that splendid copy of your Travels which I shall value very much. I need not say how much my thoughts (have) been with you and my sweet &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_65"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;Alicky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; (Alix) since we left dearest &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_66"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;Coburg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and I am sure the parting from her will have been very painful for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_67"&gt;both&lt;/span&gt;... I shall watch over her most &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_68"&gt;anxiously&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_69"&gt;carefully&lt;/span&gt; that she should get rest and quiet and do all to get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_70"&gt;strong&lt;/span&gt; which she has not been for some time.' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nicky to Alix - April 23, 1894, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_71"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;Gatchina&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; ~ 'Good morning my own precious one! I am aroused from my slumber, which had been disturbed at 3.0 in the night by an insolent bat. My man, my dog and myself hunted the beast for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_72"&gt;nearly&lt;/span&gt; half an hour before we at last manged to catch the brute in the corner.' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffcc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffcc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alix to Nicky - April 30, 1894 - Windsor &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_73"&gt;Castle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; ~ 'Oh, Nicky sweet, do you really not get frightened when you think what a creature is to become your wife, will she not drive you mad? I shall do all in my power to get my legs in order till next year, (Alix had much pain in her legs from a bad back) but it is not so easy and you who are so fond of walking, oh dear, what could I do? The post has brought me nothing from you, let's hope tonight a letter may still come, or else I shall be so sad.' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffcc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffcc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nicky, Diary- May 2, 1894 - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_74"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;Anichkov&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Palace, St. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_75"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;Petersburg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; ~ 'I am sitting in nothing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_76"&gt;else&lt;/span&gt; but my shirt, all the windows open though it's night...I ran about through our future apartments in the Winter Palace (a killing sight), returned home for 5 minutes and drove to Ella (Alix's sister). We two dined together...Ella gave me some excellent ideas about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_77"&gt;arranging&lt;/span&gt; our rooms- and we talked away &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_78"&gt;till&lt;/span&gt; 11. I was glad to see her as of all the sisters she reminds me mostly of my sweet darling. Isn't it so?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffcc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffcc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nicky to Alix - May 8, 1894 - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;Gatchina&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; ~ 'Papa is always so dear and kind to me - today I asked whether he would allow me to go over to England in his lovely yacht the &lt;em&gt;Polar Star&lt;/em&gt; - and he at once consented, adding he was sure I am delighted not to have to go through Berlin! I should think I &lt;em&gt;am &lt;/em&gt;mad at the idea of going over to see my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;sweety&lt;/span&gt; by sea and on board that ship. Oh you ought to see her - she is a beauty and so comfortable, but the best of engines - she steams 18 knots easily an hour! '&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alix to Nicky - May 10, 1894 - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;Harrogate&lt;/span&gt; (the baths in England)&lt;/em&gt; ~ 'I had my first sulphur bath this morning, it did not smell lovely, and made my silver &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;bracelet&lt;/span&gt;, which I never take off quite black, but that one can clean with the powder one uses for cleaning up one's silver things. '  &lt;em&gt;May 11, 1984 ~&lt;/em&gt; 'Before slipping into bed I am going to read your sweet letter over again, and it makes me happy. Oh, what an indescribable joy it is, one is loved and longed for - and I pray on my knees that I may become worthier of your great love. Oh, my Nicky, my own sweet &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;Boysy&lt;/span&gt;, dear God bless you now and for ever. I could cry for love for you. Not only do I miss you but I long for Ernie, who used to be always running into my room at every hour of the day - &lt;em&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;und&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;ich&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;gonne&lt;/span&gt; es &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;ihm&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;vom&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;Herzen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; (and I was always happy for him to do so). A kinder, dearer brother never was... And beloved Papa, oh, it is terrible to know that I shall nevermore see him in this world. I miss him daily more and more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"&gt;especially&lt;/span&gt; now that through you my heart is so full. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"&gt;Tomorrow&lt;/span&gt; my little sister May would have been 20, think only, quite grown up. Sweet little Child that she was. But my love I think I better go to bed, as my legs have been so painful today and as I had my first bath, it is also getting on for eleven.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffcc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffcc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Personally, I'm &lt;em&gt;so&lt;/em&gt; glad they didn't have telephones in those days. If they had, we probably wouldn't be reading these very private things! If you enjoy the Russian Royal Family, take a peek at the Alexander Time Machine. It has everything a person could want on these royals...pictures and descriptions of their private rooms, wonderful archives, stories, personal accounts and diagrams of the palaces...as well as lots of information on their children. It's one of the best sites out there.   &lt;a href="http://www.alexanderpalace.org/palace/"&gt;http://www.alexanderpalace.org/palace/&lt;/a&gt;   Go ahead and hit it when you're ready! You&lt;em&gt; won't&lt;/em&gt; be sorry. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-4286593828682625705?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/4286593828682625705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=4286593828682625705' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/4286593828682625705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/4286593828682625705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/11/russian-romance.html' title='Russian Romance'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RzY6P65r4sI/AAAAAAAAANo/EMaXNBLsehQ/s72-c/romanov%27s.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-5712051063943857254</id><published>2007-10-27T17:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T21:29:00.715-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes...No words are necessary...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPlxY5G1cI/AAAAAAAAANg/H44uCKQkkks/s1600-h/2186511170097483192LLhjjS_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126193437536081346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPlxY5G1cI/AAAAAAAAANg/H44uCKQkkks/s320/2186511170097483192LLhjjS_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPk8Y5G1bI/AAAAAAAAANY/5t7j-9P_e0w/s1600-h/eeeeee2718205600097483192IBAHFC_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126192527003014578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPk8Y5G1bI/AAAAAAAAANY/5t7j-9P_e0w/s320/eeeeee2718205600097483192IBAHFC_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPkr45G1aI/AAAAAAAAANQ/cM1lI2-2sZg/s1600-h/cccccccc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126192243535173026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPkr45G1aI/AAAAAAAAANQ/cM1lI2-2sZg/s320/cccccccc.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPka45G1ZI/AAAAAAAAANI/Wn-c1Cxsl-k/s1600-h/bbbbbbbb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126191951477396882" style="FLOAT: left; 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MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPdJo5G1WI/AAAAAAAAAMw/UACVWCV9_VE/s320/2889630600097483192nlYymv_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPc4I5G1VI/AAAAAAAAAMo/yKZwaT4vLl4/s1600-h/2742811010097483192SzNUST_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126183657895548242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPc4I5G1VI/AAAAAAAAAMo/yKZwaT4vLl4/s320/2742811010097483192SzNUST_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPcq45G1UI/AAAAAAAAAMg/pHe1dMhQSgw/s1600-h/2752507430097483192MQeaXS_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126183430262281538" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPcq45G1UI/AAAAAAAAAMg/pHe1dMhQSgw/s320/2752507430097483192MQeaXS_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPcY45G1TI/AAAAAAAAAMY/uhSA1OQcgmg/s1600-h/2336895440097483192VGGRxT_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126183121024636210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPcY45G1TI/AAAAAAAAAMY/uhSA1OQcgmg/s320/2336895440097483192VGGRxT_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPcKo5G1SI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/cLD9b8UFoJ8/s1600-h/2506110130097483192pvkbgw_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126182876211500322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPcKo5G1SI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/cLD9b8UFoJ8/s320/2506110130097483192pvkbgw_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPb5I5G1RI/AAAAAAAAAMI/JavmG9i5GRA/s1600-h/2318041060097483192GUTAen_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126182575563789586" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPb5I5G1RI/AAAAAAAAAMI/JavmG9i5GRA/s320/2318041060097483192GUTAen_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPbb45G1QI/AAAAAAAAAMA/gWLH9Gsw650/s1600-h/2510735050097483192GeeXnE_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126182073052615938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPbb45G1QI/AAAAAAAAAMA/gWLH9Gsw650/s320/2510735050097483192GeeXnE_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPbBI5G1PI/AAAAAAAAAL4/Wgk0-F5-Jbc/s1600-h/2087493420097483192qbWurP_ph.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126181613491115250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPbBI5G1PI/AAAAAAAAAL4/Wgk0-F5-Jbc/s320/2087493420097483192qbWurP_ph.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPatY5G1OI/AAAAAAAAALw/5YwYnmkUqR4/s1600-h/2054340300097483192JiemPO_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126181274188698850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPatY5G1OI/AAAAAAAAALw/5YwYnmkUqR4/s320/2054340300097483192JiemPO_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPado5G1NI/AAAAAAAAALo/CN62TYO252A/s1600-h/2058149520097483192RPJNEg_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126181003605759186" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPado5G1NI/AAAAAAAAALo/CN62TYO252A/s320/2058149520097483192RPJNEg_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPaOI5G1MI/AAAAAAAAALg/7NIAD8x4FIo/s1600-h/2510305010097483192FSFlqX_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126180737317786818" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPaOI5G1MI/AAAAAAAAALg/7NIAD8x4FIo/s320/2510305010097483192FSFlqX_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-5712051063943857254?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/5712051063943857254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=5712051063943857254' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/5712051063943857254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/5712051063943857254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/10/sometimesno-words-are-necessary.html' title='Sometimes...No words are necessary...'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RyPlxY5G1cI/AAAAAAAAANg/H44uCKQkkks/s72-c/2186511170097483192LLhjjS_fs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-3185467663467132281</id><published>2007-10-24T21:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T08:44:54.473-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Day in the Life...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rx_u78q4IMI/AAAAAAAAAKY/pkB3tl-SzaA/s1600-h/largedrawingroom-450.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5125077614636572866" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 303px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px" height="150" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rx_u78q4IMI/AAAAAAAAAKY/pkB3tl-SzaA/s200/largedrawingroom-450.jpg" width="341" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#009900;"&gt;Have you ever wondered what it would be like to spend a day in the life of a Queen? Or a princess? &lt;em&gt;I have&lt;/em&gt;. I'm sure you're &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;surprised&lt;/span&gt; at that! But...let's sort of follow her around for a day...and kind of hang out. Of course, the kind of day she'd have would vary from country to country and from decade to decade. And then again, there are Queens in their own right, and Queen Consorts, which are Queens that are married to a reigning King. A Queen in her own right might be Maria Theresa of Austria--the mother of Marie Antoinette. She reigned and worked. A consort would be a Queen such as Queen Charlotte, who married the reigning monarch Mad King George. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The Queen might be awakened by a maid or lady in waiting, and served a tray of tea or coffee, perhaps with fruit, and she might sit up and read the papers. The drapes would be opened, and after a time, her clothes for the day would be brought in (or a selection of clothes). If she was staying in the palace for the day, and no visitors were coming, she might slip into a pretty dress, but nothing too formal. She would be assisted in her dressing by a maid. The Queen would also sit down at her dressing table and would begin her toilette, &lt;em&gt;which we would call&lt;/em&gt; 'putting on our face.' The Queen would be assisted with any makeup she might wear and her hair would be done for her. Hair ornaments would also be added, and a few jewels...perhaps a necklace and earrings. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;After that, she would be accompanied by a lady in waiting to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;dining room&lt;/span&gt; for breakfast. Oh, did you think the coffee and fruit was breakfast? &lt;em&gt;Oh, no&lt;/em&gt;. The King might accompany her as well. A footman would open the dining room door for her, and another uniformed footman would pull out her chair. If she had children and they were old enough they might join their parents for breakfast, and sometimes a senior lady in waiting would be invited to stay to dine. If there was a private secretary and a royal doctor, they also might be invited. It varied day to day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;After a leisurely breakfast, the Queen would return back to her sitting room or office and begin her work. If she was a reigning Queen, she would be assisted by her personal secretary and usually her senior lady in waiting... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;As far as ladies are concerned, all ladies that assisted the queen were called "Ladies in Waiting" although there was a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;hierarchy&lt;/span&gt; of ladies. The senior one might be called "A Mistress of the Robes" and the next senior might be "Lady of the Bedchamber." Then there were assistant ladies of the bedchamber, maids of honor, etc. The senior lady in waiting would see that the Queens wishes were taken care of. If the Queen needed to appoint a lady in waiting, the Mistress of the Robes would send the letter to the lady in question. She would handle the matter and let the Queen know the details. The Mistress of the Robes acted as sort of a secretary. If the Queen wanted to see someone in the palace, a senior lady would tell a lesser ranking lady, and the person would be fetched. Also, ladies worked for a month or two at a time, and then returned to their families. At any given time there was usually between 4 to 8 ladies at court. Some kept the Queen company, and might read with her, and often the ladies chosen were noble ladies, such as Duchesses or Countesses...or women who were used to court life. It was also a plus is they could paint or draw, ride, sing, play an instrument or speak a second language. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;During her morning she would sign official documents, read important news and letters, dictate or write responses, and sometimes receive visitors. Her private secretary would give her the work in order of it's importance and usually had comments of his own to clarify the situation for her. Sometimes he might make suggestions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;After a long morning of work, it would be time for luncheon. Again, she would be accompanied to the dining room, or if it was nice weather lunch might be laid out on a private terrace. One or two of the Queens ladies would eat with her--after all--they were there to keep her company. Luncheon wasn't usually too heavy. In the royal household, though, every meal was served on fine plates and the food arranged beautifully.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;After eating, the Queen might be ready for a break. She might wish to take the air. (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; what they called sitting outside or taking a carriage ride throughout the grounds). Fresh air and light &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;exercise&lt;/span&gt; were always recommended. If the weather wasn't fair, she would retire again to her sitting room area, and perhaps read her personal correspondence...the royals were very fond of letter writing. They couldn't be too familiar with many and so it meant a lot to them to commit their feelings to paper and send them off by a special courier to their relatives. Some couriers regularly went to other countries and some delivered the royal letters to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;recipients&lt;/span&gt; inside the country. She might do some needlepoint, drawing or read by the fireplace. Sometimes in the afternoon they were visited informally, or they received visitors formally. There might be a meeting arranged, or even an afternoon drawing room. Lucky for today, the Queen has none of those!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Before dinner, there would always be some time to rest. The Queen might be visited by some of her children or her husband...or sometimes lie down on her chaise. A lady in waiting might read to her, or the Queen might want quiet time. While she enjoyed some quiet time, the servants were busy getting things ready for...&lt;em&gt;dinner. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Her evening dresses would be brought into her dressing area for her to look at. At the appropriate time, she would go to her dressing table and begin her toilette again. Her toilette would be different for dinner. Her hair might be piled high on her head, letting tendrils fall, and jewels might be added to her hair, and for larger dinners with many guests a tiara would be chosen. (And tiara's&lt;em&gt; do&lt;/em&gt; hurt, ladies!) The Queen might do some adjusting here and there...but her lady would do her hair and jewels. Then she would be helped into the dress most appropriate, which was usually a formal one with much lace, ruffles or beading, made of the finest fabric. (All her clothes were made &lt;em&gt;just &lt;/em&gt;for her, and hand stitched.)r&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;For all intents and purposes, we'll say that tonight will be a small dinner...just family and a few quests. The more senior servants would join them, and so their party might consist of 10 or 12 people. The King and Queen...or the Queen and her consort would assemble outside the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;dining room&lt;/span&gt;, and the family, guests and servants would line up according to precedence. Once &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;assembled&lt;/span&gt;, the door would be opened and they would take their appropriate places, according to rank and precedence. If it was a larger dinner, some guests might already be seated.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Courses were many. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Candelabras&lt;/span&gt; were lit, and fine china was laid out. Tables were adorned with flowers and sometimes menu's. It would be appropriate to talk to the guest on your left and your right, giving equal time to each. Dinners were formal, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;etiquette&lt;/span&gt; was stiff. Footman usually watched the Monarch, and once he or she was done with a course, they would begin taking away the dishes...to the dismay of some. If the Monarch was a fast eater--and some were--you were out of luck, and so you learned to eat fast!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;After dinner &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;amusements&lt;/span&gt; were just as stiff as dinner. Guests would retire to the drawing room for cards, games and conversation. The Queen would mingle throughout the room, making sure she spoke to each person for a short bit...and she would speak to &lt;em&gt;them &lt;/em&gt;first. Talk about the weather or riding or a person's general health were proper topics. A guest would never say, "I heard you had terrible stomach pains the other day. How do you feel?" That would be quite improper. They might say something like this: "I had heard Your Majesty was feeling indisposed earlier this week. I do hope you are recovered." And even that would be a bit too familiar! Only those close to her would say something like that. So, conversation was generic and polite. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Sometimes there might be a band and dancing at the palace, depending on the amount of visitors that evening. On other nights, there might be a performance by a singer, or a concert or play given. They also attended the opera on some nights. They did have balls and grand balls, too...but for tonight we'll keep them close to 'home'. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;If the Queen was having a wonderful, gay time, she might be inclined to stay up later than usual. No matter how tired the guests were--and the Ladies in Waiting--they would not retire until she did. Once the Queen (and her husband) left, often there would be sighs of relief, and guests would plop down on a couch or chair, tired, with painful feet! Being invited to dine with the Crown was an honor indeed...however, because there were such firm rules of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;etiquette&lt;/span&gt;, it could be quite grating on the nerves! Guests were known sometimes to slip away into another room to sit down for a bit! Remember if the Queen stood, so did everyone else. If the Queen was sitting, the others could too. Some courts were stiff and boring and long...others were more relaxed and gay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Back in her bedchamber, she would be assisted with undressing and her dresser would take care of putting her precious jewels back in their safe place. Her hair might be brushed, too. If she was keyed up and not tired, she might want to read for awhile or ask a lady to read to her. Sometimes the Queen might pen a letter or write in her journal, or dictate a letter to her lady. A fire would be lit, too, to keep the Queen warm during the night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Alone in her bed (with fluffy pillows and thick quilts) the Queen would blow out her candle at the bedside and lay down. Invariably, she would think about the day past, and more importantly, the day ahead. Nothing was left to chance. Each day and week and month were planned in advance and rarely was there anything spontaneous on the menu. The Queen might be excited about the next day...perhaps they would be traveling to a favorite vacation home. Or maybe it was something more tedious....like a levee or drawing room or even a ball! Some of these things could be trying. The Queen would have to stand on her feet for a long period of time, or, shake a thousand hands easily. But, everyday was something different. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Hopefully, the Queen would have sweet dreams and be looking forward to something the next day! She is Queen after all, and so she shall make sure it is so! She will decree it! Her eyes would get heavy and she would relax. Sleep would come soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;And YOU! You're only a visitor &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;who's&lt;/span&gt; been graciously allowed a peek into her day! So, I think it's time to leave the Queen's bedchamber now!........Quietly, please...... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-3185467663467132281?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/3185467663467132281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=3185467663467132281' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/3185467663467132281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/3185467663467132281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/10/day-in-life.html' title='A Day in the Life...'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rx_u78q4IMI/AAAAAAAAAKY/pkB3tl-SzaA/s72-c/largedrawingroom-450.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-6129180754198758333</id><published>2007-09-16T20:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T10:34:36.428-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing about those Queens...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Ru3TFTobhwI/AAAAAAAAAJw/oRLsuZgSOhY/s1600-h/100_2230.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110973240258037506" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Ru3TFTobhwI/AAAAAAAAAJw/oRLsuZgSOhY/s200/100_2230.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Ru3RHjobhvI/AAAAAAAAAJo/COjyE0xE-Ic/s1600-h/2653736860094285158mtFWCg_ph.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110971079889487602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Ru3RHjobhvI/AAAAAAAAAJo/COjyE0xE-Ic/s200/2653736860094285158mtFWCg_ph.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;What is it like to write about Queens? For me, it seems like the natural thing to do. It's rather fun. Entertaining. Yes, those books to the right are mine...and that's just some of them. I picked up my first book on a royal at age 23, and couldn't put it down. It was called "The Woman He Loved." I couldn't get over that book--that story--which chronicled a King, who fell in love with an American, divorced woman. And it came to be that he gave up his Kingdom for her. After reading that I got hooked. Really hooked. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;From there my interest grew and I'd bring home three and four biographies at a time and read. At first I started with &lt;em&gt;that &lt;/em&gt;King and his immediate family and then I went to his parents, and then their parents---and then Queen Victoria. I bought my first Queen Victoria book while in England in 1988. I began reading the Stanley &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Weintraub&lt;/span&gt; biography in England on the train from London to Leigh-On-Sea, where my Great Aunt lived. And I bought more royal books...and even more royal books and tapes while visiting Buckingham Palace. I hurt my back lugging home those books to the U.S.--crates of them! But back in '88 you had no choice...we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; have Amazon.com.UK!! You grabbed the books while you could. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;And I had relatives sending me information from the papers in England, and I went to book sales whenever I could and grabbed anything that looked like it pertained to nobility or royalty---it didn't matter what country the royalty was from. And now I have hundreds of books. And even now I'm not satisfied. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I've studied Josephine...and her daughter Hortense....Marie Antoinette.....Princess Diana...the Queen Mother...Queen Mary and Queen Alexandra and all of their children...Queen Victoria and all of her children and her aunts and uncles and the Regent and his daughter Charlotte...Russian Royalty...Princess Grace...Henry's wives...some of Spain's royalty, and now I've got a real old bookstore near me and I've found so many wonderful memoirs of ladies-in-waiting...servants...dignitaries and writers and poets to go along with the royal books. And of course I study families such as the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Devonshires&lt;/span&gt;...and homes like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Chatsworth&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Today I sat with four books on Queen Victoria, and a fabulous memoir and studied the timetable in the months right before she assumed the throne and right after. Why? Why, you ask? In this case its because I've got a work in progress---a novel---and it's important I get my facts straight because &lt;em&gt;she---Queen Victoria!!--&lt;/em&gt; is in the novel and the characters are interwoven into her life in the months just before and after Victoria took the throne. And the poor, young Queen was pushed to &lt;em&gt;her limits&lt;/em&gt;...there was such pressure around her, and who could she really trust? (Oh, if you only knew!) There was practically no one. It's amazing really, that she did as well as she did during that beginning period on the throne. She was conceived and born to be a Queen and once she was---that was it. There was no looking back. She grabbed those reigns and did what she had to do. She had a will of her own and knew her own mind. She pushed away her forceful, domineering mother and took charge of &lt;em&gt;not only her life&lt;/em&gt;, but the Kingdom. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;The novel is about done. The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;fictitious&lt;/span&gt; characters I've added seem very real to me...and blend in wonderfully with the new "Court" at Buckingham Palace and Windsor &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Castle&lt;/span&gt; ...some characters help Victoria in her new role...other characters are out to hurt and to see what they can get. But no matter who they are, they strive to keep their dirty laundry...er...private. It just wouldn't do if the Queen knew &lt;em&gt;everything &lt;/em&gt;about the friends she is closest to. But what is the cost of keeping these secrets from her? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Next month I'm going to a big writing conference and I'm quite excited. It's being held in New Jersey and many big, big names will be attending. I'm sure that I will learn a lot and make some new friends. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Luckily&lt;/span&gt; it's only about 35 minutes from me so I can commute. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I do get requests from readers and authors....can you suggest a certain book on a Queen or princess? What new books are coming out? What do I know about Princess so-and-so? Do I think Queen X is interesting? And I enjoy responding and helping when I can. I don't know why I do what I do..but I must examine everything and find out every little detail. For some reason I really need to know what happened behind the "facade" of royalty. I search and search and read between the lines. I need to find the hidden feelings of the royals and what they really did in their private life. Things like this----something cute about Prince Albert...he had an odd sense of humor. If he was in a room with Queen Victoria and perhaps a couple of his children, and a maid or footman happened to trip over the rug---there would be gales of laughter from the Prince-- once the servant had gone-- and the whole family would collapse with laughter. &lt;em&gt;I mean, the man thought it was the funniest thing! &lt;/em&gt;Now, I'm not sure if that silly piece of information will get me the best table in a restaurant or even make me a large sum of money. But, if I put it all together...well, maybe it might amount to something. It may be small--mind you---but it could amount to something.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I have one friend who loves to try to stump and test me. "How many years did so-and-so reign??" or "Explain WHY the throne went to a woman when there was a man in the family when the King died?" or "Explain the duties of a lady of the Bedchamber? Did they work in the bedroom?" he he...no, the Ladies don't really work in the Queen's bedroom or bedchamber at all. A maid would do that. For the longest time, though, I imagined the Lady of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Bedchamber&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;did&lt;/em&gt; work in the bedroom!! Well....we all have a learning curve, don't we? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Last night while I was researching, my husband made dinner and gave me my plate while I sat on my bed with my books. Later, I handed him the plate(with the food gone) and he took it. I said, "This is an important part of the research. I must &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;feeeeel&lt;/span&gt; the part." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;He lets me get away with a little bit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-6129180754198758333?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/6129180754198758333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=6129180754198758333' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/6129180754198758333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/6129180754198758333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/09/writing-about-those-queens.html' title='Writing about those Queens...'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Ru3TFTobhwI/AAAAAAAAAJw/oRLsuZgSOhY/s72-c/100_2230.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-4911076938259900214</id><published>2007-09-10T21:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T10:48:49.818-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Her Majesty</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RuXzIAUOmuI/AAAAAAAAAJg/DT9Z5kc5VY0/s1600-h/HermajestyTheQueenofEngland06021953.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108756671171042018" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RuXzIAUOmuI/AAAAAAAAAJg/DT9Z5kc5VY0/s200/HermajestyTheQueenofEngland06021953.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;A majestic picture... a moment in time, captured&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;This portrait was taken when Queen Elizabeth returned to Buckingham Palace after her coronation ceremony. They say--truthfully---that she had a massive headache when she took off that crown. Wearing such a heavy crown takes practice and it's not particularly fun. (Not that I would know personally...but I have my sources&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;This woman became Queen when she was a young wife and mother. She was in Africa with her husband Prince Philip---she had loved him from the time she was a young girl---and she got the terrible news that her father had died. Luckily, packed deep in her luggage was her black mourning clothes which were always packed, just in case. The night before his death, the King had followed his normal routine--he read in bed and had something hot to drink. In the morning, they summoned Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother and gave her the news of his passing. She was bereft. Oh, she put on her Queenly composure for her daughter and the world...but she was utterly shattered for quite some time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;As the new Queen and her husband flew back to England, without doubt she was overwhelmed by memories of her father and mother and their family life. It is well known that the King and Queen adored their daughters, Elizabeth and Margaret Rose. Right before she married Prince Philip, the King told her in a letter that it would be the last time it would be "us four". It had always been "us four"---traveling, spending time at Royal Lodge in their garden, planning the garden, playing with their animals. The family spent cozy times together...times that I'm sure Her Majesty even now remembers with a sweet fondness. They were the ultimate, perfect royal family. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;I have a book which is rare, written by Marion Crawford. Marion was a trusted governess to the young Elizabeth and Margaret Rose. She was with them for many years in their youth. To their horror, she published a tell-all book. It was one of the first. It was quite devastating to the family...not that there is really anything shameful in it...nevertheless, they had trusted "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Crawfie&lt;/span&gt;" and this was unexpected. From then on, whenever someone betrayed them, they'd say, "They're pulling a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Crawfie&lt;/span&gt;." To them, "pulling a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Crawfie&lt;/span&gt;" meant they were betrayed by someone trusted. There's no need to tell you what's in the book--since Her Majesty is alive and she might read this....well, &lt;em&gt;she might&lt;/em&gt;...I just wouldn't dare breathe a word. She's a noble and classy woman and I respect her and I just can't in good conscience pass on secret, gossipy things about my Queen. Since I'm English, she is my Queen. As a matter of fact, the Queen's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;physician&lt;/span&gt; operated on my great grandmother Talbot in the late 1800's after a carriage accident. My great grandmother was blind after the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;carriage&lt;/span&gt; accident and could only see shadows. I think it was Queen Victoria's physician that attended to her. But she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; feel sorry for herself...she raised 6 healthy children in the country. Her hearing was so good that the children couldn't even lift the lid off the cookie jar, no matter how hard they tried!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Back to the Queen, though. You aren't here to read about my grandfather trying to steal cookies...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;There's a picture called Three Queens, which was taken during the King's funeral. It's a picture of the new Queen, the Queen Mother and also the King's mother, Queen Mary. They are standing together, with black veils over their faces. It's rather chilling....sad. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Luckily for Queen Elizabeth, her father spent much time with her, at his desk, going over the work of the sovereign...explaining what was expected and teaching her things. She loved and trusted him and learned from him. And I think he loved teaching her. They had a wonderful partnership of love and respect. Although the new Queen was probably not feeling quite ready to take on the heavy duties of the monarchy, her father undoubtedly had taught her well and I think she felt comfortable as she began her duties. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Queen Elizabeth took much comfort from the rituals she was used to. There was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Sandringham&lt;/span&gt; at Christmas and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Balmoral&lt;/span&gt; in the summer. She spent many weekends at Windsor and the family has a set of apartments there. She still spends many weekends there and Prince Philip oversees  the grounds. (no, he doesn't really&lt;em&gt; do&lt;/em&gt; the work!) I'd love to be a fly on the wall there...or even a servant for that matter. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;wouldn't&lt;/span&gt; mind polishing the furniture if it meant I could peek through some of the rooms...and maybe skip down the massive hallways and staircases. One day I'll get permission to visit the Royal Archives....I will! I have my mind and heart set on it. If I can get there, I'll produce something beautiful for sure. I don't want much in life...my family...a couple of bucks, a few books...and a long, long trip to the Royal Archives! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;I do worry about the Queen these days. She's had a lot to cope with these past years, with the death of her sister Margaret and her beloved mother. The Queen, obviously, has only so many close people around her which she can really be herself with and I'm sure the loss of these two family members so close together has been very difficult. Still, she is surrounded by a large and loving family and like any matriarch, I'm sure she is adored and enjoys spoiling her grandchildren just a bit. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;She is still a vision---in her pastel suits and hats and her gowns and jewelry. She is always perfectly put together and rather elegant, if I do say so myself. As you probably know, she loves her privacy and her dogs. She loves riding and adores her horses and horse-racing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;If all Queens could be as Queenly as she---we'd have monarchies all over the world. Someday, the world will look back at her reign and she will be seen as a glittering gem, with a perfect countenance, wise...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt; and I daresay she is quite loving and caring. She's got one of the hardest jobs in the world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;She never really gets a vacation, you know! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-4911076938259900214?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/4911076938259900214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=4911076938259900214' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/4911076938259900214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/4911076938259900214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/09/her-majesty.html' title='Her Majesty'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RuXzIAUOmuI/AAAAAAAAAJg/DT9Z5kc5VY0/s72-c/HermajestyTheQueenofEngland06021953.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-2192876563819204267</id><published>2007-09-01T11:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-01T13:01:05.721-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Decade...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RtmGRwUOmsI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/gnuymAYArvs/s1600-h/Diana+++Diana.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105259292186811074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RtmGRwUOmsI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/gnuymAYArvs/s200/Diana+++Diana.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;I was sitting here thinking of what to write---I had the Marie Antoinette things laid out, and then I grabbed a book about ladies in waiting---but then remembered, its been &lt;em&gt;a decade&lt;/em&gt;. And since its been ten years since her death, I'd be a terrible Writer of Queens if I didn't remember this beautiful woman, the woman we remember as Queen of our Hearts--Diana. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;We now know that when this picture was taken, at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Highgrove&lt;/span&gt;--the family's country home--that Diana was simply miserable. There were many times she cried in the loo, or a locked room---and little William would pass her tissues under the door. Diana has said for all intents and purposes the marriage was over after the birth of Harry, yet---they still posed for pictures, still tried to be the happy family---at least to the world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;It was at about this time that Diana began spending long, long stretches of time in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;their&lt;/span&gt; home in London, at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kensington&lt;/span&gt; Palace. Charles preferred &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Highgrove&lt;/span&gt;. Diana's sanctuary was her bedroom and sitting area, filled with her many stuffed animals...even a large hippo, which was placed by the fireplace. She and the kids loved to kick back, sit on the couch and watch movies, and eat on tray tables...they just had lots of fun. Those kids were everything to her and those children helped keep her sane. She had so many pressures that we cannot even imagine. Everyone was picking at her, everyone wanted a piece and she never knew who she could trust. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Her rooms were filled with all her favorite pictures of family---her sitting room had long, flowing chintzy drapes at the windows. There was a desk in there and couches...she loved it in there. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; where she entertained her children and friends---and even &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;received&lt;/span&gt; her designers and secretary to discuss the days events--or look over clothing selections. The Diana in the above picture was just beginning to evolve into the Princess we knew in the 1990's. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;There is a new book out, which most of you probably have heard of by now--The Diana Chronicles. I have not read it myself, but will of course. But there are many, many others and I have read them all, even the very first one put out by Prince Charles's valet, back in the 1980's. Since then there's been so many tell &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;alls&lt;/span&gt;---and they all paint a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;slightly&lt;/span&gt; different portrait. Andrew Morton's book has to been given serious credence, I think, because Diana herself was so involved in them. However, we are reading in there what Diana wanted &lt;em&gt;us &lt;/em&gt;to know and not necessarily the whole unvarnished truth. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;One of the best books I've read, and it was very long and detailed, was the book written by Sally &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Bedell&lt;/span&gt; Smith. Diana's blue blood went back approximately 500 years---and being from a noble family, she knew her worth. There are the royals and the nobles. Diana was from a noble family. Some nobility have as much royal blood in them as the royals do. Smith went into that aspect of Diana's family history as well, and you come away with a better idea of what it felt like to be a Spencer. Being a Spencer was almost like being a---well, a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Devonshire&lt;/span&gt;! The castles that the royals inhabit--&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Sandringham&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Balmoral&lt;/span&gt;--- are much smaller and considered mere cottages as compared to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Althorp&lt;/span&gt; House, the seat of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Spencers&lt;/span&gt;. And in the nobility circles---many of the royals now---well, let's just say they are considered "new" by noble standards...only being in the family 50 years or so. But of course, I say that with the deepest respect for the Crown. I'm just passing on what I've read. And Sally's book chronicles the marriage, and the behind the scenes &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;machinations&lt;/span&gt; of both Diana's camp and Charles's, all the while letting you know what the average reader like us was hearing at the time...but what might have been &lt;em&gt;really &lt;/em&gt;happening and why. And yes, this is the book where Sally says that Diana had a personality disorder. Oh, who will ever know, and do we even care at this point? Still, the book is packed with the most fascinating information and so, if you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;haven't&lt;/span&gt; studied her at all and are interested, I'd say try her book, "Diana". (I'll let you know about Royal Chronicles after I've read it.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;I'd like to think that if she had lived---and oh, don't we wish she had!!---that she would've really come around and been comfortable in her own skin and a bit proud of her accomplishments. Her face would be lined a little more, but her smile still radiant. Her hair might have been a little shorter and looser---or maybe a little spikier in places and colored with light golden &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;blond&lt;/span&gt; streaks, her make-up delicious, her skin still radiant, her gems brilliant. She'd be giving everyone a run for their money, and she would have been involved in so many charities and issues---she'd be jet setting all over the world on these missions. And I'm not saying she was a jet setter. But she would have been busy with important humanitarian issues--perhaps in a way that Angelina Jolie has sought to do. I think she would have spent much time abroad---in America, for one, because she was SO accepted in America. But enough of that. It appears her son's are doing much of this in their own quiet way. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Did you know that Diana loved to clean and tidy? She was very good at it, too. She liked order. Before she married Prince Charles, her flat was immaculate. In later years she hated being alone--eating alone--sleeping alone. And she was alone a lot. She had her favorite close friends whom she'd phone and talk for hours and at the end of her life she even ventured into the kitchen to make a few dishes and she was quite proud of that. She was very good about writing thank-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;you's&lt;/span&gt; and she did them the minute she returned home from an event. She thanked everyone for what they did, no matter how small. She really was a lady in that way...and this was something instilled in her by her father..."Diana, have you finished your thank &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;you's&lt;/span&gt;?" he'd &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;say. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;It's been said that she was estranged from her mother at the time she died. I know that she adored her brother, but was hurt by him before she died---she had asked him for something---for a room or an area alone at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Althorp&lt;/span&gt;--and he had declined saying that if she were to come, there would be her security to deal with and the press and he had turned her down, at least temporarily. Maybe he would have changed his mind and they would have worked that one out, but she died before they could. And there was some tension at times between she and a sister---her sister was married to one of the Queen's secretary's and so that sister probably heard things about Diana from a different vantage point and so it was hard for Diana to relax and be herself around that sister. But all in all, she loved her family. But--she was hurt. She felt she had no one to turn to--no one--that there was no where in the world she could go to get away and be by herself and be protected--&lt;em&gt;no one to lean on&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; all she ever wanted...to be protected, and to have someone safe to lean on. She felt abandoned.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;And she may have been...abandoned...in a sense. You would never think of someone as beautiful as Diana as being alone. Lonely. Who could she trust? Who was really there &lt;em&gt;for her?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;If she only knew how &lt;em&gt;loved &lt;/em&gt;she really was.... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Hopefully, looking down now,(if she can) she is fully aware of the love there is for her, and she does not feel abandoned any longer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-2192876563819204267?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/2192876563819204267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=2192876563819204267' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/2192876563819204267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/2192876563819204267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/09/decade.html' title='A Decade...'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RtmGRwUOmsI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/gnuymAYArvs/s72-c/Diana+++Diana.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-2457147100400385941</id><published>2007-09-01T10:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-01T13:04:35.285-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dark Skies Over Windsor Castle</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rtl9FAUOmrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/F3khOT6p2_w/s1600-h/inner+court+at+windsor+castle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105249177538828978" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rtl9FAUOmrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/F3khOT6p2_w/s200/inner+court+at+windsor+castle.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;It was on a cold and stormy day like this, at Windsor Castle, in December of 1841, that the servants and inhabitants of the Castle, and the family--the royal family, wandered the cold grounds in worry and worked in silence inside. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rtl8cgUOmpI/AAAAAAAAAI4/XnysV0_yiZo/s1600-h/storm+over+windsor.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105248481754126994" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rtl8cgUOmpI/AAAAAAAAAI4/XnysV0_yiZo/s200/storm+over+windsor.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt; Inside the Blue room located near the family's apartments, was a man of 42 years of age, struggling to get better, laid up in bed, hot and sweaty. His daughter read to him, his wife stroked his head...his daughter played music for him, the doctors ministered to him. He would rally and be better...and then shockingly, turn feverish again...and the doctor's were not sure what to do. His wife whispered to him in german---sweet things--and then, when she was overcome--would leave the sickroom and go for a walk outside, in the cold air under grey, stormy skies, with the stark light grey of the castle stone hurting her eyes---well, she had been crying, and it hurt to look up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Below is the story of that time in December. I wrote this for The Royalist, and would like to share it with you now...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Victoria's Lasting Tribute to Her Beloved Albert &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Written by Susan Flanders for the Royalist&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.theroyalist.net/membersonly/march06/Frogmore2large.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;On March 15th 1862, Queen Victoria laid the first stone in the foundation which would one day be her final resting place. It was an act she undertook for all of the new homes and buildings which would come to be of such importance in her life.This particular stone was laid with a heavy heart as it was being built years earlier than it should have been. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Never, in her wildest dreams, would she have ever thought she would be laying the stone for the house that would hold Albert’s remains for all eternity. Her beloved Prince Consort had died in December 1861, having being seriously ill for several weeks. Although aware her husband was very sick, it was an understatement to say that his death came as a shock to the Queen. Days, even hours earlier, the doctors had believed the Prince to be making progress. Victoria had stayed with him, sitting by the bed, writing that she "found him very quiet and comfortably warm, and so dear and kind, {he} called me "gutes Frauchen" and kissed me so affectionately and so completely like himself, and I held his dear hands between mine." To the relief of the whole family, most especially the Queen, Albert seemed to continue to rally. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;The doctors were convinced the Prince had typhoid, possibly contracted due to the poor drainage system at Windsor Castle. However, it is a diagnosis which will likely never be fully confirmed. Victoria and Albert’s daughter, Princess Alice truly adored her father. Throughout his illness she sat by his sickbed, hour after hour, day after day, reading to Papa and playing the piano in an attempt to help soothe his ordeal. Queen Victoria was never far away, gently wiping her husband's brow, holding him in her arms, or whispering loving words in German. She rarely left Albert's side, except to get a few hours of fitful sleep or to take in a little exercise. On the evening of 14th of December — a date that would, for many terrible reasons, haunt the Queen forever — Albert became weaker. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;The Queen was summoned to his bedside, as were their children, although four of the nine royal offspring were missing. An increasingly distraught Victoria couldn’t believe what was happening. It &lt;em&gt;couldn’t&lt;/em&gt; be. He was supposed to be getting better. After all, at 7am on that very morning she had been informed that the Prince was "better than he has been yet" and that "there is grounds to think that the crisis is over." Kneeling before her darling husband, the only man she had ever truly loved, Victoria watched in increasing horror and fear as Albert's life began to ebb away. How could the doctors have been so wrong? She had another eight children to raise; baby Beatrice was not even five years old. She needed him!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;All too soon, however, Victoria's worst fears were confirmed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.theroyalist.net/membersonly/march06/Frogmoretogetherlarge.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Inside the Blue Room at Windsor Castle, Albert looked peaceful one moment and then, according to Victoria herself, "two or three long but gentle breaths were drawn, the hand clasping mine and...all, all was over...I stood up, kissed his dear heavenly forehead and called out in a bitter and agonising cry: "Oh! My dear darling!" and then dropped to my knees in mute, distracted despair, unable to utter a word or shed a tear!".The man born Francis Albert Augustus Charles Emmanuel, Prince of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, the somewhat brilliant man who had truly revolutionised not only Victoria's personal life, but her reign too, was gone. He was just 42 years old. How could Victoria ever, &lt;em&gt;ever&lt;/em&gt; go on without him? He had been her dearest friend, her husband, lover, protector and advisor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Observers from the time suggested the Queen, in shock at the turn of events, was taken out of the Prince's bedchamber and helped to a sofa in the Red Room, where she laid down and uttered in despair: &lt;em&gt;"There is no one to call me Victoria now."&lt;/em&gt; She spent the rest of the night lying with Albert’s nightshirt in her arms, baby Beatrice sleeping at her side. But Victoria herself did not sleep. Her life was in turmoil. She did not want to live. She could not cry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Now, on March 15th 1862, here she was, laying the rock which would be Frogmore. It would be their mausoleum, and every waking second left to her would be spent making it beautiful for Albert. In some measure, the plans and building of the mausoleum brought the Queen some peace. A hugely religious lady, Queen Victoria believed he was waiting for her on the other side, and she set her thoughts "on the things above." Building Frogmore was important to the Prince Consort’s memory and equally as important to Queen Victoria’s great need to begin the healing process. She had personally chosen the spot for 'our' Frogmore, north of Home Park near Windsor Castle, just days after his death. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Only after she made this decision did she agree to leave Windsor and return to Osborne House on the Isle of Wight, to grieve and remain secluded. Osborne was the private house which Albert had built for her. But it was more than that: it was a home.Once here, however, the Queen was consumed with thoughts of Frogmore and spent many hours working on the plans for the beautiful place she would now build for him...for them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.theroyalist.net/membersonly/march06/Frogmorelarge.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;In the years to come, the aging but still mournful Victoria spent many hours inside Frogmore, it helping to soothe and comfort her. When she entered the ornate building, she was reminded of Albert at once and felt at peace with the world. It was a unique place; not gloomy, simply quite beautiful. Even on the day of the wedding of her son and heir, Edward, Prince of Wales to the beautiful Princess Alexandra of Denmark, the Queen sought solace inside the Royal mausoleum. Prior to the wedding, the Queen took her son and future daughter-in-law inside the mausoleum---telling the bride and groom 'he' would have approved of the marriage. At the end of the day, the final guests having left Windsor, the Queen took refuge once more inside the building and "prayed by that beloved resting place, feeling soothed and calmed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;The Queen's mourning continued for many, many years (perhaps too many years). Finally refreshed, Her Majesty finally returned to the role of England's Sovereign and mother to the Empire. It may only be a building to some, but the mausoleum at Frogmore gave the Queen the rest she needed and the strength to go on. Knowing there was Frogmore, and that it was just theirs, and theirs alone, Victoria had no fear of life, nor of death. The essence of Frogmore is a glimpse of Victoria herself. To visit Frogmore today is to gain, over a century and a half later, a glimpse into one of history's most remarkable royal love stories, the like of which we may never witness again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.kqzyfj.com/click-2486411-10420611" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-2457147100400385941?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/2457147100400385941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=2457147100400385941' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/2457147100400385941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/2457147100400385941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/09/dark-skies-over-windsor-castle.html' title='Dark Skies Over Windsor Castle'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rtl9FAUOmrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/F3khOT6p2_w/s72-c/inner+court+at+windsor+castle.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-7924618200005261764</id><published>2007-07-21T19:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T00:10:50.307-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby grows up</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RqKYwo7uLOI/AAAAAAAAAIo/Q4PTXnVrwSc/s1600-h/a++princess-beatrice.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089798490271132898" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RqKYwo7uLOI/AAAAAAAAAIo/Q4PTXnVrwSc/s200/a++princess-beatrice.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RqKYc47uLNI/AAAAAAAAAIg/rc6rcYZcxmw/s1600-h/q.+ena%27s+wedding+dress.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089798150968716498" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RqKYc47uLNI/AAAAAAAAAIg/rc6rcYZcxmw/s200/q.+ena%27s+wedding+dress.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Beatrice knew in her heart that sooner or later her dear Mama---Queen Victoria of all Britain---would give in, eventually, and let her marry the man of her dreams. Wouldn't she?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;As I said in an earlier post, the Queen was furious with Beatrice for putting her in this position! &lt;em&gt;She simply couldn't do without&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;her daughter&lt;/em&gt;. Didn't everyone understand that? Beatrice was her confidante and she relied on her immensely for so many things. She had the weight of her world on her shoulders, and dear Albert, her husband was gone. Her nerves had been through so much. She couldn't live without Beatrice at her side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;And Beatrice dreamed of her new love night after night, knowing deep in her heart that she had met the man of her dreams, and oh, how could she ever give him up? She didn't want to hurt Mama in any way but why couldn't Mama understand that all Beatrice wanted was what the Queen &lt;em&gt;herself &lt;/em&gt;had wanted and cherished...a man to love her and a house filled with children?She wanted to marry sweet "Liko" as he was known---the handsomest of the Battenberg brothers. And what was more, he loved her, too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;And thus began "The Battle Royale"---if there ever was one---this was it. Mother and daughter did not speak to each other. Oh, Beatrice did what she needed to do...she continued to arrange the flow of her mother's day and announce her mothers visitors and did her obligatory secretarial work, but when mealtime came, she sat in silence and ate quietly. She would not speak to her mother unless it was something of the utmost importance, most likely involving matters of the crown. There was no more small talk or gossip or even smiling. If Victoria wanted her to stay that badly, then fine. She'd stay. But she'd be as quiet as a mouse and as lifeless as could be. Needless to say, Beatrice must have been depressed and anxious over the whole situation. It was tearing her to bits. As much as she loved her mother, she was angry, too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;As for Victoria, her nerves began to be strained to the breaking point. During meals, her daughter sat quietly and stoically, ignoring her and barely speaking to anyone. As the days and weeks wore on, Beatrice became a changed woman. The Queen was distressed and quite sick over the whole ordeal. However, Beatrice had to understand that the Queen could not be &lt;em&gt;familiar&lt;/em&gt; with anyone else. She needed a confidante and daughter that she could be intimate with. Her other daughters were off and married, some of them in far away lands. And the Queen was so lonely without her dearest husband Albert who had died so young. And he really was her &lt;em&gt;dearest&lt;/em&gt; Albert...never had a husband been so loved. (&lt;em&gt;And I mean&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt;!) What was Beatrice trying to do to her? If she allowed Beatrice to leave Britain and marry, she would not have the strength to go on. Her life was a series of pressures and obligations and she could not bear it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Do you know this went on...&lt;em&gt;not six weeks&lt;/em&gt;...but nearly &lt;em&gt;six months?&lt;/em&gt; I don't know many people--or anyone for that matter, that dared to push Victoria's emotions to those limits. But finally the good Queen remembered her sweet, lovely days when she was a newlywed and the times she spent with the one man who she could truly be herself with...Prince Albert. She loved him passionately, wholeheartedly...what would her life have been without him? And...thinking like this...she realized that her baby just wanted the same thing...a man to adore her and a family. Did Victoria have the right, just because of her position, to insist her daughter have less than she herself had had?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;She summoned Beatrice and offered a compromise....She could marry Henry of Battenberg---"Liko"---if she promised to remain in England at her side as her confidante, with her new husband and any children that might arrive in the future. Nothing could change. Beatrice's husband and any children would have to stay with the Queen always---and travel with her to her different homes and to London. Beatrice, ecstatic, agreed quickly to the idea and Liko also jumped at the chance. And so they were engaged and a lavish wedding on the grounds of Victoria's house on the Isle of Wight was planned. There would be tents on the grounds, flowers and a royal menu par excellence. Although Victoria was a bit nervous, despite herself, she enjoyed the planning and it did her heart good to see her daughter so contented...and began to become quite fond of Liko herself. The picture on the top left is of the royal wedding gown laid out and prepared before the wedding day. That's what things looked like in their home. For once, Beatrice felt like a Queen. Victoria even allowed Beatrice to wear her very own wedding veil....a sacred thing...and even joined the festivities of the wedding---to the degree that Victoria allowed herself to do that sort of thing. She was a bit teary when Princess Beatrice and her new husband pulled away in the carriage to begin their honeymoon. But, she stoically wiped her tears away. She would not let anyone see her emotion. These feelings would be recorded in her diary. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Beatrice had 3 children with Liko, and the eldest child was named "Ena." Ena was a "favourite" of the Queen's...(that' what the English Royals called it---favourite). Victoria had several grandchildren that she was particularly attached to....but I won't tell you all of that now....we can save that for another day. Queen Victoria allowed the three darlings to run and play in the palaces to a degree that she had &lt;em&gt;never&lt;/em&gt; allowed her very&lt;em&gt; own&lt;/em&gt; children to do. The children were allowed to be somewhat intimate with their grandmother, which was quite rare. Royal protocol was lessened just a bit when it came to her three grandchildren. Pictures of the Queen during this time show her content...and rarely did she smile, but when she was with the young family, she did smile more and she became more relaxed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Beatrice stayed extremely close to her mother, so close that at times she felt she neglected her children just a little. Truly, she was a woman caught in the middle and this was difficult for her, but she managed to handle herself with a dignity and grace that--- really--- has not been widely recognized, but should be. Victoria was really at her best then...a tough Queen, seasoned, but very fair...and her legacy at the end of her life--- I think--- is in much part due to the devotion of Beatrice. There is not that much information on Beatrice...but, there will be a book coming out in the future on her. It's called The Last Princess, and it is not available in the United States yet.(sigh) but it is available to those of you in the UK. (Yes, I've thought of getting it from the United Kingdom!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Beatrice simply adored her husband--and Victoria found him quite "amiable". I daresay---and this is my opinion only---that these happy years reminded Victoria very much of her young married years with Albert. There was laughter and joy again in their homes again, and Liko, in his own way, looked after them in a sort of protective way which I think the Queen needed badly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Ah....fairytales....they really do come true. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;There's some sadness in their story...but, I am not here to make you sad. I'm here to tell you that Beatrice got the joy that she feared would elude her forever...loving a dear man...having her children...and doing the job she was born to do for her beloved "mama'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;And Ena grew up to be a beautiful girl, and a Queen too. She also carried the hemophiliac gene. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Perhaps on another post I can talk more about Beatrice and Liko, and their life together. I'm definitely not finished with Beatrice yet, that's for sure. I've got Beatrice on the brain! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Speaking about what's on the brain, I'm working on a new, long piece for the Royalist. I'm hoping it will turn out good. I'll let you know when it's ready. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;I've also been having a grand time on my new My Space page. I worked on it several weeks before I started adding friends. Its a blast!! I love it! Why am I always the last one to find out these things? LOL... My page has a royal theme (how did you ever guess?) and it's really been lots of fun. I also added so many new friends to my Bebo page.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;One of my dear friends sold her second book---and I just saw the cover!! Its sooo pretty and once its closer to publication maybe I'll ask her if I can post some information on it here....or perhaps even interview her or something. She loves royalty, castles and all of that too---and her novel is filled with a knight, a castle and a lot of love. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Several writers have written to me to ask if they can link up with this blog---silly! Of course you can. But it's very sweet of them to ask and I'm honored that anyone would like this enough to link to it. Someone also wrote me to ask if they can interview me about writing about Queens....I don't have all the details yet, but that's such compliment. I don't know much really---except about Queens, that is. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;It's a lazy Sunday afternoon and my little Prince and my King are food shopping and I am supposed to be cleaning up a little instead of writing about Queens! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Please let me know what you'd like to read about and I'll try to write about it.... I was even thinking of adding an extra page or two for fiction stories &amp; excerpts on my "Queens novels"....its just a thought. Oh, do I dare?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Psssst.....That picture on the top left...it's really Ena's wedding dress laid out. But I didn't want to spoil the story...you get the idea. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;And in case you're wondering what Princess Diana's private little nickname was...(&lt;em&gt;you probably&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;haven't been able to sleep nights wondering, I know!)&lt;/em&gt; ...only family and very close friends called her this...they called her "Duch." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Stay cozy in your castles this week and treat yourselves like the Queens you are...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-7924618200005261764?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/7924618200005261764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=7924618200005261764' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/7924618200005261764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/7924618200005261764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/07/baby-grows-up.html' title='Baby grows up'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RqKYwo7uLOI/AAAAAAAAAIo/Q4PTXnVrwSc/s72-c/a++princess-beatrice.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-791767808098546444</id><published>2007-07-06T18:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-06T19:53:53.850-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Peeking In</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Ro7Cq2UQpaI/AAAAAAAAAHo/vDIy7oghVpQ/s1600-h/entrance,+reflective.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084215070738654626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Ro7Cq2UQpaI/AAAAAAAAAHo/vDIy7oghVpQ/s320/entrance,+reflective.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;What is it about those castles, those princesses, those lives...that makes us want to peek in? What is it about them that draws us in and makes us wonder? Is it the idea of the fairytale...do we want to make sure they lived happily ever after? Will they teach us how? Or could it be the gold and the jewels and the beautiful things that we don't have and wish we did? Maybe we want to be the ones behind those doors looking out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For me, it is the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;constancy&lt;/span&gt; of royalty that intrigues me and soothes me. They are true stories, but for me, they never end. They are there no matter what. The long, drawn out stories of their lives are there on rainy days and lonely days and happy days and fearful ones. I can depend on them to be the same and never change. It's one thing in this long and changing thing we call life that doesn't go away. All the details are firmly in place and they will stay that way forever. The written word has captured a moment and feeling in time. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; what I like. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; what I crave. I want to be there with them in that moment. Maybe that's what you like too. I guess we all have our own reasons...but, certainly they entertain us all and let us believe in magic a little while reminding us of things that will always be true. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'll be writing another piece for The Royalist soon and I'm sitting here with biographies and large picture books scattered all over the room in different piles. And I'm thinking. Something on Queen Mary might be nice...the younger Queen Mary when she was known as Princess May of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Teck&lt;/span&gt; (that's the present Queen's grandmother) or maybe something on the 5 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;daughters&lt;/span&gt; of Queen Victoria. (Oh, they were a lively bunch!) I guess I'll have to think about that over the weekend and decide. Hopefully, it will turn out well. Maybe I'll do a two &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;parter&lt;/span&gt; this time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have to say that I'm humbled at the response I've received from the writers and readers I've heard from recently about how much they are enjoying the blog. Who would have ever thought? Not me. It took all my courage to throw my work out there, but I'm glad I did. If nothing else, its entertaining. I'll just stick to my formula which is to write about what I know. The majority of these posts are composed as I sit on my bed, from memory. I don't want them to be seriously historic or boring. I just like to relate what I think were some of the more interesting points in their lives, as people. Yes, they had their roles to play in history but they were people too---held to a higher standard than us at times---and somehow they survived it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I saw the memorial concert for Diana last week and she would be so proud of her boys. In the closet next to me are a collection of old Royalty magazines, with little Wills and Harry on the front. Some of them are even before William's time. It's so sad that Diana's life was cut so short. I know we still miss her. She will never be replaced. What a legacy she left us. She was such a sweet little dynamo, wasn't she? What a Queen she would have made! I still love reading about her and of course, have all her biographies on a special shelf in my bedroom. I'll never forget hearing on the radio, on my birthday---that Prince Charles was engaged. Later that night we saw her on TV in her blue suit, right off the rack. Even then I made a mental note of when the wedding was. I knew that London was 5 hours ahead of us here in the states and I knew I'd have to get up early to watch. I think I got up about 3:30 in the morning. I think I'm the only person who "watched" the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;calender&lt;/span&gt; go from the end of February till July that year. Even way back then I was a royal lover. I couldn't wait for the wedding. I hope sometime within the next five years to be waking up at 3:30 to watch William or Harry's wedding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Speaking of getting up early---that's what I have to do in the morning. (luckily not at 3:3o---I'd only do that for Diana!) But, I should be signing off. But before I go---do you know the special nickname that Diana's sisters (and a few close friends) had for her? If you don't, I'll tell you next time... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I won't forget to tell you what happened with "Baby" Princess Beatrice, and if she was able to pull off that wedding or not. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-791767808098546444?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/791767808098546444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=791767808098546444' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/791767808098546444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/791767808098546444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/07/peeking-in.html' title='Peeking In'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Ro7Cq2UQpaI/AAAAAAAAAHo/vDIy7oghVpQ/s72-c/entrance,+reflective.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-3682305445745382810</id><published>2007-07-04T11:37:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-04T13:00:48.082-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rou_smUQpZI/AAAAAAAAAHg/9WWwYjE1q-Y/s1600-h/2020453360094285158UOhUDT_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083367377338410386" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rou_smUQpZI/AAAAAAAAAHg/9WWwYjE1q-Y/s320/2020453360094285158UOhUDT_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;She was the baby of the family and her story is one of my favorites. This is a picture of Princess Beatrice on her wedding day, wearing her mother's wedding veil. Her mother, of course, was Queen Victoria. Beatrice was the only daughter---and there were many---to be given the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;privilege&lt;/span&gt; of wearing Victoria's own veil of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;honitan&lt;/span&gt; lace. (I'm doing this from memory...so I hope I have that right, about the name of the lace!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;It might seem at times that whenever you read about the royals, Queen Victoria's name pops up somehow. That's because Victoria really was considered the "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;grandmama&lt;/span&gt; of Europe." &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; because her relatives---and then her children and grandchildren went on to assume many of the thrones of Europe. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;But back to Beatrice...the baby. As much as Victoria moaned about being pregnant and loathed it---in the end, the pregnancy and birth of baby Beatrice was to begin one of the fulfilling relationships of her life. It all began on a chilly night in December, 1861. It was the night that young Beatrice's father died in the Blue Room at Windsor. But this just wasn't any father...this was Prince Albert, Queen Victoria's adored--and I mean adored--husband. The night he died, the agonized and grief stricken Queen, picked up her youngest child and carried Beatrice to her own bed, laying with her throughout the night, holding Albert's nightclothes and clutching their youngest child. There was something special about Beatrice...in some ways she was the nearest link to Albert. Beatrice comforted her. (I can write about the night Albert died in another post, but I warn you in advance, you may need some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;kleenex&lt;/span&gt;.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;The baby had been a happy and carefree child, full of enthusiasms--but, as Victoria's world crumbled on that terrible night, so would Beatrice's personality. Never again would relatives see the confident, bubbly personality of the old Beatrice. After that night it was buried away forever, and she became guarded. I'm sure it was partly shock--seeing her distraught mother and family--but it was also partly in response to the years of mourning that went on in the daily life of Victoria's court...crying, hushed voices, tension, melancholy, melodrama. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Each elder daughter took her turn in looking after her mother. They acted as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;liaisons&lt;/span&gt;, secretaries and precious shields, keeping away the world. Eventually, Beatrice rightfully assumed her turn. Because Beatrice was the baby, there was no question that she would &lt;em&gt;stay&lt;/em&gt; in this needed position. Whilst her other sisters married, marriage for Beatrice could not be a consideration. Quite frankly, Queen Victoria simply couldn't do without her. And that was that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Beatrice lived a quiet life, in rooms near her mother. She was at the Queen's side from morning till night, reading her letters, taking dictation and notes, keeping callers at bay and keeping her dear mother company. Beatrice was very good at it too. She naturally deferred to her mother's authority and her life was filled with all of the things that a loving companion would naturally do. She was protective, caring and genuinely adored her mother and enjoyed being with her, for the most part. She accompanied her from Buckingham Palace to Windsor Castle, then to Osborne House and we can't forget &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Balmoral&lt;/span&gt; Castle in Scotland. For the most part they traveled to and from the latter three homes as Victoria was much too nervous to spend too much time in London. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;But there always comes a time, when...well, &lt;em&gt;things change&lt;/em&gt;. And things changed in a big way for Beatrice. In her late twenties and already a confirmed spinster, she met Henry of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Battenberg&lt;/span&gt; at a large family event in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Darmstadt&lt;/span&gt;. She fell in love instantly with the very handsome &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Battenberg&lt;/span&gt;...all the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Battenberg&lt;/span&gt; brothers were known to be very handsome. And that was that. She could be as stubborn as her mother when it came right down to it. Well, she was her mother's daughter, wasn't she?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;She was absolutely determined to marry the man of her dreams and I must say---Queen Victoria was even more determined that things would stay &lt;em&gt;just the same&lt;/em&gt;. There would be no marriage, the Queen decreed. She simply couldn't do without her---she would not survive it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;But, as you saw above, the Princess was in her wedding dress and so, did it happen and if so, how the heck did Beatrice pull it off? When I tell you, you won't believe it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;But I'm getting tired now. We'll leave that story for another day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-3682305445745382810?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/3682305445745382810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=3682305445745382810' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/3682305445745382810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/3682305445745382810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/07/baby.html' title='Baby'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rou_smUQpZI/AAAAAAAAAHg/9WWwYjE1q-Y/s72-c/2020453360094285158UOhUDT_fs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-22042717502072348</id><published>2007-07-03T23:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-03T23:24:13.237-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Osborne; A Queen's Favorite Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RosQ5mUQpYI/AAAAAAAAAHY/WiNwR-Yj1t8/s1600-h/se_osborne_06_20070618171232.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083175186141848962" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RosQ5mUQpYI/AAAAAAAAAHY/WiNwR-Yj1t8/s320/se_osborne_06_20070618171232.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;This was originally written and published on The Royalist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Written by Susan Flanders&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday, 04 April 2006&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Victoria and Albert were married only several years and their family was beginning to grow slowly, with the addition of their children. The couple had restored not only dignity to the crown, but were an endless source of fascination for the nation.The young family represented stability and the young Queen took very seriously the many tasks undertook in relation to her role as Head of State. She was supremely happy with her husband and her private life was becoming more and more precious to her. More than anything, what she wanted was a normal family life...just like everyone else.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Whilst the Queen loved the excitement of being in London, she noticed that Albert was much happier while they were in the country. It seemed to soothe and invigorate him. It was therefore always a source of sadness to them when a visit to the country was nearing its close...yet, Victoria couldn’t often be away. Her Ministers would never hear of it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As monarch, she had use of Windsor Castle and Buckingham Palace in London, each one having its advantages as well as its drawbacks. Windsor was much too large and didn’t have the cosiness she craved.In turn, the Palace was really not ideal for the sovereign's growing family, who felt at times as if they were living in a goldfish bowl. Even when trying to go out for a walk, invariably there would be someone there to see them. There was no privacy.Windsor was preferable, and undoubtedly the more beautiful, but both homes belonged to the Crown. Victoria and Albert weren’t free to do as they pleased.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Ever sensitive to her husband's needs, the Queen pondered this and knew that Albert perceived both places as hers, and not his. Why couldn’t they, like any other married couple, have a home of their own?One day as the royal couple were taking a walk, they discussed this at length. If the new home could accommodate their servants and the Privy Council (if needed) it might work. There must also be room for the Prime Minister and important guests, as well as the ever-present aides, such as Private Secretaries.Excitedly, they discussed the options and decided they wanted to find a property of their own, to be paid for with their own money. If this could be achieved, they would own their very own home which, as Victoria mused, "&lt;em&gt;would be so nice&lt;/em&gt;".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;The young Queen remembered a special place from her youth: the Isle of Wight. That's where Norris Castle was and she had gone there with her mother in the summers while she was young.When thinking back to that carefree time near the sea, it brought with it happy images of her dogs running near the ocean, spending time outdoors, the smell of the sea and sleeping soundly through the night. 'Oh', she thought, 'if only I had bought it years ago when it was offered to me!'Sadly, she had not. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Soon, however, the royal couple were made aware of another home for sale on the Isle of Wight called Osborne. Albert went first to look at the house and property, alone. He arrived home late in the evening and the Queen excitedly awaited his impressions. Albert was happy with what he saw, Victoria recording that he was "&lt;em&gt;much pleased&lt;/em&gt;".They decided it would be wise to take a lease on the house for a year and, if they liked it, they could make the arrangements to buy it and make the necessary alterations to accommodate their staff, and to make it comfortable for the family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Seeing the house for the first time made quite an impression on the Queen. After sailing across the Solvent, they approached the property. Victoria was ecstatic. Noting that it was "&lt;em&gt;delightfully&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;private&lt;/em&gt;" — which was very important to her — they stayed on for several days to look over the house and spent hours alone investigating the property, going through the woods and strolling along the beach, with its beautiful panorama of blue waters.Victoria was thrilled with the house and grounds and felt it was paradise. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;The burden of duties on herself and Albert was causing both to feel prematurely aged. They were tired but now, finally, they would have a place to rest and to be totally alone.What more could the Queen want?Her husband was evidently happy here, on this lush land, and she loved the bracing sea air, which would be so good for them. She pronounced that the house was "&lt;em&gt;so complete and snug&lt;/em&gt;." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Victoria, who looked to Albert for wisdom in so many things, saw an excitement in him, an aliveness whilst he was on the property. She could see in his eyes that he loved the land and the sea, and the feeling of it all. She felt confident they would buy Osborne.Albert began to talk to her about what accommodations would need to be arranged, and spoke too about their future. He came up with ideas for the landscape and gardens and they even imagined that there might be a walk to the sea, lined by large evergreens. He reeled off the names of trees and plants that they might want to buy, and walked around the land, studying it's layout, all the time pointing out his ideas to his adoring wife. It was the beginning of a new life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;After some difficulties finalizing the sale, as well as the time it took to acquire the properties surrounding Osborne to assure their privacy, the royal couple's dream began to be realized. Albert made the purchase from their personal finances. Finally, they had their own home!The Queen's Ministers had no real problem with the idea of her "vacation" home, and Albert was excitedly working on the plans for the house. It was wonderful to see him so happy, so content and eager to create for himself and his beloved family the safe haven they needed. They would be in total seclusion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Victoria and Albert were never more excited.There was also an added bonus to this delightful place: when sailing across the Solent to Osborne, the Queen could disembark on her very own property! About hew new home, Victoria wrote to (her former Prime Minister) Lord Melbourne: "&lt;em&gt;It is impossible to see a prettier place, with woods and valleys and points de vue, which would be beautiful anywhere; but all this near the sea (the woods grow into the sea) is quite perfection. We have a charming beach quite to ourselves. The sea was so blue and calm that the Prince said it was like Naples. And then we can walk about anywhere by ourselves without fear of being followed and mobbed, which Lord Melbourne will easy understand is delightful&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Part II Below &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-22042717502072348?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/22042717502072348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=22042717502072348' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/22042717502072348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/22042717502072348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/07/osborne-queens-favorite-home.html' title='Osborne; A Queen&apos;s Favorite Home'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RosQ5mUQpYI/AAAAAAAAAHY/WiNwR-Yj1t8/s72-c/se_osborne_06_20070618171232.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-8873885990434908270</id><published>2007-07-03T22:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-03T23:43:33.369-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Osborne; A Queen's Favorite Home, Part II</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RosNJmUQpXI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/UoQ3Ug-BP3Y/s1600-h/51117291dvnQZS_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083171062973244786" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RosNJmUQpXI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/UoQ3Ug-BP3Y/s320/51117291dvnQZS_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RosMKWUQpWI/AAAAAAAAAHI/JECBnaVglFo/s1600-h/view+of+solvent.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083169976346518882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RosMKWUQpWI/AAAAAAAAAHI/JECBnaVglFo/s320/view+of+solvent.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RosL32UQpVI/AAAAAAAAAHA/giUeJg3Vixc/s1600-h/view+of+the+solvent.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Albert spent much time with the architect Thomas Cubitt reviewing the plans for the new house. It was decided that it was more practical to build a new home instead of adding on to the existing one. Whilst the extensive renovations were undertaken, the Royal family lived in the large, Georgian style home — already there — in which Victoria immediately felt comfortable.Eventually, once ready, the family would move into the new, larger house, the foundation of which was broken on March 16th 1845.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;     It was an exciting time. Long periods were spent in London and at Windsor Castle, but as soon as they could get away to the Isle of Wight they did. Here they could oversee the plans and watch the construction of their home.Not only was Albert fully aware of every detail of Osborne's progress, he was busily designing the landscape in his mind, and in his letters to family, rendering pictures for them in pen and ink of how the gardens might be laid out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Everything would have to be just right. The Queen would of course, need a bedroom and sitting room to overlook the magnificence of the blue Solvent, and he wanted to have the children close by as well, so that the environment would be family orientated and intimate. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;The close knit feeling they were striving for was unusual in comparison to what other royal families had done in the past.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;     Victoria and Albert chose an Italianate style for their huge, new home, partly because the view reminded the Prince Consort of Italy. The main part of the house was called The Pavilion. A tower was added, as well as a clock, which was scrutinized by Albert.Outside the Pavilion, a terrace was added which they would grow to love. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;     Many hours were spent there walking amongst the vibrant, colorful plants and flowers, with the waters as a backdrop. Sometimes it was a place to simply relax and converse, and at night time Victoria had the luxury of taking a stroll all by herself, or with Albert, to look at the waters which were sometimes lit up by the moon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;     Inside the Pavilion was a massive staircase which traversed many floors, around which were linked many rooms. The guest rooms were situated on the ground floor, included amongst which were the expansive drawing and dining rooms. Pictures of the dining room show that it had light pink walls with splashes of gold and maroon throughout, with heavy mirrors and paintings on the wall. Gleaming, dark furniture was placed under the paintings and heavy drapes hung at the windows, allowing a view of the sea. Enormous, colorful paintings covered every wall of the rooms downstairs, and many statues of the Royal family were placed on stands in the hallways and landings of the house. The hallways in particular took on a classical feeling. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;     Suites were prepared for the children and their nannies on the third floor. Each room seemed to have windows, almost from floor to ceiling. To protect the children, bars were put across the windows. Just below it on the second floor, for themselves, Victoria and Albert designed a bedroom, sitting rooms and dressings rooms.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;     The Queen never tired of sitting near her French windows, simply enjoying the scenery or painting watercolor pictures and sketches of the views outside. Painting was a favorite past-time and the pictures she created were light, airy and done in pastel hues.The contents of the rooms were considered comfortable by royal standards, but they were far from opulent. Again, in their private quarters, Albert consumed the walls with his favorite large paintings and a Winterhalter portrait. One luxury they did allow themselves was a bathroom each, with as much hot water as they desired. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;     The doorways had a unique combination of the letters V and A, intertwined, which adorned the tops. The furniture was all comfortable and picked out personally by Prince Albert. There was chintz on some of the furniture and also at the windows.Victoria loved Windsor Castle, but did note about Osborne “&lt;em&gt;here and dear Windsor, like night and day&lt;/em&gt;". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;     The Queen spent time working on her dispatch boxes and paperwork, while Albert would usually head outside to see about one of his many projects.Victoria was more than pleased that her husband was so happy, noting: "&lt;em&gt;It does one's heart good to see how my beloved Albert enjoys it all, and is so full of all the plans and improvements he means to carry out. He is hardly to be kept at home for a moment.&lt;/em&gt;" Yes, this was where they belonged. Victoria had no doubt about that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;     A wing for the household was also added to the new home. Osborne soon became an impressive building when seen from the sea, as the sailboats and steamships moved about on the Solvent. Sometimes, while watching the dark storm clouds roll in, the Queen could see her yacht, the Victoria and Albert.Her Majesty's carriage, when it arrived, could be pulled up snugly underneath the portico, which was attached to the Pavilion. The exterior of the house was covered in a stucco-like material, made to resemble stone. It was only a 4 hour journey from London to Osborne, making it a wonderful escape for the family and far away from the rigid and formal court life they were used to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;     Trips to Osborne caused much anticipation, especially for the Queen, who knew that soon she would be able to spend quiet time alone with her family, and most especially Albert. She loved having him all to herself. Once they left London, at least some of the burdens were lifted from her husband's shoulders and she knew he would relax and she could be herself.Time at Osborne allowed Victoria the intimacy she craved, a level of which her position normally didn't allow. Victoria confided: "&lt;em&gt;Never do I enjoy myself more or more peacefully then when I can be so much with my beloved Albert...follow him everywhere&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;     It was also during these early years that the Queen swam in the sea for the first time in her life. Heaven! Many years went into the planning and building of Osborne. Guests acknowledged the attention to details within the house and its uniqueness. Visitors were usually comfortable there. It wasn’t long before the family settled themselves into a routine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;     Their day usually started at around 7am. Albert got up first and headed to his dressing room where he began to work on his paperwork, focusing on correspondence, current projects or memorandums.Victoria, more relaxed, lounged in her soft, cozy bed for another hour or two. Much of the time she spent there she was pregnant.Sometimes, on warm days, they breakfasted on the terrace with some of the older children. As usual, after they ate, Victoria and Albert strolled through the grounds. Weather permitting, the Queen would sketch or, Albert by her side, spend time with their children. Sometimes they collected shells at the waters edge or explored the property.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;     The royal children had a large Swiss Cottage, which served as a play house, all of the contents of which were in miniature, even the saucepans.As a treat, Albert would cook his children a surprise: a German meal! He also taught them to garden, each having their own area of land and paid for whatever vegetables they were able to grow. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;     These were exciting times for the children, some of whom grew to have a lifelong love of the outdoors.Everywhere you looked within this royal home there was a token of love---a piece of a memory---a sprinkle of meaning---and a creation remembered. Truly, the Queen thought, we are living in a dream. It was Victoria’s deepest hope and lifelong desire that the home stay in the family for generations...a place of beloved memories and comfort to her grandchildren and their children.Monarchs have wished for many things, but they do not always possess the power to make a dream come true. Queen Victoria's dream was that Osborne would withstand the torrents of time, going on forever.Sadly, this was one dream which was never destined to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http:///" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.theroyalist.net/index.php?option=com_combomax&amp;page=reportComment&amp;amp;commentid=12174" target="_SELF"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-8873885990434908270?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/8873885990434908270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=8873885990434908270' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/8873885990434908270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/8873885990434908270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/07/osborne-queens-favorite-home-part-ii.html' title='Osborne; A Queen&apos;s Favorite Home, Part II'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RosNJmUQpXI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/UoQ3Ug-BP3Y/s72-c/51117291dvnQZS_fs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-1715357966309375692</id><published>2007-07-03T22:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-03T22:43:24.908-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"Dearest Child"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RosFuGUQpUI/AAAAAAAAAG0/OYEnnfArIRU/s1600-h/vicky!.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083162893945447746" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RosFuGUQpUI/AAAAAAAAAG0/OYEnnfArIRU/s320/vicky!.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;One of my favorite books is one called Dearest Child. It's a book of letters from Queen Victoria to her eldest daughter, Vicky. This is her. Vicky was Princess Frederick of Prussia and later Empress of Prussia---she waited many years for her husband, Fritz, to assume the Prussian Throne and he did not reign long. After her husband's life was cut short, her son "Willy" began his reign and treated his mother with cruelty. Willy was very well known throughout Europe--he had a lame arm, shorter than the other, and kept it in a special constructed pocket, so that it wouldn't be noticed. But Willy was noticed by everyone--he was quite a character. Why though, did he feel it necessary to be cruel to his own mother?&lt;br /&gt;This is where the lives of Royalty parallel our own lives--real life. Vicky suffered at the hands of her child, her eldest son. And like most mothers, she worried about him, cared for him and cherished him. She did everything in her power to heal the arm. No treatment was spared. As a young wife, she wrote to her own mother---Queen Victoria---pouring out her pain and her fears. As a mother, Victoria worried and sympthasied with her daughter and sent advice. Victoria had nine children of her own and so she wasn't inexperienced in child rearing.&lt;br /&gt;The book contains letters---not so much from a Queen to a Princess, but, more as a mother to a daughter. They really loved one another greatly, and the distance they were separated made it all the more poignant and difficult. They wrote constantly to each other, with the letters being sent by a special courier much of the time. The letters are timeless. It shows that nothing much has changed between mother and daughter relationships in the last 150 years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Let me quote some:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Victoria to Vicky, Buckingham Palace, February 7, 1858&lt;/em&gt;.....'I think of you so much and long to know what you are doing---but, alas! I cannot tell! I had hoped to get a telegraph, but have had none, and no one has told me what your toilette was to be these next days! Oh! this terrible separation, till one hears and knows all---it makes one so terribly fidgety and impatient.' and 'Do let Lady Churchill describe all your rooms at the Palace at Berlin and you must tell me exactly how your hours are---what you do---when you dress and undress and have breakfast, etc., for you know what we do to a minute but unfortunately we know nothing and that makes the separation so much more trying.' and 'Get Jane C. to tell me about your rooms---the railway carriages etc. Has the railway carriage got a small room to it? And (you will think me as bad as Leopold B,) were your room on the journey and at Potsdam arranged according to the English fashion? Then I see by the papers you wore a green dress at the Cologne concert. Was that the one with black lace?---You must not be impatient about all these details which I am so anxious to know, for I am anxious to know how all my toilettes succeeded? The pink ball dress as Brussels was much admired. How I do long to hear all about the King and Queen and family.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Vicky to Queen Victoria, Berlin, February 12, 1858&lt;/em&gt;.....'We always breakfast a nine or a quarter past just the same as at home, then I sit down to write, speak to Doctor Wegner, then to the Baron, and usually Heinz has some question to ask about the dinner or about presentations. At twelve everyday we have received deputations and addresses and presents from different towns, it becomes very tiresome at last; they all make long speeches, and poor Fritz has to answer them which he does quite wonderfully. He has such a command of the language. I have never heard him hesitate once. As soon as the business is over we dine out of the town and then walk in the places where we are least tormented by being run after. Our usual dinner hour is at five, as I ever take anything between breakfast and dinner, and then nothing afterwards. And I find that rather pleasant; the gentleman and ladies sit or stand and talk a little after dinner, and then we usually do back to our room and go to bed about half past ten or eleven when there are no balls or opera or parties, but that is a rare case.' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Victoria to Vicky, Buckingham Palace, February 15, 1858&lt;/em&gt;.....' Your dear letter of the 12th and 13th arrived safely this morning, with heaps of other letters and newspapers so that I could hardly get through them but yours are always so well written, so well expressed that independent of the happiness of hearing from you, they are a real pleasure to receive. I am happy to think you have a little leisure, for that cutting up of your day is very bad for every thing, for the mind as well as the body. The cold I am sure, dear, helps to keep you so well and brisk---quite as much as the hours (which I can't bear to think of, though I wish particularly to follow them when we visit you)---for you will recollect how you used to shiver when it was damp and mild---whereas the bright, dry frosty, cold always did you good, warmed you and made you less chilly. I think it hardly safe to from 9 &amp;1/4 till 5 without anything? I would advise never to do it if you felt faint or hungry---but take a biscuit or dry crust. You take, I suppose, a cup of tea at night? Only remember that the better you become acquainted with the family and court the more you must watch yourself and keep yourself under restraint. No familiarity---no loud laughing. You know, dearest, how necessary it is to have self control, tiresome as it may be. Kindness, friendliness and civility but no familiarity except with your parents (in-law).'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;From Vicky to Victoria, Berlin, February 15, 1958&lt;/em&gt;.....'Dear Mama, I did not think you would miss me as you do, I was often such a plague to you; but sweet is the thought that one is missed by those whom one loves so passionately, so intensely as I love Papa and you, and the dear children and the whole of England. It pains me that you should still be sad. If you knew how nearer I feel drawn to you, my beloved parents; instead of feeling myself cut off from you, I feel that I am serving you both and proving my deep gratitude to you, in doing my duty here and in imitating your great and glorious example. I may I hope be of real use to you. How happy that would make me. '&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I think they said it all.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-1715357966309375692?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/1715357966309375692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=1715357966309375692' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/1715357966309375692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/1715357966309375692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/07/dearest-child.html' title='&quot;Dearest Child&quot;'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RosFuGUQpUI/AAAAAAAAAG0/OYEnnfArIRU/s72-c/vicky!.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-4321601666617003008</id><published>2007-07-01T00:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-01T00:33:03.610-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Queen's Heir</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoctOmUQpQI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/MY8YWhJY3-g/s1600-h/qv3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082080433337836802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoctOmUQpQI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/MY8YWhJY3-g/s320/qv3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;I wrote the following article some time ago and it was published on The Royalist. However, since it's in an area which cannot always be accessed, I decided to copy it here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Victoria and Albert’s Heir: Raising Bertie&lt;br /&gt;The Raising of a Prince of Wales &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Susan Flanders&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Victoria looked down at her second born child on November 9, 1841, just hours old and saw a beautiful baby boy with ‘large and dark eyes, a good high forehead, a pretty but rather large nose, a nice little mouth and chin.’ At Buckingham Palace, the Queen rested after the delivery&lt;br /&gt;This baby, who would be named Albert Edward, was the first male heir born to the throne in over 70 years. All throughout Britain there was jubilation and excitement as guns were fired, crowds cheered and Londoners celebrated and sang “God Save the Queen.” Victoria was pleased that a male heir had been born, and thought that if the boy had inherited any of his dear father’s traits and qualities, he would do well.&lt;br /&gt;The young parents entrusted their new baby to the royal nursery where he met his older sister, Vicky, called “Pussy” by the family. Although the baby was well taken care of, over time Victoria found herself growing uneasy about the child and having anxieties. He just didn’t seem to be doing the things that little Vicky had done at the same age. Albert also noticed the difference in his progress. The parents were concerned, but for the time being kept their fears to themselves.&lt;br /&gt;As the children grew, more siblings arrived and before long the nursery was bustling with activity. The Queen was quite happy with the appointment of Lady Lyttleton, who would oversee the nursery. Albert found himself involved in all things relating to the children---from their schedules to what they ate. Their education started very early. Meals were basic and spartan and there would be exercise everyday.&lt;br /&gt;Intellectually, Vicky quickly surpassed her little brother. Bertie couldn’t keep up with his older sister. While “Pussy” was robust and quick, her brother seemed slow and awkward. Little Vicky also had a firm grasp on her studies----she excelled, especially in languages and art ----while Bertie could barely make it through his lessons. To make matters worse for the Prince of Wales, his sister Vicky was poised, and had a quick wit. She dazzled her parents, especially Albert, who loved her more than he believed it was possible to love another human being. It would be difficult for any sibling to measure up, and in Bertie’s case, especially difficult. To Victoria and Albert’s credit, they did shower all the children with attention.&lt;br /&gt;“The boy” as he was referred to by his mother, continued to struggle in his lessons. The education continued, the family grew and soon it was baby Alice who seemed to be catching up to Bertie. The young boy became very close with Alice and she tended to protect and shield him, acting as a buffer when she knew he was hurt. These two youngsters were to have a very special bond between them all of their lives.&lt;br /&gt;About her son, the queen wrote to a favorite relative, “You will understand how fervent are my prayers, and I am sure everybody’s must be, to see him resemble his father in every, every respect, both in body and mind.” Victoria clung to this wish. Inevitably, the parents were a bit disappointed, but were far from giving up hope. .&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, he was put in a class with his younger brother Affie, but the demands upon him did not stop. Fully aware of his future position, his parents went to their counselor and friend Baron Stockmar for guidance. The Baron wrote several memorandums concerning the boy’s education and what needed to be done to promote, ‘the principles of truth and mortality.’ Victoria and Albert had always been studious and had a hard time understanding why their son was having such difficulty in applying himself.&lt;br /&gt;An even stricter regimen of study was imposed on him, with sometimes Sunday being his only day off. Two tutors were brought on----first Mr. Birch and then Mr. Gibbs. Although he tried, he appeared many times to be melancholy and sometimes would break out into fits of temper. It did not help that the Prince of Wales rarely played with boys his own age and knew nothing but life at his mother’s court-----that is, what little he did see of it. He was reported to have been “naughty” and his behavior far from princely, Because of his actions, Albert was forced to go and deal with the boy.&lt;br /&gt;Things changed a little in the summer in 1856. On a state visit to Paris, the Queen and Prince Albert decided that their two eldest children should accompany them. Once in the beautiful city, the Prince was awed by it and also enraptured with Napoleon’s wife, Empress Eugenie. Not only did he find her beautiful----stunning, she was warm and sweet to the children, taking time to talk to them and give them little gifts. It is no wonder that the Prince began to develop his life long love affair with France, and its utter sophistication.&lt;br /&gt;When he turned 17, he was given an allowance by his parents and was allowed to use The White Lodge in Richmond Park as his new home, with supervision. His studies were not to stop, however, but he was given his first taste of freedom.&lt;br /&gt;The Prince of Wales’s “problems” were considered typical conversation within the family. Daughter Vicky had recently married into the royal house of Prussia and was living far from England. Her mother chose her as her confidante----she did not have many----and wrote to her frankly and intimately. The Queen referred to The Prince of Wales without actually writing his name, because she could not bear to. In March, 1858 she wrote that, ‘Affie is going on admirably; he comes to luncheon today and oh! when I see him and Arthur (Affie) and look at …! (You know what I mean!) I am in utter despair! The systematic idleness, laziness-----disregard for everything is enough to break one’s heart, and fills me with indignation.’ She made Vicky promise not to mention this to another human being.&lt;br /&gt;Victoria’s true feelings toward her eldest son did not fade with time. Months later she confided again to Vicky, ‘he is not at all in good looks; his nose and mouth are too enormous and as he pastes his hair down to his head and wears his clothes frightfully---he really is anything but good looking. That coiffure is really too hideous with his small head and enormous features. He is grown however.’&lt;br /&gt;Hearing this was difficult for Vicky, who loved her brother and was now so far from her beloved England. Almost pleadingly, she wrote to her mother, ‘One thing pains me----when I think of it and that is the relation between you and Bertie! In the railway carriage to Dover I thought about it, and wished I could have told you how kindly, nicely, properly and even sensibly he spoke, his heart is full of affection, or warmth of feeling and I am sure it will come out with time and by degrees. He loves his home and feels happy there and those feelings must be nurtured, cultivated for if once lost they will not come again so easily’ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;PART II Continued Below&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-4321601666617003008?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/4321601666617003008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=4321601666617003008' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/4321601666617003008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/4321601666617003008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/07/queens-heir.html' title='The Queen&apos;s Heir'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoctOmUQpQI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/MY8YWhJY3-g/s72-c/qv3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-5169752830128456211</id><published>2007-07-01T00:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-01T00:40:56.741-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Queen's Heir, Part II</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RocqfGUQpPI/AAAAAAAAAGI/thRiFOh5e_E/s1600-h/untitled-4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082077418270794994" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RocqfGUQpPI/AAAAAAAAAGI/thRiFOh5e_E/s320/untitled-4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;As much as Victoria enjoyed her correspondence with Vicky, which was voluminous, she rebuked her. ‘As regards Bertie---I quite agree with you, dear child----that he must be a little more affectionate and tender in his manner----if he is to expect it from me----and take a little more interest in what interests us if he is to be at all pleasant in the house. And now dearest child, I must say, without I hope making you angry----that you did not quite set about making things better’ She continued writing her letter and added,. ‘He left on Monday. His voice made me so nervous I could hardly bear it. Altogether I never felt in such a state of nerves for noise or sound.’&lt;br /&gt;During these years, the prince attended college and was trained in the military. Being on his own for the first time, he grew very fond of social life, travel and parties, much to the irritation of his parents. The bond was tested but it was not broken. Albert managed to acquire a Norfolk estate for the boy called Sandringham with the funds coming from the Duchy of Cornwall. The house needed major renovations but once they were carried out, the home would be comfortable. This home was to become important to the Prince of Wales in future years, as it become one of his favorite home, bringing him much happiness and solace.&lt;br /&gt;It was at about this time that Victoria and Albert began to seriously discuss whom Bertie might marry. The Prince of Wales asked if he could have a say in who he married. Several princesses were considered and all this took a great deal of time and maneuvering behind the scenes. As they narrowed down the prospects, even Vicky was involved in the process. She met with Princess Alexandra of Denmark and privately supplied this relatively unknown description to her parents, ‘It is very difficult to be impartial when one is captivated, and I never was more so----I never set eyes on a sweeter creature than Princess Alix. She is lovely! Not a dazzling, striking beauty but an indescribable charming. She is a good deal taller than I am, has a lovely figure but very thin, a complexion as beautiful as possible. Very fine white regular teeth and very fine large eyes----with extremely prettily marked eyebrows.. A very fine shaped nose, very narrow, but a little long----her while face is very narrow, her forehead too but well shaped and not at all flat. Her voice, her walk, carriage, manner are perfect, she is one of the most lady-like and aristocratic looking people I ever saw! She is as simple and natural and unaffected as possible---and seems exceedingly well brought up. She speaks English and German without the slightest accent.’&lt;br /&gt;Prince Albert felt good about the match. After seeing her photograph, he reportedly said, “I would marry her in a second.” Vicky felt sure her parents would be “charmed” by Princess Alix, and she urged her parents not to delay making a decision on the matter, as she was worried that another Prince would propose to Alexandra in the meantime.&lt;br /&gt;Since his position required him to “wait”---he did. He filled the time with many things that amused him---pursuits---- such a going to the opera and hunting. He enjoyed the very best foods in large quantities, being with the upper classes and drinking champagne. He enjoyed his whiskey and cigars, house parties and took to traveling and spared no expense to ensure that he was at his most comfortable. Although he was not respected much in his youth, people did gravitate towards him and he could be very kind and great fun. Some of his friends were less than desirable and Bertie had not learned how to be discreet, much to the dismay of his parents.&lt;br /&gt;It was exactly that lack of discretion that began a chain of events that would tragically turn around the young mans life. Somehow, news filtered back and Albert was presented with the fact that his son had a liaison with an actress. Shocked, Albert tried his best to handle it, but it was one of the most difficult things in his life. Didn’t Bertie realize what could happen to the Monarchy if this became public knowledge? He and Victoria had made sure---all throughout the years----that their court was above reproach. What if this woman came back later, claiming that Bertie had fathered a child? How many people knew about this? Crushed and worried, he explained the matter to Victoria, who was beyond upset. Albert decided, for everyone’s good, that he needed to go speak with his son.&lt;br /&gt;Bertie was staying at the time at Madingley Hall, Cambridge. His father traveled to see him there and they were seen walking alone in the cold, damp weather with their heads huddled together. They spoke for some time about the ramifications of what Bertie had done. Several important things were decided as a result of this meeting.. The Prince should propose to Princess Alexandra, whom he had met in September and he should undertake---quickly----a tour of the Near East.&lt;br /&gt;The weather was raw and Albert got a chill. The pain he felt at what his son had done was almost too much for him to bear. When he returned home to Windsor, he did not feel well. He was quickly put to bed and the doctor summoned. Albert assured Victoria that the situation with The Prince Of Wales had been managed and pleaded with her not to worry over it. The Queen, rightly so, was not so quick to forgive or forget, fully aware of how much this crisis had hurt dear Albert.&lt;br /&gt;From that time on, it did not appear that Albert ever got well. Some days were better than others, but as the weeks drew on he became weaker and weaker and the doctor’s stood by helplessly. Bertie was summoned to the sick room. Victoria felt disgust for him and she could not help herself. We do not know exactly what Bertie thought. His eyes went around the room, taking in the details of what would soon be, unbeknownst to him, the last memories of his father. Victoria would not give up hope.&lt;br /&gt;Inevitably, the family suffered a loss from which some of them would never fully recover. When he realized his father was-----gone----could it really be so?----he went to his mother, bravely and hugged her. He said the only thing he could say, which was, “Indeed Mama, I will be all I can to you.” He meant it. Victoria looked at her second born child, and in some way knew he meant it. The boy was grief stricken.&lt;br /&gt;The Prince of Wales took on much of the responsibility for funeral and its details. The Queen couldn’t possibly handle it. The family was thrust into a deep mourning.&lt;br /&gt;One thing that helped Victoria a little in the days to come, was knowing that there was unfinished business. There were many things that Albert had wished to see----and it was up to her to make it happen. Albert had very much wanted to see a marriage between the future King Of England and the Danish Princess. Victoria had a firm resolve to do what Albert would have wished and insisted “that his wishes ---his plans----about everything are to be my law!”&lt;br /&gt;In regards to Bertie, “whose future he had traced everything so carefully,” Victoria began to implement his fathers wishes. He was sent away on his Near East Tour beginning on February 6, 1842. When Bertie began this exile all he could do was hope that his mother’s mood would eventually lift. He was fully aware of what his mother thought of him. In some ways, she felt he had a hand in Albert’s early death.&lt;br /&gt;As Bertie stopped in Vienna and then headed for Egypt, Israel and Turkey, Victoria firmed up her plans for the marriage which hopefully would anchor the young man and settle him down. Later that year, Bertie met with Alexandra and clearly fell in love with her. When he formally proposed, she said yes without hesitation, knowing that someday she would be Queen of England.&lt;br /&gt;With Victoria’s continued absence due to her grief and his upcoming marriage, Bertie was becoming quite popular. Clearly, this marriage would be the social event of the year----and quite possibly the decade. The grieving Queen, to her credit, did try her best on this momentous occasion, arranging to watch the wedding privately, away from glaring eyes----in Catherine of Aragon’s balcony, high above the altar of St. George’s chapel. Complimenting Princess Alexandra, Victoria said she was one of those sweet creatures “who seems to come down from the skies to help and bless pour souls.” Most people were dazzled by Alexandra’a beauty and could clearly see the adoration that the couple held for each other.&lt;br /&gt;“I dread the whole thing awfully,” the Queen wrote to her daughter before the wedding. The rest of the country did not. There were screams and cheers when the young princess rode past them in her carriage on a grey, misty day on the way to her wedding. “Here she is!” people screamed. There were 900 seats in the chapel. Those lucky enough to be inside were able to watch the long, beautiful ceremony. Thousands of others were jammed outside. Prime Minister Gladstone described it as “the most gorgeous sight I ever witnessed.” Alexandra was dressed in white and silver satin, with a long train. The train was held by eight bridesmaids. For the ceremony, the Prince of Wales, looking dignified, was attired in a general’s uniform, under his velvet Garter robes. The Queen remained dramatically in her box, dressed in black. Prime Minister Disraeli made note of an amusing moment. He ‘had not seen the Queen since the catastrophe (Albert’s death) and ventured, being nearsighted, to use my glass. I saw Her Majesty well, and unfortunately caught her glance.’ Victoria frowned at him.&lt;br /&gt;The young couple honeymooned on the Isle of Wight and returned to live in Marlborough House, located in London, after they were married. At the same time, they carefully watched the renovations taking place at Sandringham.&lt;br /&gt;Some people predicted that due to the early death of the Prince Consort that the Prince of Wales might begin to have a more prominent place at court. This was not to be. Victoria did not allow him to step into this vacated spot or let him be much help to her at all. Shockingly, the Queen refused to let him see or be a part of anything relating to public life----and this continued not only for one or two years---while he and Alexanadra began their young family. It remained this way for 40 years. Clearly their bond was loosening. .&lt;br /&gt;Life for Victoria and her son soon became a viscous cycle. Victoria simply refused to budge and would not give Bertie anything to do. Bertie chastised his mother because of her utter seclusion, but she retorted back that she did not care for his fast living, nor the company he kept. There was something in common that held them together, yet so much that kept them apart.&lt;br /&gt;Victoria had raised her Prince of Wales, but in many ways held him back. He seemed ready to do what he was born to do, yet his mother would not give up the rights she had inherited. She shuddered to think of what would happen to the Monarchy once he became King. For Bertie’s part, he remained not quite in the background, but not where he felt he should be. In Victoria’s eyes, perhaps she always thought of him as that little baby she had held in her arms. Perhaps she didn’t want him to grow up. Some things can never be known. In some ways, maybe that’s the way it should be. The years went on and each one remained in the comfortable royal haven they had created for themselves, never quite knowing how or when it might end. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-5169752830128456211?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/5169752830128456211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=5169752830128456211' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/5169752830128456211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/5169752830128456211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/07/as-much-as-victoria-enjoyed-her.html' title='The Queen&apos;s Heir, Part II'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RocqfGUQpPI/AAAAAAAAAGI/thRiFOh5e_E/s72-c/untitled-4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-5331361183389071828</id><published>2007-06-29T09:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-29T16:29:38.040-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sissi</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoUYL2UQpMI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iYdjM-stKis/s1600-h/Empress+Elisabeth+of+Austria.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5081494346395591874" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoUYL2UQpMI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iYdjM-stKis/s320/Empress+Elisabeth+of+Austria.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;If you don't recognize her, this is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Sissi&lt;/span&gt;--as she was known to her family. She was also Empress Elisabeth of Austria. Did you know she was the "Diana" of her day? She was widely known for her beauty and elegance in the 1800's--and she maintained quite of regimen to keep herself that way! She was obsessive about her exercise habits, partly because of nerves. She kept herself on a strict diet and particularly spent a long time each morning on the preparation of her hair--dark, lush and very long. Imagine an Empress with hair hanging down her back past her waist? And then imagine that hair dressed and combed with elegant ornaments placed just so by her attendants. She must have been a sight to behold and I think this particular picture reflects her magnificence. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;But while she was beautiful, in many ways she was pushed aside in the Austrian court by her mother in law, who made all the decisions--even about her children. The Emperor, Franz Joseph was devoted to his sweet wife--who he married when she was only 16--but sided with his own mother over Elisabeth. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Sissi&lt;/span&gt; missed her family near Munich and her health suffered. The Empress didn't have much access to her own children, who were placed in a nursery located by the apartments used by Sophie, her mother in law. Frustrated, she took to traveling--and more exercise. She was glad to leave Vienna often for her trips. It was imperative for her health that she do so. She had almost no relationship with her eldest three children, but managed, finally, to have a close relationship with her youngest daughter. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Over the years there were several terrible events that haunted the Empress. What I'm relating here is just the very tip of the iceberg--I'm writing from memory. I don't want to give away too much lest you feel the need to pick up a biography of her. She did manage to maintain a fairly loving relationship with the Emperor over the years, to their credit. But I won't write any more at this time &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;in case&lt;/span&gt; I spoil the story for you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Oh!! Now this is getting off the topic a bit, but there's story I just have to tell you. If it wasn't for what I'm going to tell you, I wouldn't be sitting here writing this now. In my house we have several laptops which work off of a wireless router. As you probably know, having that wireless router allows you to move around the house with your computer and continue to get access to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt;. Well, last week our router broke. I was devastated. My 11 year old son, who's really up on all the latest technology, has an apple computer. He thought about the situation and said, "Mom, don't worry about it. I'll figure something out." Meanwhile, I sat in the corner, with the actual &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt; cable hooked into my computer. I knew that I'd only get a certain amount of time on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt; this way---I'd have to share it with everyone else! My son played around and &lt;em&gt;set up his own wireless router, using his apple computer!!!&lt;/em&gt; He named the wireless &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt; "Viper" and connected me to it. As long as his apple computer is on, I have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt;! I can walk around with no cords or wires. I know all mom's think their children are smart and precious, and they all are. I've mentioned this to a few people in the computer business and their mouths fell open. A kid his age just isn't supposed to know how to override a wireless router. I suppose if everyone could do it, the business itself would lose money. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;When my son does things like that for me, &lt;em&gt;I feel like a Queen&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-5331361183389071828?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/5331361183389071828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=5331361183389071828' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/5331361183389071828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/5331361183389071828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/06/sissi.html' title='Sissi'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoUYL2UQpMI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iYdjM-stKis/s72-c/Empress+Elisabeth+of+Austria.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-7733486539285493757</id><published>2007-06-28T23:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-01T00:43:31.025-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Tsarina</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoR40GUQpII/AAAAAAAAAFQ/zusPCjG7NqA/s1600-h/2989536860038578487FZcwYP_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5081319116024882306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoR40GUQpII/AAAAAAAAAFQ/zusPCjG7NqA/s320/2989536860038578487FZcwYP_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;On the post below I had asked a question...Do you know which Queen adored her youngest son with her whole being---and because he was sickly, it caused her quite a bit of anguish? Thanks Ann, for answering the question. It &lt;em&gt;was&lt;/em&gt; the Tsarina Alexandra of Russia. Here is a famous picture of her with her son, Alexei, as he plays with his mama's pearls. Alexei was the most wanted and cherished baby, who just happened to be heir to the Russian Throne. It broke Alexandra's heart when she found out that he had the dreaded bleeding disease---hemophilia. How that little boy suffered in pain...and surely Alexandra suffered just as badly as she sat near him, stroking him, during his illnesses. Her son's sickness was just another heartbreak in a life of continuing sadness. It didn't help either when she found out that &lt;em&gt;she&lt;/em&gt; was the carrier of the gene that caused the illness. It had been passed down from her grandmother, Queen Victoria. Alexei was one of many in Victoria's family to suffer from the same disease. Alexandra really did not forgive herself for that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;The Tsarevich Alexei was the youngest of five. He had four older sisters. The most famous sister is Anastasia. If you're at all interested in this fascinating royal family, there's a link below for The Alexander Time Machine. It's a massive website--one of the nicest I've seen--filled with every tidbit you could ever imagine about this family, including floor plans of where they lived, pictures of their rooms and letters. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Finished my critique of the anthology and sent it back the writer. Also reviewed some writing for my friend in England and gave her some advice. She is working on multiple submissions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;I'm on vacation this week and so far it's been nice. No, I didn't go anywhere, but sometimes that's the best kind of vacation. We had a heat wave here in the Eastern US for a large part of the week and I spent a couple of days with my son and his friend at the pool. It was heavenly. I hate heat waves &lt;em&gt;except&lt;/em&gt; if it's a day I can go to the pool. I picked a good week for it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Picked up my royal books at the library and I've been immersed in a rare royal memoir. It's called "The Heart Has Its Reasons" and its the memoir of the Duchess of Windsor and its been out of print a long time. It's nice to read her side of the story for a change...to see things through her own eyes. It's pleasant and I'm enjoying it, however, she leaves out a lot. I can't say I blame her. She had a ghost writer, but I can tell she put quite a bit of her own work into that manuscript.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;And who will I write about next? I can't decide if it should be a Queen or a Princess. I think I'll sleep on it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-7733486539285493757?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/7733486539285493757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=7733486539285493757' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/7733486539285493757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/7733486539285493757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/06/tsarina.html' title='The Tsarina'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoR40GUQpII/AAAAAAAAAFQ/zusPCjG7NqA/s72-c/2989536860038578487FZcwYP_fs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-9108434993312723551</id><published>2007-06-25T09:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T09:26:59.487-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh, Josephine...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rn_K29l4_RI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/9yuyrZiQcsg/s1600-h/empress+josephine.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080001950292442386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rn_K29l4_RI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/9yuyrZiQcsg/s320/empress+josephine.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993300;"&gt;This is Empress Josephine Bonaparte. She looks pretty regal, huh? She was a tough gal---not born to be an Empress, but became one when her husband Napoleon declared that she was. It's a different sort of royal saga--neither she nor her husband actually had any royal blood in them...in so far as allowing them to assume to French throne. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;If you are interested in Josephine, I can recommend a couple of books. One of the most beautiful biographies I've read of her is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Carroly&lt;/span&gt; Erickson's. It's written is a quick, breathy way. It's sort of like the author was there watching. Its very nicely done and you'll find yourself feeling bad for her, good for her and everything in between. She loved her daughter Hortense--a devoted daughter herself and a Queen---and she adored her son. Josephine's life was hard, but it makes for interesting reading. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;There's another book out there by Sandra &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Gulland&lt;/span&gt;. She wrote three of them actually, and they all go together in a set. They are the fictional diaries of Josephine---from childhood through marriage and childbirth---all the way through her years with Napoleon and them some. The title of the first book is The Many Lives &amp;amp; Secret Sorrows of Josephine B. The second is called Tales of Passion, Tales of Woe. The last book (diary) is titled The Last Great Dance on Earth. Superb!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;What got me thinking of Josephine? I was in Barnes and Noble the other day and happened to be browsing the bargain rack and found the last two books for $4.98 each. For me that is a heavenly find. Do you know that I was lucky enough to correspond via email with the talented author, Sandra &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Gulland&lt;/span&gt;? It was a thrill for me to do so and she gave me some valuable advice. The reason I got in touch with her was because I was engrossed in the story of her twenty year love story with the Empress Josephine. She couldn't get enough of her and collected books for years and years---anything she could get her hands on. There was something about Josephine that intrigued her to the point of spending years learning about her life. She had to write these books! At least that's what the interviews say about it. And I was curious about her passion for Josephine because I...well, I have a similar passion for a few of the British Royals. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Although I read about so many, there are two or three royals in particular that just suck me in. I can't get enough of them. Seriously. I read their memoirs and biographies over and over and over. I felt like I might be the only person in the world to be obsessed like that! And I am &lt;em&gt;obsessed.&lt;/em&gt; But lo and behold---no---there are others like me in the world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;I'm on vacation this week and the books I asked to be loaned to my local library are in. I can't wait to get them in my hands! So, I have them to read and also several other royal biographies from the library. I have a hankering to run down to the old bookstore near me and pick up the copy of the biography of Diana Cooper...one of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Britian's&lt;/span&gt; elite in the 1930's. Her impressions on the royals will be very useful. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;I'm also critiquing an anthology for someone and need to get that done and back to the writer. After that is done I am committed to critiquing a manuscript which will probably be submitted to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Samhain&lt;/span&gt;. Its for one of my writer friends. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;I was also invited to be a friend of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Enspiren&lt;/span&gt; Press, via &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Bebo&lt;/span&gt;. Their website is up but they are still working on it and they look awesome. I just signed up for their forums and their yahoo email group. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Some of my writer friends are thinking of going to Heather Graham's New Orleans Writers Conference which will be held approx. Labor Day weekend. I don't know if I'll be able to go...one of these days I will. But there's so many good conferences....which one would I go to first?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Haven't heard from the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;pubber&lt;/span&gt; on my anthology or my recent proposal on another one. My feeling is that they are very busy and I just have to sit tight and bide my time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;But my vacation week should be a fun one---I'll have my books and can spend time at the pool---its supposed to feel like 100 degrees this week. My son has a friend sleeping over for a few days and tonight I think I'll make a big pot of spaghetti. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Dashing off to do some housework and think about my Queens...oh, and one final question...Do you know which Queen &lt;em&gt;adored&lt;/em&gt; her youngest son with her whole being---and because he was sickly, it caused her &lt;em&gt;quite &lt;/em&gt;a bit of anguish? I think I will post their picture next time...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-9108434993312723551?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/9108434993312723551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=9108434993312723551' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/9108434993312723551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/9108434993312723551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/06/oh-josephine.html' title='Oh, Josephine...'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rn_K29l4_RI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/9yuyrZiQcsg/s72-c/empress+josephine.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-3269399431426161807</id><published>2007-06-11T09:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T09:36:58.683-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Woman He Loved</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rm21Ctl4_PI/AAAAAAAAAEA/V1l4vNNB75A/s1600-h/bryanston+court,+flat+on+2nd+floor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5074911413319302386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rm21Ctl4_PI/AAAAAAAAAEA/V1l4vNNB75A/s320/bryanston+court,+flat+on+2nd+floor.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Wallis Warfield Simpson...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Her name was Wallis...an American woman, who had married for a second time and settled in London. Here she is, relaxing in the living room of her flat. The picture just below her is of the outside of her flat, on Bryanston Court. This picture was taken before Wallis was known throughout the world. This is how she looked at about the time she met the Prince of Wales and began to see him here and there---at dinner parties through friends, and receiving the occasional invitation to the "Fort" which was the Prince's favorite residence on the Grounds of Great Windsor Park. As you can see from her picture, she liked things just so. The flowers are arranged nicely and she looks at them...her posture is straight and the knick knacks on the table to are placed with precision. She looks relaxed, reflective...but its doubtful that she really was when this picture was shot. Wallis like to seize every moment she could, to aid her in &lt;em&gt;something&lt;/em&gt; We can only wonder what she was thinking about. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Wallis had much to think about--her days were busy making the social rounds, shopping, being home by 6pm for her drop by "cocktail hour" (the Brit's had never seen that before--no one just dropped by without an invitation!) and preparing for dinner parties she held at her flat (And she loved it!) and making preparations with her maid and cook. No, she wasn't rich, but she and her husband Ernest were more well off than the usual...and it was important to Wallis to keep up appearances, even when things became a little tight. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;So much has been written about Wallis, and the overwhelming question has always remained...What was so special &lt;em&gt;about her&lt;/em&gt;, that a King would leave his Kingdom behind to be with her? To follow her? To marry her?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I've read every biography on the Duke and Duchess of Windsor that there is---including their letters to each other. From what I can see...he liked that she knew her mind and made decisions. He thought she was witty and clever. The more he spent time with her, the more bewitched he became. Soon, she began doing things for him---buying gifts for his servants, arranging dinners and seating, and became his hostess at informal dinners. She spoke to him in a real way. She didn't pamper him and she told him the truth. She sort of "mothered" him and he adored it. What he also found refreshing is that she spoke her mind. He found it new and refreshing. Most people gave him the typical, safe remark, "How wonderful, Sir" or "How tiring for you, Sir." Wallis, though, was different. She actually talked to him about things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Wallis was a lonely woman. She was hated by the royal family in England after King Edward abdicated. She was followed and harassed in the beginning days. It was said that if she made him happy that was one thing, but if she did not, then nothing would be bad enough for her. She spent many nights and days alone, in the splendor of castles and beautiful homes---her own, and friends homes--but in exile and spent much time feeling alone, misunderstood, bitter and afraid.Was it really her fault that David had fallen in love with her? Hadn't she tried hard to leave him, and get away? Didn't anyone understand that it really wasn't her fault? David had followed her and if she had gone to the ends of the earth, he would have followed her there, too. He couldn't live without her. She was part of his whole existence and he needed her to survive. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;She began to create a life for them. She structured his day as if he were still a King--sort of. There were trips and interviews to be given, homes to be set up, parties to be hosted. Eventually there would be memoirs and some work for the British Commonwealth. Wallis's parties--her dinner parties--became known as being &lt;em&gt;the &lt;/em&gt;utmost in fine cuisine and atmosphere, albeit, always done in a beauty that was hard to describe. But in all of this, she was never given the title that by rights was hers...He Royal Highness. When a woman marries a man, she assumes rightfully his title. But in Wallis's case this was never to be. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;And for now that is all...By the way, Wallis is the one who wore the flamingo pin! She had many beautiful jewels from &lt;em&gt;"her David..."&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-3269399431426161807?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/3269399431426161807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=3269399431426161807' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/3269399431426161807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/3269399431426161807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/06/woman-he-loved.html' title='The Woman He Loved'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rm21Ctl4_PI/AAAAAAAAAEA/V1l4vNNB75A/s72-c/bryanston+court,+flat+on+2nd+floor.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-5664016438020298077</id><published>2007-06-06T21:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T09:39:32.589-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Great Catherine</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rmdjrdl4_LI/AAAAAAAAADg/qXJxgpcpkN8/s1600-h/2557414110031751182KrSaCh_ph.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073133103585230002" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rmdjrdl4_LI/AAAAAAAAADg/qXJxgpcpkN8/s320/2557414110031751182KrSaCh_ph.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Empress Catherine really was great. And she knew it, you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got a great new biography on her by Virginia Rounding which is simply fabulous. What work Ms. Rounding put into this book--its simply amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been awhile since I've posted, but I've still been busy writing. Royal Watercolors has been done for 6 months, and I'm hoping it will be accepted for the anthology. I recently came up with another idea which I submitted. I don't know if it will work out or not...but, I will say its about the King who abdicated his throne to be with the woman he loved. One of my favorite stories!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queen Victoria is a lifetime of study. I'll never be able to get enough of her. There will always be more to read and discover about her. But the Duke and Duchess of Windsor...its a story I read over and over and over. I can't tell you what exactly it is about them that I love and what compels me to read their story over and over...(and when I say over and over----its 5 biographies I read, together, all at one time---as not to miss even a detail!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently met a wonderful girl in cyberspace with a masters in English Lit---or is it a PhD? She is a little younger than me, but we have so much in common and her writing is lovely. And she thinks my writing is wonderful...well, she thinks I've got guts. I've been sending her little things to read and she let me read her thesis. What fun. Its was a fantastic piece that she wrote. We both have young children, so we always have something to talk about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My critique partner in the UK is going on vacation...and she has submitted a couple of things to agents and publishers. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for her...she works so hard. Last weekend she critiqued a bit of my Wallis piece, but she loved it overall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work at home is just great---yes, I said working at home. My little office is cozy, and did I say I got a promotion? Well, I did. I've been elevated to "Tier Two"---which kind of makes me a master in my field at work, and I get to solve the worst of the worst. I'm off the phones now for the most part...(I work for a very large insurance company)...and now I research and delve into problems and mysteries and try to help our members. I work extra...early in the morning... and some nights. But its so worthwhile. There is always so much to do...reading government changes, guidelines, massive amounts of training and emails to read---and then there is your regular work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh...I set up an account on Bebo!! It's been a lot of fun, and I already have two Luv's and about 5 friends! I added some pictures....My son wont let me post any pictures of him yet. I also posted massive amounts of royal pictures and I've got a moving collage going on....I love it. Its fun to go from site to site...see what others are doing...checking on your friends. Sooner or later I'll get the courage to link up to THIS blog--my real blog. I suppose I want to get this blog---well, bigger, more interesting....and find my voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my writing friends got offered a contract in April. Its so exciting! When she has more details on this, I'll ask her if I can post her name and cover because I'm so proud of her. I read that story about 2 years ago----way back when! And now it will be published!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I have the day off and I'd like to get a little rest, and get my clothes ready for Friday. Hubby and I have volunteered for the carnival taking place at my son's school. I'll be doing face painting, and Friday should be very hot. (Hate the heat!) But it will be nice to see the kids having fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, this writer of Queens is signing off for the night. Her King wants her to turn off the light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forget the last question from last time....but here is a new one...What famous royal wore a famous pin, shaped as a flamingo? (or was it an ostrich?--no, flamingo) Do you know?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-5664016438020298077?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/5664016438020298077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=5664016438020298077' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/5664016438020298077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/5664016438020298077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/06/great-catherine.html' title='Great Catherine'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rmdjrdl4_LI/AAAAAAAAADg/qXJxgpcpkN8/s72-c/2557414110031751182KrSaCh_ph.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-5652955406019185075</id><published>2007-02-07T08:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T10:28:54.737-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Some new things...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RcnTopu-nyI/AAAAAAAAABI/gMrjEsF7ULA/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028783154286993186" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RcnTopu-nyI/AAAAAAAAABI/gMrjEsF7ULA/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Ha! My son just sent me this picture from his Apple computer and it's kind of cute with its scratchy drawing look--I wanted to see how this black and white would look on the blog!! But, I'll tell ya, since I'm not a queen, I shouldn't be on here. (At home they call me Drama Queen....LOL...I don't think I qualify, however...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Some new things!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;First off, there is another talented writer I know, who also loves royalty, the affluent life, peerages, country homes, manors, England, Scotland--all that stuff---and she is one of the only other writers I've found over the years who enjoys it as much as I do. She is thinking about blogging with me--and if she does, it will be nice and there will be lots more info on all kinds of Queeny and Royal stuff! It's not definite--we'll see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;I've been working on what I call R.E.--a novel about a Duke's family who is very close to Queen Victoria. I sent off part of it to England, and my critique partner was thrilled with it! She thought it was interesting and liked the pace and it seemed to keep her interest. She thinks its definitely of publishable quality as long as I keep the story line as interesting as it is now. I've been working on this a couple of days now. The characters are very real to me and in the beginning there is lots of drama, and different incidents unfolding at once. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;The other thing is that my husband said that if I sell some of my work and I'm really into this, he'll try and get a housekeeper so that I can spend more time writing. I seem to do well when I know I have long stretches of time to work. I suppose he's been watching me lately and sees I'm serious about it...and perhaps he thinks I have a little talent. I hope so!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;This isn't going to be a long post at all...I really just wanted to see what my son's Apple can do (it's really an amazing computer!). In the next day or two I'll post something else that's a little more interesting, I hope. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-5652955406019185075?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/5652955406019185075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=5652955406019185075' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/5652955406019185075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/5652955406019185075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/02/some-new-things.html' title='Some new things...'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RcnTopu-nyI/AAAAAAAAABI/gMrjEsF7ULA/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-937861571482025486</id><published>2007-02-03T23:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T09:43:02.546-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Princess of Wales...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RcVmXZu-nxI/AAAAAAAAAA4/Ov9B7z5xf70/s1600-h/481826584uEydmi_ph.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5027537111259979538" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RcVmXZu-nxI/AAAAAAAAAA4/Ov9B7z5xf70/s320/481826584uEydmi_ph.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;This young lady is from Denmark, and she became the Princess of Wales when she married the son of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. Prince Albert had passed away before the marriage, but he had approved of it, and so Queen Victoria did everything she could to make sure the marriage happened. If her dear Albert thought that Princess Alexandra of Denmark would make a good Queen and a good wife, then it must be so!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;In many ways she was a good wife to Bertie--and a wonderful mother. She had many children and loved them all to the depths of her soul. She loved to play and spoil them and was always happy to see them---sometimes too much so. And they adored her back. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;She turned a blind eye to her husbands philandering and maintained her regal composure. She fulfilled her duties. While she was Princess of Wales, her sister Minnie was the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Tsarina&lt;/span&gt; of all the Russia's. Some family, huh? Minnie's real name was Dagmar, and they were close in age, and if you put their sons together in a picture....well, you couldn't tell them apart. Seriously. (the future King of England and the future Tsar of Russia). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Alexandra had a hard time hearing and sometimes that gave her the appearance of being aloof. As she got older, her hearing got worse, and she was almost deaf towards the end of her life. Many happy years of her life were spent at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Sandringham&lt;/span&gt;, their country estate. She furnished it beautifully, and her own personal rooms were warm and comfy and full of pictures and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;knick&lt;/span&gt; knacks. She and her prince entertained society in a manner that had not been seen in many years. They were both very popular--but Queen Victoria wouldn't give the Prince much to do. There were many reasons for that...one of which was a deep animosity that ran within her. In some ways she felt her son had killed his father. Yes, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; true. He had become very ill and the stress from Bertie's antics may not have helped. He fell very ill after returning home from seeing his son after Bertie had done something improper. The two had a long and serious talk. He never fully recovered. They say he had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;typhoid&lt;/span&gt;...and maybe so. But, Prince Albert had been careful and alert to the waste and the problems from it, and some people feel it may have been stomach cancer. He would get better and worse, and better and worse. In the end, when he died, Queen Victoria always felt that her son had added a burden to his already very taxed system. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;As a married couple, Alexandra and Bertie had their share of heartbreak. Their eldest son--the young man who would be king---became very, very ill. They loved him dearly, but Eddy had some odd ways about him...and an odd look. He had a long neck and was very self conscious about it. Some feel that he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;wouldn't&lt;/span&gt; have made an acceptable King....and it's been said that one or two of the Dr's hastened his death. No one will ever know if that is true. There are many stories about Eddy that we will never know the truth about. His parents mourned his death and so did his siblings and dear &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Grandmama&lt;/span&gt;--Queen Victoria. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;The next eldest son became King in his lifetime and one of their daughters became a Queen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Princess Alexandra, the Princess of Wales was as popular in her day as Diana was in her day. And Alexandra did become Queen of England in 1901 and performed her duties very well. By that time her sister Minnie was the Dowager Empress in Russia---still beloved, still important. In later years the two comforted &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;each other&lt;/span&gt; and spent time together. Neither was born to be a Queen or Empress but both did very well with the life that was handed to them, and personally, I don't think enough has been written about them. Two sisters, two Queens, mothers to two Kings...it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; get better than that. At least for me it doesn't!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-937861571482025486?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/937861571482025486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=937861571482025486' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/937861571482025486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/937861571482025486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/02/princess-of-wales.html' title='The Princess of Wales...'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RcVmXZu-nxI/AAAAAAAAAA4/Ov9B7z5xf70/s72-c/481826584uEydmi_ph.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-374775028686181626</id><published>2007-01-31T11:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T09:44:19.820-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Cozy Corner</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RcC_TQt6cCI/AAAAAAAAAAk/QNAPAR8t1Cg/s1600-h/142254376ZpyeKg_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5026227521771434018" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RcC_TQt6cCI/AAAAAAAAAAk/QNAPAR8t1Cg/s320/142254376ZpyeKg_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;I'd love to have a room like this to sit in, or better yet, write in! It's more than cozy, and so adorable. I love the color of the blue walls and the darker blue draperies, mixed with the warm brown furniture. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;I could be wrong, but this appears to me to be very Victorian. From the look of the heavy drapes, it appears to be. The table looks Victorian. It appears to be a fine sitting room. Oh, if only I could sit in it! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;If I could, I'd love to have a Victorian house--similar to this. Imagine sitting by the window, and watching the snow fall or standing by the warm fire as nightfall comes on, with candles and gaslights lit up. The maid might be bringing in tea, which would be lovely, and I'm sure there are more couches and chairs in this room--but we can't see them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;In the 1800's--let's say---1850---what did they do for entertainment on a cold night? They'd most likely read a book by the fire or the ladies would do their embroidery....the men might play a game of chess, and if there were company---there might be charades-- and I see a harp in there. Someone in the household might know how to play. It would be quiet unless someone was singing, or playing the piano--there was no music on the radio or a victrola then. There was only conversation, the crackle of the fire, the sound of the ladies dresses as they swooshed across the room--and the scratching of a quill pen, if someone was writing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;As a matter of fact, Jane Austen did most of her writing in a room sort of like this. It wasn't as plush and ornate, but it had a table in it, and probably looked something like this. Back then, after the day was done, there was much time for conversation, reading and writing. Also, thinking!! No wonder Jane was able to write with such a rich flow of thought and articulation! There were no cell phones--TV's---maybe just the sound of horse's hooves padding up the drive pulling a carriage. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Did you know that Jane Austen saw Queen Victoria? She saw her from afar, and thought she was very small, and not that beautiful. Hmmm... I wonder what people thought of Jane Austen. What was it really like back then? Did Jane imagine her characters in a room like this when she was writing Pride and Prejudice? Did Queen Victoria, and her children and ladies in waiting sit in a room like this, after dinner--or in the afternoon-- and read, talk and do embroidery? You betcha! Did someone in Balmoral Castle or Windsor Castle read Jane Austen? Probably at some point. (The rooms at Balmoral were probably not this crisp--and formal--at least in Victoria's lifetime.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Queen Victoria had a preference for a certain type of wood in the fire. Do you know what kind it was?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Oh, and the answer from the last post---what was the very important task that Beatrice had undertaken and promised her mother? She promised to go through every diary---every volume, and there were many--and take out everything and anything that might be embarrassing to anyone or improper. And Beatrice did that. And re-wrote every word in longhand! What a great daughter. Oh, the new King had a fit about it...but, that was the Queen's wishes, and so what can you do??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Stay cozy in a nice room of your own...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-374775028686181626?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/374775028686181626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=374775028686181626' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/374775028686181626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/374775028686181626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/01/cozy-corner.html' title='A Cozy Corner'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RcC_TQt6cCI/AAAAAAAAAAk/QNAPAR8t1Cg/s72-c/142254376ZpyeKg_fs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-4930117902978278292</id><published>2007-01-30T12:26:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T09:45:12.828-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Queen Ena</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rb-Cdwt6cAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/crXYIGzQ9uk/s1600-h/2222862420081543377FPFmOe_ph.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025879156974055426" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rb-Cdwt6cAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/crXYIGzQ9uk/s320/2222862420081543377FPFmOe_ph.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Isn't this beautiful? This is Ena...Queen Victoria's grand daugher. The Queen had many grandchildren, but Ena was very special in one respect---she lived with Queen Victoria as she was growing up. Ena's mother was Beatrice, who was Victoria'a youngest daughter. Queen Victoria couldn't bear to be alone--and really didn't want to loose Beatrice to marriage...and so a decision was made...Beatrice and her husband and their children would reside with Queen Victoria. Can you imagine her childhood? It's been said that Beatrice's little ones certainly livened things up in the Queens' homes. (As much as the Queen would allow that sort of thing, I suppose.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;She grew up to be Queen Ena of Spain. Her life in Spain---well, she should have known it was not to be wonderful---on her wedding day she was almost killed by a bomb. Instead of Ena and her husband being killed, someone else was. Ena was rushed to safety, with blood all over her wedding gown. Imagine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;In this picture, she looks like her mother, Beatice---and I can see her grandfathers profile--Prince Albert. She was a beauty. Her life as Queen was not all she had hoped it would be. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Enough of Ena---oh, I'm sorry...I didn't give you the answers from several posts gone by! Victoria's governess was Baroness Lehzen. The Queen adored her. Feodora was Queen Victoria's older half sister. (I bet you didn't know she had one!!) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;New Question: Ena's mother Beatrice---who was the Queen's confidante---was left with a very important task after her mother's death in 1901. Can you guess what it was?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;I'll tell you next time...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Stay Cozy...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-4930117902978278292?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/4930117902978278292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=4930117902978278292' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/4930117902978278292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/4930117902978278292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/01/queen-ena.html' title='Queen Ena'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/Rb-Cdwt6cAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/crXYIGzQ9uk/s72-c/2222862420081543377FPFmOe_ph.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-117004563418985436</id><published>2007-01-28T23:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-01T08:30:33.426-04:00</updated><title type='text'>An Empress....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2405/2309/1600/107653/2598807080031751182RRNgRI_ph.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2405/2309/320/492387/2598807080031751182RRNgRI_ph.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2405/2309/1600/962298/2738553270086498967jwdWvn_ph.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2405/2309/320/203342/2738553270086498967jwdWvn_ph.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Do you know who this little girl is? She is related to Queen Victoria. Her nickname was Alicky, and she grew up to wear this crown. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;She is Alexandra, granddaughter of Queen Victoria. Her mother, Alice---Victoria's daughter, died when Alicky was very young and so Queen Victoria was really a mother image to the little girl, all of her life. Her one love---and only love---was Nicholas, son of the Tsar of Russia. Because of the differences in their religions, she kept turning Nicholas down when he proposed---and then she would cry in depression and desperation. Knowing that Nicholas would be Tsar of all the Russia's meant that if she married him she would be Tsarina, Empress---and she would have to embrace his religious beliefs wholeheartedly. Because of her own deep feelings about her own religion, she just couldn't reconcile the differences in her mind, and didn't want to marry him and become Empress with a lie in her heart. It took many years, and many family members to finally convince her that the doctrine that she believed in so wholeheartedly was not as different as Nicholas's. Eventually there was a happy ending...at least as far as their engagement and marriage was concerned. She wore this crown the day she was crowned with her beloved Nicky---the crown is the Russian Tsarina's crown. Well, the one she wore was this one or one extremely similar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;And Feodora? She was Queen Victoria's older half-sister, whom Victoria dearly loved. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I just sent off a couple of critiqued chapters to England. Its 11:33 here in the states, so what times is it there? 4:33AM? Soon the British will be getting up and my critique partner will open up her Monday email. I'll be sleeping. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Sweet little Alicky....she grew up to have 5 children. Her life was a life of highs and lows. She loved Nicky and her children dearly and being with them was a dream come true, but in other ways she was lonely, sad and frail. She was very misunderstood and her nerves were never good. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-117004563418985436?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/117004563418985436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=117004563418985436' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/117004563418985436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/117004563418985436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/01/empress.html' title='An Empress....'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-117001671528809674</id><published>2007-01-28T15:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-28T15:38:35.296-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-117001671528809674?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/117001671528809674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=117001671528809674' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/117001671528809674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/117001671528809674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/01/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-117001639092048829</id><published>2007-01-28T08:44:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T09:52:02.648-04:00</updated><title type='text'>ABOUT ME! A Picture...and more</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2405/2309/1600/325420/MyPicture.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2405/2309/320/795963/MyPicture.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Silly me, I tried to post a permanent picture of myself on the blog---but my picture didn't have a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;url&lt;/span&gt;...(and I have to check on that later)....but, here I am with my son, Matty, to the left...and his friend Patrick who is on the right. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;I'm kind of learning as I go...you know, the blog thing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Here is a little about me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;I grew up with two sisters and a mom and dad in Central New Jersey, in a little red ranch with a white fence, and we had a dog. I went to Catholic School. High school was fantastic--I took Commercial Art at a vocational high school. My happiest memories are of camping with my family, visiting my grandfather and grandmother at their gorgeously designed stone house on 5 beautiful acres---with even our own cold stream there in the front yard. I wrote a lot of stories, too~~~a lot!~~~Our old black royal typewriter was always going. I have a college degree in Marketing Art and Design, and I worked for several years in New York City, after college--doing art, yes!--and since then I have been employed in New Jersey. I do art on a freelance basis, when and if the right thing comes along. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;My parents divorced when I was in college, and several years later I lost one of my sisters in an automobile crash. Her name was Nancy, and she was only 22 months younger than me---and we really looked alike. Ah, life is hard at times. When I was 29, I met the man I felt I could live with forever--and he proposed, and we decided to marry and have "one long, long sleep-over party." And its pretty much been like that. (Sometimes hubby forgets that though, I think!) We decided to adopt a beautiful Korean baby---a boy---and he is now 10. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;We recently downsized and moved to a quieter area of New Jersey--we wanted to make a real change. For the first 8 years of my son's life, it really did seem that everything we did revolved around the house we had---fixing the house, finding more problems that needed to be fixed, saving more money for more repairs, doing emergency repairs (it was an older home)...stressing every month---how will we make the mortgage? How will we pay for the roof, so that it doesn't leak in the bathroom? Why is the side of the cellar caving into the cellar? Can we afford grass seed, fertilizer--and with the yard we had, oh the water bill! And the leaves---60 large bags each fall! And then it was the heater that was going. The last straw was running outside after my dog, in the dark, and hitting a big pile of aluminum siding that my husband had moved onto our cement backyard porch---and I went flying through the air. I landed on my chin on the concrete. Luckily, I was okay, but the only reason there were piles out there was because my husband was doing the siding himself to save money. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Realizing I was lucky, and that house was becoming dangerous---the stove went, windows were falling in, the toilet was lopsided, there was a hole in the bathroom floor--I started to see that the situation was futile. We had already taken out two home improvement loans but they simply weren't enough and the mortgage was higher and higher. It was a vicious cycle and my husband and I were getting sick. It was embarrassing to have anyone over---when a house is old, even if you clean it top to bottom, it will still be dingy. We stopped socializing. I realized that living like that wasn't living. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;So, anyway, we downsized, and got rid of a lot. We streamlined. That was hard too, but cathartic. And now at least, when we have extra time, we can go to dinner or a movie, or buy some clothes---or read a book! I can write again. I can think again. We live again---instead of just surviving day to day....and that's nice. We aren't rich, but we are making memories which is something we weren't doing years ago. For us it was the right thing. As a family, we needed this because things were becoming bleak, it was too much pressure for us, and in the end we felt the family was more important than a house. We needed to heal. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;I always wrote...either stories, or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;journaling&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; stories, or just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;journaling&lt;/span&gt;. Lately I am writing more and more. It helps me a lot. I haven't heard anything definite on the regency novella I sent in, but I'm sure I will. I started the Anne Tyler book, and also picked up a Kathleen E. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Woodiwiss&lt;/span&gt;. This week I helped my partner in England with a nice summary of her novels. I'm working on some other info for another writing friend, and I'm dreaming about my new novel. I'd like to think about it a little more and then jump right in...maybe on a long weekend, and try to get some interrupted time. (It worked well last time!) And yes, there will be royalty in it, and maybe even Queen Victoria. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;My sister has three children, and my mom still lives in the home where I was born. My son is a technology whiz--his hobby is keeping up with all the latest cell phones, programs, laptops, gaming systems--he knows it all. He is amazing. He creates his own websites, and even browsers and games. A lot of our friends call him for advice. He amazes the personnel in Radio Shack and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Cingular&lt;/span&gt; and Apple Computers. They want to hire him but he is just too young. My husband is a contractor doing home improvements, re-doing homes--carpentry, masonry, tiling, roofs, windows, carpeting, painting, decks--and he draws up plans so he can get the permits he needs. He's pretty good at selling the jobs and even doing them by himself when he has to--there is usually a few guys working with him at all times, though. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;I work at home...I have a wonderful job at large insurance company. I've been there 7 years and I work in the medicare dept, and they recently sent me home with my computer, a headset and a phone. The calls from members now come into my home office and it's really nice. I love it. Yes, I am very lucky. I spend my days talking to seniors and assisting them with their benefits--prescriptions, medical, hospital...all of that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;I have a couple of animals--and I love them. I have two boxers who happen to be brothers, and an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;african&lt;/span&gt; grey parrot. It gets crazy at times, but I love them to death. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;I love Chinese food, reading, renting a good movie, going to Barnes and Noble with my son and hanging out, playing in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;cyperspace&lt;/span&gt;, writing, reading the bible and spending quality time with my husband and son. I also adore old or second hand bookstores. I love winter and the ice and snow and wished I lived in Maine. I also love the water. My dream would be to live on the water--having a townhouse with a view of a lake! I also enjoy building my library at home. The other day I spent time downloading beautiful royal pictures---homes, palaces, interiors, clothing, jewels, and all this helps me while I write. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;And basically that's the story of my life. And I really do believe in leaving some sort of legacy, even a very small one. Having the novella published would be a start. Showing my son I could do it...that was important too. I told him that if you want something bad enough, you have to sit down and try your best to do it. Dreams can come true, but you have to try.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;.....and.....who was Feodora? It's the end of the post now---so, who was Feodora in Queen Victoria's circle? Do you have any idea? I'll tell you next time who Feodora is. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-117001639092048829?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/117001639092048829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=117001639092048829' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/117001639092048829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/117001639092048829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/01/about-me-pictureand-more_28.html' title='ABOUT ME! A Picture...and more'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-116966882902143555</id><published>2007-01-24T12:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T09:54:58.820-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Proposal was Accepted!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2405/2309/1600/622313/anne%20tyler%20book.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2405/2309/320/97505/anne%20tyler%20book.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#663366;"&gt;Well!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;I posted that picture because I'll be reading it with my critique partner. My partner in London just loves Anne Tyler's descriptive prose, so we are going to study it...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;But, anyway, in one of the groups I'm in, several of the writers have contributed their work to anthologies--and there is a new anthology coming out in the spring. The stories will be set in the regency period--centered around London, England, ..near the royal court...and it should be a romance...&lt;em&gt;Well, I saw the royal court...and I just&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;knew that was ME!&lt;/em&gt; So I started working on an idea, and of course added in Queen Victoria---who was just a little girl at the time. One thing led to another and I had about 5,000 words done. I read it over and thought...not bad. I sent it to my critique partner in England and she thought it was pretty good and sent it back to me with some comments. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;I decided to do a proposal, on the spot, and just send it in. The publisher wanted about 20,000 words...so I thought out the story, wrote the proposal and sent it in by email. Unbelievably, the next day I got a response and it said, "Love the premise! Write the story and send it to me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;I knew I had about a month. I thought about the proposal...and the story line. My husband told me that he would take care of our son for the weekend -- and that I could concentrate on writing. That Friday night I closed myself up in my room with some candles...and left the window open a bit to feel the cool air. In a sense, the flickering of the candles, and the cold room transported me a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt; place where I could see and feel what was happening more vividly. I wrote and wrote and kept checking the word count. I dreamt about the lovers---the palace...the carriage she rode in...Queen Victoria as a young child. It seemed so vivid. The next day I wrote and wrote...and by midnight I had about 14,000 words in total already! Again I went to bed dreaming about them. It was nice. That's the nice part of writing---when you are in their world!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;The next day was Sunday, and I finished up about 9Pm with 22,000 words!! It was too much, so I had to cut. I cut &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;a lot&lt;/span&gt;, and brought it to 19,500. But I was proud of myself with the output! It was fun. I typed like mad. Then I spent a couple of weeks polishing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;And so now I wait. I learned quite a bit, though! I had to cut and so I went &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; it very systematically---and thought---do I really need this? Does it add to the story? I took out adjectives that weren't necessary---and cut anywhere I could. I re-phrased things to make them more interesting. I went &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; and took out adverbs, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;cleaned&lt;/span&gt; things up, made sure the pace was good and added in some extra little spice between the two lovebirds. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;I had a little help from some of my writing friends---what would I do without them!? Writer friends are just the best. Thanks P!! Thanks K!! And thanks Andrew and Matty for "letting me do it". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;I'm working on a few things now. I'll be picking up the above book so we can study it. I'm expanding and working on some ideas for families that were close to Queen Victoria as a child. I'm studying regency and V&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ictorian&lt;/span&gt; times. I'm critiquing what I call "Susanna" for my friend in England, and I'm helping someone else with some tidbits on the Romanov's---well, I have so many books, why not? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Things have been a little tough lately---and I have been sinking into dreamland more and more....just wanting to be back there...creating my own little world. It's necessary at times for me to escape. I also realize I work very well under pressure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;What was Princess Victoria's governess's name? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;I'll tell you next time! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-116966882902143555?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/116966882902143555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=116966882902143555' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/116966882902143555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/116966882902143555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2007/01/my-proposal-was-accepted.html' title='My Proposal was Accepted!'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-115962413368420632</id><published>2006-09-30T08:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T10:26:57.322-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Funny Coincidence</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoJzXmUQpGI/AAAAAAAAAFA/DFmy9m4EPQQ/s1600-h/06-22-07_2330.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080750178887050338" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoJzXmUQpGI/AAAAAAAAAFA/DFmy9m4EPQQ/s320/06-22-07_2330.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;We just got a new car! My husband's business partner made the arrangements and we drove over to pick it up. I thought we were getting a Grand Marquis. We arrived at night, and the car was sleek and long and silver. We got in and looked at it----grey leather.....luxurious....not brand new---but almost! And then my son said, "Its a Crown Victoria!" Well, blow me down!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;My son said, "Mommy, it's meant to be that you have this car." I think so too. I'm one of the few people in this world obsessed with Queen Victoria and her dependents. I bought two grey stuffed animals---for the back of the car. Guess what I named them? Victoria and Albert...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Anyway---its odd how the small things in life can bring us such happiness. The car isn't perfect, but I love it to death. It rides like a dream and after all these years I have a tape deck that works and, &lt;em&gt;mind you&lt;/em&gt;, a CD player. Finally, I can listen to my tapes from church and from Joyce Meyer---I've collected so many over the years. I feel like a Queen. I also feel very safe in it...and there's three seat bealts in the back for my son and his friends. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;It's early Saturday morning. I'm sitting in bed with my laptop with CNN on in the background. My boxers---Hunter and Rocco, are beside me on the bed, snoring. My husband is in the living room with the kids. I think he snuck out there to watch TV. My son and his friends had a little sleepover in the living room. All the kids are sleeping on the couch, including my husband, who is sleeping sitting up. He's a great Daddy, but he has a hard time giving up his couch and his cable TV. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Later in the day we are taking all the children to Toys-R-Us. As I have said in the past, its wonderful to see the happiness in a child's face----knowing that you are helping to build happy memories that they will carry with them forever. My home has always been one of the fun places to come for a sleep over (or so they say). It's a lot of work and disruption but it's worth it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Onto writing....I'm dabbling in a little Regency piece that I might send off for possible publication. I haven't decided yet for sure. My UK critique partner is done with her new novel!---the first rough draft! I'm still working on the critique and soon she is going to start on the revisions---in part based on my suggestions. Usually what I do is work on it every weekend and then send it to her so she has in on Monday mornings. I try and do a chapter a week. That seems to work well for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;We have both come to the realization, happily, that we work very well together. Our styles seem to mesh so well. I sent her 2 pages of the Regency story and... back it came with several suggestions to make it better. Without thinking about it too much and too hard, I incorporated her suggestions into the narrative---it was a trust thing. I was amazed at how perfect it seemed to be afterward. I sent her an email to point out how nice the finished scene seemed to be. She also felt it had come out pretty nicely. The fun thing was, though, we weren't even trying that hard. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;We aren't sure if we should meet, at least right now. Our working relationship seems to be so productive--that we wonder if meeting would somehow spoil it. We don't want to mess with a formula that seems to be working so well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Last week I found out that she only lives 30 minutes from Windsor Castle in England. Oh, what luck! I'm not sure what we are going to do with that new found discovery, if anything, but if I need any in particular concerning Windsor---the seat of the English Monarchy, I'm sure she can help me out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;The American Christian Fiction Writers Annual conference is over---and from reading the email loop, it would appear it was really a blessing to many of the writers who went. I long to go in the future. I know its not time (for me) to go yet with a little one at home. But it something to look forward to---and its fun to hear all about it second-hand, which is almost as good. I have to decide if I can go to the October luncheon for the mid-atlantic area which will be taking place in Philadephia in October. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;The Ladies-In-Waiting group is, as usual, bursting with activity. These girls are a lot of fun as well as being extremely talented. I go and look at their websites---and just surf---and I get lost....between the blogs and the excerpts and their favorite links....and their email loop is always so interesting. Some of the authors write for Highland Press which is an up and coming publisher of historicals----and we are talking real historicals, which is nice. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;The Historical Novel Society seems to be quieter...but each email loop contains something fascinating. These authors are serious writers. Well, all the groups have serious writers. I can't limit it just to the HNS! I enjoy their magazine which comes out (is it bi-monthly, I think?) Its packed with all the new books coming out---all the new deals the authors have made.....reviews, and more. Overall, with these three groups, I feel very lucky! I'm learning so much. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;My battery is almost dead---so, I better save this post while I can....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Let me think of a little tidbit I could leave you with.....Since I mentioned Windsor---and also Victoria and Albert... did you know they spent their honeymoon there? It was a very, very short one, however. Victoria was sublimely happy on her wedding night. The happiness, love and joy she felt and expressed are quite touching...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Cheerio...!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-115962413368420632?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/115962413368420632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=115962413368420632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/115962413368420632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/115962413368420632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2006/09/funny-coincidence.html' title='A Funny Coincidence'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoJzXmUQpGI/AAAAAAAAAFA/DFmy9m4EPQQ/s72-c/06-22-07_2330.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-115879376635606265</id><published>2006-09-20T18:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-02T11:49:26.047-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Grief!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoJxf2UQpFI/AAAAAAAAAE4/-R7uLgzRdEk/s1600-h/05-08-07_1955.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080748121597715538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoJxf2UQpFI/AAAAAAAAAE4/-R7uLgzRdEk/s320/05-08-07_1955.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Good Grief is right! Where has the time gone? Its September already! I have much to catch up on.&lt;/span&gt; By the way, the above picture is the view from my living room. Pretty.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I have to come on and edit some of my posts and take out some of those nasty spelling errors. More important, I suppose I should fill you in---or remind myself of what I have been doing these past months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its not all my fault about not writing. I lost my Gateway computer. My dear husband bought my son and I (both) a laptop---two of them. I was so happy getting all my things set up, and my favorites. I had queen pictures posted on my desk-top and I had lots of photos of jewels and I was really getting somewhere. One day I turned on my laptop, and only a bit of the screen was there---the rest was black. The little bit that was showing was jumping up and down. Evidently my liquid screen had broken down. I called Gateway immediately and that began a real nightmare. My paperwork got confused with some else's in Colorado and my computer was sent back, not touched. When I called them I was told that I broke the LCD screen----that it was a customer induced break. They said they knew it. Well, how, I wonder--- could I have broken it? I had just used it the night before and all was well. When I told them that it could have been broken in shipping or in the warehouse or dropped. Oh, no, I was told. It was absolutely me. What would it cost to repair? They told me a whopping $450.00. Sheeeesssshhhh!!!!! I could almost buy a new laptop for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son and I have been sharing a computer. His battery charger doesn't work, and my computer screen doesn't, so we charge up the battery in mine and put it in his computer and this gives us about 2 hours of computer time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still reading and corresponding (a little) with my email loops. I'm amazed when I have the time to sit and read through them....how many wonderful authors I am privy to. One of the groups had a fantastic writing course that went on for months. It was amazing. If you have a question, someone gets back to you quickly. I love reading the excerpts and reviews of all their books and hearing about their WIP's. So many of these girls have trilogies and more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met a great girl who lives in the UK and she is about the same age as me and she writes &lt;em&gt;sooo &lt;/em&gt;quickly...!!  She is really a good writer and her characters manage to pull me in. Right now we're going through one of her manuscripts...and I love the heroine....who lived over 100 years ago. Obviously its an historical, and based in the United States. I am really loving the story and the girl is already up to 85,000 words. She's a speed demon. Since she lives in the UK, she may be sending me a few useful books for my royal writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't done any more articles.....but I think I will. I've been reading a lot---and I cant seem to finish anything. I go from one book to another to another----some fiction, some biography, some fictional biography....and then magazines. I just cant get satisfied. Lately I've even been reading Jane Austen and loving it. I've been spending some time reading Phillipa Gregory---oh, she is so good! I've even been reading the diary of Thomas Moore...written from about 1925 till 1947 or so. Its just a printing of his daily diary. For me this is a wonderful way to see what happened in Britian during that time. He moved in high circles----he is always talking about one Lord or another or writing about being invited to Lady So and So's dinner party. Often he supped....which means he ate supper. Last night I was reading that because of the terrible rain one night he was forced to take a chaise home! A chaise? Obviously that was some sort of carriage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drift between the Regency period and the Victorian---even the Edwardian....and sometimes I look at my writing and think, "Oh, how awful." I know everybody has that feeling. I need to conjure up some "Ooomph" and real feeling and just choose a story and jump into it and let it take me away. Writing is intended to take us away and not upset us and so I should write to please myself first and not worry so much. If I make a mistake in a description of clothing or mess up a time frame or whatever, so what? I do so need to be taken away. I'm working at home now, which is a blessing but I'm without a car at the moment and I've been kind of housebound. It does get depressing at times. I don't mean a real depression---you know, just the blues and a bit of stir-craziness....I also have to pack up about 5-8 more boxes and have them sent to storage and finish re-arranging my apartment....and get rid of this clutter. There's not all that much left but it does get me down. I might hire someone to come in and help me organize the last of it. Its something I hate, hate, hate to do and I'm terrible at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I do have to say that I quit smoking about 3-1/2 months ago. I used everything on the market....zyban....smoke away and also nicorette....all at once...and I'm doing pretty well. I'm not dreaming about cigarettes and besides having a bigger appetite, I feel pretty good. I'll have a few pounds to take off in the end, but I'm healthier...and its very calming to go thru a day with no caffeine...and just feel the quietness.....its very nice. I did it so I can be around for my little boy and I wanted to show him that if you pray for strength--God will help you. Its important to me that he sees me do it and believe, so he will know what to do in his life. The Lord did not let me down.....I did not have horrible cravings and I had peace! Oh, it wasn't me...it was Him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish in a way I had someone to work with me. I do very well with my wonderful UK friend but I have no idea if she seriously would consider doing something with me. WE feed off each other wonderfully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Need to sign off....Okay, something on QV as I call her..... when she had her first baby, it was a grey, rainy day outside...all she could see was the grey weather outside her bedroom window and some smoke from the chimney. Sounds rather cozy, doesn't it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-115879376635606265?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/115879376635606265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=115879376635606265' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/115879376635606265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/115879376635606265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2006/09/good-grief.html' title='Good Grief!'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoJxf2UQpFI/AAAAAAAAAE4/-R7uLgzRdEk/s72-c/05-08-07_1955.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-114377573626547753</id><published>2006-03-30T21:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T10:16:22.584-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoJwoWUQpEI/AAAAAAAAAEw/bsgyg64F8So/s1600-h/qv+4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080747168114975810" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoJwoWUQpEI/AAAAAAAAAEw/bsgyg64F8So/s320/qv+4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#009900;"&gt;They say to be careful what you wish for-----!! This has been an exciting month as far as writing. I was posting some comments on a forum for royalty and some of my comments got the attention of the editor. We started talking back and forth by private message and then email, and she is located in the London area, and is very busy with this new Royal business on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt;.....well, one thing led to another and she complimented me on my writing in general and we talked further and I told her that I write about queens. She was very excited and amazed at the knowledge I was showing.....heck, I'm so used to thinking about her----them, all the Queens that I research that I never thought anything of it.....but, I kind of do know quite a bit.  I never realized my hobby of reading and writing about Queens was anything.....well, maybe different----well, perhaps I have something to offer someone. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#009900;"&gt;She asked me to write a piece on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Frogmore&lt;/span&gt;----now, if you know about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Frogmore&lt;/span&gt; than you'll know what Queen I have been referring to. I did write it and dashed it off, and she loved it---Cheerio!!! We also joked that we'd serialize my novel.....now, of course, I really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know if we will, or even if I should. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#009900;"&gt;A few days later, as big as day---There is was on the front page---my own story. The editor wrote that she felt lucky to have such an "expert" writing this story for the site. Whoa! Then, out of sheer excitement I emailed all my writing groups, and there are three of them and I told everyone about the article, and gave them the link and I got lots of congrats over the email for days--it was exciting. But there were also some very nice comments written on the Royal site about my article. They were all so nice, but one said, "She wrote as if she were observing the Queen" which really flipped me out. I guess I succeeded in making her my own. What a lovely compliment for a writer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;In the last 2 weeks, things have heated up, and not only did I send her another story...on Osborne House, which was Queen Victoria's favorite home.....I've also started playing around on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt;, with the thought of starting a Queen Blog or a Queen Site.....with pictures, stories and glimpses of their lives, their jewels, their homes and palaces.....all of it. It's a little scary, but I've gone ahead and I did design a bit of a site all on my own. Now, I still have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;a lot&lt;/span&gt; to learn about doing websites----maintaining one, linking things to it.....oh, there's so much to learn, but it was very exciting for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The Queen I am currently writing about is, yes---Queen Victoria. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I think the perception out there is that she was an old prude, a lady in black widow's weeds who stayed away from everyone and everything, but its so, so untrue. She really was a remarkable woman in my humble opinion and the more I read about her the more I love her. But, I'll save all the good stories for later....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;How am I feeling? Better. It helps to have something new and exciting that I am interested in, and when I can I just "get away"---either researching, reading, writing, follow &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; with my writing groups----and now, writing articles. Its a start. I don't know if it will lead to anything and it really doesn't matter if it does or not. The main thing is that I am having a ball with it and I know---after all these years, that I can do something fun with the knowledge I've acquired---did I spell that word right? It just keeps me happy and amused and that in itself is great. Oh, enough talking about me. My son has been helping me with my new little site on the web.H&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;e's&lt;/span&gt; only 9 but is he smart, especially when it comes to computers. He amazes me. When I have a question, its just remarkable but the child usually says, "Oh, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; easy---" and then &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;bing&lt;/span&gt;!! click....click!! Done. Wow. So cool. I feel a little stupid sometimes, but I know I shouldn't. The kids these days are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;soooo&lt;/span&gt; bright.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Time to go to bed. Okay---another tidbit about her......they say her hands were very small and the skin, oh, so very soft. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Dreams really do come true, sometimes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-114377573626547753?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/114377573626547753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=114377573626547753' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/114377573626547753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/114377573626547753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2006/03/dreams.html' title='Dreams'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoJwoWUQpEI/AAAAAAAAAEw/bsgyg64F8So/s72-c/qv+4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-114195630192151706</id><published>2006-03-09T20:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T10:08:27.024-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Breakthrough!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoJu7mUQpDI/AAAAAAAAAEo/_MFOYBuM2qM/s1600-h/100_2224.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080745299804202034" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoJu7mUQpDI/AAAAAAAAAEo/_MFOYBuM2qM/s320/100_2224.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#990000;"&gt;Yesterday I had a breakthrough in my writing and an idea came to me about point of view, and how the characters in the novel can narrate it. This is something I've been thinking about for some time because I'd like it to be different, and since its based on a true story, and there are really diaries and letters involved, in my mind I finally think I know how this story could be told. I sent my ideas to the only writer I know who will really look at it and get back to me. (I think its very hard to find a good crit partner, personally....) She wrote back that she loved it, it "works" she said....she found herself wondering about this thing and that thing and wanted answers-----she said each segment was narrated differently, but well----and best, she said, "I got a chill down my spine." What a compliment and I couldn't ask for more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#990000;"&gt;I've been spending a lot of time reading the emails and information that comes through on the various writing groups I belong to---but, I don't feel yet that I've found a nourishing home. Maybe its because I'm quiet and don't talk much on the e-mail loops. Perhaps I need a smaller group of writers to work with. Oh, I don't know. When one writer is on a roll, another may be petering out. We all work at different paces. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;This weekend I really start the research phase---in so far as I'll go through the books, papers and internet and always have a pad and pen with me. When I come across something important about her life---a time line, an event, a death, birth, something cute she said---descriptions of relatives---everything gets jotted down in chronological order, by year. I'll also have files for each of her homes and each relative and major events. Although I know much of this by heart by now, sometimes the exact dates escape me and I need to check names and places and all of that. I think its going to be fun to fill up my pads and then go back to the chapters and sprinkle in dashes of this and dashes of that. I'm planning on doing it layer by layer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;The story is already out there but I have to choose whats interesting and whats not, what to leave out, whats exciting and what I can play with and how far I can stretch the truth, or, do I even want to?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;I think its kind of cool to keep a diary of how I am thinking----when the book comes out and I have a website of my own and another book on the way and others ask, "How did you think it all up? What gave you this idea?"----well, they won't have to look very far. I'm going to try to be as truthful as I can. I feel pretty up and the writing is helping me. It feels like a special, secret thing at this point.....that I wake up to....and go to sleep with. I still feel funny talking about this with anyone----Why do I feel so protective of her? Do I think someone would steal her from me? I suppose I shouldn't worry about that---no one can steal my own creation of her. Another writer would see it all differently, and some writers would think I'm crazy to have my head in books about her all the time. Sometimes I don't even know why I do it. One thing I do know....I feel safe in her world. It stays where it is, it never changes and I know what to expect. There's no surprises and that's nice. I've studied the ups and the downs....and things are familiar. I guess I need to be safe in this world----Oh, I hope I can leave something nice behind for others to enjoy, something that will pierce them through and through----in a good way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Got the pads and papers and pens and books and internet....so, I'm on my way. I've finally figured it out, I think. It's odd---these ideas need to ferment for a long time in your brain before you can see it all clearly and it feels comfortable. If it doesn't feel real to me, it won't be real to anyone else, and that's something important in writing---and I think, maybe, that I've caught on to her real essence as I see it and it seems to be coming out on paper---at last!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;It's getting late. Hmmm, a tidbit.....Let me see..... She loved brisk weather and preferred candles to gaslight---and hated the heat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Do you think you know? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;This is fun to do. It keeps me sharp and on my toes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Stay cozy....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-114195630192151706?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/114195630192151706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=114195630192151706' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/114195630192151706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/114195630192151706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2006/03/breakthrough.html' title='A Breakthrough!'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoJu7mUQpDI/AAAAAAAAAEo/_MFOYBuM2qM/s72-c/100_2224.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-114178365146347679</id><published>2006-03-07T20:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T10:05:06.900-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tidbits</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoJugWUQpCI/AAAAAAAAAEg/N5yuM8UkmFU/s1600-h/100_2217.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080744831652766754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoJugWUQpCI/AAAAAAAAAEg/N5yuM8UkmFU/s320/100_2217.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Its time to blog again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Okay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;I've made a decision. While I begin this blog about writing about a queen, I will also be doing a lot of research---and so---someone told me I should start a queen blog, about her and her family, and share tidbits about their lives and other royal information about them. I was told there's no other blog like it and no group about her. So, I am going to do it. For right now it's going to be my own secret, but eventually---who knows. The novel will be published--- Oh, it will! It might take 5 years, or 10, but it will happen. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;I joined a new writing group today--- I think its a reputable one. I'm already a member of another that I like, but why not be in two? I have my writer friends, some published and some not. Somebody told me to get in touch with historians, other authors and other people who are interested in the queen, or similar things. This weekend I found another stack of old books from the used bookstore....lots of big, thick memoirs that will help me with her life, her thoughts and the time period....also, the language used at the time. I love books as you can tell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Today, a feeling came to me, about how the novel should be written.....kind of the voice of the novel----the tone. There are so many times I feel her almost alive, saying something. You have to understand I've been studying her and her family for well over 15 years. So, I know her. And I think I know at times what she might say. Supposedly, this sometimes happens to authors. Sometimes I feel like I have to let it out, and so I just sit here and let her talk.....and write down the dialogue. Little by little, I'm getting the voice and the tone that might be best for me----after all, I am writing this for me..... I do hope though, that someday a reader will take the book and curl up in a chair, start to read a few pages and think, "This is gonna be good...I feel like I'm there....and its such a long book, too." Isn't it great to retreat into another world for awhile? There's nothing like it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;I feel a little better and the writing is helping me. You can't give in and so, for me this helps quite a bit. I'm also getting older and how long will I be on this planet? Maybe another twenty to thirty years at best? I'd like to leave something behind....a wonderfully, researched book, about something real. What can we really leave behind? There are memories, and they are real and deep and last forever. You can leave behind mementos of your life, money, a home, a legacy, you can impart your morals to someone or you can leave behind something beautiful, like a piece of wonderful art. Of course, its the children we leave behind and what we leave them with that's the most important. And love....without love and caring, and memories, what is there really?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;It's time to get my spiritual house in order, try and stay healthy and make sure that I show love. If, in the process, I manage to stay sane and get that book done too----well, that's just an added bonus! ....But, you know what? I really do think I can do it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Its time to go.....Please excuse me if I am missing an apostrophe or comma....its late....My sweet husband just took out my son and my sons' (two friends) and bought them all game boys and games----they are thrilled and jumping around the house. His friends have never had one before. Its so satisfying to be kind to a child. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;The first tidbit: She was very close with her eldest child, but couldn't live without her youngest. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Night....Stay Cozy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-114178365146347679?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/114178365146347679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=114178365146347679' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/114178365146347679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/114178365146347679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2006/03/tidbits.html' title='Tidbits'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoJugWUQpCI/AAAAAAAAAEg/N5yuM8UkmFU/s72-c/100_2217.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22663270.post-114032588996915103</id><published>2006-02-18T23:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-29T16:18:02.292-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaving a Legacy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoJtY2UQpBI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Yl2cLZHW_BM/s1600-h/2672682810076906760WYXtSz_fs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080743603292120082" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoJtY2UQpBI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Yl2cLZHW_BM/s320/2672682810076906760WYXtSz_fs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;I love queens and I'm a writer. And I love writing and thinking about Queens. They parallel our lives so much---I don't even think we realize it. They went through the same pain we do, they suffered, they felt lost and alone but they did it in front of many and hid it from many. At least if I'm having a bad day, I can be alone and no one will know about it. But Queens, Empresses and Princesses did not have that luxury, did they? They did have many other luxuries.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;I'm working on an historical novel---yes!! about royalty. Some of it is real and some fiction. That's kind of what I feel like today, a little real and a little fake. But foremost I want to get the novel done. There are several I want to do, and to be able to leave behind. They are going to be a little different than whats been done before, so I am hoping it will be unusual and that people will like it. It will take them into the lives of royal persons who lived and breathed and felt happiness, comfort and despair. Because its not a biography exactly, if I'm careful, I will be able to try and fill in what might have been said, what was probably said and definitely things that were done. It will almost feel like being there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Talking about being here----well, that's what prompted me to start writing. I'm not at my best now, but I don't want it to stop my writing or my research. If I'm having a bad day, I'll write and research some depressing things. When I'm up, I'll be able to express the joyous times. I know this isn't your normal way of writing, but its the only way that I can go forward and do this. In a way, the manuscript is cathartic to me. It gives me something to think about, really think about when I feel I cannot handle anymore. But all isn't lost if you have hope. I have hope that I will continue to handle things the best I can, and my writing, perhaps, will parallel what is happening in the lives of the characters. I don't what else to do. The novel needs to be finished and I need to get better. I can't get better without my writing and my characters and I need them so----but the characters wont be able to come alive for anybody else if I don't get better.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Oh, the life of a reader and a writer. I have books, books and more books in every corner, stacked up here and there. And it makes me feel good. I have a lot of reference books and biographies and memoirs about the characters I am making come alive. Will they---maybe---help me to come alive again? I know that in order to get better, you have to help yourself. In my heart I know that I should write about the process of writing because it will help me and its important to get things on paper, and out of your system. I did it for many years and it helped me. And so I'll start a journal... a blog... a record of what really goes on while a person creates and what happens to them when they are struggling to get better.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;In case anyone is too worried----Oh, like someone is really going to read this----I don't have any illness that is life threatening. But, in order to go on fully with my life, with contentment, I do need to get mentally and physically better in several areas.......and I know that only God and myself can help me on this one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Maybe someday I'll have a long, interesting blog to go along with my novel. It could sort of be a companion to the novel. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Its very late. I should go to bed. But tonight I am going to think of some of the parallels of what I am feeling and what the real characters probably felt, and hey---they got through it and left a legacy, so why can't I?? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22663270-114032588996915103?l=writerofqueens.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/feeds/114032588996915103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22663270&amp;postID=114032588996915103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/114032588996915103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22663270/posts/default/114032588996915103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writerofqueens.blogspot.com/2006/02/leaving-legacy.html' title='Leaving a Legacy'/><author><name>Susan Flanders, Writer of Queens</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02253675855486514854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/SdAiupDrL9I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IgbCdTMD3aw/S220/Susan.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_2AaRmVUHAB0/RoJtY2UQpBI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Yl2cLZHW_BM/s72-c/2672682810076906760WYXtSz_fs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
