Ann Hatton ( Ann of Swansea) and Sarah Siddon #FamousSisters #relationships #families #stage #actresses, #authors #poetry @honno

Sisters Ann of Swansea and Sarah Siddon

Ann Hatton and her older sister Sarah, were the daughters of Roger Kemble and Sarah Ward, who led a troupe of travelling actors. Sarah was born in Brecon in July 1755, Ann, otherwise known as Ann of Swansea, in Worcester in April 1764. There were ten other siblings.

All, except Ann, were early performers on stage with their parents.Considered by her family to be unsuitable to be on stage, owing to a disability (she had a slight limp), Ann was more or less excluded from the family. Later in life she often said she received little love from her parents, and that her education was neglected.

In contrast Sarah was well educated, adored by her parents, and performed her first major Shakespearean role, as Ariel, at the age of nine.

Yet both fell in love with men whom their mother and father thought unsuitable. Ann, at the early age of sixteen, married a man called Curtis who was actually already married, and was later convicted and jailed for bigamy. She was considered to have brought disrepute on the family and was cast out by them; their only concern was their determination to validate their respectability within the theatrical world.

Sarah was dealt with in a different way. Initially sent away to work as a lady’s maid because she began a relationship with William Siddons, (one of the members of her father’s troupe), she was soon forgiven by her parents, who gave their blessing for her to marry William. Sarah was then allowed to continue her acting career. She was so outstanding that she was noticed by David Garrick, actor, playwright, theatre manager and producer, who took her to London to appear on the stage at Drury Lane, although her first role at Drury lane wasn’t a total success.

Rejected and isolated Ann became increasingly depressed and suicidal, actually attempting suicide in Westminster Abbey. She lurched from one catastrophe to another. After her failed marriage she attempted to earn her own money by working for a Dr James Graham, a sex therapist, who ran a business called the Temple of Health and Hymen, in Pall Mall. Her family was enraged to discover he advertised the lectures Ann gave as “given by Mrs Curtis, Mrs Siddons’ younger sister”.

In 1783, Ann produced her first volume of poems, (Poems on Miscellaneous Subjects). Again she gained her family’s wrath; she published the collection under the name of “Ann Curtis, sister of Mrs Siddons”.

The Kemble family was determined to disassociate themselves from Ann, so Sarah, joined with one of their brothers, granted Ann a yearly allowance, but only with a condition that Ann lived at least a hundred and fifty miles away from London.

The annual payment meant that Ann’s reputation and station in society became more acceptable, and in 1792 she married William Hatton.

They emigrated to America, and it was here that she wrote her opera libretto Tammany (otherwise known as The Indian Chief), which was given its première on Broadway. This was the first known libretto written by a woman.

Following the triumph of her libretto, Ann and William returned to Britain, and by 1799, had settled in Swansea in South Wales, where they ran a bathing-house and lodgings near the coast until William’s death in 1806. She then moved to Kidwelly. One of her poems, Swansea Bay, describes her emotions as she left Swansea. Eventually, she returned to Swansea in 1809 where she settled down to write her poetry and Romantic novels. These encapsulated themes of social and moral parody,(sometimes with gothic leitmotifs). She used the pseudonyms of “Ann of Swansea” and Ann of Kidwelly.

Many of her books were set in Wales; Cambrian Pictures, published by my publishers, Honno, is one of them.

Sarah and her husband William, took up the life of a travelling thespian, playing many parts all over the country. She cleverly chose roles that made her more popular, that protected her image and preserved her reputation as a wife and mother of five children, as well as an actress. This helped her to avoid any rumourmongering and scandal that usually plagued actresses at the time. She ultimately became Britain’s most renowned and highly paid actress in the 1780s, much sought after by equally famous painters, such as Sir Joshua Reynolds, to sit to have her portrait painted. She even gave private readings for the king and queen at Windsor Castle and Buckingham House. Reputed to have a striking stage presence she became most famous for her role as Lady Macbeth; a role she was reported as played to perfection, and she was also called the Queen of Tragedy.

But, after thirty years the marriage between Sarah and William became strained and they separated.

She retired from the stage in June of 1812, playing Lady Macbeth in Macbeth. So enthralled by her performance were the audience that they continued clapping when she finally left the stage and the play ended there.

She died in 1831 and was buried in St. Mary’s, Paddington. Her funeral was attended by thousands, and a statue of her was later created by Francis Legatt Chantrey and erected in Westminster Abbey (ironically, as I said, earlier, the place where her sister, Ann attempted suicide after her first marriage to the bigamist, Curtis, and when she was both ostracized by her family, and desperately poor). .

Ann died and was buried in 1838 in a churchyard in High Street, Swansea. She left most of her belongings to her servant Mary Johns, executor of her will, as a “very small remuneration for her affectionate, honest and undeviating conduct” for almost 16 years.

At no time in my research for this post, did I discover that the two sisters ever met again.

It occurred to me that, sometimes, it is only through fate and coincidence that estranged families are forced into contact. And so it is for the two sisters, Angie and Mandy (later known as Lisa) in my next book, Sisters. Due to be published by Honno on the 26th January 2023, I’m thrilled that it’s now available to be pre-booked.

.

Remembering Past Places in our Memories #memories #writerslife #houses #holidays #family #amusementparks #countries #SundayVibes

There are places that remain in our memories, the details may become slightly blurred, nostalgia may colour our thoughts, but they don’t fade. And how those places made us feel at the time is the one thing that remains.

This is a round-up of the Places in our Memories posted over the last few weeks. There have been some wonderful memories shared by writers from all over the world who have joined in the series so far:

Thorne Moore tells us about her first real grasp of history. “The past was just under my feet and nothing was permanent after all…”

https://tinyurl.com/2vmwx53r

Carol Lovekin recalls how much her mother has influenced her life

https://tinyurl.com/26ua74jt

Sally Cronin enthralls us with memories of her childhood of Ceylon, now known as Sri Lanka, 

https://tinyurl.com/yc32zjh9

Robbie Cheadle tells us about her life as a child and how she’d lived in twenty-one houses and attended fourteen schools, before the age of twelve. And of her love for her sisters…

https://tinyurl.com/4cpjuk7h

Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene remembers an old amusement park, a memory that gave background to her books…

https://tinyurl.com/473desej

D G Kaye poignantly recalls one memory that is forever engraved in her mind and heart of her beloved husband.

https://tinyurl.com/yd8835yn

Terry Tyler recalls family holidays on the Norfolk coast, and the genuine gypsy caravan in the garden of their holiday home.

https://tinyurl.com/2z5rh3mu

Alex Craigie shares memories and photographs of her childhood home.

https://tinyurl.com/35pkn288

And then there are my own memories of the street I lived in until the age of five, and the area where I grew up.

https://tinyurl.com/zu7wu94u

Tomorrow we begin another round of Places in our Memories. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I do.

Walking the Taff Trail – Well a small section of it anyway. And more of a stroll than a walk. #walks #cycling #photos #ThursdayThrowback #memories #history

An update to my post: Tongwynlais: Historic tollhouse given new lease of life:https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-wales-62718289

Edmundo Ferreira-Rocha, of Cardiff council’s Urban Park Rangers, and councillor Linda Morgan cut the ribbon at the opening ceremony. © Tongwynlais Historical Society.

© Tongwynlais Historical Society.

Villagers have restored the shell of a historic “unloved eyesore” tollhouse demolished more than 70 years ago. The original building was among hundreds used to collect money from 18th and 19th century travellers. Volunteers in Tongwynlais, on the edge of Cardiff, have spent more than a year rebuilding it as the first step towards creating a local history trail. “Our volunteers have been fantastic,” said Sarah Barnes, of the Tongwynlais Historical Society.

*******************************************************************************************************

Before this wonderful restoration granddaughter and I walked the Taff Trailso thought you might like to see the before and after. Or, in the case of this blog, the “after and before”.

Put a lovely sunny day, with a dog desperate to go a walk, with a granddaughter who needs to be dragged from her mobile and bribed by the thought of a chocolate brownie and a drink of Sprite, and there was only one place to head for, the cafe in the garden centre at the end of the Taff Trail in Radyr.

The Radyr section of this lovely river walk is one we’ve done often

But this time we decided to meander along various smaller paths, even though we needed to retrace our steps numerous times. I was so glad we did because look what we found:

The tollhouse, once used by the Pentyrch and Melingriffith Iron and Tinplate Works in the late 1800s

Thanks to the Tongwynlais Historical Society ( co-founders,Sarah Barnes and Rob Wiseman) the Tollhouse returns to life. What was once nothing more than a few visible bricks covered in 70 years of vegetation, is now a recognisable shell complete with growing wildflower garden

I thought I’d better seek permission to add some of the photographs from the Tongwynlais Historical Society. I made contact with a very helpful chap, Jack Davies, whose fascinating website also contains an article about the Tollhouse and other history of the village: https://tongwynlais.com/history/

Granddaughter, Seren, with soulful companion, Benji, who patiently waited to continue his walk.

Seren also very kindly leant a hand to point out this lovely heart shaped stone, with a wonderful inscription:

Which immediately brought to mind (well, my mind anyway), my book, The Heart Stone, which was published by Honno, in 2021: So, never one to pass up on an opportunity…

The inspiration for The Heart Stone partly came from research for my degree on The First World War some years ago; a subject that both fascinates and repulses me. At the time I’d found my grandfather’s army records and discovered he’d volunteered to join the local Pals Battalion with two of his friends, although they were all underage.

I only ever remember him as a small man who spent his days in a single bed under the window in the parlour, who coughed a lot, and was very grumpy. He died when I was eight.

There was no conscription at the beginning of the war. The Pals Battalions were formed, to answer Lord Kitchener’s call for volunteers, by encouraging local magistrates to drum up community spirit and patriotic fervour.

 The gist of the speeches used were that young men,”…  should form a battalion of pals, a battalion in which friends will fight shoulder to shoulder for the honour of Britain and the credit of their town and villages.”

 My grandfather was gassed in 1916 near the Somme. He was also shell-shocked and was unemployed for the rest of his life. Once, my mother told me he had never spoken of his experience but had suffered nightmares for as long as she could remember. And that there were whole streets around the house where they’d lived where the men had never returned.

It’s a haunting image.

Four years ago, after my mother passed away and we were clearing her home, I found my grandfather’s army papers again.

 During the following week, whilst my husband and I were walking along the Pembrokeshire coastal path, we found a smooth stone, almost heart shaped, placed on top of a cairn amongst the Marram grass. Picking up the stone to examine it, a folded paper blew from underneath. There had been words on it but were, by then, indecipherable.

 A love note, I thought; a love note under a heart shaped stone.

 A love note, under a heart shaped stone, from a young man who had never returned.

 And so The Heart Stone started to form.

The Heart Stone was published by Honno Press in Feb 2021

And a Review of The Heart Stone:

https://amzn.to/3bCkx8w

And a buying link:

Amazon.co.uk: https://amzn.to/3hupbc1

Also available from Honno

And a little bit about me:

I’m,originally from Saddleworth, a group of villages on the edge of the Pennines, but have lived in Pembrokeshire, Wales, for over forty years.

I have an MA in Creative Writing with the University of Wales Trinity St David’s College, Carmarthen. BA (Hons) in Literature with the Open University, a Diploma in Drama from Swansea University. I’m also is a Creative Writing tutor and hold workshops on all genres.

And here I am:

https://twitter.com/judithbarrow77
https://www.facebook.com/judith.barrow.

An easy walk… I thought!. Warren Wood (beginning with a Short Visit to the Water-Break-its-Neck waterfall) @Powys #Wales #photographs #walks #holidaymemories

The sunny day disappeared as we walked through the short steep-sided gorge – following in the footsteps of Victorian tourist to the Water-Break-its-Neck waterfall, around a mile from the village of New Radnor ( Maesyfed – the Welsh name), in the county of Powys, Wales.

It was a spectacular sight. Yet, beyond the sound of the water it was strangely silent.

The water tumbled through the black slated rocks, a silvery mesmerising flow, to the small stream and creating a fine rainbow mist in the air. Yet there was an eerie and ephemeral feeling to the fallen, bare oak branches laced with lichen and boulders covered in dark green moss and surrounded by curtains of gently swaying ferns.

We made our way back along the narrow path. I thought we would be taking a slow ramble along the walking trails in Warren Wood – so named for the labyrinth of rabbit warrens that kept the locals fed for centuries, now dwarfed by towering beeches, oaks and conifers.

Husband had other ideas. ‘Let’s walk up the road to the top of Warren Wood,’ he said, pointing vaguely to the left as we left the path. ‘We could get some brilliant photographs.

‘How far is it?’

‘Not far.’

I’ve been caught out by “Not far”, before. Why do I always believe him?

If only I’d read the Nature reserve signage:

In the 1800s The Victorian landowners planted trees on the moorland, to provide a landscape of scenic beauty thus creating a forest, part of Radnor Forest which was once a royal hunting ground. In those days it wasn’t an area covered in trees but an unenclosed piece of land, legally set aside for the Norman kings to hunt deer. Today, Radnor Forest is a land of hill farming and moorlands, steep narrow valleys and hills, rising up to the highest point in Radnorshire, Black Mixen at 650 metres.

Note the words, ‘steep’, hills, and 650 metres. What we didn’t know, was that the wide concrete road in front of us was not only steep but has many twists and turns – and always upwards before it got to 650 metres.

Two and a half hours later, with stops for photographs, we reached the top… I thought. We sat on a convenient rock, drinking from our second bottle of water.

‘We could go on for a bit longer?’ Husband said.,looking around. ‘The road carries on.’

‘The proper road stops here not up there.’ I pointed to the dirt track behind us. Steep dirt track.

I’I bet we could get brilliant photos, though. I’ll go and check.’ Ten minutes later he was back. ‘Come on, it’s a fantastic view.’

We walked in silence. Well, to be honest I had no breath to use up in conversation.

Though the views were wonderful. We could see as far away as Hereford and beyond…..

‘Ready to go back?’ Husband asked.

I didn’t think I could face that road again. ‘We could try going that way?’ I point to a gentle downward sloping track.’It looks like it’s going back to the start.’

‘It doesn’t.’

‘It does.’ I insisted.

I should,perhaps have said, before now – I have little sense of direction. We stumbled/slid down walked for over an hour with the wind whistling through the tall conifers that lined the ever-steeper, downward track. I became increasingly aware of a brooding silence, each time I said cheerfully,’It has to lead to somewhere…’ and, ‘We’re going in the right direction…’. Until we weren’t… we rounded a corner- to see the road end in a turning point for the Forestry Commission. A thick forest faced us…Hmm…

Back we went,stopping every fifty paces to catch our breath. To be fair there were only a few recriminations. Although I did hear some mutterings – which I ignored. Later,we worked out that we had walked thirteen miles – seven more than we had planned.

The following day we creaked our way rambled sedately around the fields where we were staying near Bettws Cedewain, a place in a sheltered valley on the banks of the river Bechan. around five miles from Newtown. The village grew around the crossing of the river where a church was founded by St Beuno in the sixth century. I read that the name of the village is thought to derive from the Welsh word ‘Betws’ – which means a prayer house or bead house where the number of prayers had been counted on beads by the earliest church-goers in Cedewain.

This is My Mum.

This is My Mum.. She’s the one on the left. Next to her (the dark-haired toddler, is her sister Olive, who lived with us for many years) …

mum & Olive when babies

This is My Mum, a photograph taken in her early teens …

mum young woman1

This is My Mum –  The girl on the left …

Mum around sixteen

This is My Mum, elegantly posed in her late teens…

mum - young woman

This is My Mum in her Auxiliary Territorial Service (ATS) uniform during the war…

mum in Army

This is My Mum – on her wedding Day to Dad. Sitting in a car in a photographer’s studio with a pretend background …

Mum & Dad - wedding day

This is My Mum – with my sister and me – I’m the grumpy-looking blond one…

mum in her thirties

mum with us on the beach

This is My Mum in her forties outside the house she lived in until 2014 …

mum around forty five

This is My Mum in her sixties, enjoying the sun in the garden …

mum in the back garden

This is My Mum -aged eighty, at our son’s wedding …


mum purple suit

This is My Mum …

mum thrfee months ago

This is My Mum …

I will give her some dignity so I won’t show her as she is now;  a small frail figure huddled under the bedclothes. She  sleeps most of the time, only speaks the odd disconnected word, she’s doubly incontinent and can’t feed herself, 

My Mum would not have wanted to live like this. I do not want her to have to to live like this. I wouldn’t want to live like this  What I should say is … ‘exist like this.’

 You’ve seen the photographs of my mum as she was. That’s how I want to remember her.  In a similar way, that’s how I want my children to remember me.

This why I wanted to write this post. 

 

Blogging – And How I Got it Wrong

I think I’ve had the wrong idea about blogging. When I first started writing a blog it was to introduce myself to others and to get to know other writers/ authors/poets/artists. Oh and to find different genres of books.

One of my first blogs that disappeared into the ether and was apparently seen by no one! http://www.judithbarrow.co.uk/11-random-facts-about-me/

But I’ve been lucky; I’ve made some online friends along the way who, I hope, would be the kind of friend I’d like to have in ‘real’ life. Some, especially, have been so supportive.

http://bit.ly/1F9PBUW

http://bit.ly/1LLzdQ6

/ http://bit.ly/1KvuYJR

http://bit.ly/1KVVozc

http://uviart.blogspot.co.uk/p/guest-interview.html

http://thestoryreadingapeblog.com/

And I’ve tried to help and support in return.

But lately I’ve noticed two things. There have been posts asking for more followers (one in particular was asking to raise the numbers because it was her/his birthday). And the others have been blogs to celebrate that a certain number of followers has been achieved.

Chasing numbers.

Now don’t get me wrong; if that’s what’s important to these bloggers, that’s fine, it’s no business of mine. And there has to be a reason for ‘upping the ante’ to get to a certain number of followers. For instance, perhaps, for authors, it’s about finding new readers, or, for certain causes, it’s to highlight that charity/society/ organisation.

And then I read this from Hugh: http://linkis.com/hughsviewsandnews.com/Sy3Um

And I remembered Hugh’s blog from a while ago: http://linkis.com/hughsviewsandnews.com/Lf7r6

I read it again. I mulled over this for a while. I looked back at some of my own posts. I saw who’d commented and/or shared. I thought about it. I left the thought to simmer.

Wise advice in both posts.

And it’s occurred to me that I jumped on the band wagon – so to speak – and I’ve  dutifully followed everyone who, I’ve been informed, follows me.

But I have a problem (well, actually I have lots of problems – thought I’d add that bit before I heard a wave of snorts of derision; ‘a problem, Judith?’ ‘Just the one problem?’) My problem is I have two sites I blog from, purely by choice. It’s been a deliberate choice. I use my other site: http://www.judithbarrow.co.uk/ initially for my personal posts, the ones I actually write myself: about my life and the things that have happened to me, my own interviews with authors, my reviews of the books I read for Rosie Amber’s Review Team; https://rosieamber.wordpress.com/ . On this site: https://judithbarrowblog.com/   I copy the blogs from the first site but mainly I use BarrowBlogs to mention/promote other authors, other bloggers’ interviews with authors, other peoples’ thoughts on all sorts of subjects.

Having the two sites works for me.

And I do try to follow the excellent advice given here: http://dreambigdreamoften.co/2015/08/30/how-to-share-your-way-to-more-exposure/

So what to do? I don’t want to be like the blogger who wrote a post saying that she had so many followers she’d stopped reading anything they wrote and just ‘liked’ the posts. I try to read everything I’m sent. And yes, I know that’s probably daft and very few do that. But I do!

I’ve made a decision! I’ve decided it’s quality not quantity. Besides I’ve noticed that the same bloggers who do  like my contributions to the blogging world, also share other types of posts I’m interested in; what I would choose to like, share and comment on. I won’t name them; it wouldn’t be fair. But they do know who they are.

So, I’m thinking, why not just follow and share their posts?

To sum up, I’m taking Hugh’s advice and have trawled through the bloggers I’ve been following for ages and who he calls ‘Ghost Followers’. I’ll carry on much the same when it comes to commenting and sharing stuff I’ve enjoyed reading – but I’ll keep an eye out and delete those who ‘pretend’ to follow but don’t. Please don’t think of that as a threat, it’s not; it’s what I intend to do for ‘self – care’.

I read this today http://yadadarcyyada.com/2015/08/27/message-in-a-bottle/  and I know that the way I blog isn’t perfect (or even close to it) And it’s up to anyone to decide whether  I’m interesting or boring and to follow or not

But the bottom line is I can’t carry on supporting those who I never see hide or hair of.

I’ll always try to acknowledge anybody who takes the trouble to let me know they’ve seen any of my personal posts; it’s only courteous and I enjoy the banter.  I do like meeting and chatting to people but …  I need to stay connected with my ‘friendly’ bloggers

And, like you all, I have a life away from here. And a book to write

See you on the other side of the screen.

Judith

Oh – a bit of a promotion here:

Links to my books:

Amazon .co.uk:

http://amzn.to/1z7ojhY

http://amzn.to/1N3GPQ6

http://amzn.to/1Fth8jR

Amazon.com:

http://amzn.to/1IxMhTA

http://amzn.to/1EsonO3

http://amzn.to/1Kn8QBU

Honno.co.uk:

http://honno.co.uk/index.php

http://bit.ly/1O2M7IL

http://bit.ly/1JGhULC

http://bit.ly/1Un5iPu

med full colour honno logo

Where’s the Most Unusual Place You’ve Had a Book-Signing?

I arrive at my book-signing event to be greeted with a small table covered with an immaculate table cloth, my books already displayed, a notice announcing my presence  and, as always, a lovely vase of flowers as a centrepiece. The staff are friendly and chatty (today it’s Carolyn … and Sharon, complete with big smiles ). I already know them; after all I’ve been holding book-signings here for the last five years and I’ve been a customer of the shop for more years than I care to remember. Nothing unusual in that, I hear you say; we’ve all done events in stores we know. But this venue is special, this is our local chemist, Kilgetty Pharmacy. And, when first forced to admit to myself that I needed to go forth and sell, this was the second local event I was welcomed to.

206

Putting on a pose – me with Jane Gilbert (who owns the shop with her husband, Bart)

I’d talked with Jane about my writing for years (I’m not sure she ever thought I’d be published but she was always tremendously encouraging). Anyway, the day that Pattern of Shadows came out I couldn’t wait to show her. Without hesitation she asked, would I like to hold a book-signing in the shop. I was thrilled – thought there was nothing odd about appearing at a chemist. Up to date I’ve been four times, they’ve sold loads of my books,and I’ll be there again just before Christmas.

Kilgetty Pharmacy isn’t just a place where people go to have prescriptions filled; it’s an Aladdin’s cave of  goodies. It’s where I’ve bought gorgeous scarves and unusual handbags.  Husband tries to ban me from going into the  shop; the temptations to buy are always too strong!

And their claim to fame? In 2013, in a UK wide Easter  competition held by Bronley for the best window display, this chemist  won first prize. I believe the prize was a jolly to Paris for two of the staff!!

200

198212

211

208

A few shots of the busy shop … er … well it was busy until I produced my mobile to take photos … then the staff scuttled off and customers disappeared. (I made the mistake of asking permission.) Hah!

202

Two kind ladies who did agree to pose, while looking for a present. There are treasures for all kinds of occasions: Engagements, Weddings, Births,, Birthdays (from one to a hundred years old!)) Celebrations of all kinds, Cards, Festive ornaments, Treats for pets, Treats for the birds in the garden … and … and …

Highlight of the day? No less than three sales  reps came in to sell their stock to the shop … and I sold  a signed copy of one of my books to  each of the . Yay!!

204

My thanks go to  Jane & Bart Gilbert, Carolyn Finlay,, Sharon, Val, Linda, Carolyn Jones,  Jane Goldsmith and Sue  for a great day. See you next time!

So, all you authors out there – a challenge! Where’s the most unusual place  you’ve held a book signing? Do please tell – with photos if possible!

Links:

http://amzn.to/1fPSfJ5

https://www.facebook.com/judith.barrow.3

https://twitter.com/barrow_judith

https://plus.google.com/+JudithBarrowauthor

LinkedIn: http://bit.ly/1fNP6t2

Bit of self publicity here:

Hush! The first two books of the trilogy are on offer at £1.89 at the moment.

Pattern of Shadows: http://amzn.to/1Denx74

Changing Patterns: http://amzn.to/1MxOvJ0

Living in the Shadows: the last of the trilogy, published in July: http://amzn.to/1JzO3Jh

All also available in paperback on Amazon and from my publishers

http://www.honno.co.uk/med full colour honno logo