Showing posts with label friend. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friend. Show all posts

Thursday, 31 July 2014

SS Arandora Star

If you have read the previous post then this is the reason why we gazed wistfully across the sea.
When we realised how close the Island of Barra was to the island of Eriskay, it was a huge disappointment to us that sadly our schedule did not allow time for us to visit.
SS Arandora Star shown on a Waddingtons Playing Card c 1935
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As a young newly married couple living in Glasgow, Scotland we were introduced to a 'white' Russian lady called Vera Fisanotti (maiden name Maschova) - she was a friend of our 85 year old landlady.  
She was a widow but explained to us that her husband had been an Italian internee during World War II, and that he had been shipwrecked following deportation from Britain. His body was washed up on the shores of the Isle of Barra in the Outer Hebrides.
During 2012 I had watched a TV programme called Island Parish which was filmed on Barra. The programme vividly brought back memories of Vera and her sad contact with the island.  
I decided to do some research on the internet, and surprisingly quickly came across Vera's husband's name. I found Oreste Fisanotti on a website about the SS Arandora Star, a ship carrying refugees & internees to Canada from Liverpool.
The boat set sail from Liverpool on the 1st July 1940 and was torpedoed off the north-west coast of Ireland by a German U-boat the following morningOreste was among more than 800 people who lost their lives.  I also discovered that, subsequently, and following her own death in 1975, Vera had been taken back to Barra and was buried on a hilltop beside him.

Vera's life was a sad one.  She escaped from Petrograd (St. Petersburg) during the 1917 Revolution, where she was studying to become a doctor.
via 
Because of his contacts, her father, a sea captain, smuggled her on to a boat in Odessa bound for Constantinople (Istanbul). He gave her a small leather pouch containing precious stones.  As a young women arriving alone in Turkey, and unable to speak the language, she found it very frightening and confusing, so she decided to try and make her way to London.  Eventually she arrived and found work in an hotel as a chambermaid. It was in London that she met and fell in love with Oreste Fisanotti, who was also working at the hotel as a waiter, and they married.
From the day she left Russia to the day she died she had no idea what had happened to her family.  She tried to find out information about them from the Red Cross, but she was very wary of giving away too much about herself as she still had a great fear of being found by the Russians. When we met her Russia was still a closed society.
When Oreste, her only friend in all the world and her beloved husband died, heartbroken, she left London to live on the remote island of Barra to be close to his body. She lived alone on the island for over twenty years until her health deteriorated, and the doctors told her that the island was not a suitable place for her to reside anymore. She was suffering from rheumatism and respiratory problems, so very reluctantly she left the Island of Barra and moved to Glasgow.
Our Landlady in Glasgow had befriended Vera at her church and that is how we came to meet her. When we first moved into the apartment Vera was introduced to us but she was very cold towards us both. As time passed she opened up and became friendly. Later she confided that she was, understandably, jealous and anxious that we would take our landlady's friendship and love away from her.
At last together, Vera & Oreste's hilltop graves on the remote Island of Barra - on her gravestone Vera finally had the courage to publicly acknowledge her Russian origins. 
Her tragic life made a deep and lasting impression on us both.

Saturday, 29 December 2012

A 21st Century Fairy Tale

 
Claudia by Sophie Anderson 
Four photographs taken in 1917 during the dying days of WWI of the Cottingley fairies. They were taken besides Cottingley beck (stream) near Bradford. I am sure that most of you have come across these photographs, which many believed to be real until as recently as 20 years ago. The girls who took them, cousins Elsie Wright and Frances Griffiths, then old ladies, admitted that they were a hoax.  
However, do you believe in fairy tales? - trust me, when I say that they can and do happen.
Once upon a time one of my dear friends had a lovely daughter, a sweet natured girl with black hair and almond eyes.  She became a teacher, and married her young love with whom she had two children - a girl and then a boy. Sadly the marriage faltered and failed.
Life was very hard for her, paying the mortgage on her cottage, raising two children alone, and going out to work each day. My friend and her husband were loving, caring, grandparents, and did all they could to help ease the burden on their daughter's shoulders.
One day she met a kind prince, he was charming, attentive, and a wonderful substitute father to her now growing children. They became a solid little family group, enjoying each others company, raising lambs and chickens on the land that he owned and generally leading a happy good life.
Little did my friend's daughter know that her knight in shining armour was also heir to a very large fortune.
Out of the blue she is soon to be whisked away to a country estate that he has purchased. 
A large area in the Highlands of Scotland with shooting and fishing, their nearest neighbour, a Duke. A fine mansion house in a mature wooded setting, a walled garden, a productive farm, several houses and cottages. I have seen the photos and it is stunning.
illustration by John Bauer - Swedish illustrator and painter - 1882/1918
So you see, if you believe in fairy tales, they can happen, and like all good fairy tales I really do hope that this story has a very long and happy ending.
images via wikipedia

Friday, 7 December 2012

On dark winter evenings

The Regency Pump Rooms, Cheltenham via wikipedia
On dark winter evenings I am most definitely an indoor, stay at home person. However, a good friend invited me to join her at a concert. The internationally acclaimed Takác String Quartet from Budapest were playing at Cheltenham.
A Christmas market was in full swing as I passed through Cheltenham - it is surprising what is going on whilst I am safely tucked up in my 'Hobbit hole'.
The dome inside the Pump Rooms - the concerts venue via wikipedia
The source of the famed mineral water via wikipedia
If you fancy a sulphuric glass of water it is still possible to freely take the waters for your health!!!
The first piece of music played was unknown to me - Schubert's Quartet no. 13 'Rosamunde'. Now this was rather a coincidence - my friend for the evening traces her ancestry back to "Fair Rosamund".
Fair Rosamund painted by John William Waterhouse in 1905 via wikipedia
Rosamund Clifford 1137 - 1176 called Fair Rosamund or the Rose of the World because she was famed for her beauty and was the mistress of King Henry ll. She was the daughter of Lord Walter de Clifford. The legends concerning her life are many but few hard facts are available.
Today it is possible to stay B/B at Frampton Court which is still owned by the Clifford family. 
It is a grade 1 listed 18th century house built in 1730. Built to possible designs by the Bristol architect John Strahan who was a pupil of Sir John Vanbrugh. The house displays a mixture of Baroque and Palladian architectural styles and is built of Bath stone.
This exquisite 18th century Orangery sits in the grounds of Frampton Court.
The Orangery has been converted into a charming holiday retreat for 8 people.
It was described in Pevsner's Buildings of England as one of the most unusual examples of Strawberry Hill Gothic architecture in the country.
During the musical interval we strolled around the colonnade of Ionic pillars under the glow of a full moon, and I was happy to have ventured out into the dark winter night.

Monday, 5 November 2012

♥Very Best Wishes♥

One of my lovely blogging friends is having surgery tomorrow - 6th November.
We share many followers in common, and I know that they, and other bloggers too, will want to join with me in sending her our love and best wishes. 
Thinking of you and "Haste ye back". 

Friday, 31 August 2012

A Cotswold Village

A Cotswold village like so many others nestling in the hills and deep valleys
The light playing on the honey coloured stonework creating dancing and flickering shadows. Stone houses, some built in the 13th century - hundreds of years of history steeped within their walls 
The sun glints on the window panes, a curtain flutters. All is still, quiet, just the rustle of leaves and the sound of bird song. A peaceful day 
Was it really less than two weeks ago that we walked these same sunlit, dappled, stonewalled lanes; the light sparkling, but the mood solemn; the only sound, a mournful toll from the old church bell?
This is the spot where our friend was laid to rest; here amongst the ancient yew trees in a peaceful churchyard. Her last journey, a coffin of woven wicker, fresh flowers threaded through it by her friends from their gardens. In our hearts we silently bid our sad farewells. Time stood still, for centuries this village has witnessed it all before. A dog barks, a child laughs, a rose opens - time moves on, but memories linger
Bobbie - a 60s girl

Tuesday, 14 August 2012

Roberta - Bobbie

We have just returned home from Scotland and the Lake District to discover that our very dear friend, Bobbie, has died. It was not unexpected, she has been bravely fighting cancer for the past 3 years.
We shall both really miss her friendship, the twinkle in her eye, and her ready smile. Whatever she did was always accompanied by singing, whether preparing a meal, working in the garden, and in fact doing any task.
Our thoughts are with her husband. 
Rest in peace dear Bobbie.
Forget-me-nots - for remembrance