It is very strange how a story and a new character is born and without even hard thinking about it. Dear Miss Peggity Pollywhat,seemed intent to leap upon the white of the page as if she was an old friend.How this came about is a three fold story that jigged together oddly as if it were a laser cut kit!
It all started when I took time out from painting to do housework which was so dusty,as the stuff I was doing was well dusted,dust upon dust, that is for sure. No not our entire Fiddle Wood home,but just odd stuff in one corner of it.A model house to be exact that had spent years way up on top of a very tall wardrobe the likes that is old and of thick wood, and that has three doors that seem intent at certain times to swing open on their own. Mrs B,says caused by vibration from the nearby road,however I know different,but that tale is for another time and is scary. The wardrobe stands in the corner of our main bedroom,and it was today that a very tall guy was installing an upgrade Internet connection,and TV Box in our bedroom. He was very tall and a man in his early thirty`s I would guess,and he could actually see on top of that old wardrobe with absolute ease. He could see the long ago made scratch built buildings on top which have been there for many a year. Well it is true I have been doing such stuff for many a year.
"Can I see one of those? Because I have never seen such things before." He said and asked so nicely.I got the bedside chair as I am a short fellow,and standing there I fetched down the house of many angles that had once stood between Halfway House and the Honey Well Train Station but that now lay as if abandoned along with other stuff upon that wardrobe. Of course I had not forgotten them because the rooftops of all the buildings were visible always. "I`ll just go clean it up." I said,and so he carried on doing what copper wire job he was commissioned to do, and I trotted downstairs and gave that house a good dusting with a large new paintbrush. My word along with a few cobwebs it sure does get dusty in lofty out of the way places. Done and dusted I placed it on my small work table, and as I did so an idea sprang to mind. Soon the tall young man came down the stairs and looked at the house of many angles, and I showed him how it came apart, house from flower beds and steps and pathways and then roof from building with the the removal of each level floor. He was beaming with bright smiles wide enough to reach ear to ear. Soon other stuff was taken down from that awfully high wardrobe, because quite frankly he was so enthusiastic he wanted to see more. He was so kind in comments that I could not refuse. So with that fun time spree for him, my morning I`d planned painting just disappeared along with lots of swirling dust. However as he set out upon his way with lots of stored up pictures on his phone,I decided on a little photo shoot of my own. So I placed four of my Centre Company Guardsmen I`d painted last night as the whole of Fiddle Wood was in slumber except myself and the wise old night Owl in the woods just beyond our Hawthorn hedge.
They had been undercoated and the painting work of playful fun took a couple of hours to complete them good enough for my standards that is. I have over 200 of them to paint up for a panoramic view from a distance no more no less. I have waited all my life for decent Napoleonic British Infantry,to paint and imagination on how to use them is what nice splendid dreams are made of.
There they march and they are my first four Strelets Brits painted,and so brilliant they can represent other regiments too , especially The Kings German Legion.
As many of you already know I make props and paint figures in order to tell story`s,and so it is that this short setting can begin.Miss Peggity Pollywhat`s house of many angles, because its roof pointed out in very odd strange ways,lay content as if permanent fixed in the background,and the four young men are leaving that place where they had been billeted for a couple of months,it is early June 1815,and the dark sky forewarns of an impending storm ,and they being part of it are off to muster!
They had been billeted with Miss Peggity Pollywhat an English spinster and teacher who taught at the local girls school, `English and Higher Mathematics ',but mainly it was a sort of crowd control as that ancient Norman School had more pupils than it was designed for,( a short coming seen as fact in our own time of over flowing unnumbered immigration.) Peggity a rather rolly polly plump lady in her mid 50`s, always had her long grey hair done up in a bun at the back of her head,wore a warn greyish black dress with an overlarge white pinafore apron that had deep long bottom pockets, at its front, and always and I do mean always wore a smile when not at school.Such was the lose of all those children who would go forwards in life remembering only her rather stern dangerous look. Such are the ironed on features of such a vocation in life.
So there was another side few ever would see,however these brave lads had,and she treated them much better than those that had set deep in place the flogging marks upon their backs.For a few short weeks they were her prized boys,and family,for she had no others as others about her had.Now it was time for Eddy,Austen,Jamie and Bob,to leave. She had thoughtfully made her guests a huge breakfast before they left, of sausages,bacon and heaps of fresh fried eggs all sunny side up and smiling,there had been masses of toasted doorsteps. Bread that was held against her breast was turned and sawn off by a bread knife of sharp metal teeth,that crumbed the floor just right enough for the Mice that shuffled it into place high in their squeaky wheel barrow,and then off they went fit for a party through the well worn opening in the skirting board. Toasted thick cut slabs of home baked bread soaked in flowing melted butter had been topped off with marmalade spooned from the largest jar the wide eyed boys had ever seen. All was washed down with hot steaming tea in large earthen ware mugs some chipped from age others not so,one without a handle was paid no never mind for these were well set in the mould for pressed adventure in the service of a very fat mad king. History records it,but these lads served it at the drop of a silver shilling. The piping hot tea was poured out by Miss Peggity,from a huge white enamel tea pot,that had seen better days it being blackened by the ping of bashed enamel, and the tea pot lid being missing had been replaced by a fine china one of blue and white Delftware which sported a blueish windmill with wide awake sails for all four to see if it was safe? Splendid was the feed these lads were served up and now we see them upon the Brussels road with a heavy back pack filled with a pack up wrapped up neatly in Miss Peggity Pollywhat`s four best tea towels. Unseen from the house of many angles she waved them goodbye from the top most window of her now silent place,and as they disappeared from her view with eyes welled up with salty tears she wondered if she would ever see them again.
As pictures like memories fade away ......... But the house of many angles remain intact.
Here below is my scratch-built House of Many Angles.
I hope you like____________and Miss Peggity Pollywhat, will return I dare say for there is much to write of the House of Many Angles. BB