Dew of the Sea Costume History, Theology & Thoughts

  Chapter Four "This way, please, Mrs. Stainton." She followed, her heart flooded with joy at the prospect of what her discovery had meant, but equally flooded with concern and fear. How serious was Robert's accident? Was he going to be okay? When she approached him, she quietly rejoiced to see he was awake. Should she tell him? Was now the right time? He smiled weakly, when he saw her. "Robert! What happened? Alfie came and said you had an accident, are you okay, my love?" Robert chuckled a little and stared at his foot, which was in a plaster. He seemed otherwise unharmed.  "I am okay, dear Rose. I'm okay."  They kissed. The nurse, who had turned away to give them privacy, now explained that the accident had appeared more serious at first. He had dislocated his shoulder and had initially been in immense pain, but the most severe injury was his ankle that had been broken. No internal injuries, however, and he was already clearly on the mend.  ...

 Chapter Three Alfie shifted uncomfortably on his toes, while Rose stared, speechless.  A few seconds passed.  Then she smiled weakly, gratified by his efforts, and spun round to gather her shawl. Alfie didn't need a further explanation. He led the way, as Rose locked the door behind her and followed suit.  "Alfie, would you..."  He paused. "Yes, Miss Rose?" "Would you stop by my neighbour's house, Mrs. Dorothy Deacon, inform her so she can tell the children and keep them with her tonight? You may tell her I will keep her posted on how he does."  "Yes, ma'am. Right away, ma'am."  Rose carried on her way, heart pounding, head throbbing, mind swimming. Would Robert be okay? She needed to believe the affirmative. But every time she envisaged his situation - whatever it may be - she remembered Alfie's honest, poignant words, "I fear for the worst."  The worst. Surely she had already suffered enough of that? Please God, c...

Hello, everyone! I hope all our dear readers are having a blessed 2026 so far. Here is a short story I wrote for a Creative Writing course a few years ago. Enjoy!  - Grace Bertram The year is 1851. On the verge of starvation, she traipsed the moors. Breathing - barely; loving - sorely. “Mr. Rochester…” The sky rumbled, the air closed in around her. Her luggage left in the carriage, she stumbled in desperation, her cloak a blanket of loneliness. Why proceed? Who could help her? No relatives, no friends… Charlotte drew her knees to her chin, wrapped her shawl close and pressed the pages, squeezing Jane’s hand. The evening sun sieved through the curtains, draped like a hidden mist shrouding her hibernation. “ Miss Bronte, it’s four o’ clock.” Rod tapped the sill. “Miss Eyre still a governess?” “ No, she’s fled Thornfield, you should read the book yourself and Rod - ” She gave him that sisterly look. “Why aren’t you helping Phil?” “ He’s on the till. ...

When my heart grows weary And my soul takes flight From the dull and dreary  Of the darkest night There's a voice I hear A voice of love Bringing hope so dear Sent from above And the depths of despair From the point of the low Become heartfelt care That a child could know For a child is simple A child is so kind Each smile and each dimple Inquisitive mind Open heart and restless soul So much to learn from the young, little foal So much to be found  When the times grow tough  Each sight, smell and sound Is barely enough Except when they come From the gentle and mild Sweet little hands Of a precious child.  ❤️

  Who to do next? I think in continuation of my analysis of authors that inspire me, I can only follow up Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë with L.M. Montgomery and Louisa May Alcott. I hope to inspire the readers of this post by sharing my observations of how inspirational these women were - and how inspirational their works continue to be...  As you may know, L.M. Montgomery was the author of the Anne of Green Gables series, the originator of the Emily of New Moon series and the creator of various other lovable worlds like Pat of Silver Bush. As the amazing author, originator and creator of these spectacular works, L.M. Montgomery could be described as the very epitome of memorable characterisation. She created individuals, who were altogether so lovable and left such an impact on the people who encountered them in her books that I would say L.M. Montgomery gave her readers a precious gift each time she penned a character. Anne Shirley, with her red hair, abundant imagination...

Do you ever find yourself barely able to breathe from the sheer captivation of the written word? Some books have that effect, don't they?  In this post, I thought I would dive into the reasons for my sincere appreciation of some of my very favourite authors, exploring how their works have inspired and taught me... Let's start with Jane Austen (as I often do 😉). She is the queen of omniscient narration, with the occasional use of free indirect discourse. In plain English, this means she is excellent at narrating a story in 3rd person, while tapping into a specific character's thoughts and feelings. She does this with multiple characters at different points in her novels, without using 1st person to share her characters' internal workings. She cleverly reveals their opinions and emotions, but not all at once. Sometimes it's subtle, sometimes it's momentous. At any rate, Austen was an author who loved to surprise her readers and equally loved to make them laugh.  ...

  A Poet's Prayer  Chapter One  "And how are you this morning, Mrs. Stainton?" Robert brought her a steaming mug of coffee. "Enjoying wedded bliss?" She laughed and lifted her lips to kiss his cheek.  "Ever so much, my dear." "How good of your neighbour to watch over Thomas and Minnie, while we're away."  "Yes, indeed. Mrs. Deacon is invaluable. And Dorothy promised to pay them a visit. They couldn't be more thrilled. The kids took to her like ducks to water!" "Do you mind, Rose darling..." Robert began, as he produced a scrap of paper and a pencil. "I'd like to write you a poem."  "Must I sit still as if you were sketching my likeness?" "Only for a couple of minutes, my dear."  And so she posed, ensconced in a dressing gown and smiling disposition.  As promised, the poem only took a few minutes to scribble.  "There," he announced, proudly.  "May I read it yet?"...