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A People’s History Chapter 5

A MISCELLANY OF HISTORY A TEXTUAL WEAVING OF A CABINET OF CURIOSITIES A TEXTUAL SAMPLER Chapter Five Now to the subject of emigration: I recall meeting a woman in the churchyard at Randwick who had just completed her tending of a grave one early snowdrop day in February 2024. I chatted about a name on a gravestone and wondered if that person was descended from the village namesake transported to Australia in the 19th century. In a scene reminiscent of a Dickensian or Hardyesque coincidence, the woman with her trowel and flowers stopped to tell me about Simeon Pearce who emigrated to Australia in 1842 and became mayor of the Australian Randwick. Her family, she went on to tell me, later bought the land and farm owned by the local Pearce family in the village: ‘We don’t all move far,’ she...

DIY Christmas Truce

DIY Christmas Truce  Christmas tree(s) or something similar go up on the German line. “Do you like our tree(s), Tommy?” “Merry Christmas, Tommy.” “Peace today, Tommy. No shooting today. Nor tomorrow, Tommy.” “We sing you a carol, Tommy. And then you sing one back. And...

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Selsley Hill 2025 and 1839

Selsley Hill May 17th 2025 and May 21st 1839 Climbing up to Selsley Hill, Stroud’s Lord John Russell’s 1839 Electoral Message in our minds – Lofty admonishment of the poor: You “know not the general laws by which profit and wages are regulated.” Then Henry...

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The 5Ws and the H of Chartism

The 5 Ws and the H of Chartism (A free verse narrative) (Please read and but please leave on the table) It was a political movement for the ‘People’s Charter’ (‘Universal Suffrage, No Property Qualification, Annual Parliaments, Equal Representation, Payment of MPs and...

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A Newport Declamation

The Newport Rising of 1839 A Newport Declamation: These are the women and men of Newport, The charged and imprisoned; We shall remember them. Saint Leonard of Noblac, Patron saint of prisoners, Hear our roll call: James Aust, Thomas Ball, John Batten, Richard...

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Selsley 1839

Selsley 1839 I’ll never forget last Tuesday, even if I live to seventy. We all woke up so excited, never eaten porridge so fast. We put on our best blouses, aprons and hats, The men shaved their chins, put on their caps, Moleskin trousers and fustian waistcoats, And...

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What If?

What If? What if the soldiers hadn’t fired From the shutters of the Westgate Hotel, But downed their weapons and deserted instead, To join the ranks of the democrats?   What if George Shell hadn’t endured an agonising death Through three long hours, But was...

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