The murder

Whilst trawling through newspaper articles from bygone times, looking for something that might interest me enough to spend a few hours – yes, it really does amuse me for that long – researching I stumbled across one headed up “stranger than fiction”, written by John Macklin and purported to be about a science master, Edward King, who in 1932 was working at University College School London – technically speaking it is actually in Hampstead but we will let that one slide. To caveat everything I am going to say, there is no where in this article does it state it is fiction, although then again it does not say it is fact either, but as it is entitled “Stranger than fiction” I would take it that we the reader are expected to believe it is true. The publication date is the 7 th October 1971, so is it an early Halloween spooky story? That I do not know, but I am going to tell you about it anyway. The author of this article talked about the fact that the school building was believed to be haunted back then, and the very stoic and scientifically minded King wanted to prove that all the weird noises that his colleagues (and pupils) heard in the corridors, the feelings of being shoved when in the cellars all had a very rational explanation and that he was determined to find them. One cold winters night in 1932 apparently – very ambiguous, always a huge red flag when it comes to accounts – Edward was in his study at the school marking papers, when suddenly he felt a severe temperature drop and an innate feeling of not being alone. Now those of us who have a penchant for ghost bothering can certainly identify with this, but it is not a flawless confirmation of a paranormal experience as we all know. Shortly after this he saw his papers start to move and get hurled across the room, at the same time a noise in the corridor outside which to King sounded like a flock of birds were flying at speed along the passageway. You will not be surprised to know that when he ventured out there – something as a person with a fear of birds, I would not have done – there was nothing…quite bemused he took himself to bed. The next morning, he went to his lecture room and found every single book thrown on the floor, was that the flapping noise he had heard? Being of the more pragmatic sort, King decided to find out who or “what” could have been causing this chaos, and decided it had to be Jeremy Bentham, the famous philosopher, jurist, social reformer and for many historians, the name inexorably linked with panoptical designed prisons. Why would this pioneer be haunting a school? King’s theory was that as Bentham had wanted his body to be donated to science that he was angry it had been mummified and then displayed at University College London – the further educational facility that was associated with the school. All this may very well be true, and Macklin was an author of true “ghostly” tales and published many books in the 1960’s and 1970’s on this very subject, however I have many buts with this account. Firstly, Bentham’s wishes were followed as best as they could, his body was dissected and then mummified with his head and skeleton on display – this was what his Last Will and Testament had requested. It is still viewable at UCL; however, the actual head is now locked away as the initial preservation was so poor that it started to look like a horrific caricature of the man rather than a homage to his achievements. Secondly, I can find no other accounts of hauntings and this type of poltergeist activity at the school documented online – if you know of any, please shoot it my way. And thirdly, I have found a few Edward Kings who were teachers in the London area in 1932, but they are all listed as elementary school teachers and not science masters, plus two of them were married in the 1921 census and to live on site, most teachers were single.  One thing does interest me however, and may answer why nothing else at this level has been heard or seen, but could possibly be in about seven years’ time…Bentham died in 1832, this account is 1932 (although not the same time of year, Bentham passed in the June) so does that mean in 2032 the school may see some phenomenal activity when Jeremy himself - if it is Jeremy – comes back to make his presence felt?

I have never really fancied a flight on an airship, the thought of being supported by what is in effect a giant balloon has not got the same appeal as fixed or even rotary winged aircraft. Whilst I am fully aware that aircraft can go down regardless of how well built they are, the thought of being reliant upon an inflated piece of fabric is not one I want to explore. However back in the 1920’s society felt very different. The fact that this particular horrific crash is so well known, that not only has it featured in an episode of Dr Who, it has also had a song written about it by Iron Maiden. Let us go back first to where this airship was “born”, RAF Cardington near Bedford was originally built in 1915 to build and house two airships, R-31 and R-32, they were to be used by the Royal Navy as fleet protection but due to their completion being literally months before the end of the great war, they were never used. The site was then nationalised in 1919 and became known as Royal Airship works, five years later commencement of the R-101 project saw the hangar (which was already seven hundred foot long) being extended by over thirty feet in height and another one hundred foot in length. When you look at those measurements you can picture how huge this airship was going to be, once it was finished the R-101 (part of a pair of long distance dirigibles capable of flying within the British Empire) was huge, and the largest flying craft in operation at over seven hundred and thirty feet in length. After a year of testing, the length of the aircraft was increased by nearly fifty foot as it was decided more gas “bags” were needed to provide more lift…interesting Nevil Shute Norway - probably better known as author Nevil Shute – worked on the project and he said in his 1950’s biography that he felt the R-101 was” extravagant and over ambitious”. On the evening of the 4 th October 1930, R-101 took off from Cardington airfield on the start of her journey to Karachi, via Egypt (for a refuel). There were fifty four people on board, of those thirty seven were crew and then various officers and officials, the commander was Flight Lieutenant Carmichael Irwin, an incredibly experienced airship pilot who had joined the Royal Navy in 1915 and had returned to the programme in 1929 after working on balloons for a short period of time. When only twenty miles or so from Cardington they started to experience engine problems, having shut this one down they began to replace the oil gauge but did not report this back to control. Once they were over France, and there had been a change of those officers on duty, things started to go wrong. The airship dived, and whilst it recovered slightly, the pilot then in control reported that it was “flying heavy”, this meant she was relying on the lift from the forward thrust of the engines to keep her in the air as opposed to the gas which was meant to make her float…she went into a second dive around two and a half miles from Beauvais, from which she hit the ground and burst into flames, ultimately killing forty eight of her fifty four passengers. Most stories I have read about R-101 focus on the fact that the hangars at Cardington are reported to be haunted by some of the airmen who lost their lives that day, but I am going to mention what happened about three weeks after the disaster when psychic medium Eileen Garratt was conducting a reading at the National Laboratory of Psychical Research – whether you think that what she did was total hooey or actually there is validity in it, that is up to you. She is said to have made contact with Irwin, the commander of the airship, and the facts that she recorded were passed onto the inquest team but were deemed irrelevant as they could not accept information from a dead person. You can read the full transcript of what was said in John G Fuller’s book “The airmen who would not die” but to give you a little taster… “She was too heavy by several tons, and too amateurish in construction” “The gas skins are too porous and not strong enough” “One of the struts collapsed and caused a tear in the cover” All of these could have caused the problems they encountered, would Eileen Garratt really have been such an amazing “con woman” that she could have known that the tear in the nose cover would have caused the first dive, which would have damaged it further to give way to the second unrecoverable dive which took their lives?  Makes you wonder.

Please sir, can I have some more...sources

In this case it was not a soul he was looking to steal…well not according to the legend that surrounds this particular event. The second largest open space in Essex can be found in a village on the outskirts of Chelmsford called Danbury, affectionately known as “The common”. I say the second largest, it is the runner up to the huge Epping Forest and as you know, I have written a book about that particular gem of stories and events (The Elements of Epping Forest if you did not already know). When I had horses, I kept them about half a mile away from the eponymous common, and although my horse was pretty much bombproof, she hated this particular stretch of land. To begin with I thought it may be me inadvertently transmitting my fear down to her, but no matter who took her there, she would suddenly become very spooky and start to throw her equine toys out of the pram. It made me wonder what exactly she was sensing that turned this incredibly chill mare into a hot footing headcase, and after she passed away, I stumbled across what it may have been - or at least an interesting tale to accompany the area. According to the 16 th century Chronicles of England, Scotland and Ireland by Raphael Holinshead, in 1402, the villagers were in St John the Baptist church (just off Main Street) celebrating Corpus Christi day- this date can vary as it is the first Thursday after Trinity Sunday, so occurs between late May and mid June – and there was a horrendous thunder storm ensuing. At the height of the storm, the devil himself (disguised as a grey friar) was said to have entered the church : “… behaving himself very outrageously, playing his parts like a devil indeed, so that the parishioners were put in a marvelous great fright. At the same instant, there chanced such a tempest of wind, thunder, and lightning, that the highest part of the roof of that church was blown down, and the chancel was all to shaken, rent, and torn in pieces”. The story intimates that it was Lucifer himself who had brought the storm, to help him destroy the church and scare those worshipping inside it. After he had torn the building to shreds, he left, the villagers picking up the pieces of their broken holy place. But there is more… To add insult to injury, the devil came back and stole one of the church’s six bells, the congregation were having no more of his mischief, decided to pursue him and he dropped it, legend has it that it was so heavy (which was more why he dropped it than the fact he was being chased apparently) and the hole it made became a pond – there is actually a hill called Bell Hill, and a pond on that hill, people have visited in the hope of seeing Satan himself. The other version says that he dropped it just by the road, and is now the site of the Bell Inn pub, also the reason why the church has five bells instead of six, it was never replaced. I could not find in local records why Bell Hill is called that, nor when the pub was named the Bell Inn (although it is on said hill, which could also be the reason), and it may all just fit neatly into the legend, but for those who think Essex is nothing but a commuter county, it was good enough for the devil himself to visit…

Every so often when you are researching for a specific project, a person in history seems to leap out and catch you unawares…this is one such individual and now that I have seen them, I do not wish to “unsee”. As many of you know, I am a bit of an aviation nut, especially pre the jet age, and one of the talks I give is on the Air Transport Auxiliary (ATA) of the Second World War. That particular interest started when I found out they had female pilots and developed from there (I can recommend the book Spitfire Women by Giles Whittell if you would like to learn more) I was giving my talk over the summer, and one of the questions was “What about the First World War? Were there any female pilots then?” I was able to say that there were none that sprung to mind, and that there certainly was not an operation similar to the ATA in place, but there were women who had their flying license. This blog is not to cover the history of flight as that is about one hundred thousand words in its own right, but more to do with the advent of fixed wing and what was to become the conventional “aeroplane”. The Wright brothers are credited with the first flight per se, 17 th December 1903, and it is quite mind blowing to think that just eleven years later, aircraft were being utilised for military purposes with the First World War. Enough of that brief history lesson, there is shedloads of information out there if that is something you want to look into, I want to focus on the fiancée of danger, an amazing woman by the name of Marie Marvingt. Born in France in 1875, she was brought up by her father to be a very active child, her only brother being quite a fragile young lad, and this seems to be a route that she positively embraced. By the age of four, Marie could swim four kilometres – in fact she became the first French woman to swim the length of the Seine through Paris – but she was not just part fish, fencing, shooting, bob sledding, horse riding, skiing, mountaineering…you name it, she was most definitely a force to be reckoned with. In fact, her love of cycling was such that in 1908, when she was refused admission to the all-male Tour de France, she rode the course to prove she could (behind the men) and completed it – impressive anyway, but considering only a third of the actual competitors finished it, shows just how phenomenal she was. You would think her exploits may end there, but no, there is decidedly more. Marie had her first balloon flight in 1901, by 1907 she was piloting said mode of transport and in 1909 was the first woman to pilot a balloon across the North Sea (France to England), then five years later the first woman to fly a balloon across the channel. As impressive as those accomplishments were, she was not finished. In the November of 1910 she had received her fixed wing flying license, and when war broke out in the August of 1914, she was keen to do her part, which was? To dress up as a man and serve with the French army at the front…sadly she was discovered and sent home. Not to be deterred, she ended up working with the Italians - it is said at the request of Marshal Foch – participating in military operations, maybe an information gatherer but knowing Marie, she was probably there gun in hand, just hoping that the enemy would look her way. Are her exploits exhausting you yet? Drink that coffee, eat that biscuit, you need the energy to keep going. She did! Not only did she fight on the front line, she was also a Red Cross surgical nurse, medicine was something that had been on her mind for many years, as early as 1910 when she had learned to fly fixed wing aircraft, she had proposed a system of flying ambulances to the French government. These would be flown by women, and contain medical staff to enable swift evacuation of wounded military personnel to get them from the casualty clearing centres in the midst of battle to the surgical hospitals where they could be treated. Oh, and she was awarded a Croix du guerre…for? Bombing a German base, yes, first woman to fly in combat as well. Did this adrenaline junkie over achieving amazing human ever take her foot off the gas? Did she heck, at the age of 80 she took up helicopter lessons and for her birthday that year, the US air Force took her up in a F-101 Voodoo jet aircraft.  She had not stopped keeping fit, and at the age of 86, cycled from Nancy to Paris, only a mere two hundred miles or so. The Fiancée of Danger died at in December 1963, I think she left a lot for us to consider as to what a human is capable of.

On the 14 th September 1767, 47 year old Elizabeth Brownrigg was hanged at Tyburn and her body subsequently given to the medical schools for public dissection, what had she done to suffer such an end to her life? Those of you who have heard me talk about the Murder Act 1751 will probably have a good idea already, as between then and around 1834, anyone hanged for that specific crime was either gibbeted (the men)or given to an anatomy school as it was decreed that “In no case whatsoever that the body of a murderer be suffered to be buried”. It is highly unusual for a woman to commit murder, looking at the latest figures produced by the Office for National Statistics, of all homicides in the United Kingdom (and I would wager this is similar the world over) only 7% of these were charged to female killers. So, what had Elizabeth done and who had she taken the life - or lives - of? Married to a very successful plumber named James, the couple lived at Flower de Luce Court near Fleet Street in London. The union had produced sixteen children, but sadly only three had survived into adulthood. Elizabeth had become quite well known as a very competent midwife, and due to her compassion and ability in this field, she was appointed by the overseers of the St Dunstan’s Parish to care for some of the women under their supervision. There was such demand for her services as a midwife she decided to take on an apprentice, and the Foundling Hospital – a place I have written about before – had started a process to allow this type of “training” programme and supplied Brownrigg with a young girl, Mary Jones in around 1765. Whilst her treatment of Miss Jones was civil to begin with, it soon descended into a cycle of torture with her forcing this Mary to lay across two chairs whilst she whipped her incessantly – the court report says “…occasionally forced to desist, from mere weariness”. This poor girl managed to escape and reported her treatment to the Foundling hospital, their reaction? To write to James Brownrigg and tell him to control his wife and her attitude towards her apprentices. During this period, the other apprentice Mary Mitchell was still bound to the family and suffering the same attacks as Mary Jones had been on the receiving end of. This Mary had escaped at least once, and had been marched back to the property by one of the Brownrigg children, their son John. One can only imagine the level of cruelty and beatings she was dealt when she was brought back to the house. Funnily enough, nothing was done and the Brownrigg’s had been allocated another young woman, Mary Clifford. This unfortunate soul was to suffer almost even more than the other girls, she was stripped naked, tied up and beaten until she could not speak, her bed was a mat in the coal hole, she was expected to survive on nothing but bread and water, and would not even be given a blanket to sleep under at night. When driven to desperation, young Mary Clifford tried to find food, she was punished in an almost unbelievable way by having a chain fastened round her neck, it being secured to a door and then pulled as tight as possible without strangling her. After pleading for help from one of the women using the house for laying in whilst pregnant, Elizabeth Brownrigg flew at Mary C and attempting to cut out her tongue managed to slice it in half. This recurrent abuse without medical intervention for her wounds (and to Mary Mitchell as well) meant they were rife for infection, something that the Brownrigg’s seemed not to care about when they would strip the girls naked and hoist them up onto a beam in the kitchen to attack them and cause even more heinous wounds. It was not until a relative of Mary C came to London to visit her that the truth started to come out, and the Brownrigg reign of abuse and terror was going to end. She was refused access to see Mary, and a neighbour, Mrs Deacon spoke to her about the crying and screaming that frequently came from the property. To cut a long story short, the overseer demanded to see Mary Clifford but was shown the slightly healthier Mary Mitchell instead…threatening to arrest Mr Brownrigg if Mary C was not produced did the trick, and the poor child was brought out from a cupboard. Her whole body was infected and covered in ulcers, and the workhouse apothecary pronounced her in grave danger. There was a spot of sexism here as it was Mr Brownrigg who was taken into custody, his son and wife doing a runner. They hid out in Wandsworth at the property of one Mr Dunbar, acting as man and wife (yes, her son) but just to show that the media is not all bad, it was a newspaper article describing the mother and son that caused their landlord to divulge their location to the authorities and they were apprehended. Tragically Mary C died whilst being cared for at St Bartholomew’s hospital, and Elizabeth, James and John were charged with murder. During the ensuing court cases many accusations were levied at Elizabeth, that she had killed more apprentices, that she had got rid of pregnancies for women who did not want to be mothers after visiting her, and also had listed babies as still born who had been very much alive. She denied all of these charges being hurled at her and only admitted to her savage treatment of the Mary’s which resulted in the death of one. The trial lasted over eleven hours, with the end result being Elizabeth to be hanged, and her husband and son to receive six months imprisonment each. The Old Bailey court records say “ Happily for the two persons acquitted the jury were composed of men of sense and virtue, capable and inclined to resist the torrent of public prejudice; their verdict is a lasting proof of their integrity and justice, and gave entire satisfaction to the court and all who were present.” That line, men of sense and virtue...can be interpreted in many different ways. I am not a psychologist so cannot begin to explain Elizabeth’s actions, she was said to be a loving wife and mother, an excellent and compassionate midwife, but an evil torturer to girls in her charge? Her husband denied knowing what was happening but her son John was complicit and would frequently mete out the beatings if required by his mother. So why did he get only a six month sentence? Surely his actions could have contributed to the murder? Let me know what you think but spare a thought for those terrified young girls and the horror they had to live through.

I am always on the lookout for a series to binge watch, sometimes I just want something frivolous that I can switch off to, but other times…I like it to make me think. My husband and I were bored with the television that was available and I saw a new release on Netflix called “Kaos”, it mentioned black comedy, mythology and vengeful Greek Gods. I am most definitely sold! In a nutshell it is a re- imagining of various mythological stories of old, set in a more modern time and - without spoiling the plot too much – with humans who defy the will of the Gods of Olympus. Zeus is played by a suitably bonkers Jeff Goldblum, who is not only a veritable shagging machine, but also paranoid in a way that it made me think of megalomaniac leaders like Stalin and Kim Jong Un who had and have no hesitation in killing those close to them if they get it into their head that they have been betrayed. I have to say that I thought Hera - the wife and sister of Zeus – was brilliantly played by Janet McTeer, although I can see the vengefulness in her towards the mortal women who Zeus had affairs with, it was difficult to marry that with (if you pardon the coming pun) her role in mythology as the goddess of marriage, women and family and protector of women during childbirth. I think that maternal nature only exists if you had not got yourself in the family way due to her philandering little brother and husband… The show is predominantly set in three main locations, Heraklion in Crete, Mount Olympus and the underworld, I can say I have been to two of those places but I will leave it for you to work out which! I did find it a shame that none of it was filmed in Greece or her islands, but it was not meant to look “ancient” and maybe in this dystopian world ruled by the all powerful Zeus the Greek language does not exist. Whether you have watched it or not, you may disagree with my use of the word dystopian, but I do believe that is fitting. The dictionary states the meaning of the word as “relating to or denoting an imagined state or society where there is great suffering or injustice” and whilst religion does play a huge part in the lives of many, this show has a Goddess turning mortal women into bees if they sleep with her husband, it has the dead going to a place of nothingness, people having to follow the will of the Gods or die…I suppose one could argue that maybe it is not imagined, although one of my favourite works of dystopian genius is 1984 by George Orwell, and whilst that was fiction, much of it is not a million miles from the truth. Shall I throw some other well known Greek entities of mythological origin out to you to wet your appetite? The Fates, The Furies, Minos, the Minotaur, Trojans, even Icarus gets a mention.  What the creator Charlie Covell has done – which may or may not have been their intention - was put a series together which you can watch without having an interest in Greek mythology and enjoy it, or for someone like me, be googling the various characters like crazy trying to find out what their historical back story actually was, and what their place is in the various legends of old.

Who else loves to visit graveyards? I know that quite a few of you do as I see the posts about it. On my recent family holiday to Somerset, we had parked outside a gorgeous old church in Mulcheney and my – newly turned – eleven year old excitedly asked if we could walk around the grounds and look at the gravestones. He knows how much I enjoy speaking the people’s names, and has started to gain an interest into looking at the dates and speculating on who they were. Once he is a bit older I will most definitely teach him how to research those individuals and to learn more, but up until then, I just embrace his interest and do the deep diving myself. There was one particular marker that caught my attention as it seemed so sad, in case you cannot read the photo I attached it says - In loving memory of William Pipe Beckey who died February 19 th 1929 aged 70 years, also of his seven children. Resting in the Lord. The main thing that positively jumped out at me was the mention of his seven children, no names, no additional writing to explain how old they were, just that, seven children. It made me wonder what had happened, I am no stranger to seeing whole families listed on the stone, and normally a bit of historical quarrying tends to uncover something like a flu epidemic, a bout of cholera or something similar. Was this what had happened to Mr Beckey and his family? I thought some of you may find it useful to know how I do my research, or at least how I tend to start it when looking at something like his. My first port of call was the 1911 census, this is a really handy one (if obviously it is the right time period) as it shows how long a couple have been married and also how many children have been born to that coupling – for completeness, there is also a box for how many of those children are still living. I do tend to find it quite sad when I see numbers that show high child mortality for a particular family, as in the case of the Beckeys. Under the website produced by the University of Cambridge, populationspast.org which shows you per area the mortality rate for both infants (under 1) and young children (between 1 to 5 years old), the figures for the district of Langport (where Mulcheney fits into) are not as high as more industrialised areas and are nearly 100/1000 and 60/1000 respectively in 1881. Looking up the Beckey family on that 1911 census showed they had been married for thirty eight years and the union had produced sixteen offspring, of which ten were still alive – by this point Anna Maria, William’s wife was now into her late fifties so we can safely assume she had no more children. A quick and slightly clinical mathematical calculation shows they lost over a third of their family, when the average for 1881 was nearer 6%. I then start going back over previous census records to see who was still living at home, and if a child was not mentioned who maybe should have still been under the care of their parents, then you look to see if there is a record applicable to them.  Trying to work out who the seven children were who are unnamed on the grave marker is tricky, by using baptism records you can work out those to born to William and Anna Maria, but when you have had someone who has been giving birth every twelve months or so, and there is a large “gap” in ages, it is safe to assume that there may have been a bereavement of a baby before they had even been registered. I was able to trace five of the children, and whilst they may not have been buried in a marked grave due to cost – they were agricultural workers so money would not have been in abundance - I hope that Sarah Jane, Samuel, Mary Ann, Ethel and Gertie are resting easily.

One of these days I will get my arse into gear and actually start researching this amazing woman and write a book about her, but until my backside decides to play ball, you will have to put up with me putting together short little pieces about her and talking incessantly of her achievements and biblical sized kahoonahs. If anyone ever wonders why I do not have a degree or some kind of academic attainment, they will probably find it easy to understand the reasons I do not. Not sure any university lecturer would give me brownie points for using words like kahoonahs in my essays, anyway, onwards and upwards… The woman who came to be known as Lady Florence Dixie was born Lady Florence Douglas in May 1855, the daughter of Caroline Margaret Clayton and Archibald Douglas, the 8 th Marquis of Queensbury. And here is where the first real questions can start to be asked about the eventual Scottish tomboy. Sometimes, her father is cited as the 7 th Marquis, rather than the 8 th , why is this? If you have read my book “The battle for Bosworth Hall” you will know exactly why, but for those of you who are yet to experience that particular pleasure, it is due to an ancestor of the family. In 1707, the future 3 rd Marquis - James Douglas – is said to have murdered, roasted on a spit and then consumed a young scullion (a male version of a scullery maid). He was only 10 years old at the time but had been deemed so dangerously violent and insane, that he was in permanent restraints. Somehow he had managed to escape these and go on to commit the awful act. If you are so predisposed, the site of this cannibalism took place at Queensberry House in Edinburgh, and the fire area he used is still there. So are some good old fashioned hauntings, maybe from its time as a cholera hospital in the 19 th century or even it is said, of the poor lad who was eaten by the psychologically disturbed Marquis. Florence’s life, surrounded by scandal that the family tried to erase, was to be hit with tragedy when her father died in a supposed hunting accident, a fatal wound to his chest. There was talk of him having taken his own life, however most newspaper articles after the event were adamant that this was not the case, and could never have been the case as he had asked his daughter Gertrude to come with him, had written a number of business letters prior to the fatal accident and also was notoriously careless with his gun. Her brother Francis fell to his death whilst climbing the Matterhorn, and his remains were never found, all of this must have been a lot to contend with. Florence was the epitome of a tom boy, she had short hair, regularly competed with her brothers at the more masculine type events such as hunting, swimming and the like - and despite being only five foot tall, held her own. In 1875 she married Sir Alexander Dixie, he of Bosworth Hall, in fact it was her determination and lack of fear which caused her wedding to be delayed when she had an accident whilst out fox hunting (no judgement, I am just reciting history here) and managed to well, basically smash her face in after a fall. As I mention in my book, “The battle for Bosworth Hall”, Florence had a wanderlust and being a prolific writer, was always looking for new projects, many of which got her into trouble. I think that she was the stereotypical adrenalin junkie, and even after her mind was changed regarding the “sport” of hunting following her trip to Patagonia, even going as far as to turn her vegetarian – although if you read about her diet it is verging on vegan – she was still a force to be reckoned with. Her tenure at Bosworth Hall was comparatively short compared to other Dixie wives, Sir ABCD (the nickname of Alexander as his full name was Alexander Beaumont Churchill Dixie) was a horrendous businessman and somewhat of a spendthrift, so in 1885 the estate was sold off to pay the family debts. Florence is said to have had a strong part in that decision.  Whilst from 1885 the hall was no longer in the Dixie family’s possession, I believe that Florence is still there, and it is apt that the now hotel is dog friendly as she was a real lover of all things canine, in fact, if you are coming along for www.festivaloftheunexplained.com this year (and tickets are available) go and have a wander into the woods and see if you can find the monument to Smut, a black and tan old English terrier who had belonged to Lady Florence