A lovely photograph of us all when the whole family met for the shooting at Great Park, Salop.
Here one can see the Rural Plantagenets, as we loved to call them. Uncle Edelbert Plantagenet is seated in the centre. The lady on his left is Emily, Marchioness of Phume, who apparently was arranging an assignation with Uncle Edelbert for later that evening. Lord Phume, the gentleman on the far left with the lamb chop whiskers was made aware of this.
There was a good bag that day. 153 brace of pheasants and innumerable grouse. The moors ran red with blood.
Unfortunately some of the blood was that of Uncle Edelbert. No doubt an "accident" when Lord Phume was checking the sights on his fielding piece. The idiot son of the Bishop of Malton, seen centre, in front of Uncle Edelbert, was also killed. Two or three beaters also seemed to have gone the same way. Shame about the beaters. A good beater was hard to find at the best of times. But, on the whole, a jolly day out was had by all.
A lovely family group: In the centre, in the white blouse is my Great Great Grandmother, Adelaide Featheringstonehaugh. Behind her in the white moustaches is the Bishop of Whitstable; "Gunner Whitstable", as he was known. Could bring down a pheasant on the wing, or a bicyclist at fifty paces. Did no amount of damage to the local farmyards and pet population out of the shooting season. Lovely sermons, usually concerning Sodom and Gomorrah. Great fun to be with.
The person on the shooting stick to the extreme left to whom Great Great Grandmother is chatting was the second son of the Armenian Ambassador to the Court of Saint James. He was named Lafcadio or something similar. A lovely lad; rose to be a senior diplomat in the Armenian Diplomatic Corps, and was stationed for much of his career in the Middle East.
Antecedent of His Grace, Setrag, Armenian Archbishop of Islington & Highbury. Goodness knows how!
Came to a sticky end, if I remember correctly.
Here we see what we came to know as ‘The Other Family’. Reginald Featheringstonehaugh took up with, and possibly married, a female person. He had met her whilst touring through Norfolk. This person we only knew as Lucinda. From the Americas (North), apparently, and with all the deplorable manners associated with those peoples. They had a large and relatively sane family, considering their antecedents, and eventually took up residence in Norfolk, quite close to a Large Country House, the name of which escapes me as I write this, but at which Reginald and Lucinda were frequent visitors. I think the chap's name was Teddy - wife called Alexandra; deaf as a post but friendly. Foreign, one seems to remember.
They were a fun loving family, and thought nothing of lying in wait for hours at Crappers Corner (see picture) in the hope of apprehending the odd traveller; whereupon they would either set the dogs on them, discharge their fowling pieces (or any amount of other fire arms) at them, or intimidate them in any way that seemed appropriate.
A small family group on the Isle of Wight.
From left: Wilfred Featheringstonehaugh. Famous in the locality for rather misunderstanding the concept of animal husbandry. Known as Bugger 'em or Shoot 'em Wilfred. Fell foul of the Law eventually and ended up in some God forsaken hole in the Empire... most probably New Zealand.
Miss Fenella Featheringstonehaugh, standing next to her brother. Miss Phoebe Featheringstonehaugh seated. The Misses Featheringstonehaugh were so frighteningly alike that most couldn’t tell them apart… especially their mother and immediate family. Made good marriages, but no one seems to know to whom… either Miss Phoebe to the Earl of Clapham or Miss Fenella to the Lord Brisket… but it doesn’t matter, either way they helped found a dynasty.
Unknown lady in white coat, maybe one of the house staff. Or some foreigner.
Two chaps near the door. Possibly Lords Clapham and Brisket.
Dear Reginald had an absolute loathing of foreigners, Socialists, curates, schoolmasters, schoolmistresses, Jews and bicyclists of either sex. So this left a large group who were eligible as his prey. And as there was no Season for the harassment of these, as there is a season for hunting the more regular Game, the Hunting Season for the above became ‘Open Season’.
Many the former happy holiday maker who was sent screeching along the road from Crappers Corner with several, if not all, of ‘The Other Family’ in pursuit. What fun.
Here you can see, from left: Reginald Featheringstonehaugh, the Lucinda Person, two of their progeny (Gregory, the taller, wearing the belligerent scowl for which all members of the family are renowned), several estate workers. In the background hovers a house servant of some description.
Interesting note: For “Services to a Grateful Monarch” (unspecified), Reginald was offered a Peerage, taking the title Lord Bugger 'em or Shoot 'em (pronounced Bensh’m), in memory of his father, Wilfred. On Reginald's death, Gregory inherited the title from his father.
Happy Note: Those of you who like to know that old traditions are being maintained will be pleased to discover that Crappers Corner is still, to this day, a venue for those old Games. Now the ‘Game’ has changed, but not the Sport. Chavs and members of the Green Party are now the target… and of course; because this is England, so are the foreigners.
Here you will see a few of our estate workers after a day out on the moors. Silly buggers look more as if they've been to the seaside. It looks like there are pigeons, seagulls, sanwhich wrappers, rabbits, and a tabby cat in front of them.
What a bag.
What Lord Mansard is doing there on the left, one can't imagine... unless the oaf beside him is Clarence the Under Gardener.
There were rumours that Dear Lord Mansard had a soft spot for Clarence.
The above is an advertisement for Dulcie cards.
All names & addresses are purely fictional; any similarities between persons, living or dead are coincidental & the product of a deranged mind.
On the far right, two well connected young chaps; up for the marriage market, but dim as a pair of stable hands. Exceptionally good shots, apparently. Also known for their waggish behaviour Killed inordinate amounts of game, and also several domestic staff.
The one on the far right was so simple he rose rapidly in the Tory Party and eventually made it to become Lord Chancellor under Asquith.
Great Uncle Clifford
The dear old chap had this portrait (left) done of himself by the great society painter; Cedric Quantum-Hearse RA.
Hung over the fireplace in the Billiard Room at Great Park, Salop. It’s still there, apparently.
Became a bit obsessed with the picture; poor old blighter would stand for hours on the edge of Clackett Woods, in the same pose (right), in all weathers.
Cheered himself up no end by shooting passers-by, ramblers, bicyclists, rabbits, crows, people in motorcars, picnickers. He even managed to shoot and kill the doctor who came to certify him… along with his little nurse, one of the ambulance drivers and a couple of police constables. And he wasn't really such a marvelous shot.
Oh what fun we had in those halcyon days.