Shasta The Trilogy Synopsis

:::::::: Well finally guys and gals by popular demand the SHASTA SYNOPSIS ::::::::

SHASTA

SHASTA VILLAGE

ERASMUS THE OMNIPOTENT

The trilogy of the lives of a woman called Shasta.

All three books are now completed and aimed at age group - 14 years plus.

Although the story begins in the present, Shasta the trilogy allows the reader' imagination to dictate a time frame.

Synopsis - SHASTA

This book is about a young vibrant imaginative girl called Poppy. She is sent to her aunts' house while her parents go away on a business trip. Here begins an imaginative, MAGICAL and wonderful story about Shasta.

The feelings the reader can enjoy in this story, opens the mind and senses to the belief that we can take on as a young teenager.

The story describes the magical village and the warmth it brings to the mind of anyone willing to open up their imaginative minds. Wouldn't the child in us like to be transported to this dimension?

As Poppy's feeling for her eccentric aunt unfold, with spells and magical beginnings, there lays an unknown heritage conjoined with her aunts cat - a truly fascinating animal.

This book opens up all the fictional characters that anyone believes in, clap your hands if you believe in faeries or they die. Do we dare not believe? Our imagination is our saviour.

Synopsis - SHASTA VILLAGE

A village of powerful gifts used at will by the inhabitants.

This book tells of a traveller and colourful transporting wagons. The village enables us to use again our imagination, as it describes in detail the environment. It enables us to almost smell the earthy smells, and the environment that the reader is transported to. Here is where Poppy has an unusual effect on the village beliefs of old, etc....

She is then transported into the past, to regress her previous life as Shasta. Here lies where the path of true love develops and wonderous beginnings unfold.

Unknown to Shasta this male whom she has uncontrollable feelings for has a past.

Will fate recall the past?

Synopsis - ERASMUS THE OMNIPOTENT

Erasmus is the story of a time traveller. No matter what age, it allows our imagination to take flight into our own thoughts and fantasies.

Erasmus enters "one world" during a raging storm. Over the years he becomes aware of and develops his numerous spiritual gifts.

Whilst peering into a deep red fire, his eyes show him his forsaken love.

With pounding heart he transports himself through time to meet her.

The story also embarks on a mystical story of forbidden love between Shasta and Erasmus. Their time travelling love is always one step ahead of them. Will they finally meet within the same time zone and reawaken their spiritual excitement?

If their love grows, will it develop and assist future time travellers to take on what they have or haven't discovered.

Watch the story and hidden angles unfold.

As it unfolds it makes ready for the vortex, which will be opened by a young girl in the future, and so once again the story of SHASTA begins.

***********************************

A Day in the life of...........

My closest and dearest friend I would lay my life down for.

Well thats a bit drastic but you know what I mean.

Due to changes in her job (which is closely linked to mine in the Police) she had to learn to drive. My friend is in her thirties so this was quite a challenge for her. However she finally plucked up the courage to do it.

When I learnt to drive it was a driving test on the road, a few questions on the highway code and "well done Teresa you've passed"! Hooray. Fling arms round neck of examiner and vow eternal love.

So my friend after several lessons in a small Fiesta went off to do her theory test and passed first time. Plucking up even more courage she put "L" plates on the family seven seater people carrier and drove her husband and myself to Tenterden which is no mean feat from where we live and in rush hour with little darlings coming out of schools.

Within three months tongue in cheek she put in for her driving test. This woman was on a mission and her job relied on her passing a.s.a.p. Unbelievably she passed first time. Even she didn't believe it.

The following morning at 07.30am she phoned me. I was on a rest day but I dragged myself awake.
"I'm scraping the ice off the windows (we had a hoare frost overnight). Is there a quicker way to defrost"? I suggested she turned the engine on and let the car warm up which would help.

This woman was going to travel 20 miles in the family seven seater which had now been designated her car. What pluck she had!

She turned the engine on......... nothing! Three times she tried with the same result. The end of a long story ......... she got picked up and driven in to work.

Gutted all day, she text me on the way home, "I will be round to pick you up soon we can go for a spin".
This was about 5pm and bearing in my mind it gets dark at about 6pm.

Now,

1. She hasn't driven in the dark before.

2. This would be only the second time she has driven this vehicle.

However, she turned up on my doorstep her courage still intact and carrying a change of underwear.
I took one look at her face and said
"would you like me to sit beside you while you drive home"? (A matter of ten minutes up the road. Half an hour if you walk).

"Oh yes please" she said

So yes we had a bit of a spin.

We got back to hers and I helped her park it. We had a cup of coffee and a debrief of her driving (exemplary I might add) for about an hour and I ended up getting a taxi back to my house which cost me nearly £6.

I related the story to the taxi driver who I know very well and he never stopped laughing until we pulled up outside of my house.

What a day ......................... and I still luv her to bits.

Money for old rope

Well hello again........ Mad Tee on the rampage again.
Thought you might like to view a couple of me poems this time.
I'm not very good at food receipes. (see Grayling) :-)

My Mobile Phone

I had a trusty mobile phone it really was the best

I loved it heart and soul, it was better than the rest

I dropped it in a glass of wine that I call "wonky neck"

That's J.P. Chenet if you really care a feck

It needed warmth and heat I thought to dry its little innards

So I put it in the airing cupboard alongside all me knickers

With shaking hands I took it out it looked ok to me

I took a chance and plugged it in and waited just to see

Wether my little mobile phone would work again for me

A tiny drop of blood oozed out or maybe it was wine

It coughed and spluttered in torment that little friend of mine

Then it died a death so awful it really was unkind

What a way to go though - drowning in red wine

**************(c)tkg. 02/2008*****************

The Supermarket Trolley

It stands in a line just waiting for me

That supermarket trolley for all to see

I fall for its charm every time

The new one thats shiny and 1st in the line

I know it will steer all over the place

I will end up with a red face

Why don't I take the tatty one at the end?

It looks pretty sad and could do with a mend

When will I learn that looks don't matter?

We only push it around and have a natter

I have to admit old ones work best

Truth to tell they've passed every test

Abused by shoppers and crashed into stands

Used time and again and been through many hands

But my pride is at stake image is the thing

The new shiny trolleys go with my "bling"

So struggle I will to steer it straight

My image looks good at any rate

How I envy the woman gliding with ease

She watches me struggling just to tease

With shopping done I vow once more

No more shiny ones I know the score

As I pass through the door they stand in a line

One is winking at me saying wait 'till next time

*************(c) tkg 02/2008**************

Wimbledon

Around comes June and its Wimbledon again

Brolleys out getting ready for rain

Strawberries and cream showers and sun

In their droves the fans all come

Tim our stalwart he always there

Henman Hill and yearly we all care

We get bitten nails, anguish and a tear

Will this one be Tim's year?

We live in hope that he can do it

Just this once let him beat Hewitt

Federa's the one if he gets that far

We'll toast his health and shout hurrah

Yet again he failed to win

It always seems such a sin

Next year isn't far away

And he lives to fight another day!

*************(c)tkg 02/2008)************

The Guestling Murderess

Well I promised you the reputed story of my ancestors so here goes then...

Mary Ann Plumb was born the eldest of five children in 1800 and lived in the parish of Westfield. She was a housekeeper in her own home while her parents worked in the fields.

At eighteen she went into service and met Richard Geering. Discovering she was pregnant they eventually married at Westfield Parish Church and three months later the child was born.

Richard and Mary lived in a cottage near Guestling, where Richard worked as a labourer. Although it wasn’t a particularly happy marriage they had several children.

It was during this time that they moved to Guestling Green and Richard secured employment. For thirty years they lived in a tiny cottage. He earned a living for them while she devotedly raised the children.

In 1846 Richard Geering was left the sum of £20 which he deposited in the Hastings Savings Bank and the deposit book was given to his sister for safe keeping.

About this time, Mary’s eldest son William lost his wife to consumption, and he and his three children went to live with his parents at the cottage.

During September 1848 things took a violent change. Richard Geering was taken ill with a sickness and five days later died. The diagnosis was given as heart disease.

Four months later twenty one year old George became ill with violent bouts of sickness and raging thirst. Although nursed by his mother during the day and brother James by night he finally died.

Six weeks after George’s funeral James aged 26 was taken ill with the same symptoms and died on 6^th March in the same year. About three weeks later on Easter Sunday, Benjamin Geering eighteen years old was taken ill, and after two or three days of sickness he was attended by two doctors who removed him from his mothers care. Benjamin recovered which threw suspicion on his mother. The doctors finally came to the obvious conclusion that he had been poisoned. The coroner under Police supervision exhumed all the bodies in the family and Mary Ann Geering was arrested on suspicion of poisoning her husband and two sons. She was sent to Hastings Gaol and the three youngest children were sent to the poor house.

At the inquest evidence showed that she had purchased arsenic from a chemist in Hastings, of which traces were found in the bodies of Richard and James and mercury in George.

Dressed all in black and wearing a black shawl with a multicoloured border, bare headed, she finally admitted to the murders.

Mary Ann Geering known as the Guestling Murderess or Murdering mother was found guilty of murder at Lewis Assizes and sentenced to hang. She died aged forty nine years old.

.........................................................

In 1996 I visited the Stag Inn at Hastings for a short break. This is a sixteen century Inn where I had spent my childhood. My young son and I stayed for several days.

One evening having retired to our room in the converted attic area, he visited the bathroom and then called out to me to come in which surprised me. (Any bathroom business was always considered very private as far as he was concerned).

As I walked in there was an eerie cold feeling that I hadn’t noticed before but obviously he was aware of it. It was much larger than the average bathroom and I sat in a comfy chair in the corner. Suddenly he told me not to turn round but to just listen. In a completely calm voice he stated that on the whitewashed wall behind me he could see a woman in a black dress and shawl with coloured edges, pouring a drink from an old pot, which she handed to a man in old clothes. After drinking the man clutched at his throat and rolled to the floor writhing in agony. He then laid still.

Startled I naturally turned to view what he was seeing and needless to say I could see nothing. He told me that the wall was now as it was before which was plain whitewash.

He was a bit shaken and we returned to the bedroom. After he went to sleep I began to ponder on what he had seen and questioned the publican. He explained that the Inn was haunted and it might be worth while doing a bit of research.

I met up with my cousin and he confirmed that the information I had given him was indeed concerning our ancestor. This had only been recorded in two books........The Sussex Murders and Gaolers Diary of Historic Hastings.

My son was far too young to have read either of these books and I had no idea of any of these related facts.

...........Spooky eh?

Bloggers Unite

Well firstly let me say I never expected to go “blogging”, but according to my son it is the cool thing to do. So let’s meet Teresa Geering!

I was born and raised in Hastings Sussex and was part of the fishing community. My great great (how many do you want to go back?) grandfathers through to modern day were all fishermen or went to sea as sailors.
Yep, somewhere in their one or two were smugglers in the Old Town. Mostly around the old churches, and the Stag Inn which is still there today (The rector of the parish in those days was a bit of a naughty man by all accounts)
My parents on many occasions used to help out in the Inn. I whiled away the time in one of the upstairs room imagining smugglers running riot in the cellars of the pub with the bow street runners in hot pursuit. I had a very vivid imagination even then.
When my son was still quite young I decided to revisit the Stag Inn for a short break and also research my family history. The fishermen in my family were all called “Old Lapper” and all fishermen had nicknames carried down through history.
I took my son to visit the infamous St. Clements Caves which is now a commercial enterprise. I hadn’t been there since my teens. My son had wandered off and I found myself alone in one of the caves surrounded by someone’s vivid imagination of what probably happened to smugglers when they were caught. (I admit it is very realistic and worth a visit – cheque maybe payable to........).
As I stood there absorbing the atmosphere the air became even chillier and I got the feeling that someone was behind me. As I began to turn I heard a voice whisper behind me “So you want to know about Old Lapper then”. Startled I looked to find the owner of the voice – the cave was empty! My son had wandered through to the next cave and was also quite alone preoccupied with the next feature on smuggling.
To this day I have kept an open mind as to what happened.

Oh I forgot apparently another one of my ancestors back in 1800 was the Guestling Murderess Mary Anne Geering!!
I will tell you more about that next time...

Cackle Cackle.