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������There is a story that hangs like a slightly pretentious mist of mystery over the polished rail you'll find your elbows and forearms sinking into the slight depressions of centuries of people leaning, sipping, watching, commenting, and very often, daydreaming, that runs the length of the Mezzanine Balcony overlooking the Great Space. It is one of the pieces that has followed the family through the years, from the first "Castle Antiraugh", or "An-Tirs�leis an Airgead", ("An-Tir adds to the money"), in Hibernia, through the number of burnings, either accidents influenced by some small overindulgence in the poteen after a particularly fine victory, or, helped by disgruntled noble folk who were not too happy with the distribution of profits in the last transaction, (this has been suggested as the reason for the Anglicization of the family name to "Burns Strong" then "Burnstrong", as, in the early days of the Duchy, the family home was most often being aflame, extinguished, then being cleared out to dry, and being decorated for a celebration of the home, now rebuilt larger and more splendid, which party often led those a stumble on a stair, or the now infamous English Olympic ski jumper, "Eddie the Eagle" face plant causing a domino effect down the long banquet table...chafing dishes, candles, cigar lighters, and, though you think the kitchen staff might have caught on, the usual flamb�e dish, then spreading it's glorious scented Cognac, Cointreau, Curacao and/or Armanac, and a new conflagration). These all too common occurrences lead to the the 38th Duke leaving the family business of what would now be called looting and usury, (loan sharking), and starting the serious building and designing of a family home of distinction and comfort, and becoming known as Duke S�an, Mo Dh� L�imh, ('my two hands'). It was he who discovered the very long and straight teak pole in one of the original lumber rooms and spent two years pit sawing a three inch plank of the finest teak, and a further four years of planing and finishing it with finer and finer grits of sand in tallow until it gleamed almost as if from within. It was his son, and grandson, who, spending years of their lives watching this piece of wood come back to such lustrous life, and, being of a scholarly bent, rather than the 38th Duke's love of working, though, very genteelly, with 'Mo Dh� L�imh', began by wondering how this majestic piece of wood came to their land. This is where the family library took a turn from rare and hand scribed and illuminated books and scrolls, mostly from the near and middle East, of, for the most part, erotica, (highly illuminated, as the early Dukes spent little time in the pursuit of learning, and preferred to look at the pictures), to the basis of one of the finest and widest ranging libraries in a land of libraries.
������ The 39th and 40th Dukes, both named Daith�, or David, and called 'is � Daith� an M�inteoir the Elder', and 'Daith� an M�inteoir the Younger', (David the teacher), respectively, and were the foundation of the reputation of the Antiraugh family as one of learning and teaching. It was David the Younger, building upon his father's work, and both their close scrutiny of the rough but carefully hewn tapering log from which the 3"�16" wide rail his grandfather had installed along the gallery of the great space of the home he had built, (from stone, in case the family went back to their 'not-so-friendly' pursuits leading to more blazes), and, by spending much time with the workers and craftsmen with which the house always seemed to be filled, he learned the ways that stone and wood was worked, and how methods and techniques changed. It was in this fashion that he added to his father's work of the history of the earlier parts of the great house, that he came to believe, and made a very persuading case, that this was the mast from the boat that Saint Brendan built in the new world to make his way back to Hibernia. He was convinced of this and every Duke, from thence on, added to the scholarship and evidence, outside two who might be considered "throwbacks" to the old 'looting and usury' times, during the time of the 'robber barons' of the late Victorian English Empire and the oil and industrial money makers in the United States and Canada.
������ It was about this time that the 'second son' of the family, after being treated as most 'second sons' were in those days, and left with a small annuity and strong hints to "go forth and make his fortune", came to Canada, and to the west coast to make his fortune in lumber and minerals. He did this with the amazing speed that the the times, the place, the resources and his zeal made possible, and he began to build this house. As the house quickly took the shape and form of the Victorian hugeness it has now, the Empire shrank and the various and sundry mammoth incomes from various parts of that empire, shrank as alarmingly quickly. It was thus, the 68th Duke, wifeless and childless, died an embittered death, partly from the effects of 'the wormwood', as his latter years were filled with absinthe and debt, and partly from the terrible depression of those once wealthy, now in debt far beyond his lifetime to emerge. The brother, now the new 69th Duke, went back to clear up the estate, and the small part of him which felt it his duty to return to the ancestral castle and the 'ould sod', was, at once saddened at the state of the once majestic home, and gladdened that there was no reason for to leave his beloved British Columbia and Pacific Ocean, and the house which was now his home. He managed to clear up the debts, and passed the headache which was for centuries, the home of the Burnstrongs' and the seat of the Duchy of Antiraugh, and now had owls living in the upper halls of the west wing, by donating it to the National Trust, after removing some of the family's more priceless possessions...if a price could have been put on any of them, the old Duke would have sold them before then...which included some of the medieval wall hangings and renaissance tapestries, sorely in need of a lot of restoration, the contents of the wine cellar, which had miraculously been left relatively unscathed, as, according to the housekeeper, the old Duke, in the depths of despair and absinthe, had forgotten where the keys were, and soon, had forgotten the cellars. He also managed to remove and ship the rail, from the mast of St. Brendan, which, by now, shall have formed it's contours under your elbows and forearms, and your wineglass should be about ready for a refill.
������ I hope to get some of my favourite examples of the fine arts and philosophy among these walls and pages. Things are, (generally) too far behind for me, but, I'm working on everything, and things should progress slowly, but surely, if I can get, (and keep), Rockcod's attention long enough to bring some treasures up and get them mounted.
������ I've put up one of my more favourite poems, 'Clouds', from Percy Bysshe Shelley's, "Prometheus Unbound", (1820), under "Clouds" in the 'Poetry Section'.
������ I've also been meaning to post my picture, but, the one I love had to go South for a while, and for some unfathomable reason, she took all the pictures of myself with her...though, there weren't many mainly due to my being a writer/researcher/and photographer. Photogs are notorious for avoiding having their pictures taken. Instead, I'm putting a drawing that you must excuse...the artist is a bit of a fantasist, and has drawn me in a rather stylized fashion. I'm not too sure whether to be flattered, i'm not quite that ancient, and my wizardry often leaves much to be desired, but I'll take it.
������ Have some fun and bounce around, you might just stumble across some ancient memories, or even something you like.
������ One other thing...it seems that a number of the previous Dukes and a couple of Duchesses emigrated with the tapestries and the rail and other odds and sods of the original family home. So far, they seem happy in their new home, and, for the most part, weren't a bad lot before or after they died. So, if you turn a corner quickly, or open a door unexpectedly, and one of these oddly dressed, translucent people appear in the shadows of the hallway, try not to be alarmed...you'll probably startle them more than they startle you. Be careful of one, though, in Elizabethan clothing. That would be Daith� an M�inteoir the Younger, and though his manner is mild and scholarly, with a very gentle smile, he is terrible bore. You might never escape. Be wary, but don't worry.
BTW-some things may not be Jiminy Cricket happy, (sorry, Sam, unfortunate memories of terrarium breakouts), but don't let them get you down. I think of, (again), the ubiquitous Mrs. Parker, (Mrs. Dorothy Parker, not Miss nor Andrea), with some thoughts on being depressed:
Some links to find your way back, or forward, if you're going to one of these places, these links will help.
doc's small world....
eclectricity forum....
amnesty letter tips
amnesty international...
research-it!...
doc's gallery-lobby
