Victorian Secrets

There’s something about old age charm. Though I don’t necessarily wish I was born in the era of being carted around in chariots, but its hard not to imagine what life would have been…

Fancy living in houses where ceilings are two floors high. Where sunlight filtering in through sky roofs gently warms the colors of the paintings adorning the walls, where upon looking out, one feasted on orchards of some kind, rather taillights of lingering traffic. When walks were more about hats and frilled umbrellas and market visits had you bumping into ‘Sire’s’ with hats coming off in acknowledgment. When high tea and silver cutlery made more for conversation across landscapes and courting was a smile for many meetings, before they’d bow to take your leave.

 When coffee shops didn’t exist and a fountain was all you had for music. When suitors talked about history and art and masked ballroom dancing was today’s answer to chat rooms. When pigeons and messengers travelled from far off land and visiting your uncle’s estate was for ‘the summers’. When you sat in and watched the rain, gently leaving trails on large french windows.

The days of gloves and lace bodice, when hand fans, boots and corsets could make even ‘too many carbs’ look pretty.

 When guests were shown into a study, with walls carpeted in literature, and the head - parlour maid 'acquainted the lady about their arrival at once!'

When the domestic assembly was also over cake and tea in the kitchen and the attic was for locked away memoirs.

When it wasn’t just calling out to someone in the next room, it was travelling from one to another. When stonewalls added to the hues of sunset, and drinks were served around the fireplace, in the library, after that.

The closest I’ve come to living the era is writing letters, when weeks of waiting climaxed into a one-page reply.  When Google was not just in my pocket, and visiting a cyber café was an outing.

Never really had a pen friend, whom I lost touch with due to a change in address, or had letters written, comparing my beauty to a blushing sky, but I’m re- discovering the art of writing versus dialing - and it’s fun!

Actually today is pretty much a dark and twisted side of the Victorian era, only the romance in it has sadly died.