Advice of the Day: Upstream Survival

“Always drink upstream from the herd.”

The sage

The Sage has wandered many lands, crossed many rivers, and stepped in more things than he cares to remember. From these questionable experiences comes today’s watery wisdom: “Always drink upstream from the herd.”
It’s less a proverb and more a desperate plea from a man who has, on more than one occasion, mistaken a suspiciously warm puddle for a natural spring.

According to The Sage, herds — whether cows, sheep, or anything with hooves and poor bladder control — have an impeccable talent for contaminating every water source they encounter. The Sage once learned this the hard way during what he fondly refers to as The Incident of the Unfortunate Sip. Since then, he has concluded that the safest water is always found well upstream, preferably separated from livestock by at least one hill, a fence, and ideally a small moat.

So take heed: when you come across a peaceful stream and think, “What a lovely spot for a drink,” first ask yourself a simple question… Which way did the cows go? The answer may save your day, your dignity, and your digestive system.


Thank you for reading my writings. If you’d like to, you can buy me a coffee for just £1 and I will think of you while writing my next post! Just hit the link below…. (thanks in advance)

Advice of the Day: Feline Disaster Prevention

“Never hold a dust buster and a cat at the same time.”

The sage

The Sage has seen many catastrophes in his long life — exploding teapots, collapsing deckchairs, and that one unforgettable incident with a runaway wheelbarrow. But nothing, he insists, compares to the fury unleashed when you combine suction technology with an unsuspecting cat. Today’s advice is therefore delivered with both urgency and a faint smell of antiseptic: “Never hold a dust buster and a cat at the same time.”

According to The Sage, a cat’s relationship with noise is delicate and easily disrupted. A single buzz, whirr, or faint mechanical hum can turn even the laziest feline into a spiralling tornado of claws, indignation, and airborne regret. Holding the cat while holding the dust buster is essentially volunteering to become a scratching post with a pulse.

The Sage’s recommended protocol is simple: put one down. Any one. He doesn’t care which — just don’t try to juggle both unless your tetanus shots are up to date and your will is in order. Some advice saves time. Some saves money. This one saves blood.


Thank you for reading my writings. If you’d like to, you can buy me a coffee for just £1 and I will think of you while writing my next post! Just hit the link below…. (thanks in advance)

Quote of the Day: Shopping

“Most people go shopping to feel better. The wise go to find out what they can live without.”
The Sage


The Sage has long observed the curious human habit of treating shops like pharmacies for the soul. Feeling tired? Buy something. Feeling stressed? Buy two. Feeling lost? Buy whatever’s on the end-of-aisle display. Shopping becomes a kind of emotional anaesthetic — a quick dose of novelty to soothe what’s unsettled inside. But, as he likes to remind us, the receipt rarely includes long-term peace of mind.

To the wise, however, shops serve a very different purpose. They’re not treasure troves but test sites. The Sage wanders through them not to fill a basket but to examine desire itself — to see what calls to him, what fades quickly, and what no longer holds any weight at all. In doing so, he discovers that contentment grows not from accumulation but from understanding what no longer needs to be carried.

His humour softens the lesson, but the message is clear: shopping can be a mirror. It shows us our cravings, our impulses, and the little stories we tell ourselves about happiness. The Sage invites us to look into that mirror with curiosity rather than urgency. Sometimes the wisest purchase is the one we walk away from — and the simplest freedom is realising we needed far less than we thought.


Thank you for reading my writings. If you’d like to, you can buy me a coffee for just £1 and I will think of you while writing my next post! Just hit the link below…. (thanks in advance)

This Day in History: 2 December 1838 — The Boy and the Pewter Hoard

On 2 December 1838, in the busy streets off London’s Oxford Street, a sixteen-year-old called David Leary made a decision that would send him to the far side of the world.

Leary was accused of stealing 65 pounds of pewter, worth £1 10s, from a man named Uzziel Emarmel. Pewter was the everyday metal of the city — plates, mugs and measures in taverns and lodging houses — and a heavy bundle of it was as good as ready money.

That Sunday, someone noticed that a substantial quantity of pewter had gone missing from Emarmel’s premises. Suspicion quickly narrowed on the slight, red-haired youth who had been seen near the stock and who, when questioned, could not give a convincing account of his movements.


The theft

The surviving record is brief but clear:

He was “accused of simple larceny (stealing, on the 2nd of December, 65lbs. of pewter, value 1l. 10s., the goods of Uzziel Emarmel).”

We can picture the scene with some confidence:

  • Bars of scrap pewter or stacks of old pots stored in a back room or yard.
  • A narrow alley leading away from the premises.
  • A boy struggling under the weight of a sack that clanked as he walked.

Whether he intended to sell it to a metal dealer, or had been put up to it by others, the records don’t say. What we do know is that by mid-December he was in custody, listed in the Newgate calendars as awaiting trial.


The trial at the Old Bailey — 17 December 1838

On 17 December 1838, Leary appeared before the Central Criminal Court (Old Bailey). The full transcript is behind a modern access wall, but the Digital Panopticon summary gives us the essentials:

  • Charge: simple larceny, stealing 65 lbs. of pewter from Uzziel Emarmel on 2 December.
  • Age: 16, born in Oxford, 5’2″, light red hair, hazel eyes. digitalpanopticon.org
  • Verdict: Guilty, with recommendation (probably for his youth).
  • Sentence: Transportation, recorded elsewhere as ten years.

We can reasonably reconstruct the courtroom rhythm:

Clerk: “David Leary, you stand indicted for stealing, on the 2nd of December, 65 pounds weight of pewter, the property of Uzziel Emarmel. How say you — guilty or not guilty?”
Leary: “Not guilty, sir.”

Here is the complete Trial Transcript:

DENNIS BURGIN , JOHN KEEFE , and DAVID LEARY , were indicted for stealing, on the 2nd of December, 65lbs. of pewter, value 1l. 10s., the goods of Uzziel Emarmel.

MR. CLARKSON. conducted the Prosecution.

ABRAHAM EMANUEL . I am the son of Isaiah Emanuel, a rag-merchant and dealer in marine stores, No. 9, Gee’s-court, Oxford-street; he rente the house. On Sunday, the 2nd of December, I returned home between nine and ten o’clock. in the evening—I went in, as usual, at the outer door—when I got up stairs to the first nook back room, which is my bed-room, I found the door had been opened by a false key, and missed a desk and several things, which had been safe when I went out—I had locked the. desk on Saturday evening, and there was then four sovereigns, three half sovereigns, and about 2l. 10s. in silver in it, with some little bits of broken silver, and six copper paintings, called transparencies, for jelly-moulds—I missed a quantity of Britannia metal spoons from a drawer in the room, a few. brass hooks, a small lamp, one or two metal salts, and two bell-pulls—it is usual to. leave the street-door of the house unlocked, for the accommodation of lodgers—I saw Mary Ferguson on this evening, after missing the things, and in consequence of what she said, I went to the bouse of the prisoner Burgin, No. 14, Gray’s-buildings, which is about three minutes’ walk from our house—I found him in bed—I said, “I want you, Burgin”—he said, “What for?”—I said, “Concerning my father’s robbery”—he said, “I know nothing about it”—I said, “You must come with me—Mary Ferguson positively says she saw you in the passage”—he said, “Very well, I will go with you, and see whether she will say she saw me or no”—he got up, and went with me to our street-door, where I gave him in charge to a constable—Mary Mahony came up, and Burgin said to her, “You had better say you saw me”—she said she saw him, Leary, Keefe, and Burroughs in the watercloset of No. 13, which is four doors from my father’s house—Burgin made no reply to that—I went to No. 13, Gee’s-court, into the cellar, and saw a drawer there belonging to the desk in my bed-room, which had contained the money on the Saturday evening—on kicking some dirt on one side we found the lid of the desk—we searched further, and saw some ground as if turned up, and found the six pieces of painted copper about twelve inches in the ground; and one or two feet further down three ingots of metal belonging to my father, which had been safe in the shop on the Saturday evening—on looking about we saw a hole in the ceiling—the police-sergeant got up, and, among some rubbish there, found one of the spoons, the salt-cellars, and the lamp—the brass hooks I found scattered about in the dirt, and some with the spoons—in consequence of further information from Mrs. Mahoney, I went next day to No. 2, Fitzroy-place, New-road, and found the witness Burroughs.

Cross-examined by MR. DOANE. Q. When did you miss the things? 

A. Between nine and ten o’clock on Sunday night—Leary lives close by me, with his parents.

MR. CLARKSON. Q. Had your father been in the habit of employing Burgin to mind his door, and go on errands? 

A. Yes, sometimes.

MARY FERGUSON . I am the wife of Martin Ferguson, and lodge on the second floor of Mr. Emanuel’s house. On the Sunday night in question, between eight and nine o’clock, I was coming down stairs, and met Burgin in the passage—I have known him from his infancy—I said nothing to him—I do not know what business he had there.

MARY MAHONEY . I am servant to Mr. Goram, of No. 13, Gee’s-court, Oxford-street. On this Sunday evening I went to get some water, between eight and nine o’clock, from the water-butt which is opposite the stairs, and saw the three prisoners and Burroughs, two in the water-closet, and two outside—when they saw me, the two outside rushed into the inside—I knew them before, and am sure of them—I communicated to Mr. Emanuel what I had seen that night—Burgin asked me, when he was taken, if I had not seen him about the place, and I said yes, I had seen them all.

Cross-examined. Q. Is not No. 13 let out in lodgings? 

A. Yes—I know Leary’s father—he lodges at No. 14, and rents No. 13 also.

MR. CLARKSON. Q. Does he live in No. 13? 

A. No, he lives in No. 14, and lets out No. 13 to lodgers—there is a passage leading into the cellar down some stairs—there is a door which is not locked—a person might go from the water-closet into the cellar.

THOMAS BURROUGHS . I have been employed by Mr. Emanuel in watching at his door, and going of errands for him—on the Friday evening before this Sunday, I was playing about Gee’s-court, and Henrietta-street, and saw Burgin and Keefe walking down—they were talking about going to Mr. Emanuel’s shop to get some things, and asked me whether I would be with them—I said I would not say till Sunday—they said nothing more then—Leary afterwards came up to me the same evening, and said, “Tom A. if you will be in it I will be in it”—on the Saturday evening I was in Gee’s-court, and saw Leary after he came home from work—he asked me if I was going in—I said I did not know, I would not promise until the Sunday—he said, “Very well”—on Sunday morning, about eleven or twelve o’clock, I was in Gee’s-court again, and saw Burgin and Keefe there—Burgin asked me if I was going in—I said I did not know—he said he was going in—about three or four o’clock he asked me again, and I said, very well, I would go—Burgin said, if I went down into the shop, he would go,. and get something up stairs—Keefe was present when he said that—I do not know whether Leary was there or not—about four o’clock or after four I went down into the cellar, where the rags are kept, and got into the shop—I got over the water-butt, which is at the back of the passage, and into the cellar—the street-door and the back-door were open—Burgin and Keefe were round the door—there was a row there with two men, and a great mob were round the door—I believe Leary was among the mob—I saw him when I came out—when I got up the flap of the cellar into the shop, I saw the ingots of pewter—I put them on the water-butt—Burgin and Keefe took them off—I then came out, and they told me they had carried the pewter home—when I came out of the cellar, Leary was among the mob of people in the row A. not with Burgin and Keefe—I staid in the court till about half-past eight o’clock, with Burgin and Keefe, and Leary was with us—about six or seven o’clock, Burgin said he would go up stain—Keefe was present then, but Leary was in doors, at his tea—he came out afterwards, and they asked him if he was going to be in it—he said he would have nothing to do with it—that was before they went into the house—after that, Burgin and Keefe went into the house, by the same passage as I did, and went up stairs—I staid down the court with Leary, between one and two doors from Mr. Emanuel’s house—Leary asked me where they were, and I said they were gone up stairs—Leary then said to me, “Tom, there is a fight in James-street”—that got me away from the door—I went with him to look at it, but there was no fight there—we came round the other way, and when we got back, Burgin and Keefe had come out, and were down stairs in the cellar of No. 13—I did not see them with any parcels, or any thing in their hands—I can hardly say whether I did or not—let me recollect, and I will tell you in a minute—yes, I did—I saw Burgin with a parcel at the door of No. 13—Leary was with me at the time, and Keefe was there—nobody has been talking to me about this since I was examined before the Magistrate—I think Burgin said he had some brass things in the parcel—I believe Keefe had something with him—they went into No. 13—when Leary and I came back from James-street, Leary went down into the cellar, where the other two were—they all three came out together soon after—I waited in the passage, looking out—they went twice into Mr. Emanuel’s house—the second time they went in was when we ran round James-street—the first time they fetched out some paper parcels, I believe, and the next time, I think, the desk, with the money in it, but that was while I went round to James-street—I was standing opposite No. 10, to see if any body came, while they were in the house the first time—Leary came out of his house, No. 14, while I was there, and asked me where they were—I said they were gone up stairs—that was when he came from his tea—Leary told me afterwards, that he took me round to James-street because they were bringing something out of the house at the time—James-street is the next turning to Gee’s-court—they remained about a quarter of an hour in the cellar, after Leary went down—they all three came up together, and Burgin said they had got some money—he gave me 12s., and said there was 12s. a piece—Leary and Keefe were there at the time—I believe Leary had his share as well as the rest, because he was in it the same as the rest—I saw them count out the same money to him that they did to me—after this, Burgin said to Leary and Keefe that they would go up to the Cato-street dance—they went away together, and I went off home—Keefe gave me some pieces of broken silver at the time Burgin gave me the 12s., and said I was to mind it till to-morrow—I was taken in custody on Monday morning—I had then spent 18d. out of the 12s.—I gave the silver and the 10s. 6d. I had left to Abraham Emanuel.

Cross-examined. Q. They have been in prison ever since, have they not? 

A. Yes—There was a row in the court at the time I was getting the pewter out—there were a great many people there—it was after that that Leary told me there was a fight in James-street—the fight was over when I got there, if there had been one—Burgin and Keefe told me to wait at the door while they got the things out, to see that nobody came to disturb them—I knew they were gone in to get something out—I did not know what.

MR. CLARKSON. Q. How long was it after the row in the court that Leary asked you to go and see the fight? 

A. A good bit—the row in the court was at half-past four o’clock, and we went to James-street between six and seven o’clock—he told me, that when I was round there, they were bringing the things out.

COURT. Q. Did you ask any questions of either of them about gold? 

A. Yes—I asked them if there was any gold there, and Burgin said there was none—I believe Leary said the same—Keefe did not say any thing that I know of.

Burgin. Q. Did not you come up to me, and ask me to go in, and did not I say I would have nothing to do with it? 

A. No—it was on Friday you asked me about it—I did not ask you about it—I did not swear at you, nor say you were a coward, and afraid to do it—Letry had said to me on the Monday, “I shall not have any thing to do with it—I do not mean to get into robberies—I have got a good place”—I said, “Keefe will not be in it”—you said, “I know he will—he and I are going in”—I did not call you out of your aunt’s in Gray’s-buildings, and persuade you to go in—I did not tell you I had the pewter, the desk, and things—how could I, when you brought the desk out yourself?

Keefe. Q. On Sunday night, did not you come and call me out from tea? 

A. No, I was called out—I did not open the door at Mr. Emanuel’s—if I did not tell the truth, why did you not contradict me before Mr. Rawlinson?—I did not tell Burgin and you to go in, for I had done my share of the robbery—I said I had done my share when I brought the pewter out.

JOHN HARDY . (police-sergeant D 16.) On the Sunday evening, about half-past ten o’clock, I went to Mr. Emanuel’s, and then to No. 13, Gee’s-court—I went into the cellar, and found two salts, and other things, which I produce.

ABRAHAM EMANUEL . re-examined. I have looked at these things—the desk is my father’s, and the money mine—the body of the desk was given to me by a person who keeps a shop at No. 12.

—EMANUEL. I am one of the prosecutor’s sons. On the Sunday in question, I fastened the door of the back-room first-floor in the morning, and tried it—I took the key away with me—I did not return till after my brother.

ISAAC SPREADBORO . I am a policeman. Gee’s-court is in the parish of St. Marylebone—on Monday morning, I went to No. 12, and in the top attic I found Keefe—I told him the charge—he said he knew nothing at all about it—I took him to the station-house—Burroughs was afterwards brought in by young Mr. Emanuel—I produce the pieces of broken silver.

ABRAHAM EMANUEL . re-examined. This broken silver is my father’s property—it was given me by Burroughs, when I took him—it was kept in the desk.

Burgiris Defence. On Sunday afternoon, about two o’clock, Burroughs came up to me in Gee’s-court, and asked if I intended to rob Mr. Emanuel on the following evening—I said I would have nothing to do with it—he pressed me, and began swearing at me, and called me a coward—I walked away, and went to my aunt’s, in Gray’s-buildings—about four o’clock the same evening he came and called me—I came up to him—he asked if I intended to do what he asked me—I said I intended to do no such thing, which my aunt could prove if she was here—he went away, telling me he intended to do it, and he would make a good haul—I came down the court, about six o’clock, and saw Burroughs—he said he had got three ingots of pewter, some spoons, and a desk, and he had them down at No. 13—I said I would have nothing to do with them—he went down into the kitchen, came up, and told me he had got some money, and asked if I would have any part of it—I said not, and saw no more of him till I was taken—I went home about seven o’clock, to my aunt’s, No. 14, Grty’s-buildings—Abraham Emanuel came up, and accused me of the robbery—I was in bed, and had been about two hours before he came—he said Mary Ferguson could swear she saw me standing in the passage ten minutes before that, and this was about ten o’clock at night—I said I would get up and go to her with him—I did, and asked her if she saw me in the passage—she stuttered about it, and seemed to say “no” at first, but he persuaded her, I suppose, to say “yes,” but she would not go to the station-house.

(James Smith, coach-smith, Norton-street; and Hannah Joyce, of Gee’s-court, deposed to Leary’s good character; and Hannah Grover, of Gee’s-court, to that of Keefe.)

BURGIN*— GUILTY . Aged 17. KEEFE— GUILTY . Aged 16.

LEARY— GUILTY . Aged 16.—Recommended to mercy. Transported for Ten Years—to the Juvenile Prison.


Transportation and life after

The machinery of punishment moved quickly:

  • 5 April 1839: Leary was put aboard a convict ship and transported to Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania), sentence ten years. digitalpanopticon.org
  • 23 August 1839: He arrived in the colony, still only 17 years old. digitalpanopticon.org
  • 26 August 1850: Having served his time, he was recorded as freed at about 28. digitalpanopticon.org

A single December theft of pewter in London had become twelve years of life as a convict labourer on the far edge of the empire.


Why this 2 December matters

David Leary’s story shows how ordinary teenage crime collided with the vast machinery of Victorian transportation:

  • The offence was not glamorous — not a bank raid or a highway robbery, but a sack of base metal.
  • The value, £1 10s, was significant to a small trader, but hardly a fortune.
  • Yet the outcome was a ten-year exile, thousands of miles from Oxford Street, family, and home.

For Leary, 2 December 1838 was the pivot point — the day a heavy bundle of pewter shifted the course of a human life.


Source

  • Digital Panopticon, “David Leary” — Life archive ID obpdef3-351-18381217:
    Tried at the Old Bailey 17 December 1838, accused of simple larceny for “stealing, on the 2nd of December, 65lbs. of pewter, value 1l. 10s., the goods of Uzziel Emarmel.” Verdict: Guilty with recommendation. Sentence: Transportation for ten years; transported April 1839; arrived Van Diemen’s Land August 1839; freed August 1850. digitalpanopticon.org+1

Thank you for reading my writings. If you’d like to, you can buy me a coffee for just £1 and I will think of you while writing my next post! Just hit the link below…. (thanks in advance)

This Day in History: 1 December 1838 — The Servant, the Spoons and the Silver Basket

On 1 December 1838, in a comfortable London house, a trusted servant crossed a quiet but very bright line.

Her name was Ludlow Tedder, aged forty-seven, born in Essex. She worked in the household of Fitzowen Skinner, a man prosperous enough to own not only fine silver spoons, but a silver bread-basket valued at a remarkable £10 on its own.

That morning, the basket and spoons were in their usual place. By evening, they were gone — and so, soon after, was Ludlow.


The theft

From the surviving records we know the essentials:

She was accused of “stealing, on the 1st of December, 2 spoons, value £1; and 1 bread-basket, value £10; the goods of Fitzowen Skinner, her master.”

The bread-basket was not just tableware. It would have gleamed in the candlelight at dinner, passed from guest to guest, a little portable display of Skinner’s wealth. For a servant paid a few pounds a year, such an object must have been a constant, silent temptation.

At some point that day, Ludlow removed the spoons and basket and slipped them into a bundle. Perhaps she told herself she would pawn them “just for a while”. Perhaps she did not think beyond the door.

When the items were missed, suspicion fell quickly:

  • Only a very small circle of people had easy access to that sideboard.
  • There was no sign of an outside break-in.
  • And Ludlow, usually steady and composed, had suddenly gone out and returned flustered.

Within days, she was under arrest.


The trial at the Old Bailey — 17 December 1838

On 17 December 1838, Ludlow Tedder stood at the bar of the Old Bailey, charged with stealing from her master.

Clerk of Arraigns: “Ludlow Tedder, you stand indicted for stealing, on the 1st of December, two spoons and one bread-basket, the goods of Fitzowen Skinner, your master. How say you – guilty or not guilty?”
Tedder: “Not guilty, my lord.”

Skinner testified that the plate was safe that morning and missing by evening; that Ludlow had remained in the house; and that no one else had legitimate cause to handle the silver.

A pawnbroker appeared next, producing the bread-basket and identifying Ludlow as the woman who had brought them in.

Servant theft was viewed particularly grimly: it was a betrayal of trust inside the household, not just opportunistic street crime. The jury found her Guilty.

The Actual Testimony from The Old Bailey:

LUDLOW TEDDER was indicted for stealing, on the 1st of December, 2 spoons, value 1l.; and 1 bread-basket, value 10l.; the goods of Fitzowen Skinner, her master.

FITZOWEN SKINNER, ESQ . I am a barrister, and live at No. 25, Keppel-street, St. George’s, Bloomsbury. I rent the house—the prisoner was in my service as cook since March last—I missed fourteen forks and eleven silver spoons, on Saturday night, the 1st of December, after the prisoner and her daughter were gone to bed—her daughter had the charge of the plate, but she had access to it—on the Sunday night her daughter came to me, and said her mother would drive her mad—I went down into the kitchen, and asked the prisoner what was the matter—she said it was about the plate that was missing—I asked her where it was—she said the had pawned it, but she would get it back on Monday morning—I had said nothing to induce her to confess—I asked her for the duplicates, and she gave them up—I sent her and her daughter to bed, and locked the house up—next morning I found my wife had missed table-cloths and other things—I asked the prisoner if she knew any thing about them—she denied all knowledge of them—I said, “Justice must take its course”—I went out to the Temple, to get a friend to be in the house, and locked the door, as I supposed, but when I returned the prisoner was gone, and I did not see her again till Tuesday the 16th, when she was in custody at Bow-street.

JOHN WENTWORTH . I am a pawnbroker. I have a bread-basket, pawned on the 1st of December by the prisoner—this is the duplicate I gave for it—I have also eleven spoons, pawned by her at different times.

MR. SKINNER re-examined. I did not miss the bread-basket till she gave me up the duplicates—this is my bread-basket—(looking at it)—I had seen it on the Thursday-week previous—I gave the duplicate she gave me to the policeman.

RICHARD LESLEY . I am a policeman. That is the duplicate of the bread-basket Mr. Skinner gave me.

GUILTY . Aged 47.— Transported for Ten Years.


Sentence and transportation

The court did not hang her, but the punishment was still devastating:

  • She was sentenced to ten years’ transportation.
  • In May 1839 she was shipped to Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania).
  • She arrived in Australia in September 1839, aged forty-eight, one of many middle-aged women starting life again as a convict.

In the colony she served out her sentence and, by July 1844, applied for permission to marry — a brief line in the records that hints at resilience after catastrophe.


Why this 1 December matters

Ludlow Tedder’s story shows how a single day — 1 December 1838 — could divide a life in two:

  • A moment of temptation in a well-to-do London dining room.
  • A swift investigation inside the household.
  • And then the long machinery of trial, sentence and transportation.

For her master, it was the loss of silver and the sting of betrayal.
For Ludlow, it was the beginning of a 15,000-mile journey from Essex to Van Diemen’s Land, all for two spoons and a shining bread-basket.


Source

  • Digital Panopticon, “Ludlow Tedder” – Tried at the Old Bailey on 17 December 1838, charged with stealing “on the 1st of December, 2 spoons, value £1; and 1 bread-basket, value £10; the goods of Fitzowen Skinner, her master.” Verdict: Guilty. Sentence: Transportation for ten years to Van Diemen’s Land; transported May 1839, arrived September 1839, later applied to marry in 1844. https://www.digitalpanopticon.org/life?id=obpdef1-301-18381217

Thank you for reading my writings. If you’d like to, you can buy me a coffee for just £1 and I will think of you while writing my next post! Just hit the link below…. (thanks in advance)

Quote of the Day: The Rain

“A rainy day is just the sky reminding us to slow down before we leak as well.”
The Sage


The Sage has always regarded rain not as an inconvenience, but as a gentle intervention. He sees storms as the sky’s quiet way of encouraging us to pause — to take a breath, let the world settle, and remember that even nature needs to release what it has been holding. To him, rain is less about getting wet and more about getting still.

When he warns that we might “leak as well,” he is pointing at the burdens people carry — the emotional pressure, the silent worries, the buildup of small frustrations that go unacknowledged. Just as clouds become heavy, so do minds. And just as clouds release rain, humans too need moments of pause before the weight becomes too much.

The Sage’s humour softens the truth: rain asks us to slow down, to listen inward, to notice what we’ve been trying to outrun. His message is a reminder that rest is not weakness but maintenance, and that a drizzly afternoon may be nature’s wisest invitation to simply stop and breathe.


Thank you for reading my writings. If you’d like to, you can buy me a coffee for just £1 and I will think of you while writing my next post! Just hit the link below…. (thanks in advance)

Advice of the Day: The Finger of Doom

“Never pull Dad’s finger when he tells you to.”

The Sage

The Sage has lived a long and perilous life, but nothing — not wild animals, not faulty ladders, not even supermarket self-checkouts — has ever prepared him for the horror of the phrase: “Pull my finger.” Today’s wisdom is therefore short, urgent, and potentially life-saving: “Never pull Dad’s finger when he tells you to.”

According to The Sage, this is the oldest prank in human history, passed down from generation to generation like a cursed relic. Every dad, upon reaching a certain age, unlocks an innate ability to weaponise humour in gaseous form. The innocent child believes they are participating in a harmless ritual. The father knows they are participating in a biological attack.

The Sage warns that once triggered, there is no escape: the sound, the aftermath, the psychological impact — all permanent. Survivors report confusion, betrayal, and a newfound respect for air fresheners. So heed this ancient wisdom: when Dad smiles mischievously and extends his finger… run.


Thank you for reading my writings. If you’d like to, you can buy me a coffee for just £1 and I will think of you while writing my next post! Just hit the link below…. (thanks in advance)

This Day in History: 27 November 1843 — The Teapot and the Daylight Dragnet

On 27 November 1843, one of London’s central courts, the Old Bailey, opened its doors to hear a theft that began in a quiet house and ended in a hurried flight — for a man named John Lee.

Lee stood accused of having stolen a tea-pot and a sugar-basin from the home of Joshua Wigley Bateman, Esq., a respectable London gentleman. The total value of the stolen items was recorded as £7 10s for the tea-pot and 12s for the sugar-basin, a sizeable sum for such domestic utensils.


🕯️ What happened

Bateman had left his house for the day, leaving servants in charge — and, presumably, the doors as secure as an 1840s home could be. But by the time a maid returned, the silver-plated tea-set was gone, and a window or back door showed signs of forced entry.

A neighbour spotted a suspicious figure leaving the street with a bundle under his coat. The description matched that of John Lee. A constable was sent; within hours Lee was arrested, package in hand, the stolen items inside.

The discovery was dramatic: the tea-pot, the sugar-basin — once shining and domestic — now clanged like evidence of betrayal and need.


⚖️ The trial — 27 November 1843

In court, Lee wore the worried look of a man caught with his own alibi in tatters. He pleaded not guilty.

Clerk of Arraigns: “John Lee — you are indicted for stealing one tea-pot and one sugar-basin, the property of Joshua Wigley Bateman. What say you, guilty or not guilty?”
Lee: “Not guilty, sir — I found them in the street.”

But the prosecution’s case was tight:

  • Witnesses identified Lee leaving the house area just before the theft was discovered.
  • The stolen items were clearly those belonging to Bateman — engraved or bearing marks known only to the household staff.
  • The bundle in Lee’s coat was dripping faintly with tea-stains and had the unmistakable weight of metal.

The jury needed little time.

Foreman: “Guilty.”


🏛 Sentence and aftermath

For theft of items valued the way Bateman’s tea-set had been, the sentence was severe:

Lee was given transportation for seven years — a fate shared by many convicted of property crimes, sending them far from London’s lanes, likely to penal colonies. The tea-pots that once filled a genteel drawing-room would linger only in memory; Lee would embark on a journey into forced labour, perhaps never to return.


⚒️ What this tells us

The case of John Lee homes in on a truth of Georgian and early-Victorian London: property was fragile, justice swift.

  • Everyday household items — tea-pots, sugar-basins — had real value and losing them meant real loss.
  • The legal system viewed theft from a dwelling with harsh eyes; the penalty was exile, not just imprisonment.
  • The Old Bailey’s records capture these small tragedies as sharply as the dramatic murders or highway robberies.

This day in 1843 shows that sometimes, a stolen tea-set was enough to change a man’s life forever.


📚 Source

  • t18431127-54 – John Lee, indicted for stealing a teapot and sugar-basin from Joshua Wigley Bateman, Esq. — Old Bailey Proceedings, session 27 November 1843. oldbaileyonline.org

Thank you for reading my writings. If you’d like to, you can buy me a coffee for just £1 and I will think of you while writing my next post! Just hit the link below…. (thanks in advance)

Advice of the Day: Volume Control

“If you can’t hear somebody properly, just nod and hope they weren’t asking anything important.”

The sage

The Sage has long believed that modern life is far too noisy, but not for the reasons you think. His latest insight is this: “If you can’t hear somebody properly, just nod and hope they weren’t asking anything important.”

According to The Sage, this is one of life’s most efficient survival techniques. Instead of awkwardly asking people to repeat themselves (and risking actual commitment), a simple slow nod communicates vague understanding, emotional engagement, and just enough credibility to survive most conversations. It has been successfully deployed in offices, family gatherings, and surprisingly complex medical appointments.

Of course, this method does carry risks. The Sage once nodded through an entire conversation only to discover he had agreed to organise a charity quiz night, buy a kayak, and name a neighbour’s cat. But even then, he maintains it was still better than saying “What?” five times and looking foolish.

So remember: when in doubt, nod wisely — and leave the room before the consequences arrive.


Thank you for reading my writings. If you’d like to, you can buy me a coffee for just £1 and I will think of you while writing my next post! Just hit the link below…. (thanks in advance)

Quote of the Day: Budgeting

“Budgeting is simply telling your future self where today’s nonsense stopped.”
The Sage


The Sage has always viewed money as a peculiar invention — a system designed to make life easier that somehow manages to make everyone more anxious instead. In his eyes, budgeting isn’t about spreadsheets, apps or cleverly coloured graphs. It’s about drawing a polite line between what you want now and what your future self will have to live with later.

When he speaks of “today’s nonsense,” The Sage isn’t only referring to impulse purchases and unnecessary luxuries — though he certainly means those too. He’s talking about the small moments of weakness, the emotional spending, the comforting little decisions made at the end of a long day when willpower has packed up and gone home. Budgeting, he suggests, is simply deciding where that nonsense ends before it grows legs and starts walking all over tomorrow.

Yet he doesn’t say this with judgement. The Sage understands that nonsense is part of being human. Life without it would be terribly dull. His point is simply that wisdom lies in balance — a little nonsense for today, a little kindness for your future self. Budgeting, then, becomes less about restriction and more about quiet generosity toward the person you’re about to become.


Thank you for reading my writings. If you’d like to, you can buy me a coffee for just £1 and I will think of you while writing my next post! Just hit the link below…. (thanks in advance)