Quote of the Day: January asks far more than it gives

“January is not a month — it’s a test of endurance.”
The Sage


The Sage has always treated January with a mixture of respect and caution. Fresh from the promises of a new year, the month arrives heavy with expectation but light on reward. The celebrations have ended, the daylight remains elusive, and the calendar seems determined to move at half speed. January, he says, does not rush — it waits.

He observes that January asks far more than it gives. It demands patience, resilience, and a willingness to continue even when motivation has quietly slipped out the back door. The Sage notes that enthusiasm is usually spent by the first week, yet the month continues regardless, offering little encouragement beyond the faint promise that things will eventually improve.

With gentle humour, The Sage reminds us that endurance is itself a form of progress. January is not meant to be conquered, but survived. And in making it through, we quietly prove to ourselves that persistence does not require excitement — only the steady resolve to keep going until the light returns.


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Advice of the Day: Welly Selection

“Always buy the tallest wellies so the water knows when to stop.”

The Sage

The Sage has crossed many puddles, fields, and suspiciously damp shortcuts, and from these journeys he offers a simple rule: “Always buy the tallest wellies so the water knows when to stop.”

According to The Sage, water is a deeply respectful substance. It rises only until it encounters a clear signal of authority. Tall wellies, he explains, send exactly that message. Short wellies invite ambition. Tall wellies establish boundaries. Extra-tall wellies suggest you are not to be messed with.

The Sage admits that water occasionally ignores this advice, but he insists that this is a failure of attitude, not footwear. If your wellies are tall enough, brightly coloured enough, and worn with sufficient confidence, the water will usually pause, reconsider, and go somewhere else. True dryness, after all, begins with belief.


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This Day in History: 29 January 1695 — Jeane Bates and the Stolen Plate

On 29 January 1695, Jeane Bates, also known as Jeane Bates alias Clark, committed a theft that would soon bring her before the Old Bailey — and ultimately to the gallows.

Her crime was not violent robbery, but domestic theft, carried out under a false name while employed as a servant.


The theft

The prosecution stated that Jeane Bates stole from Peter Courtney, Gentleman, a substantial quantity of household goods, including:

  • six silver spoons
  • forks, salts, and porringers
  • a pepper box, mustard pot, and sugar box
  • three yards of velvet
  • a scarf, and other items

The total value ran into several pounds, a serious sum in the 1690s.


How it was discovered

Mrs Courtney swore that she had hired the prisoner on 26 January, under the name Betty Lambert. Bates remained in service for about four days.

During that time, the closet where the plate was kept was broken open, and the plate was stolen. At the same moment, Bates absented herself from service and disappeared.


The trial

At trial, Bates denied that she had ever been hired by Mrs Courtney. She offered no other defence.

Her denial did not stand.

  • Mr Courtney’s clerk swore that Bates had indeed been hired as a servant.
  • Another gentlewoman appeared in court, declaring that Bates had previously robbed her while in her service.
  • When Bates’ hand was searched, it was found to be branded, marking her as a convicted offender.

The court noted that although she was still a young woman, she was “an old offender.”

The jury returned their verdict:

Guilty of the felony.


Sentence and imprisonment

Jeane Bates was sentenced to death, the standard punishment for felony theft of this value by a repeat offender.

She was committed to Newgate Prison, where she came under the care of the Ordinary of Newgate, whose published account repeats the facts of her crime and conviction almost word for word.


The plea of pregnancy

After sentence, Bates pleaded that she was with child, a claim that, if true, would have delayed execution.

A formal examination was ordered.

The claim was found to be false.


Execution

With no reprieve granted, Jeane Bates was taken to Tyburn and executed by hanging.

The Ordinary’s account records no dramatic final confession, only the grim certainty of punishment carried out after repeated offending and deception.


Why this case matters

The case of Jeane Bates shows how domestic service could provide opportunity for theft — and how quickly trust could turn into condemnation.

It also illustrates:

  • the importance of branding in identifying repeat offenders
  • how false names were used to gain employment
  • the legal limits of pleading pregnancy
  • the severity of punishment for property crime in late seventeenth-century England

For Jeane Bates, 29 January 1695 marked the offence that sealed her fate.


Sources

  • Old Bailey Proceedings, Jeane Bates alias Clark, offence dated 29 January 1695
    Ref: t16950403-14
  • Old Bailey Sessions summary: s16950403-1
  • Ordinary of Newgate’s Account: OA16950417

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Advice of the Day: Flood Survival

“Lie flat so the water has nowhere to go.”

The Sage

The Sage has always believed that water, like most problems, can be confused into submission. His advice for staying dry during a flood is therefore both calm and catastrophically misguided: “Lie flat so the water has nowhere to go.”

According to The Sage, floods thrive on vertical ambition. Rising water enjoys climbing legs, furniture, and social media headlines. By lying flat, you deny it this pleasure. Spread yourself thin enough, he explains, and the water becomes uncertain, hesitant, and eventually bored. It’s not drowning — it’s negotiation.

The Sage admits that this method works best on solid ground, calm rivers, and carpets you were planning to replace anyway. He also notes that while you may still be wet, you will at least feel theoretically dry, which is often all that matters. True wisdom, after all, is not about avoiding danger — it’s about lying down confidently and hoping physics blinks first.


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Quote of the Day: Floods and Humility

Floods teach humility faster than comfort ever could.
The Sage


The Sage has always believed that comfort has a way of dulling our awareness. When life runs smoothly, we begin to mistake stability for permanence and convenience for entitlement. Floods, he says, arrive as an abrupt correction — not out of malice, but indifference. They remind us that nature does not adapt to our plans, and that security is often far more fragile than we like to admit.

He observes that humility emerges not when things go well, but when control slips away. Rising water strips away assumptions with remarkable efficiency: what matters, what doesn’t, and how quickly certainty dissolves. The Sage notes that floods do not argue, persuade, or compromise — they simply reveal how small human arrangements are when placed against elemental forces.

Yet his words are not intended as condemnation. The Sage speaks instead of perspective. From hardship often comes solidarity, generosity, and renewed respect — for one another and for the world we inhabit. Comfort may lull us into forgetting our limits, but floods remind us of them instantly. And in that reminder, The Sage finds the beginning of humility — hard-earned, uncomfortable, but necessary.


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This Day in History: 27 January 1688 — Mary Aubry and the Dismembered Murder

On 27 January 1688, in the parish of St Martin-in-the-Fields, London, a French midwife named Mary Aubry acted on a long-expressed threat and murdered her husband, Denis Hobry — a man known locally for his drunkenness and violence.

Mary and Denis had been married for four years. He squandered her earnings, frequently beat her, and subjected her to physical abuse. In her own testimony compiled in contemporary pamphlets, Mary admitted that if her husband did not change his behaviour, she had told him she would kill him.


The murder and the body parts

On the morning of 27 January, Denis returned home inebriated. After assaulting Mary again — beating her and trying to force himself on her — he fell asleep, leaving Mary with a choice between ongoing abuse and desperate action.

Mary strangled him with a garter. Still distraught and determined to hide what she had done, she dismembered his body over several days, disposing of the parts separately:

  • The torso was left near a dunghill on Parker’s Lane.
  • The head and limbs were hidden in privies at the Savoy Palace.

Once the body parts were discovered and reassembled, the identity of the victim became clear, and Mary was arrested.


Old Bailey trial — 22 February 1688

Mary appeared before the Old Bailey on 22 February 1688 on an indictment of murder, though under the early modern legal category of petty treason, since a wife killing her husband was considered an attack on social hierarchy — a “lesser” form of treason.

She pleaded guilty, and the next day received the death sentence:

that she should be drawn from Newgate to the place of execution, and there burnt with fire till she was dead.

This sentence reflected the 17th-century rule that petty treason — particularly the killing of a husband by a wife — warranted execution by burning at the stake.


Execution — 2 March 1688

On Friday, 2 March 1688, Mary Aubry was taken from Newgate Prison to Leicester Fields. Witnesses recorded that she appeared penitent, often lifting her hands and eyes heavenward and showing sincere sorrow for her crime and its consequences on her fate.

At around half past ten in the morning, a stake had been prepared. Mary was hanged slowly by a rope attached to the stake, strangling for some time before wood was piled around and burnt until her body was reduced to ashes.

Burning at the stake was the statutory punishment for petty treason in England at this time, intended to mark the perceived breach of social and sexual order represented by a wife killing her husband.


Why this case matters

The case of Mary Aubry resonated far beyond the Old Bailey:

  • It was the subject of multiple pamphlets, ballads and prints shortly after the events.
  • Contemporary observers used it to debate questions of gender, violence, language and domestic authority in urban London.
  • The brutality of the murder and the sensational nature of the dismemberment etched her into both popular and legal memory.

For historians and legal scholars, the case reveals how early modern England’s legal categories like petty treason worked, and how public sentiment, print culture, and social bias (including anti-Catholic and anti-foreign feeling) could shape reactions long after the trial itself.


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Advice of the Day: Self-Checkout Survival

“When the machine asks for help, stay very still.”

THE SAGE

The Sage has faced many adversaries in his lifetime, but none as passive-aggressive as a self-checkout machine. His advice today is simple, calm, and based on bitter experience: “When the machine asks for help, stay very still.”

According to The Sage, movement is interpreted as guilt. A sudden shift of weight, a glance at the bagging area, or an innocent sigh can escalate the situation instantly. The machine senses weakness. It will repeat itself. Louder. Slowly. Drawing the attention of staff, nearby shoppers, and anyone who has ever doubted your honesty.

The Sage insists that absolute stillness is the correct response. Hands off the screen. Eyes forward. Become furniture. Eventually, a human will arrive and resolve the issue while you maintain plausible innocence. Wisdom, he says, is knowing that the machine doesn’t want solutions — it wants dominance.


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Advice of the Day: Price Comparison

“If something is reduced, buy two so you save twice.”

The Sage

The Sage has always believed that mathematics is flexible, especially when shopping. His advice today reflects this optimistic approach to numbers: “If something is reduced, buy two so you save twice.”

According to The Sage, a discount is not merely an opportunity — it’s a challenge. Buying one reduced item is sensible. Buying two is financial strategy. Buying three, he admits, may require justification, but that justification can usually be found somewhere near the words “stocking up” or “it would’ve been rude not to.”

The Sage also reminds us that reduced items have a magical property: they stop counting as spending altogether. Money saved is practically money earned, and money earned should obviously be celebrated with more shopping. True wisdom, he insists, lies not in restraint, but in confidently explaining your logic to anyone who questions it.


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Advice of the Day: Queue Wisdom

“Always join the longest queue — it must be popular for a reason.”

The Sage

The Sage has spent a lifetime observing queues — in shops, post offices, airports, and places that no longer seem to exist but still require waiting. From this deep study comes today’s advice: “Always join the longest queue — it must be popular for a reason.”

According to The Sage, a short queue is suspicious. It suggests hidden problems, broken systems, or a cashier who has just announced they’re closing. A long queue, however, radiates confidence. It says, “Something is happening here,” even if no one knows what. The Sage trusts the collective judgement of strangers who look mildly annoyed but committed.

He also notes that long queues offer important social benefits. You gain time to sigh loudly, check your phone repeatedly, and bond silently with others through shared disappointment. And if the queue turns out to be slow, inefficient, and entirely pointless — well, at least you chose correctly. Everyone else did too.


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Quote of the Day: Suffering Shared Stops Being Suffering

The beauty of football is not the score, but agreeing to suffer together.
The Sage

The Sage has often noted that football’s greatest strength is not joy, but companionship in disappointment. Goals are fleeting, victories are brief, and glory rarely stays for long. What endures, however, is the shared experience — the collective groan, the knowing sigh, and the familiar acceptance that today may not be the day, but it is our day all the same.

He observes that football fans enter into an unspoken agreement each season: we will endure this together. The missed chances, the baffling substitutions, the refereeing decisions best forgotten — all of it becomes lighter when carried in company. The Sage believes that suffering shared stops being suffering and starts becoming story.

With gentle humour, he reminds us that football is less about winning than belonging. The scoreline fades quickly, but the memory of standing shoulder to shoulder — united in hope, frustration, and stubborn loyalty — lasts far longer. In that shared endurance, The Sage finds football’s quiet beauty: not triumph, but togetherness.

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