WILLOUGHBY PHILOSOPHY

WILLIAM F. WILLOUGHBY VISCOUNT LINDESAY... FULL OF IDEAS, AT 15 IN 1805.
MAY 18. 1803, WAR BROKE OUT BETWEEN FRANCE AND BRITAIN... AGAIN. ONLY 13, YOUNG WILLOUGHBY SOON TO BECOME A HEAVY CAVALRY OFFICER... IS ALREADY SMOKING CIGARS... OOOPS!... AND NOT ONLY DREAMING OF A FLYING CONTRAPTION THAT CAN SOAR HIGH AND FAST IN THE SKIES... HE DREAMS OF A LOVELY LADY... AND MEETING SEVERAL... NONE HIS SWEET ANGEL. A YEAR LATER NAPOLEON IS EMPEROR OF FRANCE. SOON OLDER WILLOUGHBY IS OLDER YES... WISER... ENJOY! IN THOSE DAYS THE AVERAGE LIFE EXPECTANCY OF MEN WERE 37 YEARS. IF NOT DYING IN CHILD BIRTH, WOMEN LIVED A FEW YEARS LONGER...
MADAME BONAPARTE... This dancing music mocking the French was indeed a "Top Hit" in England in the early 1800's...
Viscount Willoughby... You, Sir... I... I... Oh, dear!
Lifting things surely helps... Oh, yesss..!
Sweetheart... if I may...
Oh, yesss...!
AH... A DAMN GOOD CIGAR...! AT 20... CHARMING HEAVY CAVALRY LIEUTENANT WILLOUGHBY IS OLDER... IF NOT WISER...
IN 1810 WILLIAM FRANCIS WILLOUGHBY VISCOUNT LINDESAY... IS CONVINCED IT IS HIS DUTY TO DO SO... AND ALWAYS HAVING A STRONG SENSE OF DUTY... HE IS STILL MAKING A PROFOUND STUDY OF WOMEN... IN PERSON...

 

 

"Forever and Beyond," is a saga about many things... What we do or don't do... and what we do when we don't know what to do... and indeed about a male who might make you smile with tears in your eyes... whilst some insist he makes sense... or not... Ooops!  Getting to know him little by little, you will discover Willoughby is not only quite a paradox... for centuries... Undeniably human, he is unshakably honest with lots of humorous irony... and more...

 

And now a bit of Wildman Willoughby Philosophy...

 

 

 

"DARE TO BE DIFFERENT."

 

"LOVE IS AN ART. THE THING IS THAT AS WITH ANY ART TO BECOME A MASTER ONE MUST PRACTISE QUITE A LOT."

 

"JEALOUSY AND HATE... AND QUITE A PAIR, HAND IN HAND THEY ARE NOT ONLY THE MOST DESPICABLE OF HUMAN SENTIMENTS, THEY ARE ASSASSINS." 

 

 "LIVE AND LET LIVE."

 

"THE CEMETERY... IS CLEARLY QUITE A POPULAR PLACE... WITH SO MANY DYING TO BE THERE..."

 

"NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE."

 

"THERE IS ALWAYS A WAY. BE POSITIVE! WHEN A DOOR CLOSES... OPEN A WINDOW... LET YOUR HEART AND SOUL FLY. THEY WILL FIND A REMEDY."

 

"ALL OF US ARE ALIVE... BUT JUST A FEW REALLY LIVE."

 

"A WEEK HAS 7 DAYS... NOT A SINGLE ONE IS CALLED "SOMEDAY."

 

"MUSIC IS AMAZING... AND PLAYING WELL A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT ONE CAN CALMLY... OR WITH PASSION BARE ONE'S SOUL WITHOUT BEING THOUGHT ILL OF..."

 

"LET YOUR BODY REST, MUSIC CAN TAKE YOUR SOUL ANYWHERE YOU WISH TO GO... IN TIME THAT DOES NOT EXSIST..."

 

"YOU KNOW WHAT YOU KNOW. SPEAK LESS... LISTEN MORE!"

 

 "ACTION SAYS INFINITELY MORE THAN A THOUSAND WORDS."

 

 "KISSING...  IS A DELIGHTFUL WAY OF PASSING TIME WHEN NOT NEEDING TO SAY MUCH, OF COURSE. IF I MAY; AT ITS BEST KISSING IS LIKE A DELECTIBLE DINNER WITH A DELICIOUS GODDESS. OH, YESSSS! BE A GOURMET, NOT A GOURMAND… APPRECIATE LIKE A CONNAISEUR OF FINE WINES. DO NOT BE A NITWIT AND SMOKE A CIGAR!

NO! WELL... IN THAT CASE... NO, MINT IS AWFULLY COMMON; USE A TAD OF GROUND CINNAMON INSTEAD AND YOU ARE READY, BROTHER! THERE'S NOT A LADY WHO DOES NOT FANCY WARM APPLE PIE. Mmmm...
SHOULD THE DELIGHTFUL "DUMPLING" BE LUKE WARM... HEAT UP SLOWLY... AND DO NOT  SERVE HALF A POUND OF TONGUE AS A SECOND COURSE. NO. LADIES JUST PREFER THE TIP OF THE DAMN THING... EHMMM... NEED ME TO EXPLAIN CRICKET AS WELL...?"

 

"CURVES WERE NEVER MEANT TO BE STRAIGHT LINES. NO."

 

"EYES NEVER LEARNT TO LIE."

 

"DINNER...? INTERESTING... NOT ENJOYING MOST DISAGREABLE CONUBIAL, WHISKEY SOAKED SWINE THE NIGHT BEFORE... LAST NIGHT THE LADY WANTED PRIME BEEF AND CANNON BALL PIE... I´M AFRAID I WAS DINNER... OH, YESSS!"

 

"THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A COMPLACENT:"AH..." AND A JOYFULLY ASTONISHED:"OHHH...! IS AN INCH AND A HALF... OR A BIT MORE... OH, YESSS!" 

 

"ANY CHAP WHO INSISTS HE HAS NEVER "PLAYED TAILOR" WITH A MEASURING TAPE... OR A RULER... IS A BLOODY LIAR."

 

 "A GOOD LIAISON IS LIKE A VERY GOOD CIGAR. MOST ENJOYABLE AND HIGHLY LIKELY EXPENSIVE, BUT WORTH IT. SHORT ENOUGH TO WANT MORE, BUT NOT SO LONG IT GETS FASTIDIOUS AND EVEN ENDING UP IN SIMPLY ASHES INSTEAD OF REAL TROUBLE, ANOTHER ONE CAN BE HAD AT ANY TIME."

 

"A GENTLEMAN MUST ALWAYS RENDER THE CORTESY OF BOWING, BUT NEVER ADDRESS A LADY UNLESS ACKNOWLEDGED, OF COURSE... IF HE KNOWS HER WELL... EHEMM... OH, YESSS... AND KNOWS MANY... MIXING UP LADIES' NAMES... IS OFTEN A BLOODY PROBLEM AND THE SUREST WAY TO BE SENT TO THE DOG HOUSE. YOU BET, BROTHER! JUST A SUGGESTION; MERELY CALLING ALL THE LOVELY LADIES SWEETHEART IS QUITE A JOLLY GOOD SOLUTION." 
 
"GOOD MORNING, SWEETHEART! LOVELY AS ALWAYS!"

"OHHH...! LIUTENANT WILLOUGHBY! AWFULLY KIND... A VERY GOOD MORNING IT IS, I'M SURE, SIR! DO JOIN US FOR TEA!"

SEE CHAPS, SWEETHEART WORKS LIKE A CHARM!"

 

"ANY GENTLEMAN WITH HALF A BRAIN KNOWS HE MUST GET INTO A LADY'S  HEAD BEFORE HE CAN GET IN ANYWHERE ELSE."

 

"IF NOTHING GOES RIGHT... GO LEFT AND NEVER GIVE UP!"

 

"HEARTS NEVER ASK PERMISSION TO LOVE, THEY SIMPLY DO NO MATTER WHAT."

 

"IF THERE EVER IS A MAN WHO IS CONVINCED HE UNDERSTANDS WOMEN, I WILL BE THE FIRST IN LINE TO HAVE A LONG TALK WITH HIM."

 

 In 1941 WWII

 

"THE SIMILARITY BETEWEEN THE LAVATORY AND THE CEMETARY IS QUITE CLEAR; WHEN YOU GOTTA GO... YOU GOTTA GO. "

 

"WHEN YOU'RE UP THERE YOU GOT WINGS, BOYS! DANCE DAMMIT! GET THE BLOODY JERRIES... HELL AND HALLELUIAH!"

 

"IT'S DOWNRIGHT DISASTEROUS WHEN WOMEN REALIZE MOST OF US ARE JUST FLAWED MORONS IN TINFOIL AND NOT FABULOUS KNIGHTS IN SHINING ARMOR..."

 

"ROMANCE NOT AN EASY MATTER... NO,  BUT DISCOVERING THAT ROMANCE NOVELS WRITTEN BY WOMEN ARE QUITE USEFUL AND NOT JUST SWEET RUBBISH AT ALL, NO... YOU SEE, IN THOSE WOMEN DO MORE THAN INSINUATE WHAT THEY REALLY WANT FROM US. OH, YESSS..."

 

 In early 1810...

 

"OUR UNIFORMS ARE INVADED BY BUTTONS, WHICH ARE LIKE PEOPLE WHO OWE MONEY OR BLOODY BAD SOLDIERS. NEVER THERE WHEN REALLY NEEDED, THEY EVEN HAVE THE ABILITY TO HIDE WHERE ONE WILL NEVER LOOK."

 

"HARDLY ANYTHING IS THE WAY IT SEEMS."

 

"JUST A MAN DOING THE BEST I CAN, I'M NOT AN ANGEL, A DEVIL OR A SAINT."

 

"WELL, YESSS... EHEM... IN CASE YOU ARE A FOREIGNER, SIR... IF I MAY;

 

                                                              CRICKET

 CRICKET IS AN ENGLISH BAT AND BALL GAME PLAYED BY  TWO TEAMS OF 11 PLAYERS. HAVING TWO SIDES, ONE IS OUT IN THE FIELD AND ONE IN.

 EACH MAN THAT´S IN THE SIDE THAT´S IN GOES OUT, AND WHEN HE´S OUT HE COMES IN, AND THE NEXT MAN COMES IN UNTIL HE´S OUT.

WHEN THEY ARE ALL OUT THE SIDE THAT´S OUT COMES IN AND THE SIDE THAT´S BEEN IN GOES OUT AND TRIES TO GET THOSE COMING IN OUT.

 SOMETIMES YOU GET MEN IN AND NOT OUT.

 WHEN BOTH SIDES HAVE BEEN IN AND OUT INCLUDING THE

 NOT-OUTS, THAT'S THE END OF THE GAME.

 HOWZAT...? 

EASY AS PIE... RIGHT? OH, YES! A CRICKET GAME CAN LAST 5 DAYS... FANCY A DROP OF TEA? A PINT... THERE’S ALWAYS PORT AND A GOOD CIGAR, SIR."

"I SAY PORT, MILORD."

"BUT OF COURSE, MISTER CROCSHANK! MA'AM... EAGER TO BE INTRODUCED, HERE'S DICK SMALL... OFFERING A WICKED BANGER... A TASTY OR SPOTTED DICK... NO, I'M NOT BEING VULGAR, DEAR LADY... RICHARD SMALL IS THE VICAR..."

"LAMBCHOP! PRUDENCE.. MY DEAR!"

"YOUR WIFE FROM BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS LEFT, SIR... LOOKING LIKE THREE WEEKS OF BAD WEATHER... "

"SHE'S... DELICATE.. YOUR LORDSHIP..."

"WELL, IT WILL SOON BE RAINING CATS AND DOGS, SIR..."

 "INDEED...  A YORKSHIRE TERRIER... MIGHT JUST BE THE RIGHT THING, SIR..."

"AWFULLY SORRY, SIR... AND WHAT A PITY SHE'LL BE MISSING... THE...  THE... REFRESHMENTS... "

"A WICKED BANGER, SIR...?"

"WELL, HOW WOULD THE AMERICANS... EHEM... PERHAPS A FINE SAUSAGE... HARD CHEEESE AND SUET PUDDING WITH RAISINS...? THERE IT IS, SIR."

"I'LL WOULD NEVE HAVE GUESSED, SIR!"

"... ALWAYS ACCOMPANIED BY A NICE CUP O'TEA... A DROP OF SHERRY, SIR...? OH! THE VICAR IS RUNNING AFTER HER...! BY GEORGE! YOUR WIFE IS WACKING HIM WITH HER PARASOL! NO WONDER WE LOST THE COLONIES... IN..."

 

At first not speaking much at all and thought an idiot... (Never by his Father... who gave him a tinsoldier... Will kept all his life...) but at 4 all of a sudden insisting he definitely is a male and certainly very much so, but a beautiful little boy dressed like a girl just like all small boys were at the time, Willoughby has a temper and got mad as hell hearing people insisting he was:

 "Awfully beautiful and sweet as a girl." Before finally wearing a skeleton suit at 7. The suit was full of buttons and had a lace collar... he could not hate more...

Willoughby did not only bundle up his "Dainty" clothes... at 4 he threw all of them into the fireplace and watched everything burn to a crisp before running about all starkers (naked) insisting he is a boy:

"A boy! I'm a boy! I can stand and piss!"

(An unusual little boy, he almost always finds reasons for doing what he does to prove he is right) ... and at 4 he loudly demands boots and breeches... fit for a soldier... which he got as well as his very first beating... and a lesson about 'bearing,' insubordination and 'Good English Form.' He never fancies shoes or slippers, curiously preferring boots, bare feet or Dutch clogs. 

Very much like his father, truly good looking,and a beautiful boy, but hating his father and the way he looks, and beaten a lot... and even much bullied by stable boys... ‘Little Lord Lovely’ learns to use his fists and boxing really well becomes a must as does the idea of a flying contraption... Fascinated by the concept of flying, after drawing a ‘contraption’ and making one out of wood, sailcloth and a whole lot of nails... (Convincing the carpenter it was indispensable for modern progress... and the war effort. The carpenter just thought the whole thing touching and funny...) Serious, Will even jumps off the roof of Willowbee Manor with the crazy thing at 10... in order to fly far away. He does not... No, but lucky, he landed in some hefty bushes just breaking his arm and certainly scratched up and even beaten up on top of that by his father, the 8th  Earl of Lindesay and a William as well as family tradition dictated... (William Edward) but a man who hardly spoke to Willoughby... (originally Willowbee... Sauleabelle in French, but strangely a first name in his case which he liked and used as he pleased) ... but a father insisting Will is a bloody bastard, worthless filth and an insult to codswallop, horseshit and a murderer who ought to be hanged. (His mother, the Countess, Mary Elizabeth Lindesay died when Will was born.)
 
Motherless and an only child, Willoughby was never allowed to play with other children... have a Tutor... a Nanny... or as even as customarily done being a nobleman's son and heir, Willoughby does not even have a First Footman to look after him...

Lacking a Mother's love and even brothers or sisters, but certainly having a violent,  alcoholic Father who clearly hates him, Will is very much alone, only speaking to 3 servants at Willowbee Manor and Lindesay Hall... They are the kind Scottish Butler Thomas Wilks, the strict but compassionate Irish House Keeper and widow, Mrs. Caitlin Bonnington and the serious Stable Master and widower, Philip Hutchins... with a wooden leg... who had fought, married and lived in America for several years.

Full of ideas and imagination, Will is a little boy who does not sound awfully much from Yorkshire. The way he speaks might at times even seem mildly confusing, but taught the King's English well in school... he finds his own style… insisting he speaks something he calls 'Sunday English.' Ooops!

Constantly beaten up by his father, but full of the strangest ideas Willoughby is unafraid, brave, a rebel and more... who sneaks around like a silent shadow, listening to visitors, servants and learning... Never bored, at 7 Will even insists, finally happy to be able to spit really far whilst waiting for his new front teeth (The old loose ones flew out of his mouth after tying a piece of string to the teeth and a doorknob)... before he cried out:

 "Fire!" The Housekeeper came running, opened the door very quickly and the teeth flew out.

 "Mrs. Bonnington… calm down! I say, both of us know we must never cry fire when there is none, no. Do we agree?" 

 “Oh, God!”

 “Sorry… just Willoughby, please!”

 Said with great humor and finally smiling, Willoughby had indeed gotten rid of his two old front teeth in a very efficient manner... often liking to ‘Simplify Things.’

 (A nice woman, the widow Mrs. Caitlin Bonnington had cried fire the day before... even though fire had not been what she had seen in the old manor... )

At eight Will loves banisters, but... there is always a but... 
 

"IF I MAY… SLIDING DOWN A HIGHLY POLISHED OAK BANISTER CAN BE JOLLY GOOD FUN, AND WITH A BIT OF PRACTICE ONE CAN EVEN LAND IN A SITTING CHAIR... IF NOT STURDY KNOBS ARE PUT ON TOP OF THE BANISTER BY AN AWFULLY STRICKT FATHER... TRUST ME, SLIDING ON KNOBBY BANISTERS IS NOT RECOMMENDABLE... DEFINITELY NOT! NO. CUSHIONS TIED TO… ARE NOT A GOOD IDEA… NO.

 (More stubborn than a mule and as persistent as toenail fungus... and having quite a lot of creativity and intellect Willoughby finds solutions more often than not.  At times however, there is indeed ‘Trial and Error’... Britain at war with France and like so many noblemen did and no exception, Willoughby’s affluent father is providing for a Regiment.  There was even an old ‘weapon room’ at Willowbee Manor, inquisitive Will often sneaked into… in secret…)

"FISHING A SMALL PIECE OF YORKSHIRE PUDDING OUT OF A BURNING FIREPLACE WITH A COUPLE OF LOADED AND COCKED PERCUSSION PISTOLS... ACCIDENTALLY DROPPED INTO THE VERY HOT FIRE... NEVER MIND... IS NOT A GOOD IDEA IN A ROOM FULL OF IRREPLACEABLE ANCIENT VASES, PRICELESS MEDIEVAL BREAST PLATES, SHIELDS, A SMALL KEG OF GUNPOWDER, UNIQUE LEAD INLAID OLD WINDOWS AND DAMN FINE BUSTS OF PLATO, PERICLES AND SHAKESPEARE. NO. IT'S HELL TO PAY, BUT A JOLLY GOOD SHOW… IF ONE CAN HIDE BEHIND A STONE WHERE THE NUMBER 1096 CAN BARELY BE SEEN…

(Willoughby has the strangest 'visions' ever since he is 6  years old... being awfully bright, very creaive and full of ideas... discovering  he knows 'things' not only about medieval times... etc... he could not possibly know, which are very fightening when he is a small boy... when older and no longer afraid of ending up in the 'mad house' or hanged... he wants proof he has lived and died many times before... but rather impossble...)  

 

 In 1804, at 14 in boarding school, the suffering of looking really sweet and pretty which has seemed like a curse for years is finally over... More than filling out in all the right places and already punching a big leather sand bag he has painted ‘Plump George and Boney the Oger’ on, (nicknames for the Prince of  Wales on and Napoleon Bonaparte as well, Will and even Rob (Best friend) look strong... with good fists.) At 10 he shaved his head with a cut throath razor... not very well... and after a while he was happy to look like a porcupine... growing hair standing up... Rob who shaved is head as well, kept Willoughby from cutting off his awfully long and thick eyelashes, Will could not hate more... but ladies later thought a sweet contrast to all his masculinity... Ooops!) 

At 13 Willoughby is quite happy to even look like something the cat dragged in. Not really the case, but he truly believes it is so.  Already 6 feet 5" overly tall in a time most men were  about 5 feet 7", he is a rebel with unruly, long hair... rare very green eyes... he hates, and with more than a few sprouting hairs on his upper lip and chin... he now wants a moustache and ‘damn good, long Buggar Grips,* (Sideburns, a name later is used due to General Ambrose Burnside’s facial hair style during the American Civil War .)

In 1803 tall and strong, Willoughby is someone several have even nicknamed 'Mister Flagstaff.' Almost just as tall best friend, ‘Brother’ and roommate the Highlander Scot, blond and blue eyed Robert Eowan Lochlan McGregor suddenly says with quite a lot of innocence when washing, for such ‘unspeakable things’ were never mentioned… in a time when unmarried sex was called ‘criminal conversation.”

“Holy bedongles, Will! Getting’ hairy in the strangest places, man… figure we’ll turn into Werewolves…? Aouuuuuu!”

Certain his best friend looks almost like a Werewolf and Rob's idea after reading Virgil... They were never told of puberty for the concept of ‘teenagers’ was unknown. Boys as small as 5 swept chimneys and 12 year olds were already serving in the Royal Navy... and even Mrs. Melly Boon... the Head Cook's wife... was waiting for ´Darling Willoughby' ever since he was 11, but looking almost 13... in the old school cellar... teaching him many ‘things’…

Not giving a damn about wearing any proper school attire which consisted of an elegant grey Squire top hat, a high collard, dark blue cutaway coat with tails... a light grey waist coat and breeches, a fob, an impeccable linen shirt, a fine white necktie tied in a nice and proper bow... etc., and what all the other students wore... In those days males did not use underwear. Jane Austin's Mr. Darcy? Used no underwear. No, Miss Austin a spinster living in the country side... That fact was never mentioned, of course. Rather long shirts were just tucked over or under whatever had to be covered...) 

 

Indeed certain he is already a man at 14... Willoughby favors a low wide brimmed brown or black hat... the brim turned up on the right side with a pin with a small green feather and indeed shadowing his eyes. Hating shoes and having large feet, he stomps about in a comfortable pair of old riding boots, black leather breeches, knitted and rather colorful Argyle socks, (A present from his best friend, Robert McGregor) ... Simplifying, Will even feels right at home wearing a shabby wine red, Rugby Football jacket over a very comfortable shirt... Without... a high collar or any impeccable tie... or waistcoat, albeit taught to be gentleman… in a school greatly favoring the Royal Navy and the British army.

Thought an insolent rebel Will however, insists: "A true gentleman is a man of respect, honor, loyalty, valor and kindness no matter what he wears."

Oh yes, needless to say attending such a fine school as 'Glorious Knight' in Canterbury... a school even competing with the very old King´s Collage... and Will the Captain of the rather new sport school team playing Rugby Football as well... but quite a paradox, loving boxing, drawing, music, art, literature, poetry and young ladies… and even quickly chosen to be a dashing Romeo Montague in a Shakespearian school performance of 'Romeo and Juliet' too... the gallant Rugby team playing all the roles... and Juliet, was ‘Cocky’ Soames Barret wearing a long blond wig and a perfectly reputable night shirt. Unable to convince both the Rugby youngsters that all the roles were played by males in Shakespeare’s time, their literature teacher Mister Clyde Winthrop-White was devastated, soon seeing fists and hearing;

 “If you as much as lay a damn finger on me, Cocky… figuring I’m gonna stand here declaring bloody eternal love to… ” Will was quickly interrupted by Cocky, who was not pleased either,

 “Oh, yeah? Fucking bastard! Not giving a shit! Come near me Captain, and not even your mom'll recognize you after…”

 “Respect! Leave mothers alone, Cocky!”

Simply punching Cocky Barret out and throwing him off the famous balcony… that fell down with a loud crash,  mad as hell Willoughby just stomps out.

(Adoring women, Will had put his mother he dearly loved and respected, but had never known high up on a 'pedestal.' Secretive and never telling much anything about himself or his drunken, violent father, but when he did it was only a few words to his out spoken, honest and loyal ‘Brother’ Robert who had been completely ignored by his widowed Father… but Rob loved to tell stories… 2 'Brothers' now having a sacred bond, they were even willing to give their lives for each other… no questions asked. Rob and Will had become best friends for life, certain all the family they had were each other.  Rob talked and Will listened… never ignoring his best friend. Stubborn and not saying much, Willoughby was even unable to cry ever since he was 7… when he had sworn not to please his violent father who wanted to crush him and hear him cry… even accusing him of murdering his mother the day he was born… nonethelesss, Will’s nose did however, begin to drip when he was awfully sad...

 

Definitely not what Shakespeare had intended and seeing solid fists and mayhem and shocked by such unfitting masculine outbursts, gentlemen would never even dream of… clever Mister Clyde Winthrop-White soon found a remedy… his very own young delightful sister Clarisse... for when Willoughby came back, all hell was loose as furious males in lovely wigs and ribbons punched each other out... refusing to kiss another male. With sweet Clarisse, the play 'Romeo and Juliet' was finally saved and indeed for a good cause; the war effort, Brown Bessie rifles and gun powder... The Bishop of Canterbury and other prelates would attend. the play... but several of those were not convinced the scandalous ‘bed scene’ was suitable... In any case Wildman Will Willoughby, who had not only been taught to kiss the ‘sweeter gender’ like an expert (Thanks to Mrs. Melly Boon) is finally accused of being utterly shocking... even though Clarisse had no objections whilst the prelates hurried out… and a scandal... as others gleefully said after hearing sweet Clarisse gave out a profound sigh of delight:

 “Ouuuu! It was not the Nightingale…!"

(A 'nightingale' was a military nickname for a soldier who made a sound under duress... and even amputation. Hearing she sighed, Willoughby had joyfully said:"Oh, yesss!")

 A sad play about two young lovers, yet a tiny tad of realism… only a real kiss… was clearly not wanted and Willoughby was almost expelled after he made a damn good show of a kiss that did indeed  make fine ladies swoon, men swear and Anglican prelates leave. Not expelled, for Will is not only the best student in the 'Glorious Knight School for Young Gentlemen,' indispensable, he sings in the church choir and even solo. He even plays more than ballads and 'suitable' music on a piano forte and certainly on a Spanish guitar he was given by his Father's Mistress... Lady Kathryn as well as playing awfully shocking music when cross, for he does indeed have a temper… whilst Rob loves drums... and a mouth harmonica... two rebels and quite a pair.
 
At long last content looking utterly offensive instead of sweet and pretty... no longer awfully shy Willoughby and very much a male, is sick and tired of the whole damn thing of being misunderstood. Always a paradox, he does not want to become an Officer in the Army like his father. Will of usually few words, can be quite eloquent when he wants to... Standing before the serious Headmaster and the indeed offended School Board... Again... 

 Even though men of the aristocracy were never expected to work... commissions to become officers… of different ranks were considered honorable and bought, but a rebel, Will really dreams of becoming a Doctor... and a Surgeon. Someone of many talents... a poet, and even drawing and painting... ending up as a Solicitor does not seem half bad either and he finally defends himself at the young age of 14. Uncommonly tall, broad shouldered, looking older than his years and almost 17, he is annoyingly civil after the very upset Head Master insists:

 

"SIR... MASTER WILLOUGHBY... YOUR... EHEM... ATTIRE... MOP OF UNRULY HAIR AND UNSHAVEN... HMPFFF... HAIRY CHIN...  HAVE MADE THE SCHOOL BOARD... WELL... IN SHORT, YOUR... RATHER OFFENSIVE APPEARANCE IS UTTERLY UNACCEPTABLE... HEMPF... PLEASE EXPLAIN YOURSELF... SIR! IF YOU CAN... IF NOT..."

 

"I CAN, YOUR LORDSHIP, HEAD MASTER. I SAY, THERE IS NOTHING WRITTEN IN THE RULES OF THIS SCHOOL THAT FOURTEEN YEAR OLDS ARE EXPECTED TO SHAVE, SIR... AM I MISTAKEN...?"

"NO, SIR... MASTER... CARRY ON!"

"YES, JUST STATING A FEW FACTS, SIR… IF I MAY…”

“YOU MAY, SIR.”

 “I THANK YOU, SIR. SIMPLIFYING…  AS FOR THE DAYS RUGBY FOOTBALL JACKETS ETC... AND RIDING BOOTS ARE NEEDED... IS NOT INDICATED ANYWHERE EITHER, SIR...?"

"EHEM... NO. MERELY SUITABLE ATTIRE IS... NOBODY HAS EVER... BUT YOUR ENTIRE ATTIRE... IS... IS... DOWNRIGHT UNSPEAKABLE, SIR!"

"IF I STILL MAY... THE SHIRT, JACKET AND MY BREECHES ARE NOT ONLY MORE COMFORTABLE  WHEN NOW TRAINING EVERY DAY FOR RUGBY FOOTBALL GAMES... WHICH... THE "HELL AND HALLELUIAH KNIGHTS" ARE LATELY WINNING... SIR... I..."

Impatient, the School Master interrupted:

"THE GLORIOUS KNIGHTS, SIR... IF YOU PLEASE... BUT THIS A MATTER OF APPEARENCE... NOT ABOUT RUGBY FOOTBALL... OR JOLLY GOOD ENGLISH SPORTSMANSHIP... NOR ALL YOUR... INNINGS AND EXCELLENCE IN CRICKET OR SCHOOL BOOK MATTERS! EHEMM... NO, SIR!"

 Willoughby looks dead serious, standing with quite a lot of bearing... and indeed like a young gentleman holding one hand behind behind his back... and the other out, but not too much to offend:

"PRECISELY! WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, YOUR LORDSHIP...  CAN WE AGREE THIS IS INDEED A SERIOUS INSTITUTION OF BOOK LEARNING... SIR?"

"BUT OF COURSE! BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE, BOOK LEARNING INDEED... KNOWLEDGE..THOUGHT AND COMPREHENSION, SIR! ENLIGHTENMENT! " Was instantly agreed. 
 
"CERTAINLY FAVORING PHILOSOPHY AND WISE SOCRATES CHERISHED BY ALL... NOT EXACTLY FOR HIS GOOD LOOKS... I'M AFRAID I FAIL TO COMPREHEND ANY CONNECTION BETWEEN MY APPEARANCE... AND MY ABILITY TO LEARN, SIR...!"

"WHAT? THIS IS... IS...! SIR!"

"YOUR LORDSHIP, HEAD MASTER PITTS... LEARNED MEMBERS OF THE SCHOOL BOARD... IWITH ALL DUE RESPECT, I AM AFRAID I CAN ONLY HOPE FOR MUCH NEEDED ENLIGHTENMENT FROM YOU! I THANK YOU. GENTLEMEN..."

"BY GEORGE, OUT! OUT...!  SIR... MASTER WILLOUGHBY! YOU... YOU... CHEEKY...!"

"MY PLEASURE, AND AS ALWAYS A PRIVELIGE... YOUR LORDSHIP... GENTLEMEN..."

Still with a serious face and a stiff  English upper lip,  impeccable bearing and the blank face of ‘Good English Form,’ Willoughby just bows... cracking up inside...  Hearing his Rugby Football mates jubilantly singing outside :

"Dunce Pitts lost his wits! Pissing he says it rains, having no Bollocks, Fists or bloody Brains!  Wildman Willoughby and liberty! Hell and Halleluiah!"

Hardly enlightened by the Head Master, Baron Phineas Markham-Pitts or any of the learned gentlemen, Willoughby was never put before the School Board... ever again.

The next day Willloughby cleaned up... looking older than he was he had a couple of whiskeys instead of a few pints at the favorite 'Ye Olde Camel and the Bent Needle Pub' with Rob. Best friends ever since they were 7 and even blood Brothers, both decided to be more sophisticated... before much worse happened... and did... Ohhh...

 

 In 1807... At almost 18, awfully tall and well built Willoughby is with the ‘Heavies’…  and a Heavy Cavalry Sergeant... in a "boot camp" near Maidstone, Kent, but often doing 'Errands'and giving more than a helping hand... he smiles insisting,
 
"SEX AND MATH ARE QUITE AN INTERESTING  PAIR... OH, YES... FOR WITH THOSE TWO... ONE ADDS A BED, SUBTRACTS THE CLOTHES, DIVIDES THE LEGS AND HOPES NOT TO MULTIPLY... "

Rob however, just insists:"If anyone's fit for the Heavy Calvalry it's us, Will! Extra large fellows on huge horses... Hell man! Every goddamn thing we've got  is extra large! Ladies, hang on to your drawers! Aye!" 

 In 1810... at 20 Will says... and not in the Militia,  but still waiting for orders to go to war... in Spain:
 
"REALLY DRESSING FOR EACH OTHER, LADIES HARDLY DRESS UP FOR US, BUT AS LONG AS THEY WILL UNDRESS FOR US... WE DON'T MIND. NO." 

 

Living in a house with quite a story in Kent, 4 young officers on half pay are having a blast offering escort service to protect helpless females… protecting preferably young, married ladies or widows from armed highway hoodlums and robbers who yell: “Stand and deliver!”  At times expecting even virginity, virtue as well as a delicate ladies’ good reputation to be delivered… together with her jewelry…

 Sharing grateful ladies, but unlike Rob, Willoughby never mixes women and whiskey. They do drink a lot…  and one evening Will explains to another officer…
 
"GOOD NIGHT, SIR. I KNOW IT'S SO LATE IT'S DAMN EARLY... EHEMMM... AM I INTOXICATED... YESSS, I AM BLOODY PISSED,  SIR... THERE WAS THIS STAG PARTY... YESSS... WITH LADIES... Mmmm... STILL A MYSTERY... Mmmm... WE WANT SOFT... THEY WANT HARD... AT LEAST WE AGREE ON SOMETHING. YESS, SIR! SORRY, MY FRIEND HERE IS PISSED TOO AND NOW HE SPEAKS LIKE A MORON, SIR... AND TOMORROW... NEVER MIND...WHERE THE HELL IS… OOOPS! THE DAMN TREE TRUNK MOVED... HOLY MACKEREL AND CORSET STRINGSSS...!"  Both Will and Rob had fallen down...

 Finally getting up  again and going home to Tickery Lane 8, Rob starts to sing off key…

 

"AYE! OFF T’ BEDFORDSHIRE… (Bed) WHISKEY, BROTHER? ELIXIR O'LIFE, MAN! AYE! THERE ONCE WASSS A STRRRUMPET FRRROM... EH... BRRRIGHTON... AYE!  LONELYYYY AN' AWFULLY BLOODY FRRRIGHTENED... "

 

"SHUT THE HELL UP, ROB! ALWAYS BE A GODDAMN GENTLEMAN, BROTHER! WHISKEY…! WHERE'S THE BLOODY BOTTLE… OH, YESSSSS! OOOPS!" Again they fell down... helping two friends, they wore Scotish Kilts... with nothing under... as two serving maids pass by... but Rob assures:

"RRRIGHT... SCOTLAND'S AND YORKSIRE'S BLOODY FINEST... BONNIE LASSIES! AYE! WE CAN’T STAND OR WALK, BUT WILLING AND ABLE WE SURELY CAN..." Laughing, the maids ran.

"NO SWEET DUMPLINGS T'NIGHT... NOT TO WORRRRY! JUST HANG ONNN WILL, I'LL GET YE HOME, MAN... RRRRREMEMBERR WERRE T’HELL.. WE LIVE…? HOLY BEDONGLESS...!"

 (Both really drunk... Rob who spoke like an idiot when drunk dragged Will who could not stand... but could speak for both... best friends and a team... oh, yess!)

In 1810 Will says too:

 

"IF YOU EVER FIND THE NEED TO ASK A WOMAN:

"WHAT'S WRONG?" AND SHE ANSWERS:"NOTHING."

YOU BET SOMETHING IS BLOODY WRONG. YOU'RE IN DEEP TROUBLE, BROTHER! OH, YESSS!"

 

"I'M AFRAID IT TAKES TONS OF LOVE, TOLERANCE, LOYALTY, PATIENCE, COMPREHENSION, RESPECT AND LOADS OF HUMOUR TO MAKE A GOOD MARRIAGE. (BEING INVISIBLE AT TIMES HELPS TOO... OH,YESSS... BUT WHO IS...?")

 

"WHAT MANY CALL 'CRIMINAL CONVERSATION' (Not married sex...)... WELL,SEX WITHOUT FUN IS LIKE A BATH WITHOUT SOAP."

 

Finally at war in Spain and a Veteran:

 

"THERE ARE TWO OPTIONS TO FIGHT A WAR...

 1. WITH INTELLECT... OR... 

 2. WITH BRUTE FORCE.

 1 OR 2? IT SHOULD NOT BE A HARD CHOICE. NO."

 

"IT TAKES MORE COURAGE FOR A MAN TO CRY THAN NOT."

 

"FEAR IS THE WORST AND BEST TORTURE EVER CREATED."

 

"WEARING A SCARLET RED UNIFORM JACKET IS LIKE WAVING A UNION JACK TO THE ENEMY YELLING: "HELLOOO! I'M HERE! SHOOT ME, YOU BLOODY BASTARD!" PERHAPS ROBIN HOOD... FROM NOTTINGHAMSHIRE  WAS NOT AT ALL AWFULLY DAFT WEARING GREEN CLOTHING IN SHERWOOD FOREST?"

 

At times Willoughby insists as well:

I am only going to say this… Once! You do… Not... wish to upset me! Do I have to convince you of… That?"

"No, sir!"

"Didn't think so. No... and two more things... Number One; Always be civil... Number Two; Never forget Number One! "

"Yes, sir! Ahem... No, Sir! Sorry, Sir!"

"You ought to be... Pissing...  Ehem... relieving yourself in front of the widow Mrs. Abigail Dunnaway! Lost your brains in a trench, 'Lock' Lafferty'?"

"No, Sir! A fat rat... but no brains in the trench, Sir!"
 
"Sentry duty... Now! And a bob... for the ‘Ratty Brew Stew’ pot!" Holy mackerel and corset strings! Get the hell out of my face!"

"Yes, Sir! Thank you... Sir! Found a bloomin' key too... Aye! Didn't see the Sergeant's widow... No, Sir!"

 

Other officers had soldiers lashed for much less, but a good officer Willoughby knew they would give their lives for him, seeing him always fighting with them, eating with them, teaching them and more. At first not highly respected... they gave him many not so flattering nicknames, calling him 'the Package,' 'the Prince,'' 'Boyo', 'Fists,' and even 'Casanova', seeing women liked him, but like a serious monk figuring out the strangest strategies to slaughter the French with great success, they began to call him 'Machiavelli'... who they had heard had been a bright, devious bastard. Earning respect at long last the lads in the 13th. Rifles finally called their awfully tall and well built commanding officer the finest thing they knew; 'The solid brick shit house,' unshakable and something a man could always count on.  A hairy, tough bunch and sharpshooters,  that could swim and were no longer illiterate... taught by Willoughby and McGregor... they proudly nicknamed the 13th Rifle Company, 'Willoughby's Wildmen." 

 A year later in 1812;

 "Captain Willoughby, sir... May I have a word, sir?"

"Lieutenant Peters...  You may."

"Well, sir... it’s kind’o private… Sir... “

“Very well… 'Backpain' Peters... fire!” Given a kind smile, Jacob Peters did.

“Well, sir...  things being the way they are an' all… the lads were kind of reckonin', sir... if 'Bayonet' Dunbar could have a word, sir..."

"Sergeant Dunbar! Speak up!"

"Yes, sir! I was kind’o figuerin’... Sir... not only speakin' for mi own self mind you, sir... it's sort'o complicated, sir... Figurin' if it's possible to have permission to propose marriage to the sergeant's lovely young widow... Mrs. Abigail Magnolia Dunnaway... still with us, sir."

"What the...? How many are you speaking for, Bayonet Dunbar?"

"Well, sir... Me and 57 other lads, sir... Aye! And with all due respect, her bein´ so lovely and all...  Here's the list, sir... without the two maggoty officers from the Royal Fusiliers, sir! Fuck'em... Sir!"

Holy mackerel and corset strings! My Abby... Our Abby? Rob's not goin' to like this! No... Married... again! My Sweet Abby!

"Well... Ehem... Sergeant Dunbar, to avoid any embarrassment... Ehem... I shall have a word with the widow Dunnaway about this first... Oh, yes."

"Aye, sir... Aye! T’ whole damn thing is kind’o in a goddamn puzzlin' knot, sir... an delicate... should you be askin' me, sir."

"I am not! Dismissed!”

Holy mackerel and corset strings! 57 bastards…!

“'Claymore' McGregor!"

Get your goddamn ass over here! Robert wants her... I want her... every man wants her! We're fucked!

"Holy shit, William! Is all hell loose?"

Rob always called his best friend William instead of Willoughby when seriously worried.

"It is, Brother! Oh, yes!"

"How many fuckin' froggy Lancers this time, William?"

"No French Lancers! Worse! Dammit!"

"Cuirrasiers...?"

"No. British bastards eager to propose to you know who! 59 strong, McGregor! 59! Us included! We're at war with Britain, man... defending our honor!  6 Scots... 23 Irish Patlanders... 1 bloody Welsh Taffy... the rest are fuckin' English..."

"What...? 6 Scots...! Holy bedongles!"

"Get the piece of soap we saved! We're bloody shaving, Robert! Our Mrs. Abigail Dunnaway is coming for dinner! She's ours! Oh, yessss!"

This was serious. Will looked like a whole month of bad weather.

"After maggoty biscuits and ballerina piss tea, now we'll have a banquet! Bless her! In love and war... Right! Stirrabout or ratty ‘Brew Stew,’ Will?"

"Brew Stew! The best ever... And wine, Brother! Wine... red... full bodied French Merlot wine! Yessss... the goddamn keg we took from the shitty Cuirassiers with the frickin' bird!"

"T´French Eagle keg! Holy bedongles, Willoughby!"

"Precisely!"

"Sharin' goddesses many times before... Aye! How's sharin' Abby? I was figurin' you could have Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and half of Thursday when possible... I get the rest of t’ week... or t’ other way around... Aye, kind'o... Brother. Or... Every second day? No...?"

"Respect! The soap and the cutthroat! Sod off!"

Rob ran, but came back.

"Will you be writing t'invitation or shall I..."

"With your handwriting, Bonaparte be coming... with Josephine!"

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck you... twice! Sod off!"

I’ll be damned! A bundle of nerves... Will really loves Abby...

"'Belly' Barnes!"

"Yes, Sir! Liutenant McGregor... Sir!" Wanting to stay with the company, Rob was still spitting on a promotion to Captain.

"As you were! Dinner... Ratty Brew Stew... deluxe… it's a bloody order!"

"Aye, sir! Already soakin' in fine French Infantry Brandy... Got several fat ones last night, sir! An' taters! Aye, sir!"

"Seen the 'lady from hell?" A former valet, young Edmund Binkley was a stubborn Scot, wearing a kilt. He had however, found comfortable French trousers instead of the very tight English ones Will and Rob had... finally after the siege and Battle of Badajoz... where over 10 000 had died...

"Aye! Young Batman Binkley be gettin' t'bloody sweat stains out of yer coats, sir. Socks... beyond repair, sir... no clean shirts and the coat buttons..." Spain was warm, and they were not wearing shirts under their uniform coats...

"T'hell with shirts and buttons! Dinner! Captain Willoughby an' me be needin' a bloody good shave, Barns! Boots... spit polished!"

"Aye, sir! Binkley! Move yer frickin' ass! Soap and scrape two royal baby bottoms... on the double... and... Jesus Christ! Boots! Bloody spit and pray!"

 

(At times Willoughby does not use the word "Upset"... No. Ehem...

 

Never a rake, but indeed a ladies' man, awfully tall indeed 6 foot 6"... and strong, and a monument of a man even ‘Lifting Things’ for years, Will often boxes as well... before going to war in Spain... Ohhh... Hah! Enough.) The normal height for soldiers in those days were 5 feet 7" or less. 6 feet was awfully tall, but literate footmen of that tall and a status symbol were hired and paid according to height... and good legs... not intellect.

 

A born leader of men, yet secretly afraid he is very much like his ghastly father, when in Spain in 1812, and during the Peninsular War Willoughby does confirm:

 "There is a dark corner in my soul... and the ones seeing THAT... wish they never had... IF... they still can..."

 

He says as well:

 

 "A MAN WHO IS NOT AFRAID OF ANYTHING HAS NOTHING TO LIVE FOR."

 

 "EVEN WILLING TO DIE FOR HIS CONVICTIONS AND NOT  HAVING SHEEP MENTALITY LIKE SO MANY OTHERS, A REAL REBEL DOES NOT ONLY NEED COURAGE TO STAND OUT LIKE A CABBAGE AMONG POTATOES... NEVER AN EGOTISTICAL BLOODY BASTARD, HE NEEDS UNWAVERING BRAVERY NO MATTER WHAT TO BE TRUTHFUL... EVEN THOUGH TRUTH IS HARDLY CONVENIANT."

 

 "HATING SOMEONE, IS GIVING ANOTHER PERSON WHO DOES NOT DESERVRR IT, TOO MUCH IMPORTANCE."

 

 

"MOST PEOPLE SEEM BLIND AS WELL AS DEAF SEEING, BUT NEVER REALLY OBSERVING AND ONLY HEARING WHAT THEY WANT TO HEAR."

 

       As a highly trained Royal Cavalier in 1814... and a man who can kill anyone in 3 seconds... with his bare hands... he insists:

 

"THE MORE I KNOW... THE MORE I REALIZE HOW VERY LITTLE I KNOW, FOR CONVENIANT LIES HAVE ALWAYS BEEN TOLD... AND STILL ARE BY THOSE IN POWER.”

 

Always eager to fly, he still insists:

 

"AIR BALLOONS...? RUBBISH! IF THERE EVER IS A FLYING CONTRAPTION ABLE TO MOVE IN THE UNIVERSE AT HIGH SPEED... I'LL BE THE FIRST MAN TO GO... SEEING EARTH FROM AWFULLY FAR AWAY!"

 

"HUMANITY IS AMAZINGLY ARROGANT...  FOR MILLENIUMS BELIEVING WE ARE THE CENTER OF EVERYTHING JUST LIVING ON THIS SMALL DOT IN THE UNIVERSE..."

 

 "LIGHT TRAVELS FASTER THAN SOUND... WHICH MAKES QUITE A FEW APPEAR RATHER BRIGHT BEFORE THEY SPEAK..."

 

"GODDESSES AND FEMALE UNDER GARMENTS... ARE BEST CHARMING AND NOT AWFULLY PRUDENT... AS FOR LACE CORSETS... Mmmmm... NEVER MIND."

 

"BEING SMITTEN BY A WOMAN… JUST IN LOVE OR TRULY LOVING HER ARE TWO DIFFERENT THINGS. OH, YES."

 

 "I HONESTLY FIGURE, TRULY LOVING ONE'S WIFE MUST BE WAKING UP NEXT TO HER EVERY MORNING AFTER 20 OR 30 YEARS OF MARRIAGE... STILL CONVINCED ONE IS THE HAPPIEST AND LUCKIEST MAN IN THE WORLD."

 

"HAPPINESS IS A CHOICE."

 

 "STILL MAKING A PROFOUND STUDY OF WOMEN, NOT ONLY TO HELP OTHER CHAPS LIKE ME... AND INDEED WISHING TO BE OF ASSISTANCE, TODAY MY AUNTIE KATHIE TOLD ME THAT ELDERLY LADIES... WHO CAN BE DRAGONS... Hmmm... ARE PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF SNEEZING, FARTING AND WEEING ALL AT THE SAME TIME... WHILST HAVING TEA. OH, YES!"

 

"CIGARS SEEM TO EXPAND WITH AGE, WAIST LINES, NOSE HAIRES, COMMODITY AND WEALTH... QUICK 'MORNING RIDES'... OH, YESSS... "

 

"HUMANITY IS NEVER BORING. NO."

 

"TRUE LOVE.. AND PRECIOUS, CANNOT BE BOUGHT OR SOLD."

 

 "DIPLOMACY IS JUST AN AWFULLY FINE WORD FOR HIPOCRISY."

 

 "VIOLENCE NEVER CREATES ANY GOOD SOLUTIONS... IT ONLY CREATES MORE VIOLENCE AND HATRED."

 

 "I KNOW HOW TO DIE WELL. HELL IS FOR PEOPLE AFRAID TO DIE. BEEN THERE... DONE THAT. KEPT GOING. SOULS ARE FREE. THEY DO NOT CARRY ANY HUMAN CONCEPTS. NO."

 

 "THE RAPPORT BETWEEN THE ESTABLISHED CHURCH AND ME...? SIMPLIFYING, IT IS MUCH LIKE THE BRITISH AND THE FRENCH... WE DON'T GET ALONG TOO WELL."

 

 "NATURE IS THE BEST CHURCH THERE IS AND EVER WAS... IT IS ALWAYS OPEN AND EVERYONE IS WELCOME."

 

 "SOMEONE... A NEW HUMAN BEING... NO MATTER HOW VERY SMALL IS PRECIOUS AND MUST BE PROTECTED AND LOVED, FOR  IT IS NOT A POTENTIONAL HUMAN BEING… IT IS A HUMAN WITH POTENTIALS."

 

"ONE MUST FIND AND KNOW ONESELF WELL TO BE ABLE TO TRUELY LOVE A WOMAN.”

 

“RESPECT MORE THAN A MIGHTY FINE WORD, A MAN MUST GIVE RESPECT TO DESERVE RESPECT. “

 

“IT SEEMS TO ME MARRIAGE IS NOT ALL ABOUT FINDING THE RIGHT WOMAN… IT IS MORE ABOUT BEING A BETTER AND THE RIGHT MAN.”

 

"ONLY YOU HAVE THE KEY TO YOUR HEART... THINK WELL BEFORE YOU MAKE A COPY FOR SOMEONE ELSE..."

 

 

Willoughby n 1816

 

"TAKING SO MUCH FOR GRANTED... IF EVER UNABLE TO HELP YOURSELF... A GROWN MAN, BUT LIKE A SMALL CHILD AGAIN... DEPENDING ON THE KINDNESS OF OTHERS, KNOWS HE DOES NOT ONLY LEARN TO BE VERY GRATEFUL, HE BECOMES VERY HUMBLE AS WELL. OH, YES."

 

“NOT THE SAME AS BEFORE WATERLOO AND THINKING I WAS USELESS… BLIND, I AM ABLE TO ‘SEE’ MANY THINGS I NEVER NOTICED BEFORE, AND WHEN UNABLE TO SPEAK I TRULY LEARNED TO LISTEN AND NOW I UNDERSTAND MUCH MORE.”

 

“TO BE ABLE TO FIX A PROBLEM, ONE MUST FIRST ADMIT THERE IS ONE. OH, YESSS!”

 

“NOT ONLY DISCOVERING ANONYMOUS IS A VERY USEFUL WORD…  I NOW KNOW THERE IS PROFOUND HAPPINESS IN GIVING WITHOUT EXPECTING ANYTHING… AND WHAT AFFLUENCE IS FOR.”

 

 Will ‘Philosophizing ‘ in America in 1819

 

“LOVE NO EXCEPTION… NO. WE HARDLY EVER GIVE ANYTHING WITHOUT EXPECTING SOMETHING NICE IN RETURN…”

 

“LOVE IS A PRICELESS GIFT.”

 

 “UNHAPPINESS HAS MANY FACES.  SOME EAT AND DRINK THEMSELVES TO DEATH. OTHERS BECOME BITTER, HATEFUL AND RUTHLESS FANATICS… ALL OF US IN DIRE NEED OF LOVE AND ATTENTION; WE EVEN MISTAKE A MOMENT OF SENSELESS RAW LUST AND ‘INSTANT SATISFACTION’ FOR LOVE... FORGETTING THERE MUST BE A BALANCE OF… BODY, HEART AND SOUL...”

 

 “HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO ‘YOU’…? NO? YOU MIGHT BE SURPRISED AT WHAT YOU FIND…”

 

“LONG SINCE IN YOUR SOUL… TRUE LOVE NEVER DIES… IT LIVES FOREVER AND BEYOND…”

 

"TRUST ME, I KNOW. ONLY YOU CAN MAKE YOU A BETTER MAN, SIR."

 

"HAPPINESS IS NOT HAVING ANY PROBLEMS. HAPPINESS IS BEING ABLE TO DEAL WITH AND SOLVE PROBLEMS IN GOOD WAYS."

 

"NO ONE IS PERFECT. INSISTING ONE IS ONLY HUMAN SEEMS TO BE THE BEST EXCUSE WE HAVE FOR MAKING MISTAKES, BUT IF WE ARE WILLING TO LEARN FROM OUR MISTAKES, WE WILL BECOME BETTER HUMAN BEINGS. OH, YESSS!" 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright©2013 by Kari M. Knutsen

 

 

More to come...

 

 

 

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Fred Jinkins - Happy Old Artist | Svar 11.06.2014 17.07

Hi Kari your Willoughby story is a grand journey. I enjoyed the naturalness of his nature. Your understanding of human nature is unique. I am eager to read more

Fred Jinkins - Happy Old Artist | Svar 31.03.2014 19.23

Willoughby endures many of the things that young people encounter. He does it with grace and an inner strength that carries him through all his trials.

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13.03 | 22:56

Fantastic stuff, bold and original, much enjoyed...

...
23.02 | 17:10

Beautifully written....
Lost my twin, so I feel your pain.
You are a beautiful soul.
Thank you.

...
05.01 | 13:01

Click here to write your message@Kari! My dear friend. I am proud and humbled to have known you. In sum, I found you as a well-traveled person in "Body", "Mind" & "Soul".

You experienced living in exciting
places in the world, roughly, 70%.
Rubbing shoul

...
03.11 | 09:02

The story of Waterloo is an amazing account of a enormous battle.

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