Paul Schoon
@paulschoon
Moderately crumbly English local history freak. A Yorkshireman researching early modern social structures and networks in Bedfordshire. Kellogg College, Oxford. I’m here for fun, knowledge and respectful debate, so be nice. Keyboard warriors get blocked.
I know I shouldn’t expect every document to be in the archives, but I do get cheesed off when I see them for sale in antique shops, like this indenture, ready to spend the next 50 years as a piece of interior decor without a single historian even knowing of its existence.
When I was a young lad of 18, back in the early 80s, me and my mates would pile into a vintage Saab, and armed with a Good Beer Guide, would search the wilds of Yorkshire looking for pubs that sold Tim Taylor’s bitter. Now, every second pub I go in is selling the stuff. Oh, all the wasted youth!
A film about the Peasants’ Revolt coming in October. They’ll probably get most of it wrong, but who cares? I’m still looking forward to it.
As the end of the school year approaches, the pupils of my history teacher son begin to lose interest.
When we adopted an elderly cat we tried to create a pet routine to ease her into her new life. Two years down the line we live under the authoritarian rule of a furry dictator.
The view from the apartment. In my geological backstory I used to spend all my time unravelling the story told by the rocks, and I was staring so closely, looking for clues, that I missed the bigger picture. Now, as a historian, I stare in wonderment at just how beautiful this planet is.
The cross marks the appropriate spot it happened. Alas, there are now just a few lumps and bumps left in the ground.
Oh Theakston’s, how can a brewery that produces the best beer on the planet (Old Peculier), also produce the worst? It’s been 20 minutes and I still have an overpowering aftertaste of bitter burnt toffee. Ugh! I suppose it’s designed to cater for the yoof.
I never realised it was so big and I am so small. At least I’m on the fringes of the right community in my own personal Oort Cloud.
Trawling through 130 Bedfordshire parishes registers between 1660-1760, I have come across rare references to black people in the rural community, but this 1761 notice about a runaway slave in Roxton is like a slap in the face. It reads like something from the Deep South just prior to the civil war.
At a time when journals are winding up all over place (at least the ones I subscribe to!), it’s wonderful to see a new local history journal. This one is the research journal of the Bedfordshire Gardens Trust and it focuses on all aspects of gardens and the people who worked in them. Top effort.
Some new research suggests that 58% of football fans think it is socially acceptable to stream matches illegally. When you consider that to watch all the games broadcast you would need to subscribe to ten different services, it is little wonder.
I found this little beauty in an Oxfam shop. Original dust cover, in perfect nick despite being 52 years old, and smells of old book.
After expensive blood tests I was told the cat had stomach cancer, kidney failure and hyperthyroidism. I was quoted £800 for an ultrasound to confirm the diagnosis. An hr later an apologetic vet rang to say that they’d mistakenly tested her as a dog. When retested as a cat she’s in perfect health.
Mt Teide - approximately 26,000 feet from base to summit. We are so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Back to wind and rain.
In a week of grim news, here’s a reminder that we live on a beautiful planet.
I took a last look at Luton Hoo before it disappears. The Capability Brown landscape is being bulldozered to create ‘a championship level golf course’. Supposedly it’s going to be a civic amenity-at least for the elite. A local example of how the planning dept is out of touch with reality.
As a rule I can’t abide doughnuts- too sweet and greasy. In Poland, I recently came across their version, which are so much more superior and included flavours such as rose and cherry. Blow me down, I’m driving through the local area and see a little Polish deli that sells doughnuts. Happy days.
Back from hols and now spending the morning cleaning toilets. Where did it all go wrong?
Charles IV - his dad was killed at Crecy but he appears to have forgiven the English as he allowed his daughter to marry Richard II.
The Hungarian archive is a step up from the 60s concrete brutalism that is my local archive.