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50shadesofsun

News and Opinions about MS, Health & Disability

Warmest and driest winters in Europe

Average high and low monthly temperatures

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 Source: World Weather Online

Contents of my last post, about wearing shorts in November while enjoying daytime temperatures in the 70s, stirred some interest. Jeannie, a friend in America, added a comment saying: “So this is “winter” in Spain? 70˚F and shorts? It sounds like paradise, until next June/July/August when temperatures soar. Don’t count me out as a future visitor! (I will remember to visit in November, maybe on October 31 to celebrate your anniversary).

Well, November is not really winter here as the coldest months seem to be December and January when, we have been warned, the temperatures may dip as low as freezing point for one or two nights.

In fact, the area in which Lisa and I now live has the most sunshine in the whole of Andalucia, the least rainfall in the whole of Spain and the warmest and driest winters in all Europe. That’s just a little different from North Wales, the second wettest place in the UK.

Despite that warning of freezing temperatures being reached, the average winter lows only dip to 43˚F/6 ˚C while the corresponding winter highs are around 61˚F/16˚C to 62.5˚F/17˚C.

The area has a year round average of a full nine hours of sunshine a day and a total rainfall of less than seven and a half inches. In winter, the average maximum daily temperature is 19˚C (67˚F) from October to March.

The light is luminous with brilliant clear sunny days and star-filled night skies. So much so that Europe’s only solar power station is located here, as well as one of Europe’s most important space observatories.

It is, without exception, the warmest and driest place to be in Europe in the winter. In summer, it is hot and dry inland but cooler down on the coast. We benefit from inland weather but are only 10 minutes from the coast, by car.

Today is the windiest since our arrival. We have winds gusting to 19 mph and a temperature of 68˚F/20˚C – with no windchill factor and brilliant sunshine.

Of course, we are still acclimatised to UK temperatures but by this time next year the summer here will have come and gone and so the winter months will, no doubt appear colder than they will this time around.

And, to Jeannie, I’d add this message: Lisa and I would welcome a visit by Gary and you – especially for this year’s anniversary which will be five years.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Enjoying best of all worlds in November sunshine

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One disappointing thing about moving to mainland Europe is that while state pensions and disability benefits are still paid, the mobility part of both the Disabled Living Allowance and Personal Independence Payment is not. Apparently, that is because the mobility element is not regarded as care.

I had previously used the mobility part of my DLA to meet the costs of a car provided through the Motability scheme, so I never saw the money – it was paid straight to Motability. The cars, that have served me well for nearly six years, came to an end when I returned my vehicle on 26th October, the day before Lisa and I sailed to America on Royal Caribbean’s Anthem of the Seas.

Road cutting through rocky area with mountains in the background.

Road cutting through rocky area with mountains in the background.

That means that we now need to buy a car of our own – and on Thursday we started looking in earnest. All being well, we hope to have one at some time during the next week. Be sure to watch this space for further news on this subject.

Talking of driving, and by that I mean left hand drive cars on the right hand side of the road, I have to say that it is fast becoming second nature to me. Yes, sometimes I drift a little close to the kerb or, more often, the roadside verge but, generally, it’s ok and seems to be getting both easier and better.

Several people have asked me to describe the area in which we now live. So, here goes.

Greenery borders a town with hills beyond.

Greenery borders a town with hills beyond.

Our home is in a rural community close to a small village in an agricultural area known for growing melons, olives and oranges. There are mountains just a few miles away that make a backdrop to some spectacular views, plus fringes of arid land that afford a home to desert plants.

Situated within easy reach of two reasonably small towns, and only a 10-minute drive from the Mediterranean, we really have the best of all worlds. We are well away from popular tourist destinations.

As far as the weather is concerned, we arrived in mid-November so we could not expect too much. The daytime temperatures have only been in their 70s F (21+ C) with a mixture of cloudless blue skies and those predominantly blue with wispy clouds. I have worn shorts for the last two days and have relaxed at pavement cafes while enjoying the sunshine. It gets considerably cooler at night but that is to be expected.

We have followed the news about storms Abigail and Barney hitting the UK and can only have sympathy with everyone affected, especially with those who were without power. I have distinct memories of being without electricity in North Wales. The wet, cold and grey weather with such little, if any, sun was the main reason behind our move to Spain.

It seems that the finishing touches are being put on our new home, so we hope to be moving in very soon. The place we are in, while the work is being finished, is lovely but it isn’t ours.

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Change of country; change of culture

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Finding shops closed for two to three hours every afternoon, and restaurants closed for a similar period a little later, is just part of the culture differences we have found since arriving in Spain on Sunday. It’s all about the tradition of siesta, that long afternoon break that became established to avoid the heat of the afternoon sun.

There are two periods of siesta in Spain – siesta for shops and businesses, during which time many people go to a bar or restaurant, and then siesta for the restaurants, who obviously can’t rest when everyone wants to come and eat. In towns and villages near where Lisa and I now live, shops close at about 2pm until between 4 and 5pm while restaurants tend to not serve food between 5 and 8pm.

Spain is a hot country, especially in mid-afternoon, and the traditional reason for the siesta is for the workers in the fields to shelter from the heat. They would then feel refreshed after their sleep and would work until quite late in the evening, longer than they would have been able to without the siesta.

A typical shop’s opening times here are 9am until 2pm and 5pm until 8.30pm­­ – in total, longer than working from 9am to 5.30pm, less a lunch break, which is more traditional in other countries.

Some people ask why, since the introduction of air conditioning, the Spanish stop for siesta. Well, people do still work in the fields, in fact we some doing just that today, but the main reason seems to be that the Spanish like to have a long lunch.

Added to that, why should a shop remain at a time when there are so few people out shopping. On Wednesday, Lisa and I went out for lunch during sopen hop siesta time and were amazed by town streets free of pedestrians. Those that were out and about could be found seated in or outside cafes and bars.

Another reason for the stop for siesta may not so much one of need but one of want. Some, who may like to go out in the evening like stopping for a while at lunch time. A little rest after the siesta meal will help them to stay up later in the evening without falling asleep.

The Spanish nightlife is an all-night affair – visitors to Spain are surprised to see the streets just starting to fill up at midnight and are even more surprised to see people in their 60s and 70s still out at 3am. They wouldn’t be able to do this without a siesta.

Meal times also need an adjustment when moving to live in Spain. After a smallish breakfast, the largest meal of the day is lunch – which is traditionally eaten during the afternoon siesta. With lunch finished by about 3.30pm, dinner is often not eaten until after 9pm. Indeed, when arriving at a bar/restaurant a couple of days ago at 7.30pm, we were told that the kitchen was closed but would be open at 8pm.

We decided to enjoy sangria while we waited; it was well worth it.

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Ups and downs during journey to Spain

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Lisa and I made our final farewell to North Wales on Saturday evening with a meal at the Paanshee Bengali restaurant in Prestatyn. We were delighted to be joined by Joanne Jones with whom we have become friends since meeting at MS Synergy. Thanks to Faruk Miah and his colleagues for yet another great meal and thank you, Jo, for being there.

Sunday started early when the wake-up call at Clayton’s Hotel, Manchester Airport, came through at 3.45am. Lisa and I got out of bed and made ourselves ready to catch the 4.30am shuttle to Terminal One.

We stopped first at the assistance reception. I was in my own wheelchair but Lisa had hurt her leg and was given an airport wheelchair.

Our Easy Jet flight to Alicante was due to take off at 6.40am and, usually, you can spend a great deal of time checking in and getting through security. This time, though, nothing could have been easier and left plenty of time to eat a good breakfast before boarding our plane.

By the time it came to board, it was wet and very windy – and that’s when we realised that we had left Lisa’s jacket in the hotel where we had stayed in Llandudno on Friday night. Too late! However, we boarded quickly and the aircraft was quite warm, so no harm done.

Arriving in Alicante, we were met by two assistants who quickly passed us through passport control, which was not staffed, recovered our luggage and we were soon in the public part of the terminal; neither of us noticed any customs area.

Gaining our hire car was next but this meant a delay as Goldcar had the most customers, probably because it had the best deal when we booked. The company has a new system for customers who had pre-booked – no need to line up, just tap a touch screen, gain a ticket and wait for your number to be displayed. Some people, mainly my fellow Brits, said they would complain about the long delays supposedly caused by the waiting system.

When I finished the transaction, one woman asked me if I complained, to which I replied: “No, there’s nothing to complain about.” You see, while Goldcar did contribute to the length of its own queue/line by having the best deal; the waiting time was not made any worse by that. It is just queue management, for the benefit of the customers. My only suggestion to Goldcar would be to put a notice about the ticket system at the start of the company’s area, not just by the touch screen on the counter. As it was, word got to newcomers by word of mouth.

Anyway, armed with car keys and papers we did not have long to wait for our wheelchair pushers to reappear. We set off for the car park and had left the terminal heading for the car park when I saw Lisa’s wheelchair catch a clearly visible ridge at the top of a dropped kerb. The chair jammed suddenly and Lisa was thrown forward into the roadway; thankfully there was no traffic there. She already had a painful leg, now she hurt in more places but hopefully nothing more serious than that. It took four people to help Lisa back into the chair and many apologies from the pusher who did not take sufficient care in his work and was negligent towards the well=being of someone in his care. It was an ‘accident’ but it was completely avoidable.

The drive from the airport to our new home was more or less uneventful. Well, apart from my legs giving way as I went down two steps quicker than intended having just stopped for coffee. Four Guardia Civil traffic officers ran to my aid and two of them helped me to my feet.  Lisa explained I have Esclerosis Multiple and they watched as I returned to the car without further incident.

Oh, almost forgot, weather here is warm and sunny.

 

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It never rains but it ….. drips

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A drip of liquid falling on my face, awaking we with a start. I looked up but saw nothing. I glanced around briefly but, again, nothing. So I settled back down to grab some more sleep. Then, drip, it happened again.

This time, I was wide awake and studied the area  immediately above me, where I saw a drip forming and growing larger. I also discovered that the shoulder of my shirt, close to the neck, was quite wet from previous drips that had missed my face and so did not wake me.

Realising that something was amiss, and that an as yet unidentified liquid should not be falling inside the passenger compartment of a Boeing 757 flying at more than 35,000 feet, I pressed the button to call a flight attendant. Nothing happened, so I called again to be rewarded with the arrival of a member of the Icelandair cabin crew.

She was more than a little surprised by what was happening. She wiped the liquid away and then investigated the contents of the overhead luggage locker, where she found another passenger’s water bottle – a leaking water bottle. Well, at least it was only water, so no harm done and it was easily poured away.

Having wiped both the inside and outside of the luggage locker, all was well. Drip. Not again! This time it was water that had originally escaped, got into some nooks and crannies and was now reaching the dripping point. Liberal quantities of paper napkins squeezed into every crevice may not have been an attractive sight but they were effective.

Regular readers of this blog will have guessed that this flight was one of two Lisa and I took to return from our transatlantic cruise and holiday in the USA.

We landed at Manchester at 10.30am on Friday 13th (no wonder I was dripped on) and after a half-hour delay as a technical fault prevented the opening of the forward hold (see, Friday 13th again), we picked up our hire car.

Having driven to Llandudno and checked into a cat-friendly hotel, we picked up Pooka and Prissy from the cattery and we last night shared our hotel room with them.

Saturday morning is time to say another temporary goodbye to them as our girls are being picked up by pet transportation specialists. Armed with pet passports, they will head for Kent where they will stay overnight before going through the Channel Tunnel and make an overnight stop in France. The next day they will continue into Spain00000. They will be meeting up with us again very late Monday evening, maybe after midnight so technically Tuesday.

Having waved goodbye to the kids on Saturday morning, Lisa and I have decided to bid our farewell to Wales with an early evening meal at our favourite curry restaurant, the Paanshee in Prestatyn. Then we have to return the hire car before spending our last night in the UK in a hotel close to Manchester Airport from where our flight is due to take off at 6.40 on Sunday morning.

We have heard that the adaptions being carried out to our new home in Spain, to make it better for me, are one or two days behind schedule and we may need to stay close by until then. A temporary property has been arranged for us. It is likely that we’ll be in our own home on Wednesday.

Watch this space for further updates.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Meet the family, episode 3, on last night in USA

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What a really fantastic time Lisa and I have enjoyed, first spending eight days cruising across the Atlantic, then another eight touring around four states in north-eastern USA.

Yesterday was our last full day in the US and what better way to draw our adventure to a close than for a third get together with more members of Lisa’s family?

In a previous blog, you could have read about our November 7 visit to Great Aunt Nina and her son Anthony, followed the next day with a hotel brunch which also marked my birthday. That was when we met up with Lisa’s sister Gen, her husband Billy, and their three adult children Marie, Jamie and Pam, along with Pam’s close friend Scott.

joannaLast night, having travelled to New Jersey, we met up with Lisa’s first cousin Joanna, who is also her godmother, Joanna’s son Anthony (yes, another one) and his wife Maryann. That makes Anthony my love’s first cousin once removed. I know that because I checked; they are not, as many suppose, second cousins.

The maternal side of my beloved’s family is pure Sicilian and so it was no surprise that the five of us enjoyed a wonderful meal at Il Giardinello Italian restaurant in the town of Toms Hill. The meal itself was delicious and more than plentiful as there were a number of dishes of which the quantity was so great that several packs were made up to take home.

However, as delightful as the meal was, it was not the highlight of the evening. That, of course, was the reunion of Lisa with her family members – and my pleasure in meeting them for the first time.

Cousin Anthony is proving to be an entrepreneur as, besides his permanent ‘day job’ he has set up and now runs a very successful local adult softball league. On top of that, he organises an eight week long non-residential summer camp for youngsters from the age of four to 15. Mum Joanna and wife Maryann also help out with the camp.

As anyone would suspect, when families get together much of the conversation is only of interest to them and is likely to appear boring to others, as such it has no place here. What is important, on the other hand, is the relationship between family members, their interests and family news such as weddings, births and new additions to the family through marriage – like me!

Above all, alongside Lisa’s delight in meeting up again with so many of her relatives, it is with more than a little pleasure that I have been welcomed into such a vital and lovely family.

Pictures: Top, Anthony and Maryann. Inset: Lisa and Joanna.

 

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Simple lives strong in faith

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Lancaster County in Pennsylvania is home to one of the largest communities of people of the Amish and Mennonite  faiths. Their population has now reached some 30,000 people, with 10,000 having already left the area to spread their faiths. Now they have communities in 29 of the 50 US states.

Lisa and I spent yesterday in Amish country and tried to gain some understanding of their faiths and lives. We rode in a typical horse-drawn buggy, we visited a working Amish dairy farm during milking time, we chatted with Amish children and we were fortunate enough to meet Levi, a Mennonite.

Both faiths are similar yet different.

The Amish and Mennonites in Lancaster County share many of the same Christian beliefs. This is not surprising as both groups grew out of the Anabaptist movement which arose in 1525 in opposition to the Roman Catholic Church as well as the Protestant Reformation movement brought on by Martin Luther. They left for the New World to escape religious persecution in Europe.

Levi explained that Mennonite and Amish beliefs are based upon the same simplicity of faith and practice as lived by the early Christian church; the difference between the two groups is how the beliefs are practiced and lived.

Mennonites tend to be more tolerant of technology and the outside world than are the Amish who generally forbid higher education, dress in plain clothes, refrain from the use of electricity and mechanical transport, instead riding in horse-drawn buggies.

It was fascinating to learn that the Amish church began with a split in Switzerland within a group of Swiss and Alsatian Anabaptists in 1693 led by Jakob Ammann. Those who followed Ammann became known as Amish. Mennonites are named after Menno Simons.

IMG_0770At the Amish farm, we saw cows being milked by suction equipment powered by a vacuum created by diesel power. The milking parlour was lit by one simple lantern and the process involved all the family’s children. Even the youngest, just four the previous day, knew his job. It was a real team effort.

The children noticed my accent and were keen to find out where I came from. The UK, Britain and England all helped them understand but their knowledge of world geography was not so good as they could not tell Levi where various European countries are situated. Amish children are educated to the age of 15 but not any older. “No high school or college,” Levi said.

To ride in a traditional Amish buggy hauled by Kate, a 12-year-old horse, was a great experience while to learn a few facts about their faiths and lifestyles was a real privilege. Whatever you feel about those, we must all admire the strength of their ancestors in relocating to gain religious freedom and the strength they still show in their commitment to the old ways they have been taught and they, in turn, teach to their children.

Pictures: Top, Kate pulls our traditional Amish buggy, driven by Mennonite Levi, across a covered bridge. Inset, on the Amish dairy farm, the farmer works hard to milk his cows. Note the single lantern for light.

 

 

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Million dollar view

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Until I moved to North Wales in 1992, I had always lived in urban towns on the outskirts of south-east London before making my home in the Fulham area of south-west London.

In Wales, I lived in an 18th century former farmhouse in a rural village. It was a hill smallholding surrounded by sheep farms. Over the years that I lived there, I kept sheep, goats, ducks, geese, chickens, Shetland ponies, ferrets, rabbits as well as household pets including dogs, cats and even a degu. And, although I wrote about rural affairs including farming, these animals were never sold or eaten; instead, they all had names, and lived their lives until they died naturally.

Apart from the animals, the environment was and is one of my loves. Who can resist the call of a beautiful view? Majestic mountains, impressive waterfalls, rippling streams, forests, rugged coasts plus sandy beaches can all be found in North Wales but there is one particular sight that is missing. In fact, it is not to be found anywhere in the UK.

What is missing? The vibrant colours of autumn leaves before they fall to the ground. In the UK, we are all used to our deciduous trees’ leaves turning from green to various shades of gold, tan and brown. That’s it!

Regular readers of this blog will know that my beloved wife Lisa is American and when she arrived in the UK, she was looking forward to see our autumn colours but was very disappointed by what she saw. At that point, I had no idea why – but now I do.

During our current holiday, I have seen the autumn/fall colours in New England. They are glorious. The red, orange and gold coloured leaves of autumn there do delight visitors from around the world. Apparently, much of the colour is from native sugar maples that are plentiful throughout the north-eastern states in dense and perfect concentrations. Although the time to see peak foliage at its very best has passed, the colours I have seen are still so impressive when you have only previously experienced what autumn has to offer in the UK.

Besides looking at the countryside, yesterday was a day for sightseeing. We visited West Point, the US Military Academy that prepares men and women to be Army officers – rather like Sandhurst in the UK. The major difference is that cadets at West Point, alongside their officer training, also study for university degrees. West Point is actually a military university where cadets spend four years preparing to graduate. Meanwhile, the major difference from its UK equivalent is that the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst, to use its full name, is not a university and its Commissioning Course lasts just 44 weeks.

One aspect that caught my interest at West Point was the environment. It has greenery galore, certainly much more than its grand buildings, and its western extremity points into the River Hudson, hence its popular name.

After leaving West Point, we drove through rolling hills, many covered by trees showing the colours of late fall, until we reached the Poconos mountains in Pennsylvania where we stayed the night.

 

Picture: The River Hudson as seen from West Point. It is known as the ‘Million dollar view’.

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Family love and celebration

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As days continue to pass by, amazingly it is now just a week until Lisa and I are due to fly to Spain to begin our new life in our home in the Mediterranean sunshine. Right now, we are in the United States of America halfway through a holiday in Lisa’s home country.

Saturday and Sunday have been special family days. Two days ago we travelled to upstate New York to visit Great Aunt Nina and her son Anthony. Neither of them had seen Lisa for many years and had never met me.

mumNina was aunt to Lisa’s late mom Mary but, being close in age, they had been more like sisters.  Today, Aunt Nina is 92 years old but certainly doesn’t look or sound like it. She is a lovely little lady, full of spirit and totally aware of everything that is going on. I say ‘little’ as Nina is just 4’9” tall.

Years ago, she moved from New York City to the rural area with her husband Tony.  There, they ran a dairy farm as well as growing corn and grass for hay. In the early years, all milking was done by hand of which Lisa has fond childhood memories but one thing she did not know was revealed by Aunt Nina. She said that when she first moved to the farm she only had city clothes and was soon driving the tractor while wearing high heels. Now, that would be a great photograph.

In the area in which Nina and Anthony live is an absolutely fantastic barbecue restaurant and takeaway. It uses open charcoal pits to cook the tastiest chicken I have ever encountered. It is called Brooks and, on the strength of what I tasted, I strongly recommend trying it out if you are ever in the region of Oneonta, NY.

Having said a very fond farewell to Nina and Anthony, we set off yesterday to meet Lisa’s oldest sister Gen, her husband Billy, and their children Maria, Jamie and Pam along with her partner Scott. All eight of us enjoyed a superb buffet brunch that also served as a celebration of my birthday. In fact, it has been very many years since I have been joined by so many people on my birthday.

It was an occasion of good humour and family celebration as we were asked questions about what we had done so far in the USA, what we still have planned and our upcoming move to Spain.

Lisa and I are two-thirds of the way through our great adventure. Part one was the transatlantic crossing that I had dreamed of as a child, part two is our current tour of four states in the north-east of the USA, and part three will be our arrival in Spain, heralding the start of our new life.

Birthday footnote: Thanks to everyone from whom I have received birthday greetings, either personally, via Facebook or via email. So far, 63 years and many more to come (I hope). Actually, 63 is a good number as it means I can say I’m 21 again, for the third time.

Pictures at top from left – Aunt Nina and me; she is standing while I am sitting.  Lisa’s sister Gen, right, with daughters Pam and Maria. Lisa with Aunt Nina. Inset – Lisa’s late mom Mary and her Aunt Nina had been like sisters.

 

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19th century life and 17th century witch trials

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Working farm at Old Sturbridge Village             Rebecca Nurse on trial in Salem

Two different parts of American history gained our attention after arriving in Massachusetts. The first was typical New England life in the early 19th century and the second was the world renowned witch trials that took place in Salem in 1692.

Old Sturbridge Village is a living history museum that sets out to show life in a New England agricultural village in the 1830s, although some parts date back as far as the 1790s.

It is a massive site that includes more than 200 acres of land, some 60 antique and replica buildings, a farm complete with animals, three different types of mills close to a mill pond – with costumed guides ready and willing to explain life in the 19th century.

Started as the result of the historical collections of antique furniture and clocks, and spurred on by one family, the village has grown since its beginnings. While the project was put on ice during the second World War, it reopened in 1946 and has steadily expanded the number and type of buildings it possesses; often relocating them from their previous sites throughout the New England states.

It was a real eye-opener to see, at first hand, such a great example of living history and it was an absolute delight to see, and talk, various costumed people working in the village. During our visit, these included a farmer working as a potter as the farm permitted, a schoolmistress, family and workmen at the working farm, a tin worker, two blacksmiths, a tinsmith and a printer, to name just a few.

The village is both entertaining and educational; it is well worth a visit.

A two-hour drive took us to Salem that was the location of the infamous witch trials that took place in 1692. There are a number of museums dedicated to those events and we chose to visit the Salem Witch Museum.

The museum sets out to both examine the events surrounding the trials and explore today perceptions of witches and witchcraft. To do this, it has two presentations:

The first is based on actual trial documents. In that, we experienced the drama of that dark time though thirteen life-size stage sets, figures, lighting and a stirring narration that unveiled the web of lies and intrigue of the Salem Witch Hunt.

In the second presentation, Witches: Evolving Perceptions, an extremely knowledgeable guide took us through changing interpretations of witches, the truth behind the stereotypes, Wicca and witchcraft practice today and the frightening phenomenon of witch hunting.

Afterwards, Lisa and I spent a most pleasant few minutes talking with our guide during which we congratulated the museum for its handling of the whole story and the modern day part which had been so very well researched.

To understand the events of the Salem witch trials, it is necessary to look at the times in which accusations of witchcraft occurred. There were the ordinary stresses of 17th-century life in the Massachusetts Bay Colony. A strong belief in the devil, factions among Salem Village families and rivalry with nearby Salem Town combined with a recent small pox epidemic and the threat of attack by warring native tribes created a fertile ground for fear and suspicion.

Soon, prisons were filled with more than 150 men and women from towns surrounding Salem; their names had been ‘cried out’ by tormented young girls as the cause of their pain. All would await trial for a crime punishable by death in 17th-century New England – the practice of witchcraft.

In June 1692, a special court sat in Salem to hear the cases of witchcraft. The first to be tried was Bridget Bishop who was found guilty and was hanged. Thirteen women and five men followed her to the gallows on three successive hanging days before the court was disbanded by Governor William Phipps in October that year.

The Superior Court of Judicature, formed to replace the “witchcraft” court, did not allow spectral evidence. This belief in the power of the accused to use their invisible shapes or spectres to torture their victims had sealed the fates of those tried earlier. The new court released those awaiting trial and pardoned those awaiting execution. In effect, the Salem witch trials were over.

 

The accused

Hanged: Bridget Bishop, Sarah Good, Rebecca Nurse, Susannah Martin, Elizabeth How, Sarah Wilds, George Burroughs, John Proctor, John Willard, George Jacobs Snr, Martha Carrier, Martha Corey, Mary Eastey, Alice Parker, Ann Pudeater, Margaret Scott, Wilmott Reed, Samuel Wardwell, Mary Parker.

Pressed to death: Giles Corey.

Accused, not hanged but died in prison: Sarah Osborne, Roger Toothaker, Lyndia Dustin, Ann Foster.

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