The Grand Hotel Eastbourne is 150 years old, a century and a half of gilded ceilings, whispered secrets, and champagne-soaked celebrations. Steeped in history, it’s seen two world wars and seven monarchs. Now it’s your chance to be part of it. If you’ve stayed there, visited there, or just been a passing admirer with a camera, they have their sights set on you!

The hotel is curating a huge exhibition, and part of that is going to be a living ‘guest book’. As The Grand Hotel prepares to unveil its anniversary exhibition, the hotel is inviting local residents and guests to share their treasured memories. Whether they honeymooned under its chandeliers or danced in its drawing rooms, their story belongs here. 

Let’s go back in time  

A bit of background first; 1875 saw the opening of Eastbourne’s very best hotel. The brainchild of William Earp, it was built to be the ultimate holiday destination for the upper classes. A century and a half later, its reputation as a high-end luxury establishment still stands. 

But it’s not just a hotel. Far from it, during the second world war, its beachfront location made it the perfect military headquarters. The building played an integral strategic role, preventing opposing forces from holding ground in the vulnerable Southeast of England. 

Since then, it’s reverted back to its original luxury hotel status. Proving to be the perfect stay for those seeking the hustle and bustle of Eastbourne’s town centre, or adventure in the picturesque South Downs – Seven Sisters anyone?

How you can be part of history  

The Grand Hotel Eastbourne wants to hear from you. They’re seeking stories from your favourite visits. Have a special memory or photo? Send it in – submitted stories will be displayed in the hotel and its online platforms.  

From weddings to weekend getaways, they’re excited to see all and every bit of memorabilia. Help bring the hotel’s history to life and contribute to this important collection. 

But hurry – they’d like your memories by the end of July!

To send in a story or photo click here. 

Not just a place to sleep  

The hotel is a destination and experience in itself. The spacious venue hosts weddings and parties as well as having wonderful restaurants, bars, gorgeous pools, spa treatments, concerts and dining. It’s also famous for its elegant afternoon teas, often with a live pianist or string quartet. Check out their events calendar. 

Often referred to as ‘The White Palace,’ the hotel has a long and distinguished musical heritage. From 1924 to 1939, its Great Hall was the live broadcast home of the BBC’s Grand Hotel orchestra series.

It was also here in 1905, during a multi-week stay in the suite now known as the Debussy Suite (formerly Room 200), that Claude Debussy finalized his orchestral masterwork La mer, inspired by the English Channel views.

What’s coming next? 

To commemorate 150 years of timeless elegance, the team at the Grand Hotel Eastbourne have big plans. 

Tuesday 11 March to Sunday 30 November  

150th Anniversary afternoon tea 

Enjoy an exquisite pastry menu inspired by the hotel’s history – from notable moments to traditions which have shaped the hotel. Each delicacy offers a journey through time with the backdrop to match  

Friday 21 November to Monday 24 November  

A festival celebrating 150 years of music, monarchs and the grand hotel.  

Set against a backcloth from Queen Victoria to King Charles III, top-class performers will evoke stars such as Enrico Caruso, Dame Nellie Melba, John McCormack, Anna Pavlova, Paul Robeson, George Robey, Charlie Chaplin, and many others. Not forgetting great composers such as Sir Edward Elgar. A true look back on the eclectic mix who visited the hotel. With a star-inspired menu also promised, it’s sure to be a stay to remember. 

There’s so much more though…

The events at The Grand Hotel Eastbourne aren’t limited to their 150-year anniversary, far from it. From a ‘Debussy by Candlelight’ Christmas concert, to a Gatsby Soirée New Years Eve party, the hotel never misses an occasion. For those seeking something a bit different there is a murder mystery dinner on 26 September, and a night of Queen on 19 of July.  

Click here to see the full list of events

Emma Cruickshank

Emma is a literature, TV, and film enthusiast. When she’s not writing, she can normally be found out in the Sussex countryside, walking her dog Herbie, or in a restaurant drinking an overpriced cocktail and dreaming up ideas for her next literary endeavour.

The post The Grand Hotel Eastbourne is 150 – be part of its history appeared first on Silver Magazine.

Every year, kicking off on 1 April, as the anniversary of the Titanic’s fateful journey draws near, Will Kindler’s White Stars, Black Sea Facebook page offers a unique and immersive experience. The page takes followers on a month-long, extraordinarily well-researched journey through the Titanic disaster, minute by minute.

From the euphoria of its maiden voyage to the shock of the sinking, and the aftermath, Will’s meticulous, real-time timeline uncovers the human side of the Titanic disaster. And at the same time, offering fresh insights into a tragedy that still captivates the world more than a century later. I spoke to Will about the passion that drives his project, and what he hopes people take away from the stories of those on board the doomed ship.

On the night of 14 April 1912, the sea was quiet. Too quiet, some would later say. The North Atlantic stretched black and motionless beneath a starlit sky, as the RMS Titanic steamed steadily westward at 22 knots.

On board, passengers were winding down after dinner. Some reading in the lounges, some strolling the promenade decks under fur blankets. Others descending the grand staircase in satin and tails. Below, in third class, families clustered in modest cabins, rocked by the gentle rhythm of the voyage. The ship was unsinkable, they had been told. And they believed it.

Titanic gym on 11 April 1912. Instructor McCawley demonstrates the rowing machine. William Parr tests a piece of the equipment

At 11:40pm, the illusion shattered. The iceberg was sighted, evasive action taken, but too late. A glancing blow tore open five compartments, and the ship’s fate was sealed.

Engage with the experience as it happened

This moment, the months leading up to the launch, and every one that followed, plays out in uncomfortably engaging slow motion on a remarkable FB page called White Stars, Black Sea. It’s a passion project lovingly built and maintained by Will Kindler. And it feels like a ghost ship drifting through time, stopping every year at the same haunting coordinates.

Will’s project isn’t just a fan page. It is a real-time resurrection of Titanic’s final hours, unfurling minute by minute over the span of several days each April. It begins before the ship sets sail from Southampton on 10 April 1912, charting the build and the excitement of the launch. And reaches its terrible crescendo in the early hours of April 15th. Every status update is timestamped to match the exact historical timeline. It‘s immersive, obsessive, and deeply human.

“It started because I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” Will says. “I read about the Titanic as a kid, and I just… never stopped. I think I wanted to give people a way to feel it – not just read about it or watch the film, but really live it as it happened.”

A suite on the Titanic

And live it we do

Will’s updates are delivered with an eerie calm. At 12:05am: “Captain Smith gives the order to uncover the lifeboats.” At 12:25am: “Distress rockets are prepared. Crew begin assisting passengers on deck.” By 1:30am, the posts become increasingly clipped. Urgent. The kind of dispatches you might imagine from a war zone or the site of a tragedy still unfolding. “The band continues to play.”

Somewhere around 2:00am, it is almost unbearable. People are weeping in the comments. Others are quoting survivors. Some post photos of their own relatives who were on board, or who worked on sister ships. By 2:20am, when the final post marks the moment Titanic slipped beneath the surface, thousands of people are watching the Facebook page live.

Read more: How to start your own family tree

And then – silence

It’s easy to be glib about Titanic. It has been the subject of so many films, memes, parodies, and clichés. It’s easy to forget that this was a real ship, carrying real people with real lives, and real hopes and plans. What Will’s timeline does is bring that reality thundering back into focus. By placing us into the moment – not through spectacle, but through slowness – he returns gravity to the tragedy.

And there’s a strange comfort in watching it unfold with others. In the comment threads, you see a kind of makeshift memorial forming. People saying thank you. People just sitting with the weight of it. The digital equivalent of leaving flowers by a name on a wall.

Will’s approach is quiet, precise, encyclopaedic. He is not a historian by trade, though you could mistake him for one. His posts are relentlessly researched. “If someone asks me what was on the dinner menu that night, I want to be able to show them,” he says. “If someone wants to know when the last lifeboat was launched, or who was still playing cards at 1am, I want them to know exactly when that happened. These were real people. Their stories deserve accuracy.”

He spends weeks preparing every year, cross-referencing sources, tweaking phrasing, making sure the timing matches. “It’s not about getting attention,” he says. “It’s about getting it right.”

Why does the Titanic still haunt us?

The bow of the RMS Titanic as it sits under the water. The photo is from 2004.

Why does it inspire such devotion, such melancholy awe? Maybe because it was never just about a sinking ship. It was about ambition and hubris, yes. But also about class and privilege, about human error, about the randomness of fate. Who lived, who died. Who got a lifeboat, and who didn’t.

There are stories within stories: the Strauses, who chose to die together rather than be parted. The musicians, playing as the water rose. The men who dressed in their finest clothes to meet death with dignity. The steerage passengers, locked below decks far too long. The Marconi operators, tapping out distress signals into a void that was, at first, terrifyingly silent.

Will doesn’t editorialise. He doesn’t need to. The facts speak for themselves. And that is perhaps the most powerful part of White Stars, Black Sea. It doesn’t preach. It remembers.

Every April, it quietly returns, carrying the same names, the same loss, the same flickering lights across the water. For a few days, the past becomes present, and we are all passengers again – watching, waiting, hoping the story might end differently this time.

You can join this journey here – https://www.facebook.com/whitestarsblacksea

Will Kindler is an artist and writer from New England who founded the Titanic-related page White Stars, Black Sea in 2017. His interest in maritime history began in childhood and deepened after attending the 100th anniversary Titanic commemorations in Halifax in 2012. After stepping away from his music career, he turned to researching Titanic and other maritime disasters, as well as British expeditions to Everest. A lover of mountain climbing, Will also enjoys wildlife photography and gardening. He lives in southern New Hampshire with his border collie, Fiona.

Sam Harrington-Lowe

Sam is Silver’s founder and editor-in-chief. She’s largely responsible for organising all the things, but still finds time to do the odd bit of writing. Not enough though. Send help.

The post White Stars, Black Sea: the Titanic disaster, minute by minute appeared first on Silver Magazine.

Guy Fawkes Night, also known as Bonfire Night, is an annual celebration held every year on 5th November, as you know. The Gunpowder Plot aimed to blow up the Houses of Parliament and assassinate King James I, but was foiled when Guy Fawkes was caught guarding barrels of gunpowder the night before. But why do we celebrate Guy Fawkes Night?

Guy Fawkes Night is celebrated with fireworks, bonfires and effigies to symbolise the events of the failed plot.

When and how is Guy Fawkes Night celebrated?

The tradition began immediately after the failed plot in 1605, when people were encouraged to celebrate the King’s survival by lighting bonfires. Today, the celebrations still centre around lighting bonfires and setting off fireworks.

The largest Guy Fawkes Night celebrations are usually organised by councils and feature an elaborate bonfire and professional firework display. Many people attend these community events to experience the fireworks and bonfires. Smaller celebrations also take place in back gardens across the country as families gather for their own bonfires and fireworks parties.

In addition to the bonfires and fireworks, it’s also traditional to burn effigies or ‘Guys’ on the bonfire. These effigies, often straw men, represent Guy Fawkes himself. Children used to make their own Guys weeks in advance and take them around asking “Penny for the Guy?” to collect money for fireworks.

The Gunpowder Plot of 1605

After Queen Elizabeth I died in 1603 without an heir, King James VI of Scotland became King James I of England.

There were some Catholics who had hoped King James would be more tolerant of their religion. However, they soon became disillusioned, as the persecution of Catholics continued under his reign. In 1604, a group of provocateurs led by Robert Catesby decided to take action, and plotted to kill the King by blowing up both him and the House of Lords during the State Opening of Parliament, with gunpowder.

The plotters managed to lease a cellar beneath the House of Lords, and spent months smuggling in barrels of gunpowder. Guy (Guido) Fawkes, who had explosives experience in the Spanish Army, was placed in charge of the gunpowder. The plan was to ignite the gunpowder on 5th November during the State Opening of Parliament while King James was present.

However, an anonymous letter warning one peer to stay away was made public, and an investigation ordered. In the early hours of 5th November, Guy Fawkes was discovered in the cellar guarding the explosives and arrested. He was tortured until he gave up his co-conspirators. And all the plotters were convicted of high treason.

Why do we celebrate Guy Fawkes Night?

When the Gunpowder Plot was revealed, the government was quick to declare 5th November ‘a day of thanksgiving’. Days before Bonfire Night, effigies of Guy Fawkes would be paraded through the streets then thrown onto the bonfire as a symbolic burning of the traitor.

Although Guy Fawkes and his fellow conspirators failed in their assassination attempt, they did manage to secure their place in history. The story of the audacious Gunpowder Plot captured the public’s imagination, and the tradition of marking 5th November lived on.

To this day, Guy Fawkes Night is seen as a distinctly British celebration and an opportunity for people to come together for an exciting night of revelry and fireworks. The burning of the Guy effigies represents a commemoration of the failed plot and reminds us to be tolerant of all faiths and beliefs. Many people see it as an important part of British cultural tradition and an annual event to look forward to.

How Guy Fawkes celebrations have changed over the years

In the past, Bonfire Night celebrations were mainly small community or family affairs. Now there are more large-scale public events organised with professional firework displays and funfairs. This provides a safer and more managed environment for the festivities.

Traditionally the focus was on large bonfires where Guys were burned, but due to safety concerns and restrictions, bonfires play less of a role in modern events. The emphasis is now more on the fireworks display.

When the bonfires are lit and fireworks launched into the November night sky, we are continuing a 400-year-old tradition of celebrating the failure of Britain’s most infamous plot. Whatever its complicated origins, Guy Fawkes Night remains a popular event that brings together communities across the country.

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Arriving in the chandeliered lower chamber of the Ham Yard Hotel, where I have attended a slew of preview screenings in the past, I sensed this was a far more high-stakes affair.

A blue ‘red’ carpet had been laid on for the press to snap assorted luminaries implicated in A Very Royal Scandal (available to stream from 19 September) as they posed for the cameras. The glittering centrepiece beaming beneath those flashlights though was Emily Maitlis, whose career-defining 2019 Newsnight grilling of Prince Andrew is dramatised in the three-part Prime Video series.

Incidentally, she’s also the executive producer. She cuts a taut but staunch figure encased in a slinky evening dress, and her charisma means she stands out a mile. Maitlis’ central presence dominated the line-up in the post-screening Q&A session, too.

Emily Maitlis at the premiere of A Very Royal Scandal

During the screening

Onstage, her magnetism out-ranks even the actorly stature of Ruth Wilson (who has some pretty big “third-wave feminist” shoes to fill playing Maitlis) and Michael Sheen (whose Prince Andrew swerves from simpleton to sinister without breaking a sweat).

It is proof of the pairs’ acting chops that I did not recognise either onscreen until the credits rolled – supposedly the highest compliment you can bestow upon a thespian. While neither star bears much resemblance to their real-life counterparts, the sneak preview we were afforded suggests both have an admirable crack at inhabiting their roles.

Seated between the combined clout of two household names on one side, and the industry gravitas of writer Jeremy Brock, director Julian Jarrold and executive co-producer Karen Thrussell on the other, Emily Maitlis nonetheless remained the gleaming jewel in a very heavyweight crown. And not simply down to her sparkly dress. Almost all those assembled on the stage relayed their own tale of how over-awed they were when meeting Maitlis for the first time, if not downright intimidated by her journalistic might.

But Ruth humanises her subject somewhat during the Q&A by revealing that the former national news anchor scoffs Percy Pigs non-stop on the sly. We are teased with further glimpses of a more relatable Maitlis in the first episode, in the form of the frazzled and fallible “family woman” behind the Newsnight titan. One who guzzles her vodka nightcap with gusto, grapples with dog crap, gets chastised by BBC bigwigs for rolling her eyes during Brexit coverage, and rails against the Daily Mail. She even frets about which shoes to wear for her face-off with HRH ‒ whether to pump for feminist spike heels or more demure “Royalist” courts.

Read more: quiz – how well do you know your royal history!?

Bringing history to the screen

It feels apt to mention her attire this evening. The first episode features a wry scene in which Maitlis’ prospective interview outfit is planned in strategic detail – and, of course, in a manner and context that would never have been the case had Prince Andrew’s interrogator been a man. But, as the script recounts, Prince Andrew’s people were determined that he be interviewed by a woman. It’s “all about the optics”, as ever.

And not just any woman. In a scene that elicited gasps from the audience and actors alike, Prince Andrew meets with Maitlis for a pre-interview vetting and asks her abruptly if she has ever been abused herself.

We may only have been privy to a preview of the first episode, but such scenes go some way to setting up what promises to be an acute and astute examination of the tension between the monarchy and the media. This simmering dynamic has played out ever since QE2 was forced to kow-tow to the latter’s power for the first time in the original High Noon style stand-off with the British press following Princess Diana’s death in 1997.

…how on earth Prince Andrew could have thought “telling his truth” was a wise idea

The dialogue explores how on earth Prince Andrew could have thought “telling his truth” was a wise idea, given the circumstances, and points to his enduring privilege as the answer. Although answers are nowhere to be found in this version of events, it would seem. At least, not according to Michael Sheen.

Sheen praises Brock’s script for offering up more questions than explanations, and cites this uneasy ambiguity as key to its appeal. He goes on to divulge that he made up his own mind about Andrew’s culpability and proceeded to do different takes of crucial scenes. The Welsh star switched between playing the Duke of York as indeed guilty of sexual crimes against a minor, and depicting a maligned but ultimately benign man innocent of the allegations against him.

Sheen doesn’t share his private verdict on the Prince during the interviews, and insists it should be left to viewers to make up their own minds. Whether the rest of the series is mired in a similarly murky coyness remains to be seen. When quizzed, executive producer Karen Thrussell candidly attributes any narrative opacity to a “legal nightmare” rather than mere stylistic device or moral squeamishness. “It was fine to talk about the King wanting to become a tampon, though.”

The Q&A scandal

Speaking of moral squeamishness, it seems Maitlis has no truck with such qualms. At several points, the Q&A compere appears to ask whether Maitlis herself feels any remorse for her actions in the aftermath of probing Prince Andrew.

When met with initial bewilderment, the host presses the broader question of whether journalists should feel a sense of accountability for any adverse impact on their interview subjects.

At first somewhat flummoxed, Maitlis’ brow briefly furrows. For a fleeting moment she seems mildly riled, before shifting to rightful dismissiveness. “I don’t really think about it in that way,” she finally says. “That isn’t part of my job.”

Whatever the fallout from Randy Andy’s moment of reckoning with Emily Maitlis, his feelings (and those of his family) are not her responsibility. Nor should they be. Perhaps some of the seedier elements of the British press should face certain ethical questions about the effects of their approach on innocent parties caught up in such coverage. But just watching the first instalment of A Very Royal Scandal is reminder enough that few are more deserving of media scrutiny than the seedier elements of the British establishment itself.

I put it to my Plus One in the pub afterwards that, in its purest form, journalism is potentially among the noblest of professions ‒ when harnessed to hold the powerful to account. As one interviewer put it to another during the Q&A: “This is why we become journalists.” And why A Very Royal Scandal is potentially one worth getting caught up in.

A Very Royal Scandal streaming on Amazon Prime from 19 September 2024

Vivienne Button

Vivienne recently returned home to the East London riviera, spending her days working as an editor on Fleet Street and her evenings attending free screenings. A perennial crazy cat lady currently without a cat, she is ready, willing and more than able – when not stalking Silver’s own emotional support pug, Alice –  to pet-sit in exchange for a chance to escape the Big Smoke.

The post ‘A Very Royal Scandal’ premiere review appeared first on Silver Magazine.

Want to reconnect with your roots? Or has one of those ancestry kit advertisements finally caught your eye? There are so many seeds of inspiration which may lead you to start looking for your family tree. 

Family history is always something which has intrigued me. Coming from a dual nationality household has always allowed for interesting developments to appear. The twisted branches lead to the uprooting of family secrets, maybe you have a mysterious great aunt? You will never know until you start your family tree.  

So how do you start your family tree? 

Adelaide Augusta Clark (Layfield) (1876-1972). She was the daughter of a sea captain from Hartlepool, and is one of my great-great grandparents.

Talk to family 

One of the best places to start is by talking to your surrounding family members. Which will, I’m sure, lead to stories as you start to gather names, dates, and places.  

Online ancestry websites 

Using online tools such as the Ancestry DNA website will aid you remarkably, even with a hefty price tag. Having these resources make it easier to gather documents, certificates etc, granting you access to what is effectively a historical online archive. If you don’t want to make researching your family tree a costly endeavor, census records are a great place to start, and can be accessed via The National Archives.  

Online communities 

There are communities online of genealogy forums, filled with people in the same position as you. Through speaking to others in the ‘family tree’ community you could unravel a plethora of tips and tricks to aid you in your own research. 

Groups include Ancestry DNA, Ancestry for All and DNA Help for Genealogy UK.

If you’re looking to dig deeper into historical contexts or streamline your research with advanced technology, try an AI history solver – Edubrain.ai. This tool offers automated assistance in connecting historical facts, events, and familial ties, helping you uncover stories and patterns in your lineage with precision and efficiency.

In-person resources 

You do not have to do all your research online. Local libraries are a fantastic starting point, as they contain historical information on the local area, along with photograph and microfilm collections. National Archives are also brilliant resources, containing thousands of comprehensive records and collections of photographs and letters. 

Why should you work on your very own family tree?

Sense of duty and passion 

Pouring hours into ‘watering’ your tree provides a profound sense of duty and passion, not only is it a fun hobby to keep you preoccupied on a rainy day, but your work is something which can be kept for generations to come. It’s your own family archive to pass forward generationally. They pass on memories of loved ones, but also protect and unearth the hidden lives of everyone before you. This forever growing tree will continue long after you’re gone. Just as it did for every ancestor before you. Weirdly I think that’s pretty beautiful.  

Wider historical understanding 

Gazing back at history allows you to place your family’s history within the broader context of historical events. In turn, enhancing historical understanding and highlighting the impacts historical events had on your relatives.  

The pair on the left are my great grandparents Wilfred Furness Layfield (1901-1946) and Freda Hinchcliffe (1902- 1969) at 1920s wedding. Wilfred served in the WW2 Royal Ordinance Corps.

Self-reflection and identity

Growing your family tree from something so small to one vast and magnificant allows for self-reflection. It has the potential to impact your sense of personal identity, and even your social class and ethnicity. 

Recognition of comfort  

 Looking back at historical struggles, and obstacles faced by relatives provides a sense of comfort. Life continues, and ultimately history is there for us to learn from. I think this has genuinely helped me recognise my current privileges and the comfort which surrounds me. 

Family closure 

Closure may be another reason why people choose to work on their family tree, whilst this may not apply to all, healing family drama and settling potentially distressing information can truly lead to peace of mind.  

Health and preventions 

Continuing on a serious note, family trees can lead to vital information regarding health and genetics coming to the forefront. This crucial information has the potential to provide insight into genetic conditions, allowing for better health management and preventative measures to best protect you and your loved ones.  

Family trees can lead to potentially vital information regarding health and genetics coming to the forefront

My personal experience

Luigi Poderico (1608-1675) Naples, Italy. My very great grandfather, who was a Knight of the Military Order of Calatrava,  and a governor and captain general of Galicia. He commanded the Spanish troops against the Portuguese as part of the Portuguese Restoration War . There is a square dedicated to him in Naples, Italy.

One Christmas my grandma waltzed into the living room, declaring that for the past six weeks she had been tirelessly laboring on ancestrydna.co.uk to create a family tree for the British side of my family. Somehow tracing my family tree’s roots back to the 9th century, an impressive feat.  

In a folder now lies hundreds of documents, birth, marriage, and death certificates, each one telling a small piece of someone’s story. I think it’s fascinating to imagine the lives of those who lived several hundred years before us. Their struggles, love, hopes and dreams all condensed to names on a tree.

Thomas Furness Layfield (1872-1937) North Yorkshire, England, another great-great-grandparent

Another article you may enjoy: Brace, brace! Preparing for your grandchildren coming

I am one of those people who the DNA testing kit adverts did indeed get to, and for my birthday several years ago I ended up treating myself to one. My results were exactly what I was expecting, 50 percent both Italian and English, so this told me nothing new. However, one of the main features of the DNA kits is that it automatically connects you to ancestors and relatives who are still alive and have also taken the test.

According to this 23 and Me DNA kit, I have 1500 currently alive relatives who have taken the test, including a second cousin whose existence I was not aware of until forking out £100 for the kit.

This immediately expanded my family tree drastically, showing me family members (although extremely distant), who now live in America, Brazil, and Australia. Although this method of researching your family lineage doesn’t really help you uproot and uncover historical secrets, it still provides further excitement as you watch your family tree branch out to unimaginable heights.

Something else surprisingly fun regarding these DNA kits is that it tells you how ‘Neanderthal’ you are. I am less than 2 percent Neanderthal which apparently, is low. So I’ll take that. 

Now off you go! Get to work on your very own family tree, or cut to the chase quickly, and purchase a DNA testing kit… if you haven’t already. 

Isabella Poderico

Overly enthusiastic and obsessed with everything a little nerdy, Isabella has written about everything from movie premieres to politics. She can often be found, as many writers often are, sitting in front of her laptop typing away obsessively in an extortionately priced independent coffee shop.

The post Family history – how to start on your family tree appeared first on Silver Magazine.

Esme Grace arrived in 2012. Bright blue eyes under a mop of brown hair, she was a happy, peaceful baby. As is often the case, she became the light of everyone’s life overnight. She was the first child born to my brother Nathan, the first grandchild to our parents, and allowed my sister and I to step into the role of auntie for the first time.

Weekends that had once been an adults-only affair were now spent cooing over her chubby cheeks and defined Cupid’s bow. We marvelled at every tiny detail as we passed her around like a box of M&S biscuits.

Esme began our third generation of mixed-race family members. My white British dad and half-white British, half-Black Caribbean mum had three children – my brother, sister and me.

While Mum has a medium brown skin tone, the melanin seemed to dilute through her three children. Nathan, the eldest, is only slightly lighter in skin tone than Mum. My sister Kate and I, on the other hand, are white-passing. Though we both now have dark hair, as children our ringlets were more blonde than brunette. Meanwhile, Nathan’s eyes aren’t the usually dominant brown; they are green, like our dad’s.

As such, it wasn’t a surprise when Esme – with her white British mum – was born white-passing too. Nobody even thought to comment on it.

Grace with her mother and niece Esme

White nana and brown nana

Three years later, a talking, toddling Esme sat at her grandparents’ table, looking at a book of Disney Princesses. Tiana, she announced in that unabashed way children have, was her least favourite. Mum noticed that of the line-up, Tiana was the only non-white princess. A few days later, a black doll that Mum had bought for Esme was returned to her; it was giving Esme nightmares.

As she rejected the doll, and the princess, she was unknowingly rejecting her beloved ‘brown nana’ too

The exclamation of, ‘Look, a chocolate baby!’ in a coffee shop the year before had alerted us to the fact that she’d become aware of skin colour. Thankfully, she’s adopted more PC terms since then; she referred to her ‘white nana’ (her mum’s mum), and her ‘brown nana’ in conversation occasionally. But as she rejected the doll, and the princess, she was unknowingly rejecting her beloved ‘brown nana’ too.

‘I realised I had to make some conscious changes,’ Mum tells me, when I call her to discuss the topic. ‘She was living in a 99% white village and had no non-white friends. I was one of a small handful of black people in her life.’

Moving around dismay and straight into action, Mum bought a new Disney Princesses colouring book and then headed into the loft to dig out something she hadn’t used in decades.

“She was living in a 99% white village and had no non-white friends. I was one of a small handful of black people in her life.”

When I was a small, white-passing girl myself, Mum had found and brought home a box of ‘People Colour’ crayons. It was no mean feat back then; Crayola launched a ‘Multicultural’ pack in 1992 but it offered just eight colours. It wasn’t until earlier this year that it launched a 24-crayon pack that ‘represents 40 global skin tones’.

Mum had kept them all, aware of their value and the years of use I’d gotten out of them. Presenting the book and crayons to Esme one afternoon, Esme still gravitated towards the light shades. Mum, however, sat by her side, using the brown and black crayons.

‘Look how beautiful she is, Essie,’ Mum would say, as they coloured together.

Where are the non-white role models?

On their subsequent afternoons and weekends together, Mum made a concerted effort to comment on the beauty, intelligence or humour of non-white characters that appeared in Esme’s orbit. When they danced in the kitchen, she was sure to show her the black musicians that made Esme stamp her feet and spin around in circles with glee.

“To not act would have been disrespectful to our ancestors, to our heritage. Doing anything less would have made me feel invisible.”

She sought out children’s TV shows with black leads, and that Christmas, Mum found a black angel for the tree. My dad lifted Esme up on his shoulder to place the angel right at the top, high, high above everyone – and everything – else.

There is no story of seamless, instant success here. The lessons, guidance and patience continued for years; sometimes they seemed to register, other times not. Mum persisted, supported by the rest of the family.

‘To not act, to not have taught Esme these lessons would have been disrespectful to our ancestors, to our heritage. External appearance, or beauty, was never the most important thing. But it was tangible to a small child who can only comprehend the outward and not yet the inward,’ Mum says. ‘Doing anything less would have made me feel invisible. As if I have no bearing on my family. As if I had never belonged here.’

Celebrating her Black heritage

Last year, when Esme was 7, the Eulogy Exhibition came along. It celebrated the lives of the Windrush-era Jamaicans that had settled in Leeds and made significant contributions towards their new city. One of these was Erroll James MBE, my mum’s dad – and Esme’s great-grandad.

A litany of events followed. Esme was invited to a photo shoot for a local newspaper, and a BBC Radio interview. She came to the exhibition’s opening at Leeds Central Library, wearing her best dress. She stood with me, my mum and my mum’s sister Lynne looking into the glass cabinet where my grandad’s portrait, RAF handbook, MBE and other medals were on display. And she listened as people approached us to say hello, to share memories of him, and to praise him. The next day, she took one of his medals into her school for Show and Tell.

‘The Eulogy Exhibition let Esme see her place in the world,’ Mum tells me. ‘She learnt that despite her skin tone, or the village she’s growing up in, it’s not just a white place. It’s a black place too.’

When I call my mum to ask her about these memories, she tells me that a now 8-year-old Esme’s go-to bedtime book for sleepovers at their house is one I gave her for Christmas. Goodnight Stories for Rebel Girls collates female heroes of all races and cultures, and Esme reads the stories of the black girls just as much as the white girls. Mum reports that the story of the supermodel Alek Wek is her favourite, and that after reading the story about a black musician, Esme sought out and played her music of her own accord.

Understanding the family tree

‘When she gets older, I want to show her the family tree and that she has that proud Black blood in her veins,’ Mum says, ‘I also want to teach her about slavery, so she can understand what the white side of her once did to the black side of her. But those conversations are years away. I’d like her to reach her teens first; she needs a level of comprehension, and I want her to be able to discuss and debate what comes up.’

Esme is no longer my mum’s only grandchild. A fair little sister, Angelica, came along. Mum also now has two grandsons from my sister. Their father is black, and the boys, Lucas and Elliott, have my mum’s skin tone. The Black heritage and link in that little family is very much present. And, thanks to Mum’s tireless work, it is now alive and well in Esme and her sister too.

As we finish our phone call, Mum remembers one more thing. Esme has a new colouring app on the family iPad. The girls have black skin, wide lips, big noses and afro hair. She shows them to Mum once they’re finished, echoing what Mum used to say about her crayoned Princesses years ago.

‘Look Nana,’ Esme will say, ‘look how beautiful she is.’

Grace Holliday

The post How my black mother taught her white-passing granddaughter about race, heritage, and Black history appeared first on Silver Magazine.

My first ever job, when I was about 15, was at a Happy Eater in Hooley; long gone now, morphed into a Starbucks or something. And close to the restaurant, nestled at the top of long driveways, hidden out of sight, was not one but two mental health institutions – in those days, called asylums. We were fascinated by them.

Both the hospitals – Netherne Hospital and Cane Hill Hospital – were a source of legend and Lynchian allure to us locals. I can remember a night when drunk teenage me – together with more drunk teenage cohorts – decided we should sneak a look through the windows at Cane Hill; an imposing Victorian asylum steeped in legend, where screaming electric shock treatments and padded cells were alleged to be de rigeur.

The madhouse

Venturing up the hill we were whispering and giggling, hoping but also afraid that we might see crazies through the barred windows; screaming or gagged, tethered to their beds with thick leather restraints or thrashing about in straightjackets. We knew there were patients who had been incarcerated for years, lost in time, like the Queen’s mad cousins in a nearby Earlswood sanitorium, and we wanted to see them.

We imagined tortured souls in shackles and long nightgowns, undergoing hideous sadistic treatments as they were forced to clamp down on rubber wedges, lest they bite off their own tongues. We’d seen One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, right?

We were disappointed, but we were chased away by a security guard, which added to our own mythology. What were they hiding?

Care in the community

The truth is, not a lot. By the late 1980s (this was about 1986) the number of patients had greatly declined at Cane Hill – and in all asylums – due to the recommendations of the Mental Health Act (1983) and its emphasis on care in the community.

Cane Hill Hospital

Cane Hill (above) is now a Barratt Homes development, and Netherne Hospital is a development that includes 440 houses, a nursing home, a business centre, a shop, and a public house. The inmates – sorry, patients – long released into the bosom of non-institutional love are long gone, their restraints replaced by medication and home visits. But the lingering legends of old endure.

The building of Cane Hill was commissioned by a governing body called The Lunacy Commission, established by the Madhouses Act 1882. It all sounds a bit Monty Python, doesn’t it, and seems extraordinary to us modern folk that we should apply such terms to the mentally ill these days. How far we’ve come since then.

But how far exactly have we come in 30-odd years?

In the eighties, mental health still carried with it a huge stigma. People whispered about others having ‘nervous breakdowns’ and losing one’s mind; of ‘hearing voices’. The only time it was acceptable to be mad was if it was drug-induced, a la Withnail, or Syd Barrett.

Pretending that mental health isn’t a serious issue just isn’t acceptable anymore

These days it feels like unless you have some kind of mental health issue, or perhaps you’re not neurodiverse, or suffering PTSD, or have long-carried trauma… well, you’re the exception, not the rule.

It’s arguably more productive and healthy to explore this. Pretending that mental health isn’t a serious issue just isn’t acceptable anymore and I for one am pleased we are more open about treating this.

But more importantly, although we are indeed more open about discussing our mental health issues, we’ve still got a long way to go when it comes to knowing how to cope, or deal with them. It’s a bit like finding you’re actually not mad but autistic. So that’s great, but what now?

Suicide is still a real thing

Suicide rates have fallen since Covid kicked in – in fact, suicide rates have fallen pretty much consistently since 1981. But regardless, the percentage of deaths by suicide by men sits at around the 75% mark, and historically always has.

Office for National Statistics – Suicides in England and Wales: 2020 registrations

Julie Burchill photo: Sam H-L

Julie Burchill lost her son to suicide. I say ‘lost him to suicide’ but he was lost, long before that. Years of mental struggle finally culminated in what can – for him – only be seen as the relief of death. He’d been ill for years, stuck in a tortured cycle of medication and treatment, recovery and remission, until one day he finally got his wish, and died. It wasn’t entirely unexpected. So how do you cope with a son’s suicide?

“I was in Crete, having a lovely time with my husband,” remembers Julie. “We went back to the room after lunch and I opened my emails – there was one from a wonderful broad called Tessa Mayes who’d been helping Jack for the past year (to my shame, I hadn’t seen him since last summer) saying JACK URGENT CALL ME. I said immediately to my husband, ‘Jack’s dead.’

“I had been expecting it for years.”

The cost to carers

Anyone who has spent time caring for someone with mental illness will recognise how complex it is. There are no easy answers; for some, the path becomes easier, maybe they get fixed. For others, it doesn’t happen. Whatever the deal, it ultimately places huge pressure on those who are close.

In the old days, you got labelled a schizophrenic, an addict, a manic depressive, traumatised… These days the lines are often more blurred, and we’re learning all the time about the complexities. We try not to pigeonhole. But what makes one person recover, and another remain ill in perpetuity isn’t easily definable. One can be in a good place, a happy place, and still be steeped in torture.

“Some people can be fixed, some cannot. Jack first attempted suicide when it was the best his adult life had ever been, but he still wanted to die.”

Julie’s son Jack is a prime example. “Some people can be fixed, some cannot. Jack first attempted suicide when he was living with a lovely girl – a nurse! – whom he adored. And earning a living teaching guitar. It was the best his adult life had ever been, but he still wanted to die.”

I wondered whether he’d always been ill, or what first flagged it up. “He was cutting himself, had bulimia, was isolated… endless dope-smoking, you name it. He flunked out of university twice and BIMM once, two weeks before graduation. From the age of 19 till he died at 29, he was completely self-destructive.”

As with many cases, it isn’t so much that Jack wanted to die – he just didn’t enjoy living. There is poetry in death, for sure, as Plath and many others will attest to. But it’s the living bit that we need to deal with, and deal with better.

Sometimes you have to let people go

Helping people who are ill, whether they’re depressed or riddled with cancer, wreaks its own damage on the carer; something Julie is keen to hammer home. “Help all you can, but put on your own oxygen mask first, as they say on the plane. Do not let the illness of your loved one destroy you.”

In the meeting preamble of Al-Anon – the fellowship for the friends and family of alcoholics and addicts – one of the phrases used addresses this, suggesting that the key is finding “…solutions that lead to serenity. So much depends on our own attitudes, and as we learn to place our problem in its true perspective, we find it loses its power to dominate our thoughts and our lives.”

Helping people who are ill, whether they’re depressed or riddled with cancer, wreaks its own damage on the carer

So if placing the desire to die in its true perspective is allowing them to fulfil that wish, then letting them get on with it is something Julie advocates. “If they have asked, and proved, time and time again, that they want to go, LET THEM GO. If you love them, let them go – no matter what pain you will have to suffer when they do.”

It’s an extraordinary level of acceptance, to embrace such a position. Not everyone wants to die, but hey, maybe we could all just be a bit less judgemental? A bit more understanding? What’s really key here is the overwhelming evidence that carers need support just as much as those who are ill. It’s not an easy ride.

How sleep can improve your mental health

Finding ways to cope with grief

So how do you actually even start learning to cope with your son’s suicide? Julie is working through her own pain by volunteering at a MIND shop – where she’s been volunteering for six years, since Jack died.

MIND is a national charity that provides “…advice and support to empower anyone experiencing a mental health problem. We campaign to improve services, raise awareness and promote understanding.”

What does Julie do there? “I like to do hands-on, menial things, as I think and write so much. I got to love steaming clothes when I was at the Martlets (another local charity), so that’s what do at MIND.” And how can you help? As Julie says, if you want to help, “TALK, TALK, TALK about it! GIVE MONEY! VOLUNTEER!”

Helping other people is good for the soul. Faith has also helped Julie to deal with the loss of her boy; “Faith in the Lord, and a wonderful husband,” she says. She believes that he’s at peace now.

“He was a good boy, a very good boy, till the sickness devoured him. I believe he is himself again, in Heaven.”

HELP AND SUPPORT

MIND is a national mental health charity – great for supporting you can find them at: www.mindcharity.co.uk

Suicide in men… male suicides account for 78% of all suicides and are the single biggest cause of death in men aged 20 – 45 in the UK. For help and advice, please contact  www.thecalmzone.net

Always there for you, any hour of the day or night – Samaritans www.samaritans.org

Sam Harrington-Lowe

Sam is Silver’s founder and editor-in-chief. She’s largely responsible for organising all the things, but still finds time to do the odd bit of writing. Not enough though. Send help.

The post How do you cope with your son’s suicide? appeared first on Silver Magazine.

Where it all started

Lipstick was thought to be first invented by ancient Sumerian men and women around 5,000 years ago. Makeup was made by crushing gemstones to decorate the face, particularly around the eyes and the lips. Which sounds great to us; eye shadow and lippy in one.

A less flashy way of making it (if you couldn’t get your hands on gemstones) was to procure the stain from naturally occurring substances such as fruits, henna, clay rust and insects.

Egyptians

It would be fair to say that the Egyptians were the first real lipstick lovers. They loved it so much that some of the substances they used, such as lead and iodine, led to diseases and sometimes even death. Apparently women really do have to suffer to be beautiful.

Their favourite colours were striking shades of red, purple and black. Some of the substances they used are still used today, like carmine dye. They also used squashed insects… lovely. It demonstrated social status rather than gender.

Ancient Japan and China

Women in ancient Japan wore thick makeup that involved lipstick, usually derived from tar and beeswax. The Chinese also used beeswax to protect the delicate skin on their lips, and added colour and scented oils to make their mouth enticing.

Greek Empire

This was when lipstick first became associated with prostitution. Prostitutes were obligated under law to wear dark lipstick.

British Middle Ages

Christianity and puritanical beliefs were dominant in Britain in the middle Ages; the church condemned use of any makeup or lipstick heavily. It was thought that woman who wore red lipstick was a devil worshiper or an incarnation of Satan, it would also leave you suspected of witchcraft and sorcery.

Again, it was also associated with prostitution, so other women had to make do with balms that were subtly coloured, or biting and rubbing their lips to make them redder.

Queen Elizabeth I

Queen Elizabeth I, who reigned in the 16th Century, is often remembered visually with pale white skin and red lips. She re-popularised lipstick, but the availability was limited to the nobility and thespians. She usually made her own crimson colour with a combination of cochineal, gum Arabic, egg whites, and fig milk.

Elizabeth or one of her close associates also appears to have invented the lip pencil, which was made by mixing ground alabaster or plaster of Paris with a colouring ingredient, rolling the resultant paste into a crayon shape, and drying it in the sun.

Victorian Age

Queen Victoria publicly declared makeup “impolite,” and makeup became socially unacceptable for all but prostitutes and actresses. Lipstick, in particular, remained the least respectable of cosmetics throughout the century.

1920s

Lipstick was common and popularized amongst nearly all women at this point. In 1923, James Bruce Mason Jr. made the swivel up tube and gave us modern lipstick as we know it today. The most popular colours were plums, aubergines, cherries and dark reds.

This time coincided with the first wave of feminism, women were demanding the right to vote and lipstick was actually a symbol of feminism. Companies like Chanel, Guerlain, Elizabeth Arden, and Estée Lauder also started selling lipsticks.

1930s

The love of lipstick was not deterred by the great depression. Women continued to wear lipstick as it was one of their few affordable luxuries. Elegant and matte finishes were popular and Max Factor started selling affordable lip gloss.

40s & 50s

During the war metal tubes were replaced with plastic and paper, though quality may have gone down usage didn’t. Women were encouraged to wear bright red lips to boost morale.

The 50s in when glam icons such as Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly were setting the trends for lipsticks. For Queen Elizabeth II 1952 coronation she had her own shade invented to match her coronation robe, it was made by her favourite brand Clarins.

60s, 70s & 80s

Lipstick was popular with women and teenagers all throughout these decades. ‘Lipsmackers’ were invented, which were a flavoured lipstick, and this was obviously immediately popular with younger girls.

Fashion houses started to launch lippys in the 70s, with Yves Saint Laurent leading the field. Coral, orange and shimmery shades all came into the limelight and hot pink lips were particularly popular in the 80s.

1884 – First Commercial Lipstick

The French perfume company Guerlain became the first company to commercially produce lipstick. It was made from deer tallow, beeswax and castor oil which was then wrapped in a silk paper.

1990s

Makeup was becoming more understated, with models such as Kate Moss sporting more of a ‘bare’ look. There was also more demand for cruelty free and environmentally friendly products.

Think of the 90s and you probably think of dark lip liner with a light lipstick, or much lighter gloss. MAC and Urban Decay arrived.

2000s – Present

Lipstick now comes in any shape, size, colour, shade or formula, with the early 2010s really breaking new bounds with colours like black hitting the runways. Not just for goths any more.

Whether you want a liquid lipstick, butter gloss or matte finish there is literally something for everyone. Prices vary from £1-£100 and everything in between.

Next time you’re reaching for your MAC lipstick or your Bobbi, just remember to be grateful that it isn’t squashed bugs.

Lilly Subbotin

The post A brief history of lipstick – smooches through the ages appeared first on Silver Magazine.