John rose early that day and dressed in his best. He left his mother in a pother and his father in a stomp. But he was of age and didn’t need their permission, and Old Betts over at Fishley Farm had let him a cottage, though tied to the job.
Ahead lay a walk of six or more miles, a walk he’d grown used to since he first flirted with Sarah at the cattle market held at Acle. His family sniffed at her, bastard-born woman of a bastard-born mother. But he’d not have his first child bastard-born too. The banns had been called three times at St Edmund’s and at St Mary’s, South Walsham. Now no one would stop him.
Based on a true story… in as much as in 1817 at St Edmund’s, Acle, one John Self Brown of South Walsham married one Sarah Mutton, daughter of Sarah Mutton of Acle. And these two begat… and more begat… and way down the line, my grandparents begat, and my father was born, in 1920… 99 years ago. It’s his birthday this coming Monday. Happy Birthday, Pops.
Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #35