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This was my life for a year and a half. 

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One of my favorite pieces from my Mom's collection...recycled from Cambodian land mines. I've never seen it on a neck. 

http://www.ecouterre.com/saught-upcycles-cambodian-landmines-into-hauntingly-beautiful-jewelry/

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Happy Underpants Day!

So today marks the two-year anniversary of my thesis publication. The same thesis that got me an interview with Golden Age in the first place. I don't think my family was ever so proud, which is saying something. 

As you may have guessed from the ridiculous name, my family is old and quite imposing. My parents, like their parents, are self-appointed "eccentrics" who filled their pre-war Manhattan townhouse Victorian "trick" photography and shadowboxes filled with bizarre bazar-purchased jewelry. I didn't see them much, but I usually kept up with my mother's published stories (and later, their podcast). They named my sisters and me after my maternal great-grandmother Cornelia Garland-Barclay, finding it in no way a problem that "Cornelia" would be the most normal-named of their girls.

Everyone in my family is better at something than anyone else alive. For Cords, it's making money. Fortunately (or annoyingly) she runs a charity that builds schools in impoverished Africa. For Garland, it's food, even if she's taking some time off currently to test high-end, imaginative kid's food on my nephew. For my nephew, it's art (he's four, but his latest series in Pink and Blue made me cry like I was three). For my cousin George, it's biochemical engineering. And so on and so forth.

Mine was history. Ever since I could remember, I've thought in timelines. French Monarchy, Irish Revolution, Chinese Dynasties. It all stays in, swirling around each and through each other like ribbons. In 1435, we have the Union of Krewo, the abdication of the Hongwu Emperor, and Jan Van Eyk is born.

In the interview, they called it "mapping." Apparently, it's very rare.

I had no idea what I would do with my life. My vague plans included writing more papers, collecting degrees, and eventually marrying some dean of students. Maybe teaching if I got desperate for a challenge. In this vague, indecisive spirit, I spent a year and a half of my life writing a thesis paper on the evolution of undergarments and their effect on cultural sexuality in Western Europe from 1350 to 1830. 

It was impeccably researched. 

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Dream Villa Rentals | Villa Rayol, Le Rayol, France

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Spreeeee

Basically, I've become a "follower." I apologize if this is in any way creepy. I know not what I am doing. 

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Minus the cars, and the mechanically-mowed lawn, and with different foliage, and okay, this isn't really Bythesea Manor. Intentionally, no photos of Bythesea exist. But it looks kind of like this.

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Fun fact: I live and work miserably in 1808, and I still want to marry Mr. Darcy. 

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Imagine this, with scenes not worth illustrating, That's my life.

Illustrations by C.E.. Brock for an 1895 edition of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.

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Let's see here...(Oh, what boredom brings)

Still trying to figure out this tumblr thing, obviously. I suppose I should introduce myself?

My name is Barkley. Or Barkie, Sometimes BB or Barks. Really, whatever you think sounds less dumb than Barkley (So, you know, anything).

I'm very bored, and miraculously blessed with an internet connection here at Bythesea Manor (pronounced, stupidly, "Bithersee"). My cohort, Samantha, suggested I start a blog or journal or "other means of shutting the hell up, Charles" (I'll explain in a moment...) and my boss, whose name I cannot say (that, too), said I shouldn't do anything of the kind.

So, obviously...

I work for Golden Age Travel. I know, I know. Posh, right?

Well, if you've heard of it, you're impressed. If not, well, it's a long story.

Actually, not really (ugh, I'm so bad at this...). Golden Age is a travel agency for the extremely wealthy that takes them back in time.

Over in 2013, we're based in an old B&B in Savannah, GA, with a fountain that transports staff and customers to one of five secluded resorts:

1) Chateau Caccabaria in 1228 Provence. I've never been, but this is the dream gig, they say. Here, the guests are kind, the staff is happy, and the scenery will make you believe in God. Basically, it may or may not actually exist.

2) Pennemaker's Hotel, 1928 Long Island. The most modern resort. The guests who choose this place are usually younger and more adventurous than the average time-tourist (I've heard they take day-trips into the city- here, interacting with locals is big time FORBIDDEN). As a result, they only let double PhDs and those with 5+ linear years experience work there. Shame. It sounds like fun.

3) Sommerhale Plantation 1848 South Carolina. My friend Beth-Ellen works here. It should be mentioned that they don't actually have slaves. Though, Bee says some guests seem to want it. 

4) Caesar's Palace,108 AD Rome. Just kidding. Well, about the name. I don't actually know if it has a name, but they don't let anyone go. Guests have to have time-travelled a few times before, and the staff gets safety-prepped like crazy. As far as I know (what Beth-Ellen and Samantha tell me), there's little interaction with the locals, but when you go that far back, catastrophes are bound to happen pretty much every second. No thank you. 

5) Here. Bythesea Manor, 1808 Brighton. It's pretty much the most low-key location, and most of our guests are really, really old. Or travelling with kids. The staff here are so bored, we have to post blogs on tumblr. You'd never actually know we're back in time, and not in a retirement community in Boca Raton, if Lyddie didn't show up every now and then. 

I guess I'll talk about her later, though. And maybe the thesis paper and subsequent interview that got me into this mess, but I'm too tired now.

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The past is a different country. They do things differently there.

L.P. Hartley