Henry of Cambridge, the son of Henry Just Outside Cambridge, the son of Henry Nearing Cambridge, the son of Henry I’ve Decided To Depart For Cambridge On The Next Auspicious Day – married Elizabeth of Somewhere who’s mother Elizabeth had told her she should name her first-born daughter Elizabeth.

I think you’ll know the subject of this entry by now. Frustration, historical frustration. Whenever I’m reading historical non-fiction I’ll be damned if I ever find myself able to keep up with all the references. Part of the problem lies in the author’s reverting to first names once the historical figure has been introduced but most of it is the fault of the people obsessed with passing names down generation after generation in a bid to keep their noble bloodline in the public eye. Add to that the multiple knighthoods and Earldoms a monarch would generously dish out to their favourites year after year, and you’re in for one big confusing period.

It makes you think twice about having children and using their birth certificate to honour your grandmother.

I have had these three books since the edition was released 10 years ago. The pages are yellowing, the print is tiny, the margins are none existent, and the bunch lurks in a cupboard beckoning me to come hither. “But they are so long and the language is so difficult!” I exclaim. So they were due to be left for another 10 years. I guess if nothing else by then the print might have faded and so the story will be shorter.

But then my boyfriend told me on no account was I to get away with it this time: come winter and our holiday we would be watching the films. I have never watched the films because I wanted to read the books first, and I’ve not yet read the books because – well, I just told you.

I’ve a couple of months to read them; my boyfriend has given me a deadline on books.

In theory this in no problem, I relish the challenge and considering the weather will mean any days out are pushed firmly back to spring 2011 I should have more time. But time is temperamental at the moment. With my degree starting in a couple of weeks and lots of background reading to do I’m not sure I’ll get to it.

Of course my boyfriend hasn’t read the books and wouldn’t take up my challenge in reply, but I’m thinking I should get him reading something for the stress he is causing me!

Any words of encouragement?

What’s the most used building-related item in books?

Wrought iron gates.

Most recently the user is Molly Roe for Call Me Kate. Another Kate, Lauren Kate, went even further for Fallen describing hers as “overly wrought iron gates”. Perhaps she was trying to make up for all the content she stole from Twilight.

But yes, wrought iron gates are de rigour in books, they are everywhere. They are so popular I wouldn’t be surprised if characters start coming across them in groups or spotting whole museums dedicated to them.

Chairs, tables, lighting – these are always used, but they are particularly regular items. Wrought iron gates aren’t just iron gates, they are wrought. And all too noticeable.

If you ever think you’re dreaming as Mr Darcy swans over to you, probably looking like Colin Firth and thus with an expression of deja vu on his face, don’t pinch yourself – look for the gates.

What’s the most irritating thing about books?

Stickers.

3 for 2 offers, television book clubs, stickers upon stickers upon stickers upon…

I don’t believe any managers at shops or factions have ever given much thought to readers or lovers of books. Even if you get the stickers off you’re often left with the residue which over time beckons and keeps fluff and dust leaving the cover no longer smooth nor shiny – and don’t get me started on stickers that rip shiny coats off books.

The bringing home of a book by me is often accompanied by the word “Dad”. “Dad, I can’t get this sticker off, can you try?” My boyfriend is brilliant at taking stickers off, I’m starting to wonder if it should be a fixture should he ever have a business card. After the listing of his job would come “Book Sticker Stripper”. A very worthy talent, I feel. The title would likely lift a few eyebrows but at least that would get people talking (and perhaps flinging some cash notes his way along with multi-stickered books).

I understand that publishers see the lucrative advertisement value of covers – stickers stand out on a book and if the cover doesn’t instantly catch you perhaps the glued addition of an award or a feature on the radio will; but there are better ways to do it, say perhaps the cardboard sleeves that booksellers have started winding round books in order for their staff to profess their love, or even a decorative montage bordering the place where the book sits. They can even have confetti spilling over the book from a timed electronic device on the underside of the shelf above if they so desire.

Just stop ruining my gorgeous books.

It took me until this year to read Jane Austen’s work and so, naturally, I had not been all that interested previously in seeing the house in which she’d wrote most of her novels.

Recently, having passed the half-way mark of reading (I’ve read Pride And Prejudice, Persuasion, and Sense And Sensibility) it suddenly became incredibly important that I visit Chawton as soon as possible. I decided that I should see Austen’s grave in Winchester, and find out about journeying to Chawton from there, but it turns out that like many places in the UK the bus service isn’t too great and unless you drive there yourself you’re possibly going to get stranded if you stay too long. So I went to Winchester on one day, and enlisted the assistance of a car on another for Chawton.

The day was beautiful, one of the most perfect days we’ve had here this year; few clouds, plenty of sun, and hot but not too hot. Maybe it was the weather but the village of Chawton is spectacular. Perhaps I went on a less-busy day but the village seems untouched by the mass of tourists that must visit from all over the world. The village is very small with few amenities, and the houses are amazingly cute – it may not represent the bigger picture of life in the country, but in all other aspects it’s English perfection.

Austen’s house resides at the entrance to the village, it’s the first house you pass as you come in. It’s also a lot bigger than many of the other houses and certainly although not the nicest looking it’s one of the more eye-catching. If it were modern you’d say it had been built to be that way. You enter first through the side gate in front of the bread house. The original front door of the house was bricked up years ago and so after a quick saunter through the gardens you enter through a door straight into the drawing room.

Something worth remembering – you’re allowed to take photographs inside. I took mine without the flash which I seem to remember was the only rule. I could have taken a myriad of pictures of all the rooms but something held me back, a mixture of looking like a tourist and that weird respect I talked about in the last entry. I felt that to take a few photographs of specific items was to honour Austen but that to capture the entire flavour of the place would be like walking on her grave.

The house may look rather large but the rooms are humble, even the hallways are only wide enough for one person to move through comfortably at a time – single file is required around the top floor and the only reason the ground floor is easier is because it’s mostly rooms and the one large vestibule. This brings into perspective just how lowly the family was; they may have had more money than some but it would never have brought them to the attention of say, a Mr Darcy.

I was surprised to find that there was little of Austen’s writing to be found here but there was her hand-written music notation and one of Cassandra’s art works (which was beautifully painted). I was also surprised that so little furniture in the house had actually belonged to the family, besides from the table at which Austen had written a lot of her books. The notification said that the table had had to be brought back to the house and my mother said (I took my mother along for the visit – she’s not yet read Austen but enjoyed it all the same) that she couldn’t understand why a family would give away such an important possession. But as I told her, at that time it wouldn’t have seemed so important, as it never does when people clear away castles for newer buildings – somehow we never realise just how important things might be to future generations.

The kitchen is accessed via a door that is next to the one that leads into the drawing room, in other words you have to go outside again to reach the kitchen. How many servants the Austens would’ve had I can’t say, but I doubt it was more than two because there just wasn’t room unless the servants had lived elsewhere.

The garden is small but pretty and kept neat and tidy, there was possibly another garden too as there’s a gate leading to another space but it was closed and looking through it you can see something’s being constructed.

Apart from the house there is the church (where Cassandra and Mrs. Austen are buried), and a large library that was once the manor house of the village’s owner. I did not have time to go inside but the exterior is very grand and the land covers many acres.

I had a brilliant time in Chawton and would recommend it to anyone who is a fan of Austen, manor houses, or the countryside. For me it was a taste of England I’d never experienced.