Escape to Seynorgue

By Alan Brown

The untold, dark but hilarious, history of Guernsey and the West Country, follows the lives of happy Houmits (residents of the piece of land broken away from mainland Dorset, to float until it settles and becomes the island of Guernsey).

Rich beyond their wildest dreams on the spoils of a deceased slave trader, Etheltar, their only fear is their discovery by someone or something unknown.

The unhappy and cruel existence of those left on the mainland, trying to appease the appetites of a greedy king.

The Schmoes, Britain’s first rock group, now in part retirement, hounded by evil puritan priests and their cranky followers.

The revolting Mrs Scraggett, for whom nothing is ever quite enough until her aspirations and sexual desires are fulfilled by the perverted coast master, Major Roger Sole.

Retired highwayman Ethelbert and his family make a run for it as the Mayor of Exeter closes in.

Baroness Ethelethel of Dorset, is given a life of misery by her drunken husband, Big Mac, until she takes matters into her own hands.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Oct 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781398405004

Alan Brown

Alan Brown is a seasoned children’s illustrator with over twenty years’ experience. He has a keen interest in the comic book world; he loves illustrating bold graphic pieces and strips. He works from his studio in the north of England with his trusty sidekick, Otto the chocolate cockapoo, and his two sons, Wilf and Ted.

Book preview

About the Author

Alan Brown was born and educated in Tunbridge Wells, Kent. At the age of two he and his mother escaped when a German flying bomb crashed into their road exploding, flattening all but three properties.

He has worked for local newspapers in Kent, then moved up to management, covering the country, and setting up promotions for two London companies.

He and his wife Barbara have run three successful businesses of their own, and also managed pubs for Whitbread.

He was then retired for several years, moving from the village in North Devon, where he completed his first book, The Houmits of Seynorgue, to a smaller residence in a delightful village a few miles down the road.

Escape to Seynorgue came after many requests, eight years after book one.

Dedication

For my lovely wife Barbara, without her support, encouragement and typing skills, this book would never have been written. She has put up with my crap for over 50 years now, and would dearly like to live by a beach where she could walk her dogs.

For my son, Carl, back after many years in Sweden. His help with the computer and printing of copy, has been invaluable.

For Janine’s mum, the Houmits’ biggest fan.

Copyright Information ©

Alan Brown 2022

The right of Alan Brown to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the Alan Brown in accordance with sesections7 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398404991 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398405004 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2022

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Acknowledgements

Thanks to my cast-in no particular order. Family

Mrs Veronique Louis the Schmoe Becky the bouful Frankie

Duke Luke

Megs

Bramley

Swedish Family Nobby

Mikki

Kylo

Michael

My one and only Barbara Veronica Son Carl Scott

Daughter Rebecca Amy Francis Hugh

Grandson Luke Benjamin

Granddaughter Megan Francesca Brother-in-law Mervyn

Grandson Christopher Oliver Granddaughter Michaela Hannah

Great grandson Kylo Grandson in law to be

Friends Maggi

Elsie

Tom Cat Friends RIP Grumblegut Darcy Evans

Peter

Chowny

Richard Rose

In loving memory, miss you all. These do exist but don’t ask! Big Mac

Major Roger Sole

Mrs Scraggett

Mr Scraggett

Mayor of Exeter

These do not exist (created) Ethelgay*

Ethelethel

Ethelbert*

Ethellegs

Bessie

Derek

Sid

Rodney*

Artist and wonderful cook Dogs godmother

Ray pilot and drummer

Accountant loved snuff

Sales manager, we laughed a lot

Rally driver, yachtsman extraordinaire Builder, Plumber, Joiner and Electrician

The great bear Adopted staff

Clever Landlord

Crufty*

all those marked with * have a bit of me, some good, some bad, some bright and some dim.

Chapter One

Final Tax Demand

The clattering of many hooves in the cobbled yard at the Grand Manor just before dawn, failed to wake Big Mac, who had either fallen asleep or passed out at dinner the night before. His head now rested in the large platter which still possessed the remains of beef, carrots, potatoes and congealed gravy. Two empty whisky bottles lay on the floor by his feet.

Bang, bang, bang, a metal fist or the pummel of a sword struck the heavy oak door which opened directly on to the grand hall where Mac was now slumped.

The death watch beetles (xestobium rufovillosom) stopped their clicking and tapping. Several had perished when the beam they infested collapsed a few years earlier. Those that survived moved in with other beetles in the timber framed Manor and related their frightening experiences while some had moved back into the new timber which once again supported the main bedroom.

Bang, bang, bang again, louder this time, Mac raised his head a little and muttered (fuck off). He then flopped back into last night’s dinner.

Ethelethel almost fell down the flight of stairs leading from the bedrooms, still in her nighty but with a blanket wrapped around her, she was followed by two frightened female burgher servants.

Didn’t you hear that, dear, there is someone at the door? she shouted at the prostrate Big Mac.

Fuck off, Big Mac mouthed without stirring.

Oh my, she screeched as she started to swing back the heavy door and be confronted with about twenty soldiers.

The one on the doorstep helped it on its way with a hefty kick.

Right behind you, Sarge, a second soldier appeared on the doorstep.

There’s some people here to see us, dear, Ethelethel turned to Mac.

Is he the head of the Manor? shouted the first soldier.

No need to shout, dear, he’s my husband and I am the Baroness of Dorsetshire which I became after my daddy and brother died. Ethelethel never paused for breath.

What? Who has to pay the king’s taxes for Dorset?

We do, dear, and no need to shout.

Well you ain’t paid nuffin and the king is pissed off, I’m here to collect, yelled the sergeant.

Big Mac stirred.

What the piggin hell’s goin’ on?

Tell sleeping beauty if the king don’t get what’s owing in six months, you and him, will be going to debtor’s prison or hanged or both.

All the other soldiers now scattered about the great hall nicking anything that took their fancy cheering and laughing. Big Mac started up and took a swing at the nearest to him, missed, and sat down again.

Listen to me, moosh, the sergeant stared at Mac, if the king doesn’t get his rights you will be out of here and looking at the gallows, out of it men, we will be back in six months for sure, piss head, and you will get all that’s coming.

Two of the troopers each had one of the female burghers twittering and pinned against the wall.

Put those tarts down, we are leaving, yelled the sergeant.

The troop grabbed a few last things, the two entangled with the females disentangled themselves and they all made for the door.

Fair warning, the sergeant looked over his shoulder glaring at Mac.

We will be back at the end of August for sure.

Mac tried to focus and glare back but he didn’t succeed.

When Ethelethel inherited the grand Manor and the title of baroness two years earlier, she also inherited the responsibilities i.e., Dorset. She had married Big Mac realising she needed help in big helpings – a big mistake! Big Mac had hit the bottle big time and become more of a hindrance than a help.

Taxes had to be collected from all the lesser Manor houses, who were in turn, responsible for taxing the land and peasants under their direct control.

Any vessel docking on the Dorset coast had to pay a due to the coast master either directly or indirectly through his agents, the harbour masters, stationed at each town and harbour.

Somewhere in a dusty cupboard at the Grand Manor, all was set down in an agreement with the king when the Manor and Dorsetshire were bequested to Ethelfoot for his services to the Crown.

Since Ethelethel and Big Mac had taken over, half-hearted attempts had been made to collect from the various Lords and ports, but as said only half-heartedly, Ethelethel and Big Mac were certainly not gifted with business brains.

Several missives had arrived during that time from the Crown demanding payment owing, but all had been filed in the dusty cupboard or the fire, as neither Ethelethel or Big Mac could read or understand them.

All quiet now the beetles resumed their munching and clicking calls to their mates.

Chapter Two

Recap

Ethelfoot had returned from the crusades instructed by the king to spread Christianity amongst foreign lands and to also bring back as much wealth as possible.

He and his second in command, Major Sole, had taken a small army and proceeded to murder, pillage and rape their way over two years.

He presented half of the loot to the king, who in turn bestowed the county of Dorset to him and gave him the title of Baron Ethelfoot.

He had already sired a large family before his travels, and now continued wherever and whenever he fancied, with whoever and hence none of the family had the same mummy.

Mayday celebrations were