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#susan baker
gogandmagog · 9 months
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JEM: “Do you mean to say, mums, that you and dad were on bad terms when you went to school?”  DOCTOR BLTYHE: “Your mother thought she had a grudge against me, but I always wanted to be friends. However, that is all ancient history now. When did death come and look at you?”  ANNE: “Not my death. It was the shadow of your death I was thinking of... when everybody thought you were dying of typhoid. I thought I would die, too. And the night after I had heard you had taken a turn for the better... ah, that was the ‘wakefulness of joy’!”  DOCTOR BLYTHE: “It couldn’t have been anything to mine the night after I found you loved me!”  JEM, aside to Nan: “When dad and mums get to talking like that we find out a lot about their early days we never knew.”  SUSAN, who is making pies in the kitchen: “Isn’t it beautiful to see how they love each other? I can understand a good deal of that poem, old maid as I am!”
— ‘The Sixth Evening,’ The Blythes are Quoted, Lucy Maud Montgomery  
I was just revisiting this book, as I was getting ready for bed... and I remembered the first time that I read this chapter, how I had a good laugh over the notion that Jem and the Blythe kids didn’t know very much about their parents ‘early days,’ especially since their ‘early days’ stories are overall charming and amusing if nothing else... but it just now occurred to me, that there would be simply no way to tell this story to their kids without betraying two things. First, that Gilbert went and called Anne “carrots,” for all intents and purposes making proper fun of her hair, and second, that Anne was fragile and sensitive about her red hair and wished it were any different color.     These guys have 2.5 (.5 for Rilla, whose hair does change later) children with red hair. Of course it can’t be mentioned! The idea of sharing the same hair as your mother, only to come to understand that she hated her own hair? Or that your father was once known to tease her for that hair. Big oof! Which had me then realise as well, that Anne leaves off lamenting her hair to anyone expect Susan and Gilbert (always privately, too), in any book past Anne of the Island. I’m convinced it’s for these reasons.
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artist-issues · 3 months
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Miss Pross and Susan Baker are two of my favorite female characters in literature.
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film-o-teka · 8 months
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The Benny Hill Show
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jomiddlemarch · 1 year
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gingerbread
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5. “I’m home,” Gilbert called out. He didn’t have to raise his voice much since the cottage wasn’t very large, but there was a certain pleasure in it he hadn’t had since Susan Baker had come to work for them and expected a reliable degree of decorum from Dr. Blythe and Mrs. Dr. that Gilbert and Anne felt obliged to satisfy, though there were nights they reminisced about the scrapes and nonsense they’d gotten up to growing up in Avonlea which would be bound to horrify Susan if she knew.
“I’m here,” she answered, her tone as glum as when she’d once dyed her red hair green. “In the kitchen, Gil.”
“Why, Anne, what in heaven’s name?” he said. She couldn’t blame him for his surprise, wouldn’t blame him if there had been some disapproval or judgment, for she was sitting on the floor in her stocking feet, streaked in flour, the striped cotton smock Miss Cornelia had made for her straining over her positively enormous belly.
“You’re home early,” she said.
“Old Josiah Simpson took a turn for the better, told me to go fishing or bring home my pretty missus some flowers,” he explained, a charming posy of wildflowers loosely grasped in his left hand. He laid them down on the table and knelt beside her.
“Sweetheart, what’s happened? Are you ill? Hurt?” he asked. “Is it the baby?”
“A fine mother I’d be blaming it on the baby, but I admit, it’s tempting,” Anne said, trying to wriggle into a more appropriate position, as if there could be one on the scrubbed kitchen floor.
“It’s nothing terrible, you don’t need to worry, it’s only embarrassing and frustrating and thank goodness Susan isn’t here to see it!”
“Why don’t I help you up and get you settled, then you can tell me all about it?” He reached over and took her hands, then managed to help her stand up and kept a hand at the small of her back as she lumbered over to the rocking chair in the sunny corner of the kitchen where Susan was wont to sit and knit if she ever managed a moment of quiet. Gilbert dragged over one of the kitchen chairs and sat before her, waiting patiently.
“I suppose it is the baby,” she began. “I’ve never had such a craving for sweets before and you can see by the size of me, it seems impossible to satisfy.”
“You know that’s completely normal and healthy,” Gil said. “I count us both blessed that you want something so unobjectionable. Mrs. Tom Taylor had to have stewed eel with strawberry compote and Mrs. Fred Walker wanted nothing but clams for weeks, I have it on good authority from Miss Cornelia, though I could always smell the clams before I even stepped a foot over the threshold.”
“Yes, that’s as may be. I wanted something sweet and so, I ate the last of the apple tart Susan left and tried a few of the sugar cookies in the jar, but none of it was right and I was still hungry and then I knew what I wanted. What your child was demanding,” Anne said.
“What?”
“The Blythe gingerbread,” Anne said and Gilbert grinned. “I thought it wouldn’t be too difficult, your mother had left a receipt when she visited, but it was impossible—I couldn’t reach anything with this,” she gestured to the curve of her belly, “getting in between me and the shelves, the kitchen table and the mixing bowls, and trying to open the oven door might as well have been Hercules’s thirteenth labor. I’ve made a mess of the kitchen and myself and worried you and I don’t even have one bite of gingerbread to show for it!”
Gilbert chuckled, a wonderful warm sound that had become ever more precious since they’d lost little Joy, and Anne rested one hand atop the apex of her belly, feeling the baby within respond with a reassuring kick.
“Well, that’s easily solved,” he said. “I guess those flowers I brought home weren’t the ones you needed. You just sit here and rest and let me make up a batch of the gingerbread.”
“That’s not fair, Gil, you worked all day and now you’re going to muck around in the kitchen because I can’t manage to make some biscuits,” Anne said.
“This isn’t work and I’ll have you know, I don’t muck around in any kitchen, let alone Susan Baker’s,” Gilbert said, standing up, taking off his coat, and putting Susan’s voluminous pinafore apron on over his waistcoat and trousers, rolling up his sleeves for good measure. It did seem to only be a few minutes before he’d gotten a big crockery bowl full of all the ingredients, his hands as deft in mixing up the dough as they were treating his patients or seeing to her delight in the privacy of their room, a thought which made Anne blush. Within an hour, he was setting before her a plate of freshly made gingerbread, cut into cunning little blossoms exactly like the ones in the bouquet he’d brought home. She took a bite and sighed as she tasted the spices, the rich sweetness of the molasses, the extra little crunch of the castor sugar he’d sprinkled on top.
“I have to tell you, you could never had made it, Anne-girl,” he said, sitting beside her again, the apron and rolled-up sleeves somehow making him look more manly and heart-stoppingly handsome, the touch of flour at his right temple a glimpse of their future. “My mother never includes all the ingredients or instructions in a receipt. She never wants anyone else to make her food as well as she does.”
“That’s iniquitous!” Anne exclaimed, but her mouth was still full of gingerbread.
“It doesn’t signify,” he said. “I know the receipt by heart, in every detail.”
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batrachised · 1 year
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themelodyofspring · 1 year
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Currently Reading (and losing my mind) - The Incarnations by Susan Baker
This book is sooo bad! It keeps getting worse with every page.
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Miss Cornelia: I disagree.
Susan Baker: You usually do.
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ickle-ronnie · 2 years
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SUSAN, to herself:- “Well, I never had any beauty to lose, so as far as that goes, getting old won’t matter to me. And if that queer old fellow they call Whiskers-on-the-Moon gets old he won’t lose much beauty either. But he is fantastic enough."
*gets flashbacks to when Susan chased him with an iron pot because he proposed to her*
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tomewardbound · 10 months
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"'I sometimes forget that I resolved to be a heroine.'"
— L.M. Montgomery, "Rilla of Ingleside"
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petersonreviews · 3 months
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nkp1981 · 6 months
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Doctor Who Stars Attended The Premiere Of "The Star Beast", 2023
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gogandmagog · 9 months
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a peek at Susan Baker's WWI era wardrobe
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    "I was commissioned by Laura Robinson of the Royal Military College of Canada, Kingston to produce a dress for the character Susan Baker, the Blythe's family's house-keeper, in the book, Rilla of Ingleside by L.M. Montgomery.         The dress is currently on display in the Normandy area in France; later in June it will be at the L.M. Montgomery Institute on Prince Edward Island; and later on in Ontario.  In Rilla of Ingleside the character Susan Baker is described as wearing plain, simple, practical style clothing.  She is not a slave to fashion and would dress in a sensible, serviceable style.           The skirt is ankle-length with enough fullness to allow ease of movement - it is tapered to the waist with fullness gathered into the waistband.  The collarless blouse is a basic period style with straight sleeves with button cuffs and slight tapering to fit.  There are no embellishments and the buttons are simple in style.           The colour of the skirt is a light shade of khaki and the blouse is a darker shade with small print design.  The colours were chosen to be symbolic of the khaki uniforms worn by the soldiers fighting in trenches on the European front in WWI.  Susan Baker in her way was doing her bit for the war effort on the home front."
— Arnold G. Smith, reproduction period clothing costumer
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giddyaunt425 · 3 months
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Classic Who Ferris Wheel anyone?
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And a close up of all our babes.
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brokehorrorfan · 1 month
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Butcher, Baker, Nightmare Maker will be released on 4K Ultra HD and Blu-ray on May 28 via Severin Films. The 1981 psychosexual horror film is also known as Night Warning.
William Asher (Bewitched) directs from a script by Steve Breimer, Alan Jay Glueckman, and Boon Collins. Jimmy McNichol, Susan Tyrrell, Bo Svenson, Bill Paxton, and Julia Duffy star.
Butcher, Baker, Nightmare Maker has been newly scanned in 4K from the original camera negative. It features reversible artwork. Special features are listed below.
Special features:
Audio commentary by actor Jimmy McNichol
Audio commentary by writer/producer Steven Breimer and writer Alan Jay Glueckman, moderated by Mondo Digital’s Nathaniel Thompson
Audio commentary by co-producer Eugene Mazzola
Interview with actor Bo Svenson
Interview with director of photography Robbie Greenberg
Interview with editor Ted Nicolaou
Interviews with actors Jimmy McNichol, Susan Tyrrell, and Steve Eastin, makeup artist Allan A. Apone, and writer Steve Breimer
Trailer
TV spot
Terror begins when a night of murder and bloodshed leads bigoted police detective Joe Carlson (Bo Svenson) to try to frame orphaned high school basketball player Billy Lynch (Jimmy McNichol). However, Billy’s aunt Cheryl (Susan Tyrrell) is the real knife-wielding culprit, and with Billy about to graduate, her twisted urge to keep him all to herself is about to erupt in a wave of carnage. No one is safe when an unstable lawman and a psychotic aunt converge in a shocking climax you’ll never forget!
Pre-order Butcher, Baker, Nightmare Maker from Amazon.
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jomiddlemarch · 1 year
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I wish you would write a cute little fic of Anne and Gilbert’s first Christmas as a married couple, or maybe a baby’s first Christmas fic with them as new parents 💕
“I’ve a confession to make, Anne-girl,” Gilbert said, pitching his voice just loud enough to catch her attention without risking waking Jem, who’d finally settled down to sleep in her arms after a fractious afternoon cutting his second tooth. The whole world had seemed to howl along with him, the gentle snow of the early morning developing into a storm of impressive proportions, drifts making Ingleside a castle amid a wide moat, unreachable, at least until the storm gave out and the hardy residents of Glen St. Mary’s began to wield their shovels and brooms. Susan had put on a pot of soup shortly after breakfast and then had retreated to her rocking chair, knitting as furiously as the wind blew, her needles clacking along on something far too complicated for Gilbert to divine its ultimate purpose. Gilbert had been forced into idleness, the house running smoothly without him, unable to call upon his patients. He’d dealt with a few letters, one from his friend Foster, who’d set up a medical practice in Winnipeg and mockingly extolled its virtues, and perused the latest issue of The Lancet, and then the day had simply unfolded around him, the storm giving him the time for the kind of directionless reflection Anne always said was the precursor to brilliance, time that was always in short supply for a busy physician.
“A confession? That sounds terribly moral,” Anne said, a merry glint in her grey eyes. “Perhaps the pastry was too rich at lunch. Miss Cornelia expressed herself in no uncertain terms about what she considered an excessive quantity of butter, for a chicken pot pie.”
“The pie was perfect,” Gilbert said.
“I’m quite relieved to hear it. I shouldn’t wish to tell Susan to change the recipe,” Anne said. “But I’m keeping you from whatever it is you wanted to confess.”
“I always found the Nativity rather sentimental,” Gilbert said.
“Even when Dr. Allen gave the sermon?” Anne said. “He always gave such a wry leavening to his sermons.”
“Even then,” Gilbert said. “But I don’t anymore.”
“No?” Anne said, shifting Jem in her arms to bring him closer against her breast as the baby whimpered slightly in his sleep. She’d dressed her hair simply, pulled back low at the nape of her neck, the curve of her cheek and lip exquisite as she bent over their son, the moment one of utter peace and joy, one he knew he’d remember when the baby in her arms was a tall, ruddy-haired young man, setting forth to face whatever the world held.
“No,” he repeated. “It’s clear to me now, the miracle that it was. That it is.”
“I think you may be speaking heresy, Gil,” Anne said. “I’m sure Miss Cornelia would say so.”
“You mustn’t tell her. She’ll never let me hear the end of it and will surely never take any medicine I prescribe,” he grinned.
“I hate to tell you, but she poured out that last tincture to slop her pigs,” Anne said. “Though she did admit they perked up beautifully.”
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batrachised · 1 year
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Judy Plum or Susan Baker?
(Not really even sure what I’m asking specifically so just whatever thoughts you want to share I guess😂)
Why, thank you, for giving me an open ended question about LMM, a true gift !!
I'm going to be honest, I had to Google who Judy Plum was. I have read pat of silver bush and its sequels, but, well, Pat always mildly irritated me, so I never returned to it as an adult. She was so resistant to change it made me wonder if she had something diagnosable. I did pull up the first book the other day and my memories were confirmed:
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Then, in a more specific example:
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Pat can't bear change to the point that it's concerning instead of charming haha. The passage here is about clothing, but it applies write large. She'll have breakdowns if her parents so much as change the color of the curtains. I do remember liking the last book and I plan to reread the series, especially as I do like Hilary iirc, but I always kind of squinted at Pat's behavior. That being said, I do want to reread this to see if adult Pat is likeable, because to be fair to poor Pat, she's itty-bitty here. Also, I suspect I'd have more sympathy for her neurotic tendencies now than little batrachised did.
So, to return to your question--i don't remember enough of Judy to contrast her with Susan effectively! But tbh, Susan stands in the leagues of Mrs. Lynde and Miss Cornelia as an unforgettable LMM character haha. She's hilarious, and an old dear, and I love her thoughts on the importance of nice ears. I also think her storyline with Shirley is absolutely beautiful, and LMM's acknowledgment that Susan might not have had a family of her own--but she did, in the end, and it was the Blythes. I also love her change of heart regarding Walter's poetry.
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Honestly, though, it's hard for me to pick one moment because everything Susan says is delightful. I could open any book with her in it to any page with her on it and find something hilarious and heartwarming to share. She's the perfect foil to the Blythes, and I also thinks she brings some much needed balance to their dreamy eyed household.
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