Mary Elizabeth Lucy lived long: seeing industrial and political and social changes, but most in her own family. The number of child deaths makes one feel sick for her losses. Not all gloomy though; some children lived to carry on her line, and she had enough wealth to take part in the society and the diversions of her time. She writes looking backward from old age, but using her own diaries and notebooks to mine details and trigger vivid memories.
In the end we dyed the Boxing Day tablecloth in a huge fish tank (no current occupants); I don’t have a bucket big enough.