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georgian suggestions

@georgiansuggestion / georgiansuggestion.tumblr.com

unmitigated revulsion for the fench.
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Intro to Georgiansuggestion

The full version of this post is available on the browser version of the blog; what follows is a slightly abridged FAQ for app users.

Is there a way I can support the blog?

Not right now. I’m working on fixing things up! (Not post plus though.)

What is this? Who are you?

Georgiansuggestion is a parody suggestion blog, centered on the theme of the Georgian Era (1714-1830 England, Ireland, and Scotland, give or take).

It’s also become an ask blog based on the Editor, a persona associated with the blog (more information below).

I’m just a blogger with a passing interest in this era; I am not a historian or researcher, and I won’t be able to help you with real questions about this time period.

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Anonymous asked:

Dear Editor,

I am fast approaching a series of school exams that will determine my Future Forays into the world of Academia. however, I find myself in the unfortunate position of Worrying, Fretting and otherwise Ruining my Good Spirits in view of the most Stressful Ordeal before me. any advice as to how one might remain calm in such a peculiar situation, would be very much appreciated.

Gentle Reader--

However Fondly I may recall the Days of my Youth, I admit I have No Zeal Whatever to return to the Days of the Examination; They are a Most Unenviable Practice and an Institution, in Some Distant Future, we might do Away with Altogether. However, should my Meagre Wisdom be of Any Use, I hope it brings you Some Small Comfort.

In the First Measure, I may be of a Controversial Opinion when I say you do Better to Trust Yourself and your Knowledge than flog Yourself into a State of Vexation through Incessant Review. If you have attended your Classes and Studied Diligently, you will have More in Mind than you think, and a Frenzy of Study may do More Harm than Good. Particularly the Evening Prior, you should concern Yourself More with being Rested, Fed and Watered, Even if you can Only eat a Little and feel Sleep eludes you. To lie for a Little While in a Dark Room on a Comfortable Bed is Better than Pacing About, though it may seem Otherwise. I do not mean to say Here that you need not study At All, Only that After a Certain Point, its Benefit grows Dubious.

In the Second Measure, when you are sitting your Exam, do not rush Recklessly into the Work. Read your Papers Very Carefully, and like a Skilled General, create your Plan of Attack. You may find Parts of the Task to be More Daunting than the Others; Take those Parts in which you are Most Confident, Even if that Confidence is Imperfect, and complete them First, Regardless of the Order in Which they appear. And, Again in the Manner of Generals and Admirals, use the Wisdom to determine when a Retreat is Necessary: though it is Difficult Amid the Fervour of Work, a Moment taken to gather One's Thoughts, uncurl One's Writing-hand, and take a Requisite Sip of Tea can Often be the Bath in which One finds One's Own Moment of Eureka.

In the Final Measure, Regardless of the Outcome, you are a Brave Intellect Indeed to take On the Task. Once you have left the Examination Room, there is No Sense in fretting Over that Which has Passed. Spend at Least an Hour taking Some Much-needed Rest and Food Free of Any Thought of the Results you anticipate or the Examination to come. I wish you Every Success, Reader.

Yours &tc., The Editor

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Readers,

Though the Competition was Fierce, I and my Family have Only So Much Time in which we are Free to Visit with the Illustrious Circles of Firenze; We sent our Deepest Regrets to Most, and, as Directed, accepted the Invitation of that Lady of Letters, B.G. Raiskaya. (Though, it should be Mentioned for Posterity's Sake, she directs us All to refer to her as B-- Goncharovna, as one might refer to a Polite Friend as Miss Smith.)

The Poetess keeps herself Fashionably in an Old Country House, Some Distance from the Bustle of the City; For this Reason, I will be Unable, for the Period of our Stay, to write this Weekly Missive as you have no Doubt grown Accustomed to see. The Palace--for so it can be Comfortably Called--appears in Illustrations as Quite the Picturesque, Imposing Thing. One could Readily imagine, if One were of the Fanciful and Romantic Disposition, those Oppressed Heroines of Radcliffe or Walpole roaming its Gloomy Halls. B-- Goncharovna herself claims that the Garret-room in which she conducts her Business of Writing contains the Spectre of Such a Person. It remains to be Seen.

On our Return, Readers, I am Certain to have a Great Deal to relay to you of this Period in our Continental Adventure. I wish you All a Restful and Healthy Spring, as it rises Over the World!

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Readers, I submit my Humble Publication to your Hands from the Very Shadow of the Duomo of Florence; We have taken up Residence in a Quality Lodging-house, the Name of which, you will forgive Me, I shall not disclose. I Last visited the Fair City Myself as a Much Younger Man; In those Days, while we were All Sorts of Infamous, you would Never hear of it as One would Now. I Pray the Nymphs and Satyrs of the Giardino di Boboli, and that Generous Benefactress who extended her Hospitality to us in those Days Before it Opened to the Public, have kept their Peace (as I have Mine). Now the City is in Equal Measure Romantic and Respectable, Enough of the Former to Please my Nieces, and of the Latter to satisfy my Notions that they are at Little Risk of Great Mischief.

Yet who is Immune to the Charms of the Italian Spring, Premature though I may be to name it so? The Skies are Clear, the Air Mild, and in the Boulevards and Gardens those Early Buds of Green Abound. We are All at our Leisure Here, and have received Several Tempting Invitations.

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Readers, I submit my Humble Publication to your Hands from the Very Shadow of the Duomo of Florence; We have taken up Residence in a Quality Lodging-house, the Name of which, you will forgive Me, I shall not disclose. I Last visited the Fair City Myself as a Much Younger Man; In those Days, while we were All Sorts of Infamous, you would Never hear of it as One would Now. I Pray the Nymphs and Satyrs of the Giardino di Boboli, and that Generous Benefactress who extended her Hospitality to us in those Days Before it Opened to the Public, have kept their Peace (as I have Mine). Now the City is in Equal Measure Romantic and Respectable, Enough of the Former to Please my Nieces, and of the Latter to satisfy my Notions that they are at Little Risk of Great Mischief.

Yet who is Immune to the Charms of the Italian Spring, Premature though I may be to name it so? The Skies are Clear, the Air Mild, and in the Boulevards and Gardens those Early Buds of Green Abound. We are All at our Leisure Here, and have received Several Tempting Invitations.

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The OBELISK stands Proudly Overlooking my Park, Readers. It is Beautiful, though Perhaps not So Beautiful as it May have been. It is Tall, though Indeed not So Very Tall as Others. It is Girthy, but Alas, not Enough to house a Secret Room. It descends Only a Short Distance Underground, Sufficient for its Foundation.

But O! my Readers! Every Side of this OBELISK is Inscribed with Runes, Ancient Incantations, and Histories Heretofore Unknown. On Clear Evenings the Wind seems to whisper of Forgotten Things, of Promises Made Between Persons Long Since Parted from this Life.

My Nieces are Quite Annoyed by the Whole Affair. They have united Against Me to declare we must depart for London, Bath, or Some Other Such Fashionable Locale. While I have been Persuaded a Change could suit, I feel Fashion and Diversion are not All One should seek on One's Travels.

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The OBELISK stands Proudly Overlooking my Park, Readers. It is Beautiful, though Perhaps not So Beautiful as it May have been. It is Tall, though Indeed not So Very Tall as Others. It is Girthy, but Alas, not Enough to house a Secret Room. It descends Only a Short Distance Underground, Sufficient for its Foundation.

But O! my Readers! Every Side of this OBELISK is Inscribed with Runes, Ancient Incantations, and Histories Heretofore Unknown. On Clear Evenings the Wind seems to whisper of Forgotten Things, of Promises Made Between Persons Long Since Parted from this Life.

My Nieces are Quite Annoyed by the Whole Affair. They have united Against Me to declare we must depart for London, Bath, or Some Other Such Fashionable Locale. While I have been Persuaded a Change could suit, I feel Fashion and Diversion are not All One should seek on One's Travels.

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The OBELISK Cometh

Gentle Readers,

The Time has Come. We endeavour, in Light of Crushing Defeats and Curious Happenings, to build a Respectable TWO-TONNE OBELISK. It is a Grave and Crucial Task, to be Sure. It is not to be Undertaken Lightly; We must proceed with Great Caution to ensure the TWO-TONNE OBELISK does all it is Meant to do, Insofar as it will Soothe my Pains at the Hands of the Fraudulent Secret Book-seller.

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A Brief-ish Recap of the Poll Situation

Since there has been a significant recent uptick in followers to this blog thanks to the polls, I feel like it's worthwhile to go through how we got to the point where we are voting on the features of an obelisk.

First of all, a general overview of the blog is in my pinned post. TL;DR, we are having fun. We are committing to the bit. As we have done for 5 years. Sometimes the bit is silly or nonsensical.

So, polls. This blog got them on the 6th of February and I exercised the power to decide the fate of that recurring nuisance, the Feckless Nephew. Typhoid won by a slim margin. (No actual feckless nephews were harmed in the production of this poll.)

Then, operating on the assumption that disposing of said nephew freed up some cash, the question was what renovations to add to the Editor's house. This is the first appearance of the obelisk in the vein of "vanilla extract" as a joke answer, but a secret library won the day. Reasonable choice on the part of the voting public, I'd say.

Next, with the fictional premise that there is a secret library in need of books, I asked what book should fill it. Secret books, of course, for a secret library. Tumblr said Sappho.

Ah, but alas, the Secret Book of Sappho could not possibly be real. It was not, and our next step was to decide how to nurse the considerable hurt feelings the Editor has about the situation. Thus, by a significant but not massive majority, we arrive at the obelisk.

Given that the polls themselves will definitely spread a little farther than people who check out the blog, I don't know how helpful this recap is, but if your first reaction to a poll you saw was "what is going on?" this is what's going on.

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The OBELISK Cometh

Gentle Readers,

The Time has Come. We endeavour, in Light of Crushing Defeats and Curious Happenings, to build a Respectable TWO-TONNE OBELISK. It is a Grave and Crucial Task, to be Sure. It is not to be Undertaken Lightly; We must proceed with Great Caution to ensure the TWO-TONNE OBELISK does all it is Meant to do, Insofar as it will Soothe my Pains at the Hands of the Fraudulent Secret Book-seller.

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1. i love this blog & your mind 2. i am mildly tempted to start a copycat blog from the point of view of a french aristo circa the same period. would you object 👀

  1. Thank you!
  2. This blog is, itself, a copycat from a heady summer in 2017 when historical suggestion blogs were A Thing. I think a handful are still around, while most definitely got bored and/or off of tumblr. So by all means make one! If you share the link when it's ready I'll be happy to share it here.
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Gentle Readers,

Per your Wise Counsel, I have purchased the Unabridged Poems of Sappho from my Secret Bookseller. The Cost was Dear Indeed, but I felt it my Duty to my Readers to acquire the Tome. Alas! That Person who I believed to be a Reputable Secret Bookseller was No Such Thing! Upon Receipt of my Much-Anticipated Purchase, what should greet my Eager Eyes but a Series of Engravings informing me, the Hapless Reader, "There are not to be any Unearthed Sapphic Lyrics, you Curd-Brain'd Cully!"

Upon seeking the Gentleman at his Former Establishment, I found the Place Quite Empty! Naturally, I am Most Distressed.

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Gentle Readers,

Per your Wise Counsel, I have purchased the Unabridged Poems of Sappho from my Secret Bookseller. The Cost was Dear Indeed, but I felt it my Duty to my Readers to acquire the Tome. Alas! That Person who I believed to be a Reputable Secret Bookseller was No Such Thing! Upon Receipt of my Much-Anticipated Purchase, what should greet my Eager Eyes but a Series of Engravings informing me, the Hapless Reader, "There are not to be any Unearthed Sapphic Lyrics, you Curd-Brain'd Cully!"

Upon seeking the Gentleman at his Former Establishment, I found the Place Quite Empty! Naturally, I am Most Distressed.

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Gentle Readers,

Per your Wise Counsel, I have purchased the Unabridged Poems of Sappho from my Secret Bookseller. The Cost was Dear Indeed, but I felt it my Duty to my Readers to acquire the Tome. Alas! That Person who I believed to be a Reputable Secret Bookseller was No Such Thing! Upon Receipt of my Much-Anticipated Purchase, what should greet my Eager Eyes but a Series of Engravings informing me, the Hapless Reader, "There are not to be any Unearthed Sapphic Lyrics, you Curd-Brain'd Cully!"

Upon seeking the Gentleman at his Former Establishment, I found the Place Quite Empty! Naturally, I am Most Distressed.

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Gentle Readers,

As per your Sage Instruction, I have made No Changes Whatever to my Estate. That is Certainly Not a New Door in the South Wing by the Spiral Staircase. What a Silly Notion! For Reasons Unrelated to the Old Door which has Always been in that Part of the House, I must order New Secret Books from a Reputable Secret Book-seller.

Sweet mother, I cannot weave-- but I am sweeping.

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