Penchurch is an RPG set in a present-day village situated on the Cornish coastline, where a new on-location television production has just set up shop. The modern world is never far away, but in Penchurch, old habits die hard, and traditions have held sway for quite some time. Still, there are surprises to be found around every corner in an otherwise apparently sleepy and serene little place, and the people of Penchurch are as given to the vagaries of human nature as anybody.
You will find the OOC chatbox at the bottom of the page!
Recent
The date
Christmas and New Year has been and gone, and as we creep into January things are changing all over Penchurch but whether it's for the better is up for debate. Cast and crew are beginning to descend on the sleepy little town, bringing all their literal and figurative baggage with them - not to mention the reporters.
Census
Character Stats
Emily
♂02
♀05
Ellie
♂02
♀00
Micaela
♂01
♀01
Jay
♂00
♀01
Sarah
♂01
♀01
TOTAL
♂06
♀08
Weather
Dates here
January is here, bringing with it the cold rolling in from off the sea, frost, bright and icy mornings, and the more than occasional bouts of rain.
Ellie tweaks coding and calls it site maintenance. Go to her with any site issues!
Credits
some mini title here
Penchurch was created by Emily. The skin which includes the Board Mod, Mini Profile and Sidebar are created by Dorothia @ Adoxography. The tabbed sidebar was created by kimset of RPG D'. Plug ins were made by their respective PB Support member. All other information which includes but is not limited to, Character Plots, Character Applications and more belong to their rightful owner.
Post by Frederica Haverleigh on Nov 14, 2016 15:37:35 GMT -8
Freddie always found it to be soothing in the laundry-room. Even when it was a mess the overriding smells of soap and fabric softener lulled her into a sense of cleanliness which she found calming.
She had a line strung across the yard for hanging up the washing, and when the weather was fresh and breezy, there was little she loved more than to hang her sheets and towels out to catch the sea air and sunshine.
In the winter, however, she was endlessly grateful for the invention of tumble-dryers; and even more grateful that George had agreed to let her have one in the utility-room alongside the washing-machine. Not that George often disagreed with her ideas--he'd probably pull down the whole house stone by stone if Freddie had asked him to--but she did like having him on-board for the multitude of changes she'd begun to make when they'd started out with the idea for the B&B.
Crouching before the dryer she pulled the fluffy, fragrant laundry into a basket and propped it on her hip as she returned to sit in the lounge and fold it while it was still warm. She could hear the kids playing in the adjacent room, but nobody was crying and there were no shrieks to wake the baby she'd just put down for her nap, so the Haverleigh household was relatively peaceful for the moment, and Freddie smiled to herself, humming a few bars of some top-40 hit she couldn't recall the name of.
Last Edit: Nov 15, 2016 17:28:42 GMT -8 by Janet Weston
Now this Rose could handle. Her flight had been long and unpleasant, her train ride had been impossible to sleep through, and her trudge from the station to Hill Farm had put paid to the idea that she was going to walk everywhere for her health. At the very least, she was going to get a bike. After much worry over a dying phone and rather unclear directions, she had ended up here, and it was all going to be fine. The skies were grey rather than a bright Calgary blue, but the rolling white hills of snow, the lowing of the cows from their sturdy byre, the faint flash of movement as a blackcap fled before the crunch of the snow under her boots--all this was familiar enough.
In some fundamental sense, all farms were the same, and as tired and cold as she was, she took a moment to think about how she would like to live in this comfortable place. She arranged her small features accordingly, into the friendliest smile she could muster up--not great, but passable--and knocked on the front door.
Post by Frederica Haverleigh on Nov 15, 2016 17:25:21 GMT -8
Freddie, always keeping an ear out for the minor notes that heralded a shift in circumstances--the fussing of an infant, the hissing of a pan as it boiled over, ominous and distant thumps from the children's rooms followed by a silence that was too silent to be anything but guilt and hasty panic--heard the knock at the door and left the basket where it was, opening the door to see a young woman, smiling, but having all the look of somebody who was deeply weary. Freddie had welcomed enough travelers in her time to know it.
With an answering grin, she stood to one side and waved the girl indoors.
"Come in, come in," she said. "I'm Freddie--but first things first, come and sit down and have some tea. Are you hungry, at all? I've got some soup I made last night that I could warm up in five minutes. Or do you just want your bed--you look just about done in!" she added.
Finding herself ushered inside in the middle of what appeared to be a friendly maternal whirlwind, Rose could only try to answer as quickly as she could: "Okay--nice to meet you--no tea, thanks--yes, very--soup sounds lovely--/do/ I have a bed?" Already dripping melted snow onto the front mat and surrounded by a heavenly mix of warmth and the smell of fresh sheets, Rose had been tricked for a second into thinking that by some magic, this woman already knew everything about Rose and had made up a room for her ahead of time.
Then reality pushed back. "Right, sorry," she said, fumbling to get off her gloves. "My name is Rose Chin, and you're right in thinking that I'm here to rent a room. I'm working on Bournewood, so I'll be here for a while, and I'd absolutely love a bed and any food you happen to have." She got the gloves off and stuck out her right hand at Freddie. "Nice to meet you." That had been better. It had all the requisite pieces, even if their order had been somewhat jumbled.
Post by Frederica Haverleigh on Nov 15, 2016 19:28:31 GMT -8
"Sorry, I tend to assume everyone on my doorstep who I don't know is looking for the B&B," said Freddie. "But in my own defense, I'm correct most of the time." Her brows only briefly drew together as she recalled the poor man who had come to read the gas and electric meters last summer, only to find himself a hostage in her kitchen while she tried to get his opinion on what was missing from her latest batch of gingersnaps. (Cloves, as it turned out.)
Freddie shook Rose by the hand, the clouds clearing from her face as she heard her mention Bournewood.
"Oh, the kids will love you," she said. "Of course they think anything to do with television is the coolest. I'll show you to your room, first; and then I can bring up a tray for you and you can just have a bite to eat and a good sleep whenever you like. If you'll follow me upstairs--" Freddie was already three steps up. "Now, I have two rooms that haven't got a booking in the near future, so either one could do for a longer stay--do you prefer morning or evening light? Oh, and any dietary restrictions?"
Rose felt at once instinctively fond of this woman who had welcomed her without a second thought and very embarrassed not to keep up. There seemed to be a new question or train of thought from her every second, and though she tried to juggle them all in her head, she couldn't. So instead she focused on bundling her two big suitcases up the stairs without falling flat on her face, and when finally she reached the top, she also reached into her memory and retrieved the last question. "Um--no. No dietary restrictions. I don't take well to a lot of spice, but that shouldn't be an issue. Not that you don't season your food! Just that, you know--that I don't much like throwing up." She looked up and down the narrow hallway, trying to make up her mind. "Morning or evening light probably won't make a difference. I hear shoots start very early and end very late, so...early, I guess? To wake me up more naturally?" She gestured at one of the many pieces of children's artwork that adorned the hallway, a particularly stunning chicken bedazzled with glitter by a very generous little artist. "I like the decor, by the way."
Post by Frederica Haverleigh on Nov 15, 2016 21:31:03 GMT -8
"A fair point," laughed Freddie, turning into the blue room, which was under the sloping eaves of the old farmhouse roof, with small windows and a larger sky-light to brighten the room. It had all been renovated enough to be comfortable, clean, and modern, while retaining a rustic sort of charm. The duvet and pillows on the double bed were fluffy, the pale blue sheets and pillowcases smooth and crisp at the tucked-in-corners, and the towels folded in a basket in the tiny but private ensuite bathroom (complete with shower, in blue and white tiles,) were the warm colour of the pale yellow crackles atop Cornish clotted cream. "I did try serving kedgeree a while back when a guest asked me to, but it's not a dish I'm fond of in general, and certainly not at breakfast. The Victorians were out of their minds when they came up with that one."
Freddie bit her lip but couldn't help smiling with fond maternal pride at the compliment to her kid's craft project. It was heinous, as artwork went, but there was still something charming about the evident enthusiasm of the process.
"Eliza was so pleased at how it turned out," she said of the drawing. "She's absolutely bonkers about animals. I've been thinking I should keep chickens, for the eggs, and she's thrilled at the idea."
Rose lugged in her two suitcases and sitting on the end of the bed--her bed--while trying to get a feel for the room. While it was clean and tasteful, it was also just a little bit used enough to not feel like a hotel, which was pretty key.
"You should only get chickens if you enjoy a lot of drama," she warned. "I had a friend whose parents had chickens, and there was such a mess! Chickens escaping, chickens fighting, chickens getting sick, chickens running round the house. The fighting especially was an issue. But I suppose it could function as a lesson to your children on human nature and a healthier version of reality TV, so there's that."
She swung her legs back and forth, feeling more comfortable and less hurried now, starting to take in her new landlady with more interest. "I like your freckles," she said. "Always wanted them. Never got more than a light sunburn."
Post by Frederica Haverleigh on Nov 15, 2016 22:24:52 GMT -8
"Sounds like chickens aren't too different from children," said Freddie cheerfully, figuring that if she could handle one, the other shouldn't prove to be too great a challenge. "And the kids--Eliza, anyway--will love to help out."
Freddie pulled a self-conscious face at Rose's scrutiny and admiration of her freckles, though she remained smiling. She always had a hard time believing in personal compliments, feeling people were more likely just being kind, rather than strictly honest.
"Thanks," she managed, with a laugh. "When I was six and being called Connect-the-Dots at school I would have loved to think they were cute."
Of course, those of her own children who had freckles now were, to her mind, completely adorable.
"You've got such lovely clear skin, though," she pointed out with a mildly envious glance. "You could probably do cosmetics commercials, honestly."
Rose laughed a little--not fully, not heartily, not yet, but she meant it. "Everybody wants what they can't have," she said. "I wanted freckles and you wanted clear skin; we both probably wanted curly hair and I'm sure when she got up in the morning and looked in the mirror as a little girl, whoever it was that played Bellatrix Lestrange wanted shiny, straight hair. It's the way of the world and especially of women, I think."
Just then, her stomach actually grumbled. Audibly. She pulled a weird little grimace of a smile and said, in that special voice Midwesterners and Canadians use when they're sure they'll get what they're asking for but that very fact embarrasses them: "Um, did you still have some of that soup?"
Post by Frederica Haverleigh on Nov 15, 2016 22:45:19 GMT -8
Freddie's smile vanished and her hands flew to her cheeks as they grew hot.
"Oh, yes, of course! Here I'm gabbling away, and you must be starving and exhausted, you poor thing--oh just tell me to shut up or I'll be here all day," said Freddie, though she didn't look too truly stricken by her lapse. "I'll be back in a flash--you just get settled in."
And she was off back down the stairs--taking them two at a time by the sound of her footfalls--and making a beeline for the kitchen to hunt up the tupperware container of leftover soup from the night before. Chicken noodle: her own home-made stock, with pieces of carrot and onion floating in the broth, shreds of meat, and tiny pasta shells, flecked with herbs. The stuff of many childhoods, the world over, but still hearty enough to do the trick. Freddie poured it into a saucepan and set it onto the stove to come back to a simmer while she cut thick slices of fresh, crusty bread and laid them on a plate alongside a little dish of sliced butter. Napkin, knife, and spoon were tucked to one side of it, before filling a large bowl and laying it on a webby little non-slip mat in the centre of the tray and carefully hoisting it before she headed back upstairs.
The door to Rose's room was still ajar, but Freddie balanced the tray on one hand and reached out to rap on the doorjamb, just as a matter of politeness.
"Here we are!" she said. "...now are you sure I can't bring you a cup of tea or--no, not coffee, I suppose you'll want to sleep a while?"
"Thanks so much! That was so quick," Rose said, taking the tray from her with a smile and a deep, appreciative sniff of the soup. It took every ounce of will in her not to start eating in front of Freddie then and there instead of continuing the conversation, but she managed it. "That's so nice of you. I think water will do me just fine, actually, and I've brought a bottle with me, so all should be good on that front as long as your tap water's drinkable. I would love to keep talking with you, but afterwards, I think a nap would be perfect. All cast and crew were encouraged in a general email to mingle with the locals and, quote, get a feel for the place, respectfully. Which means: make a good impression, pretty please. And I do. I do want to make a good impression. So, anyways, after the nap, if you could tell me a sort of common spot where people hang out, I'll probably bundle up and take a little walk over there. I can be back before curfew, if there is one. Is there?"
Eat me, eat me! the soup was shouting. Really she wanted to eat a big slice of that rustic bread slathered with butter, but as long as she kept eye contact with Freddie, as long as she focused on the woman's friendliness and quiet capability, as long as she didn't look down, hopefully her blasted stomach would stay quiet.
Post by Frederica Haverleigh on Nov 16, 2016 0:42:24 GMT -8
"Curfew? Oh, gosh, no, not really," said Freddie, wrinkling her nose at the thought of it. She supposed that was a very business-y practice sort of thing to insist on, but truth be told, she'd never been great at the strict business-y side of her business. "There's a spare key under the potted shrub at the back door, so if you're ever out late and we've all gone to bed, you can let yourself in."
Surely Rose Chin was too much of a sweetheart to come stomping in like a herd of elephants at three in the morning, Freddie decided.
Catching Rose's glance down at the bowl of soup, Freddie beamed and decided she should absent herself and let the young woman have her soup and sleep in peace.
"If you go down the drive back to the main road and turn left, it's about a fifteen minute walk into the village, and the Station is the pub. That'll be where you'll find most locals in the evening--and many in the day-time, too. I'm sure you'll make fast friends of everyone."
Freddie turned to go back to the door, only pausing to look back over her shoulder once, with another soft smile.
"Never mind about the dishes--just leave the tray on the dresser when you're finished and I'll pop up later to clear them when you've gone out. Enjoy!"
And with that, Freddie pulled the door quietly shut behind her and practically skipped back downstairs to see to her laundry and check on the kids. Nothing gave her mood a boost quite like feeling she'd taken care of someone who needed it.
"Thank you!" Rose called after her. Then she gobbled down the soup with such gusto and speed that it was very lucky that the door was closed--even a kid peeking in would have probably been horrified. Or, knowing kids, they probably would be delighted and then get Rose in trouble when they mimicked her at the dinner table later. Ten minutes later, with every bit of soup, bread, and butter eaten right off the dishes, Rose put the tray on the squat white dresser as instructed, took off her socks, and without bothering with anything else, slid under the coverlet and fell fast asleep.
She woke in total darkness and promptly freaked out, scrabbling round for what felt like an eternity before she could find her phone, check the time, and figure out that no, she hadn't slept through anything too important. That she was in England.
Welp, time for part two of the day's mission: socialization. After a bit of dressing and unpacking, she left in search of the Station, leaving behind a thank-you note for the soup on the tray that included a little drawing of a chicken and her phone number just in case anything happened.
Janet Weston: I think I test the limits of that.
Feb 17, 2017 12:14:28 GMT -8
Lucy Parr: You can never have too many smileys
Feb 17, 2017 12:11:03 GMT -8
Janet Weston: alright I feel like I've maxed out on my smiley icons in the chatbox and I need to stop using them like punctuation.
Feb 17, 2017 12:07:43 GMT -8
Janet Weston: I hope so!
Feb 17, 2017 12:06:44 GMT -8
Lucy Parr: Ooh! We have life!
Feb 17, 2017 12:02:51 GMT -8
Janet Weston: Hoping to get this place back up and running.
Feb 17, 2017 11:27:24 GMT -8
Janet Weston: Thank you
Jan 14, 2017 14:30:56 GMT -8
Marley: I understand! This place seems really neat
Jan 13, 2017 20:48:52 GMT -8
Janet Weston: Hello! Sorry, life's been slamming me lately.
Jan 10, 2017 11:16:29 GMT -8
Marley: Hello?
Jan 8, 2017 21:04:05 GMT -8
Lucy Parr: And to you!
Dec 30, 2016 10:07:15 GMT -8
Janet Weston: Excellent!
Dec 20, 2016 16:45:09 GMT -8
Eleanor: oh brilliant! yeah I'd really love to join in.
Dec 19, 2016 15:28:30 GMT -8
Janet Weston: This site IS active, but as we have only a few players to start with just now and with school/the holidays all bearing down on us, things have slowed down in recent weeks; but if you'd like to get involved we're certainly around and very gentle.
Dec 19, 2016 11:35:57 GMT -8