By Kate Barlow
When Kate Barlow used to be a bit lady, she moved along with her mom and her older sisters to a ramshackle English mansion. They weren't on my own at the once-grand property, surrounded as they have been by means of twenty eccentric, aged ladies, considered one of whom used to be her grandmother . . . or used to be she? This striking memoir is the genuine tale of existence within "The A," the notorious Agapemone, named for the Greek be aware that means domicile of affection. It was once a non secular cult based in mid-19th century England by way of a defrocked clergyman who claimed to be guided in my view by means of the Holy Ghost. Agapemonites, a lot of whom have been filthy rich, single ladies, lived jointly at the property. They believed the second one Coming used to be forthcoming and that their founder may stay perpetually. while Henry James Prince died unexpectedly, his successor declared himself the reincarnation of Jesus Christ, a press release which prompted rioting within the streets. The ebook finds the author's sluggish awakening to the spiritual and sexual scandal that enveloped her...
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Extra info for Abode of Love. Growing Up in a Messianic Cult
Interior page design courtesy Mainstream Publishing. Images courtesy Kate Barlow. Printed in Canada. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication Barlow, Kate, 1941- Abode of love: growing up in a messianic cult / Kate Barlow. Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 0-86492-457-7 1. Barlow, Kate, 1941- — Childhood and youth. 2. Church ofthe Agapemone — Biography. 3. Sex crimes — England — Spaxton. I. Title. 9 C2006-903468-0 Goose Lane Editions acknowledges the financial support of the Canada Council for the Arts, the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP), and the New Brunswick Department of Wellness, Culture and Sport for its publishing activities.
The following Sunday several dozen curious worshippers showed up at the church door. Once again, Starky appeared to be struck dumb. Within a month the place was packed, as news of the ‘mad parson’ spread across the county. So was the local public house. After each increasingly bizarre service the congregation would dash down the steep hill to the Lamb Inn in the neighbouring village of Spaxton, where they would quench their thirst on draughts of powerful scrumpy cider and fight with the pub’s resentful regulars.
He wrote to her frequently and, whenever possible, paid for her to visit him in one of the ports he stayed in on leave for weeks at a time. But where my feelings for Uncle David were uncomplicated, it was a different matter with his younger brother – referred to as ‘Panion’ by the old ladies (when he was born, he was deemed to be a companion to his older brother). He could be charming, and often was when he wasn’t drinking. Then he was fun to be around, with his stories of the racecourse and market day; letting me handle the ferrets that he kept in cages at his home and his pet dogs, which he would exercise by making them run after his vehicle.