Having blasted on here with a petition about cruelty to horses, something about which I feel very ferocious, I thought it best to give some sort of introduction. The problem is that most work best by taking all the disparate parts of one's life and picking out the bit in the middle where they all intersect. A Venn Diagram, if you would.

I was born in London to an English father in line for a title until he threw his first wife's lover out of the balcony of the 3rd floor of the hotel where he found them. The lover, drunk as a skunk, rather amazingly landed in the back seat of his Jaguar and so was mostly unscathed. My grandfather, however, was horrified at this, and insisted that my father change his name and so not embarrass the family. Gotta love that stiff upper lip.

Later, my father, now a folk singer, nightclub owner and impresario, married my mother, an American commercial model. They met on a flight from LA to NYC, seated together when the plane suddenly lost altitude, panic ensued and they found themselves in each others' arms.

Fast forward five years and Mom and Dad are living in London during the Swinging Sixties with Dad in the middle of the music scene. Yoko Ono hired him to promote her art show -- Dad stopped by his friend Brian Epstein's office to give him a free ticket and found his friend John Lennon there, and gave John a ticket as well. That art show was where John met Yoko. Yes, my karma is that my Dad was responsible for the breakup of the Beatles. Explains a lot.

I was born prematurely, and taken by ambulance to Charing Cross Hospital where I remained in an incubator for the first 6 weeks of my life, with IV's and breathing tubes stuck in as many veins and orifices as possible. Turns out to forshadow things to come. No one knew about "kangaroo care" then, but Mom was always on hand, nervously hovering over my incubator. She said that the nurses loved me because my favorite position was on my back with my feet crossed and propped up in one of the hand holes. I liked to recline even at an early age and have never gotten over the habit. (I'm typing this on my back in bed.)

Unfortunately, Dad wasn't a "kid" kinda guy and my Mom, after registering me at the American Consulate as an American Citizen, split the scene, as they said in the day. Dad, enraged, retreated to his coterie of public school friends and blocked her attempts to divorce for ten years. So, born in London to a British father and an American mother, I am an automatic citizen of both countries and still am a dual-national (now including the EU.) I wasn't to see my father for the next 22 years.

Mom fled back home to the Midwest -- to Iowa, where I grew up in Bradbury, Twain and Hawkeye country with summers humming with cicadas and sticky with Dairy Cream ice cream, unlocked doors, neighbors who all knew each other and a cartload of really rowdy kids (I was the only girl in my neighborhood). We explored caves, tried floating on the Mississippi River on makeshift rafts, went canoeing, set fire to stuff, had secret societies with the clubhouse opposite my grandparents' barn and in general ran wild from 7 in the morning until our mothers called us in for dinner around 5 at night.

There was the granny-auntie-mommie network that operated to keep us in line. If I did something bad then someone's mom would notice, call someone else's mom and then by the time I got home, Granny was waiting with the wooden spoon to beat my butt.

My Grandmother, Josephina, was one of the "Fighting Finches of Jefferson County", a WPA publication of the '30's. The Finches were known for their beautiful women with flaming red hair...and for stealing horses, dyeing them and then reselling them to their owners the next door. I kid you not.

Granny was Roman Catholic and Grandpa was very strict German Baptist Protestant. It made for interesting dinner table conversation. I grew up with a Catholic sense of guilt and love for the Rosary, and a German Baptist fear of Hellfire and love for a sense of order.

After a traumatic incident in my early childhood, I was driven to prove that I was the best little girl of them all, and proceeded to steamroller over all the other kids in school. I was top of the class in everything except gym -- I jumped for a catch in baseball without a glove and broke the last three fingers of my right hand backwards at a right angle.

I was also the "Dexter" of school -- I bullied bullies. If some younger kids were getting beaten up I charged in and stopped it. A girl was surrounded by ten others -- I tackled the ringleader and grabbed their intended victim, took her to the principal's office and ratted out the others. I even took on the oldest boy in the school and clawed him and kicked him so badly he had to go to the hospital. Since he had attacked me first, it was determined to be his fault. He never picked on another girl again. It helped that I grew up with nasty boys to play with and never had a nice girlfriend to civilize me. I grew up taking punches, kicks, playing "King of the Hill" and mud and snow fights so I was not adverse to a bloody nose in the name of justice.

I was also the playwright of school. Whenever there was an assembly, the teachers and kids turned me to write and direct. My first piece was performed when I was in 1st grade. Most of my friends from my hometown in Iowa remember me from being in one or another of my productions.

My academic efforts paid off in seven scholarships, including National Merit Scholar, and I lettered in Music, Speech and Debate and Swimming. I decided to go to Bryn Mawr College, a women's college located just outside of Philadelphia.

At Bryn Mawr I met some of the best friends of my life, had lots of fun adventures, and was diagnosed with liver cancer. I died in 1988, after the hyper-vascular tumor ruptured and I bled out on an ER table. I have a little "vampire bite" scar on my neck on my jugular vein where I was pumped full of plasma and blood. After 4 minutes I was brought back.

Yes, I had an after death experience. I can talk about it some other time. For two years I struggled with disease and had just about every nasty procedure you can imagine. It also left me with an allergy to morphine and latex. Amazingly, as my docs said "Your chances were one in five million." I survived. I've been cancer free since 1990.

After college, my housemate's mom offered to drive us cross country to Hollywood, where she lived. The deal was that we could live for free until we found jobs, at which time we'd have to pay rent. Sounded good to me. So, CALIFORNIA, Here I Come!

Hollywood was a kick. I was taking a screenwriting class at UCLA, and, since I don't drive (rolled a car in Iowa and never got back on the horse) I took the bus.

I soon realized that the bus in LA is a whole other cross-section of humanity and bought a book to ensure my safety from leering guys and other creepy people. I found it at a book sale for the UCLA Medical Center and its title was bright greenish-yellow on a brown background: "Diarrhea: Causes and Cures". I promise you, whenever a perv approached me on the bus, I'd pull that sucker out of my backpack and start reading intently and he'd suddenly get really interested in the ceiling of the bus. Worked like a charm.

One incident was less charming: I was waiting for my transfer at the corner of Sunset and Western, when I was approached by two men. Me: little chick from Iowa, fresh from a girl's school. Them: well, you'll see what I mean. They spoke Spanish, and I caught "Cuánto" "Hora". OK, I thought, they want to know what time it is!

So I said, "Es la Nueve!" They looked at each other, then at me and then said, in English, "Are you new around here?" I then noticed all the other females around me were...um...dressed up. So to speak. I gasped, and ran like Hades all the way back up to my friends' home. Yikes!

Since screenwriting in LA didn't work out. (At least, not yet!) I moved up to San Francisco, where I worked for the Federal Reserve Bank for 12 years as the Protocol Coordinator and an Assistant in the Economic Research Department. Yes, I had security clearance and knew the Discount Rate changes before the FOMC meeting. A stockbroker once dated me to get the skinny and I told him orange wasn't a good color for me and dumped my drink in his lap. Whatta putz! I'm very loyal and trustworthy.

Lord, how I've rambled. See, I told you this would be a Venn Diagram you'd have to sort out! Oh yeah, the Kevlar Corset! I had one made by Dark Garden here in San Francisco. I love dressing up and clothes, costumes in general. I was part of the Renaissance Faire for about three years and have performed in local theater troupes. I'm no actor though. My metier is truly cinematography, something I discovered too late to make a career change. I'd love to set up some kind of charity society for artists to visit schools and tell kids about their work, so people have an idea of all the possibilities out there.

I loved physics and art in school and was told to be an optician, which put me into tears at the thought of sitting in a box store at a mall. Little did I realize that lenses and composition could be used making films. And that one could get paid for it! I've done some assistant camera work here in SF, mostly on student films. I love it!

Let's see...I've swum with dolphins, surfed with a Great White Shark (now *that's* a weird feeling, being lower on the food chain, as well as a full-blown applicant for the Darwin Award), lost a child, modeled, been a licensed massage therapist, had a flesh-eating bacteria in my right foot (almost causing an amputation) and in general had fun. My Mom still loves me. Dad died in 1996.

I love writing verse and goofing off with my friends, single malt scotch, advocating for the homeless and mentally ill, enjoying San Francisco. (I live where Brigid O'Shaughnessy shot Miles Archer.)

I'm into tattoo and body modification, was a Suicide Girl, and now am religious. I just sent a bunch of scarves off to a new friend who has cancer. Pray for her if you pray--her name is Terri, so send her good vibes! My portrait was painted by another friend and survivor, Rebecca Gates.

Like my gay friends, I've always known my orientation in my heart; I would never marry and never have children. This has proved to be as true as it was when I predicted it at 7 years of age.

Since I'm part of the great wave of the 99%, I'm "between jobs" so my next project is to write to everyone in my Dad's address book to see if I can get some anecdotes about him. I miss never having known him.

Um, yeah, ok Mr. Parker...how did I get interested? What a long lead in! I recently watched a film called "The Wide Sargasso Sea" which was lovely and sad. It's a prequel to "Jane Eyre" and explores the betrayals and misunderstandings leading up to the miscarriage of Mr. Rochester's first marriage. I vaguely recognized Nat, since I had seen him in a lot of other performances. This time, I sought out more of his work, and found the Inspector Lynley series. I've just ordered the set and it's supposed to arrive tomorrow!

This is such a lovely site and the ladies here remind me of the group on the old Jeremy Northam site, before it moved to Yahoo and I lost touch with my friends. I'm a fan of Northam's as well, so "A Village Affair" is a fave.

I love performing and reading Shakespeare; Muslim/Crusader History, Bulgakov, Tolstoy and Russian Literature (as you can probably tell from my signature, which is from Isaiah Berlin's book!)

I'm a Whovian, a Trekkie (TOS only please, Kirk RULES!), think Cris Pine is a sweetie and am looking forward to the sequel, love Sherlock in both the Steven Moffat and Guy Richie incarnations. (I kicked Steven out of the Dealers' Room at a convention once, he got back at me by signing my copy of his script for a Dr. Who episode "to Wild Thing", in reference to a karaoke performance where I had a "wardrobe malfunction" while singing that song and trying to do the splits. You can provide the visual. LOL.) I like soul food and am not into NASCAR. I love watching rugby just 'cause the guys are so yummy in the scrum. I swim, run, surf, box, and practice judo, when I'm not disabled with health issues. (Yup, still ongoing.)

I'm looking forward to discussing Inspector Lynley with the group, want to thank everyone who signed the petition to stop the cruelty of the "diving horses" (WE WON!!!!), and lurking about a lot more to get to know folks.

Th'th'th'that's all folks! (for now...)

Dear LynnGwyneth,

welcome to our circle of Nat-fan and I'm sure you'll find plenty about Inspector Lynley here. While reading your introduction I sort of tried to set up a Venn Diagram picturing where and when our life experiences meet but it'd be too complicated at the moment. It'll be clearer down the line.

Hope to hear more from you.

Love,
Nenne

Dear Lynn,

That is a long story to read.
I think you can find enough information about Nat overhere. There are many fun clips and other information. I hope you like it.

Greetings,
gitta

Welcome here, new friend....you will find your intertwined with the most interesting people on this planet they call Earth and those people are "Nat's girls"


Kisses,
Carrie

My dear new friends!

I am very happy to be part of "Nat's girls"! Although I think I am much "longer in the tooth" (that means older) than all of you -- I am almost Nat's age. So, to be honest, I am a little embarrassed. I don't want to be a "cougar" chasing after a younger man. LOL and NO OFFENSE intended to any fans of my generation or above!!! (I haven't been checking people's ages here but y'all do seem to be much fresher flowers than I am! )

Yes, I do tend to get long-winded. I think it's because the Lynley series brings up such associations for me: I grew up working class like Havers -- so I identify with her as a person (the character I mean); my "mythological" upper-class father whom I met only once I associate with Lynley. (Spookily enough now that I have pictures of my Dad when he was younger he *looks* just a bit like Nat -- high cheekbones and dark hair and eyes.)