My life seems to have been plagued by Hartleys; which I blame upon that archetypal Hartley: Hartley Hare - who I tentatively presume to have been a transdimensional and temporally omnipresent being; capable of exerting influence of many kinds, by many means.
Such were my thoughts when I saw notice that our latest local Church of England Bishopess is yet another Hartley (Helen-Anne). The resemblance to HH is obvious:
And I have also referenced Hartley Coleridge (who was born in the most boring town in the world, and whose erstwhile home I have stayed in) - eldest son of Samuel Taylor; who also has the look of Hartley Hare about him:
A malign presence in mid-childhood was the ubiquitous product Hartley's New Jam, especially its strawberry manifestation; which (from memory) was low on fruit, high on pectin; and relied heavily on various flavourings and preservatives and shocking pink food colouring. A typical Hartley-inspired product, as the makers signal by their almost demonic depiction of the Hartley-childrens' faces:
If my experience is anything to go by; whenever you encounter a Hartley - beware.
