If you were granted an hour with the ancestor of your choice, who would you choose? For me, it\u2019s a tough call, but Ernest would be right up there in the top three. I\u2019m speaking of Sir Ernest Shackleton, Antarctic explorer of the early 1900s. He was a legendary figure, famous for his courage and leadership in rescuing his crew from shipwreck and certain death.<\/em><\/p>\n Yes, I\u2019m proud to say that Ernie and I are close relatives. He is the\u00a0grand nephew of the husband of my 2nd cousin four times removed (honest, it\u2019s true). He often speaks of me (I\u2019m certain). I\u2019m expecting a letter from him any day. Still lost in the post, I suppose.<\/p>\n No matter. I arranged to meet him in the flesh in the reading room of the Royal Geographic Society, London at twelve noon sharp, August 4, 2013. Sir Ernest is a stickler for punctuality. I get there early. The reading room\u2019s grandfather clock chimes out the hour. I\u2019ve got goose bumps\u2026.ah, here he is now\u2026.<\/p>\n \u201cSir Ernest. Peter Bruce, your grand nephew and so on. What a great honour this is. Thank you for seeing me.\u201d Fifty-five minutes pass before Sir Ernest returns empty-handed. I inquired with the maitre d\u2019 as to its new location and was informed there was no dining hall, that it had been leased to the Salvation Army as a meal station for the homeless. Cost-cutting measure, he said. Tea could be obtained at the\u2026what did he call them?\u2026dispensing machines in the basement. Dispensing machines? What the devil are those?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIts a different world, Sir Ernest.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAt any rate, in the manner of explorers I persevered and started to make my way to the basement. On the way I inquired with a young lady as to the location of these machines and she offered to take me to them.<\/p>\n \u201cVery kind.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, but I wish she hadn\u2019t. Because it was then that I noticed a most extraordinary thing. Her legs, if I may be so frank, were completely exposed from her \u2026well, you know\u2026right here.<\/p>\n I was, to put it mildly, non-plussed. There she was, in full view of anybody who cared to look her way, half naked! Just a bit of cloth about her middle, the rest, well, exposed flesh as it were.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSir Ernest. That\u2019s how women dress these days.\u201d I don\u2019t think he heard me.<\/p>\n The curious thing was she seemed to have no inkling of her predicament, poor soul. Of course I promptly removed my jacket and attempted to wrap it about her mid-section, believing I was doing the gentlemanly thing and that she had somehow lost her bottom half without knowing it. She pushed me away, called me a \u201cbloody pervert\u201d and ran off yelling SECURITY, SECURITY.<\/p>\n A minute later two large men looking for all the world like bobbies, grab me, yell \u201cAGAINST THE WALL NOW\u201d, then run their hands all over my body. I briefly considered yelling \u2018pervert\u2019 myself, then thought the better of it.<\/p>\n Naturally I remonstrated, and told them my name, thinking they would quickly come to their senses, feel stupid and apologize. Not so, I\u2019m afraid. One of them replied that he was King Ferdinand of Spain and that henceforth, I was to address him as \u2018Your Highness.\u2019 The impudence.<\/p>\n \u201cOh gosh. What happened next?\u201d I didn\u2019t really want to know, but I felt compelled to ask. Sir Ernest needed to vent.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, they strong-armed me to a back room. The maitre d\u2019 joined us and there, they proceeded to grill me as to my identity and purpose here. I repeatedly told them who I was but they simply didn\u2019t believe me. I told them my grand nephew and so on was waiting in the reading room and that you would vouch for me. So here we are.\u201d<\/p>\n Standing before me were the maitre d\u2019, the two security men and a rather confused, distraught Sir Ernest in the firm grasp of his captors. Being marooned on Elephant Island must have looked rather appealing to Sir Ernest just then.<\/p>\n I of course provided the required vouchsafe. And when I picked myself up off the sidewalk and turned to check on Sir Ernest, he was gone. I looked at my watch. One minute past one. The hour was up.<\/p>\n Bon voyage, Sir Ernest. The tea was a trifle weak but your company was grand.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n For a brief overview\u00a0of Sir Ernest please see the slideshow below. To see it in full screen, click the play button then click the small square in the bottom right hand corner of the slideshow. \u00a0Return to this page by pressing \u2018Escape\u2019 on your keyboard.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, quite honestly, I had nothing better to do. This \u2018being dead\u2019 business gets frightfully boring, I\u2019m afraid.\u201d
\u201cI see. Remind me, then, not to rush into it.\u201d
\u201cShall I arrange for tea, Mr. Bruce?\u201d
\u201cPlease, call me Peter. And yes, thank you. Just black.\u201d
\u201cRight. Back in a moment.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m awfully sorry for the wait, old chap. I\u2019ve had a dreadful time. When I reached what used to be the dining hall, it was gone. Sealed up as though it had never existed.<\/p>\nSlideshow<\/h4>\n