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Actually Inga's mom was telling me to photograph this creature and also it's not quite forest but graveyard, so this is the official graveyard worm. I hope it's not one living underground :P, but the one, who later would turn into beautiful butterfly!
actually she was all ready to go... but she had to stay home! what sorrow! I think you can tell she is a bit sad!
I did the best I could Lynx! xox
Should I really be contemplating a day trip to Norfolk just 24 hours after being laid so low?
I felt I recovered well on Friday, though not hungry still. After getting up and having a coffee, all was set.
I had to catch the ten to six train out of Dover, as I had a cheap ticket. I was going to have something from the buffet, or Pumpkin as its now called.
But was closed.
So, I sat on the station waiting for the train to pull in.
I got on and sat on my favourite side, the carriage was quiet, which suits me. Sadly, at Folkestone West, ten ladies got on and sat in the seats in front clearly on a weekend taking in the bright lights of London. They spent all the journey to Stafford talking about foundation cream and this season's colours.
But who am I to judge?
At Stratford I went up to the concourse then along to the DLY, hopping on a train that was about to depart for the stop to Stratford (Regional).
Where I found I had a fifty (50) minute wait, so went to the Middle Eastern kiosk on the underpass for lamb samosas and a coke.
The overnight rain had cleared, so I took my breakfast to the platform and found a dry seat under the footbridge and spent a fine half hour people and train watching.
As you do.
The train arrived at 08:37, it was three quarters full, but still plenty of seats.
So I took a seat on the right hand so I could watch the suburban stations flash by and then out into the Essex badlands.
No stopping at Chelmsford, onwards to the delights of Colchester and into Suffolk.
Train toilets can now be flushed in stations, so that joy is taken away. Not that I would have, anyway.
Unusually, both Ipswich and Norwich were playing at home on the same day at the same time, as were Colchester. Loads of fans got off at Ipswich, so the quarter full train continued to Stowmarket and Diss.
Then to Norwich.
Norwich is my old stamping ground, a city I know so well, apart from the usual suspects hard to enter churches, there wasn't a lot I could think off to fill in the two hours before opening time.
I looked at Simon's album of roof bosses from the Cathedral cloister, and decided I would photograph those. I didn't have a long enough lens, but what the hell.
Into Norfolk just before arriving in Diss, then through the rolling countryside peppered with sentinel-like church towers. Some close, some distant.
And then we were on the edge of the city, round to the single track bridge and into Thorpe Station, as was.
Back home.
If anywhere feels like home now.
I walked up the once vibrant Prince of Wales road, still with nightclubs and lap dancing bars, but most looking down at heel. The lights and paint not so bright, and the pub after which the road is named, is no more and is a gaming hub. Closed.
Through the Erpingham Gate into the precinct and to the modern entrance. I paid a tenner, and went straight to the cloisters, having declined a map.
I spent nearly an hour photographing and then talking to an American gentleman before a figure came to my shoulder.
It my my friend, Cam, and I was here to meet him and others for beers, chats and laughs.
We shook hands and chatted. I took a few more shots before we went back into the Nave and did one grand loop of the Sanctuary before leaving and getting his cycle.
A five minute walk down Wensum Street, over the bridge and onto Magdalen Street to the Kings Head, five past opening time.
I had a fine cherry-chocolate porter to start, and we met John and Stephen in the rear bar.
Hands shook, update on Simon's journey, and we got down to chit chat.
The pub was lively, with lots of scarf bedecked fans coming in for a pint or two before heading off to the home of football.
At some point, Simon arrived having had to get a rail replacement bus from Diss to Norwich, he was soon catching up.
We left for the Ribs at three, our number already down to the hardcore three, and Cameron left at four to meet with his family.
We took our beers to the decking just over the river surface, and leisured in the warm later afternoon breeze and low sun, it was warm.
Nearly.
I ended up having an argument with the two racist Brexit supports beside me, thankfully they left, leaving Simon and myself to empty our glasses and at five, walk down towards the station.
Norwich had won 4-2 against Stoke, while Ipswich lost 4-1 to local rivals Spurs.
At the Compleat Angler, it was full with happy fans. Simon got a round in, and I sat outside, though with dusk falling it was no longer warm.
We walk across the rad to the station, climbed on board the train waiting, quite full. But we found seats round a table, so spread out and chatted some more.
The train moved out, and into the blackness of the moonless night, illuminated only by the villages and stations on the line.
Simon got out at Norwich, the train continued south. I got a sandwich from the refreshment trolley.
The train entered Essex, speeding towards the capitol.
At Stratford, back on the DLR to the International station where I had a twenty minute wait for my train, which when it arrived was busy, but with seats free.
So, just an hour down to Dover, where Jools was waiting for me to take me home for one last brew before going to bed.
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Norwich has everything. Thus, the normally dry and undemonstrative Nikolaus Pevsner began his survey of the capital of Norfolk in his 1962 volume Buildings of England: Norwich and north-east Norfolk. And there is no doubt that this is one of the best cities of its size in northern Europe. Living in Ipswich as I do, I hear plenty of grumbles about Norwich; but really, although the two places have roughly the same population, Ipswich cannot even begin to compare with regard to its townscape. The only features which the capital of Suffolk can claim to hold above its beautiful northern neighbour are a large central park (Norwich's Chapelfield gardens is not a patch on Ipswich's Christchurch Park) and a large body of water in the heart of the town, perhaps Ipswich's most endearing feature and greatest saving grace.
But Norwich has everything else - to continue Pevsner's eulogy, a cathedral, a castle on a mound right in the middle, walls and towers, a medieval centre with winding streets and alleys, thirty-five medieval parish churches and a river with steamships. It even has hills...
I think it would be possible to visit Norwich and not even know this cathedral was there. The centre of the city is dominated by the castle, and the most familiar feature to visitors is the great market square widened by the clearances of the 1930s, and the fine City Hall built at that time which towers above it. In comparison, Norwich Cathedral sits down in a dip beside the river, walled in by its close, and is visible best from outside the city walls, especially from the east on the riverside, and to the north from Mousehold Heath. If you arrive by road from the south or west, you may not even catch a glimpse of it. The great spire is hidden by those winding streets and alleys, and many of the city's churches are more visible, especially St Giles, St Peter Mancroft in the Market Place, and the vast Catholic Cathedral of St John the Baptist, on Grapes Hill. It is said that the nave floor of St John the Baptist is at the same height above sea level as the top of the crossing of the Anglican cathedral.
With the possible exception of Lincoln Cathedral, I think that Norwich Cathedral is my favourite cathedral in all England. Call this East of England chauvinism if you like, But Norwich Cathedral has everything you could possible want from a great medieval building. But there is more to it than that. It is also one of the most welcoming cathedrals in England. There is no charge for admission, and they positively encourage you to wander around through the daily business of the cathedral, in the continental manner. No boards saying Silence Please - Service in Progress here. Because of this, the Cathedral becomes an act of witness in itself, and you step into what feels like it probably really is the house of God on Earth. They even used to say the Lord's Prayer over the PA system once an hour, and invite you to stop and join in - I wish they'd go back to doing that. The three pounds you pay for a photography permit must be one of the bargains of the century so far.
Norwich Cathedral is unusual, in that this is the original building. It has been augmented over the centuries of course, but this is still essentially the very first cathedral on this site. This is because the see was only moved to Norwich after the Norman invasion. The Normans saw the wisdom of drawing together ecclesiastical and civil power, and one way in which this might be achieved was by siting the cathedrals in the hearts of important towns. At the time of the conquest, Bishop Herfast had his seat at Thetford, and it was decided to move the see to Bury St Edmunds in Suffolk. It had moved several times during the previous four centuries, from Walton in Suffolk to North Elmham in Norfolk before Thetford, where the first proper but simple stone building had been raised. But as well as an eye for efficient administration, the Normans brought the idea that Cathedrals should be glorified; already, vast edifices were being raised in Durham, London and Ely. and Bury St Edmunds, with its famous Abbey, was the obvious place for the Diocese of East Anglia to sit.
However, such a move would have removed the Abbey's independent direct line with Rome, and placed it under the jurisdiction of the Province of Canterbury. The Abbey community was determined that this would not happen, and Abbot Baldwin sent representations to the Pope that ensured the survival of St Edmundsbury Abbey's independence. Bishop Herfast would not be allowed to glorify his position in East Anglia in the way his colleagues were doing elsewhere. But his successor, Herbert de Losinga, was more determined - and, perhaps, steeled by his conscience. A Norman, he had bought the Bishopric from the King in 1091, an act of simony that required penance. Building a great cathedral could be seen as that act of penance. But where? Bury was a lost cause; instead, he chose to move the see to a thriving market town in the north-east of his Diocese; a smaller, more remote place than Bury, to be sure, but proximity to the Abbey of St Edmund was perhaps not such a good thing anyway. It tended to cast a rather heavy shadow. And so it was that the great medieval cathedral of the East Anglian bishops came to be built, instead, at Norwich.
Work began in 1094, and seems to have been complete by 1145. It is one of the great Romanesque buildings of northern Europe, its special character a result of responses to fires and collapses over the course of the next few centuries. At the Reformation in the sixteenth century, it became a protestant cathedral of the new Church of England, losing its role as a setting for ancient sacraments and devotions, but being maintained as the administrative seat of a Diocese which covered all of Norfolk and Suffolk, and the ceremonial church of its great city. In the 19th Century, the western part of the Norwich Diocese was transferred into that of Ely, and at the start of the 20th Century the southern parishes became part of the new Diocese of St Edmundsbury and Ipswich. Today, the Diocese of Norwich consists of north, south and east Norfolk, and the north-eastern tip of Suffolk.
The absence of this great church from the Norfolk Churches site has long been the elephant in the room, so to speak. And having it here at last is, I feel, a mark of how things have changed. When I first started the Norfolk and Suffolk sites back in 1999, I did not have a decent camera, and the earliest entries did not have any photographs at all. How the wheel has turned. Now, the photographs have become the sites, and with no apologies I don't intend to make this a wordy entry.
The perfection of Norwich is of distant views, the cloisters, and the interior. The exterior is hemmed in, and the most familiar part of the building, the west front, is a poor thing, the victim of barbarous restorations in the 18th and 19th centuries. It is almost a surprise to step through its mundanity into the soaring glory of the nave. Above, the famous vaulting is home to one of the largest collections of medieval bosses in the world. There are more in the beautiful cloisters.
The view to the east is of the great organ, looking very 17th Century but actually the work of Stephen Dykes Bower in the 1950s. Beyond is the intimacy of the quire and ambulatory with its radial chapels, the best of which is St Luke's chapel, containing the Despenser retable. Bishop Despenser is one of history's villains, putting down the Peasants Revolt in East Anglia with some enthusiasm. It is likely that this retable was made for the cathedral's high altar, possibly even to give thanks for the end of the Revolt. It was discovered upside down in use as a table in the 1840s. This chapel is, unusually, also a parish church; the parish of St Mary in the Marsh, the church of which was demolished at the Reformation, moved into the cathedral. They brought their seven sacrament font with them, and here it remains.
In the ambulatory there are many traces of medieval paint, almost certainly from the original building of the Cathedral. Two curiosities: at the back of the apse is the original Bishop's chair, and rising across the north side of the ambulatory like a bridge is a relic screen.
There is a good range of glass dating from the 14th to the 21st centuries. Highlights include the medieval panels in the north side of the ambulatory, Edward Burne-Jones's bold figures in the north transept, Moira Forsyth's spectacular Benedictine window of 1964 in a south chapel, and the millennium glass high in the north transept, which I think will in time become one of the defining features of the Cathedral. The figure of the Blessed Virgin with the Christ Child seated on her lap is the work of Norfolk-based artist John Hayward, who died recently, but the glass above is Hayward's reworking of Keith New's 1960s glass for St Stephen Walbrook in London, removed from there in the 1980s, and now reset here. Towards the west end of the nave are two sets of Stuart royal arms in glass, a rare survival.
I grew up in a city some sixty miles away from Norwich, but I didn't come here until I was in my mid-teens. I remember wandering around this building and being blown away by it, and I still get that feeling today. There is always something new to find here. My favourite time here is first thing in the morning on a winter Saturday. Often, I can be the only visitor, which only increases the awe. Another time I like to be here in winter is on a Saturday afternoon for choral evensong. Perhaps best of all, though, is to wander and wonder in the cloisters on a bright sunny day, gazing at fabulous bosses almost within arm's reach.
Several English cathedrals have good closes, but Norwich's is the only one in a major city, I think. It creates the sense of an ecclesiastical village at the heart of the city; and then, beyond, the lanes and alleys spread out, still hanging on despite German bombing and asinine redevelopment. And now I think perhaps it is part of the beauty of this building that it is tucked away by the river, a place to seek out and explore. Norwich has everything, says Pevsner. But really, I think this is the very best thing of all.
www.norfolkchurches.co.uk/norwichcathedral/norwichcathedr...
Actually its just some of Holyrood Park - I guess you're not on Arthurs Seat proper until you're actually at the top.
This sculpture was actually tagged, but you couldn't get close enough t see it..., Wolfson Campus downtown Miami Florida
Actually bad antenna day. Any ID help would be appreciated.
My best ID guess is some kind of Crambid snout moth: bugguide.net/node/view/419765
Looks something like this one: bugguide.net/node/view/538677
I was actually sitting down on the bench, and Stanley was laying next to me and Boris under - Stanley started to get down though to come see what I was doing.
And so, to the Isle of Eels.
I was up at half five, having slept surprisingly well, and the room actually cool.
I messed around for half an hour, then packed and with one last sweep, left the oven for the last time, not looking back.
The station was a five minute walk away, and the ring road quiet at quarter to seven. Once inside I bought a ticket to Ely, then went to the station buffet to buy a bottle of Coke and a sausage roll to have on the train once it pulled in.
Again it was an eight car class 387 set, so plenty of space on the train, and early enough to beat the last dregs of the festival crowd who might be travelling.
Ely, or the Isle of Ely, stands on a low hill, that was once surrounded by marshes, mires and pools until polderisation took place and these turned into farmland. So, imagine the cathedral as it is now, but rising from the marshes and fens, it must have seemed miraculous.
The cathedral as an unusual feature, the Octagon or Lantern, which relaced a tower that collapsed possibly as part of the construction of the Lady Chapel.
How something so large just seems to sit on the roof, and has done so for some 600 years is a wonder, and testament to the work of the builders and the used of the supporting columns and arches that hold and spreads the weight.
I have over two hours to kill before the cathedral opens, so watch trains coming and going for half an hour or so. Good as Ely is the junction of lines north, south, east and west, and then some, so a good mix of traction and liveries. And then the passing freight train en route to Felixstowe too.
Trains to Cambridge are packed, and cycles not allowed during the rush hour, so good to watch people squeeze on, content for me that all I have to worry about is where to get breakfast.
I walk out of the station, down through the car park and seeing the cathedral about half a mile away, up the hill, I set off.
Signs lead along a typical Fenland town street, plan, if not downright ugly houses and dirty boarded up shops and takeaways, before walking left and beside the car park, up a fairly steep path and out through what might have been the arch of a coaching inn, and out onto the main street.
I tried to find a place for breakfast, but the only café I found was an hour from opening, and they were just setting the chairs and tables outside. So it was a Costa Coffee, a huge vat of Americano, along with a sausage bap, microwaved, but good enough.
I took my time and people watched, so that by the time i left I had just half an hour to wait.
The twin west towers and the lantern rise above the roofs of the town, so drew me ever closer like a moth to a flame. I approached the cathedral gate along a cobbled alleyway, then into the grounds, a large grassed area with shaded seating, at least at that time of day, to ponder and admire the scene.
I was first in the west door at half nine, waiting to pay my entrance and then get out and take shots. There is a tour up to the lantern, 175 steps, which on such a hot day didn't seem like a good idea, so I bailed. But we shall return.
I go around with the 50mm on my camera, and soon even in the coolness of the Nave, I was getting hot, and needed to take five minutes here and there to try to cool down and mop my brow.
The Lantern dominates everything, or course, and on the Transept in front of the Quire, and altar the size and shape of the Lantern above sits on a wooden platform.
Above there is the pained wooden roof of the Nave, and in each Transept wooden ceilings are flanked by a hoard of angels and attendants. All highly painted.
I switched to the big lens, to get details of the windows and carvings, so that by eleven or so, I was very hot and bothered.
So, back outside, on the hunt for a taxi to take me the short drive to the station. I asked one driver packed up, so he advised me to go past The Lamb, turn right and past The Hereward there's the rank.
So I follows his direction, see taxis up ahead, but seeing people with pints of ice cold beer inside, I go in and treat myself to a pint of Amstel.
It was cold and wet.
But when I came out, the rank was empty, but there was an office nearby, and they got a car to come, driven by a friendly guy who took me down past the cathedral, down the hill to the station.
For a fiver.
There was a Thameslink train waiting, wasn't due to leave, but has 12 air conditioned carriages, so I got on one near the front and took a seat to ait, and from there I cold still watch trains coming and going on the other two platforms.
The train moved off on time, and only stopped at Cambridge North to pick up a few passengers, and Cambridge to pick up a lot. It was certainly full of life with two families of Indian, three mothers with six children between them, and the age old struggle of how to keep them entertained.
The Class 700 Thameslinks are infamous for their hard seating. Which is true, but under each seat there is a supporting strut which reduces footroom and caused my knee to complain for the rest of the day.
Non-stop into King's Cross, and over the road I found I had missed a Dover train by ten minutes, so had 50 minutes to kill, so into M&S to do some shopping, get bread for dinner, then into the 'Spoons next door for yet more old beer.
I go up onto the platform to wait for the train to pull in, and get talking to two ladies from or near Leeds who were cycling the southern part of Cycling Route 1 from Dover to Felixstowe.
I confirmed for them the climb out of Dover to the National Trust place was indeed, one heck of a climb.
So, onto the train and a quick hour back under London, through the southern Essex badlands and into Kent to Dover where I had arranged a taxi to take me home.
AJ appeared interested in me photographing churches, and so the trip went quickly, and he insisted on dropping me at the door rather than on Station Road, as it was "too dangerous".
A short walk home where Mulder and Scully were waiting for dinner, it was four after all.
I prepared Caprese, sliced the bread and made sure there was some fizz chilling, so that when Jools got home we could eat well. Her journey home was made difficult by a crash on Townwall Street, and then all other roads around it quickly jammed.
There could have been football to watch, but needing a shower and being footsore meant I went to bed instead, though couldn't sleep.
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Ely Cathedral, formally the Cathedral Church of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, is an Anglican cathedral in the city of Ely, Cambridgeshire, England.
The cathedral can trace its origin to the abbey founded in Ely in 672 by St Æthelthryth (also called Etheldreda). The earliest parts of the present building date to 1083, and it was granted cathedral status in 1109. Until the Reformation, the cathedral was dedicated to St Etheldreda and St Peter, at which point it was refounded as the Cathedral Church of the Holy and Undivided Trinity of Ely. It is the cathedral of the Diocese of Ely, which covers most of Cambridgeshire and western Norfolk, Essex, and Bedfordshire. It is the seat of the Bishop of Ely and a suffragan bishop, the Bishop of Huntingdon.[1]
Architecturally, Ely Cathedral is outstanding both for its scale and stylistic details. Having been built in a monumental Romanesque style, the galilee porch, lady chapel and choir were rebuilt in an exuberant Decorated Gothic. Its most notable feature is the central octagonal tower, with lantern above, which provides a unique internal space and, along with the West Tower, dominates the surrounding landscape.
The cathedral is a major tourist destination, receiving around 250,000 visitors per year,[2] and sustains a daily pattern of morning and evening services.
Ely Abbey was founded in 672, by Æthelthryth (St Etheldreda), a daughter of Anna, King of East Anglia. It was a mixed community of men and women.[4] Later accounts suggest her three successor abbesses were also members of the East Anglian Royal family. In later centuries, the depredations of Viking raids may have resulted in its destruction, or at least the loss of all records.[5] It is possible that some monks provided a continuity through to its refoundation in 970, under a Benedictine rule.[5] The precise siting of Æthelthryth's original monastery is not known. The presence of her relics, bolstered by the growing body of literature on her life and miracles, was a major driving force in the success of the refounded abbey. The church building of 970 was within or near the nave of the present building, and was progressively demolished from 1102 alongside the construction of the Norman church.[6] The obscure Ermenilda of Ely also became an abbess sometime after her husband, Wulfhere of Mercia, died in 675.
The cathedral is built from stone quarried from Barnack in Northamptonshire (bought from Peterborough Abbey, whose lands included the quarries, for 8,000 eels a year[clarification needed]), with decorative elements carved from Purbeck Marble and local clunch. The plan of the building is cruciform (cross-shaped), with an additional transept at the western end. The total length is 164 metres (537 ft),[8] and the nave at over 75 m (246 ft) long remains one of the longest in Britain. The west tower is 66 m (217 ft) high. The unique Octagon 'Lantern Tower' is 23 m (75 ft) wide and is 52 m (171 ft) high. Internally, from the floor to the central roof boss the lantern is 43 m (141 ft) high. The cathedral is known locally as "the ship of the Fens", because of its prominent position above the surrounding flat landscape.
Having a pre-Norman history spanning 400 years and a re-foundation in 970, Ely over the course of the next hundred years had become one of England's most successful Benedictine abbeys, with a famous saint, treasures, library, book production of the highest order and lands exceeded only by Glastonbury.[11] However the imposition of Norman rule was particularly problematic at Ely. Newly arrived Normans such as Picot of Cambridge were taking possession of abbey lands,[12] there was appropriation of daughter monasteries such as Eynesbury by French monks, and interference by the Bishop of Lincoln was undermining its status. All this was exacerbated when, in 1071, Ely became a focus of English resistance, through such people as Hereward the Wake, culminating in the Siege of Ely, for which the abbey suffered substantial fines.
The half-built west tower and upper parts of the two western transepts were completed under Bishop Geoffrey Ridel (1174–89), to create an exuberant west front, richly decorated with intersecting arches and complex mouldings. The new architectural details were used systematically to the higher storeys of the tower and transepts. Rows of trefoil heads and use of pointed instead of semicircular arches,[24] results in a west front with a high level of orderly uniformity.[25]
Originally the west front had transepts running symmetrically either side of the west tower. Stonework details on the tower show that an octagonal tower was part of the original design, although the current western octagonal tower was installed in 1400. Numerous attempts were made, during all phases of its construction to correct problems from subsidence in areas of soft ground at the western end of the cathedral. In 1405–1407, to cope with the extra weight from the octagonal tower, four new arches were added at the west crossing to strengthen the tower.[26] The extra weight of these works may have added to the problem, as at the end of the fifteenth century the north-west transept collapsed. A great sloping mass of masonry was built to buttress the remaining walls, which remain in their broken-off state on the north side of the tower.
The central octagonal tower, with its vast internal open space and its pinnacles and lantern above, forms the most distinctive and celebrated feature of the cathedral.[41] However, what Pevsner describes as Ely's 'greatest individual achievement of architectural genius'[42] came about through a disaster at the centre of the cathedral. On the night of 12–13 February 1322, possibly as a result of digging foundations for the Lady Chapel, the Norman central crossing tower collapsed. Work on the Lady Chapel was suspended as attention transferred to dealing with this disaster. Instead of being replaced by a new tower on the same ground plan, the crossing was enlarged to an octagon, removing all four of the original tower piers and absorbing the adjoining bays of the nave, chancel and transepts to define an open area far larger than the square base of the original tower. The construction of this unique and distinctive feature was overseen by Alan of Walsingham.[43] The extent of his influence on the design continues to be a matter of debate, as are the reasons such a radical step was taken. Mistrust of the soft ground under the failed tower piers may have been a major factor in moving all the weight of the new tower further out.[44]
The large stone octagonal tower, with its eight internal archways, leads up to timber vaulting that appears to allow the large glazed timber lantern to balance on their slender struts.[45] The roof and lantern are actually held up by a complex timber structure above the vaulting which could not be built in this way today because there are no trees big enough.[46] The central lantern, also octagonal in form, but with angles offset from the great Octagon, has panels showing pictures of musical angels, which can be opened, with access from the Octagon roof-space, so that real choristers can sing from on high.[46] More wooden vaulting forms the lantern roof. At the centre is a wooden boss carved from a single piece of oak, showing Christ in Majestry. The elaborate joinery and timberwork was brought about by William Hurley, master carpenter in the royal service.
Well actually this is me pausing a 1080 HD clip in iMovie full screened on my 15" MacBook Pro and then screen grabbing. Yes it's a round about way to do it but it was quick and painless. Not bad for a still of a digital video camera!
Oh and I'm born and raised NorCal and damn proud. I wear it as a reminder to all that ain't from here who's boss because it ain't you.
And so, to the Isle of Eels.
I was up at half five, having slept surprisingly well, and the room actually cool.
I messed around for half an hour, then packed and with one last sweep, left the oven for the last time, not looking back.
The station was a five minute walk away, and the ring road quiet at quarter to seven. Once inside I bought a ticket to Ely, then went to the station buffet to buy a bottle of Coke and a sausage roll to have on the train once it pulled in.
Again it was an eight car class 387 set, so plenty of space on the train, and early enough to beat the last dregs of the festival crowd who might be travelling.
Ely, or the Isle of Ely, stands on a low hill, that was once surrounded by marshes, mires and pools until polderisation took place and these turned into farmland. So, imagine the cathedral as it is now, but rising from the marshes and fens, it must have seemed miraculous.
The cathedral as an unusual feature, the Octagon or Lantern, which relaced a tower that collapsed possibly as part of the construction of the Lady Chapel.
How something so large just seems to sit on the roof, and has done so for some 600 years is a wonder, and testament to the work of the builders and the used of the supporting columns and arches that hold and spreads the weight.
I have over two hours to kill before the cathedral opens, so watch trains coming and going for half an hour or so. Good as Ely is the junction of lines north, south, east and west, and then some, so a good mix of traction and liveries. And then the passing freight train en route to Felixstowe too.
Trains to Cambridge are packed, and cycles not allowed during the rush hour, so good to watch people squeeze on, content for me that all I have to worry about is where to get breakfast.
I walk out of the station, down through the car park and seeing the cathedral about half a mile away, up the hill, I set off.
Signs lead along a typical Fenland town street, plan, if not downright ugly houses and dirty boarded up shops and takeaways, before walking left and beside the car park, up a fairly steep path and out through what might have been the arch of a coaching inn, and out onto the main street.
I tried to find a place for breakfast, but the only café I found was an hour from opening, and they were just setting the chairs and tables outside. So it was a Costa Coffee, a huge vat of Americano, along with a sausage bap, microwaved, but good enough.
I took my time and people watched, so that by the time i left I had just half an hour to wait.
The twin west towers and the lantern rise above the roofs of the town, so drew me ever closer like a moth to a flame. I approached the cathedral gate along a cobbled alleyway, then into the grounds, a large grassed area with shaded seating, at least at that time of day, to ponder and admire the scene.
I was first in the west door at half nine, waiting to pay my entrance and then get out and take shots. There is a tour up to the lantern, 175 steps, which on such a hot day didn't seem like a good idea, so I bailed. But we shall return.
I go around with the 50mm on my camera, and soon even in the coolness of the Nave, I was getting hot, and needed to take five minutes here and there to try to cool down and mop my brow.
The Lantern dominates everything, or course, and on the Transept in front of the Quire, and altar the size and shape of the Lantern above sits on a wooden platform.
Above there is the pained wooden roof of the Nave, and in each Transept wooden ceilings are flanked by a hoard of angels and attendants. All highly painted.
I switched to the big lens, to get details of the windows and carvings, so that by eleven or so, I was very hot and bothered.
So, back outside, on the hunt for a taxi to take me the short drive to the station. I asked one driver packed up, so he advised me to go past The Lamb, turn right and past The Hereward there's the rank.
So I follows his direction, see taxis up ahead, but seeing people with pints of ice cold beer inside, I go in and treat myself to a pint of Amstel.
It was cold and wet.
But when I came out, the rank was empty, but there was an office nearby, and they got a car to come, driven by a friendly guy who took me down past the cathedral, down the hill to the station.
For a fiver.
There was a Thameslink train waiting, wasn't due to leave, but has 12 air conditioned carriages, so I got on one near the front and took a seat to ait, and from there I cold still watch trains coming and going on the other two platforms.
The train moved off on time, and only stopped at Cambridge North to pick up a few passengers, and Cambridge to pick up a lot. It was certainly full of life with two families of Indian, three mothers with six children between them, and the age old struggle of how to keep them entertained.
The Class 700 Thameslinks are infamous for their hard seating. Which is true, but under each seat there is a supporting strut which reduces footroom and caused my knee to complain for the rest of the day.
Non-stop into King's Cross, and over the road I found I had missed a Dover train by ten minutes, so had 50 minutes to kill, so into M&S to do some shopping, get bread for dinner, then into the 'Spoons next door for yet more old beer.
I go up onto the platform to wait for the train to pull in, and get talking to two ladies from or near Leeds who were cycling the southern part of Cycling Route 1 from Dover to Felixstowe.
I confirmed for them the climb out of Dover to the National Trust place was indeed, one heck of a climb.
So, onto the train and a quick hour back under London, through the southern Essex badlands and into Kent to Dover where I had arranged a taxi to take me home.
AJ appeared interested in me photographing churches, and so the trip went quickly, and he insisted on dropping me at the door rather than on Station Road, as it was "too dangerous".
A short walk home where Mulder and Scully were waiting for dinner, it was four after all.
I prepared Caprese, sliced the bread and made sure there was some fizz chilling, so that when Jools got home we could eat well. Her journey home was made difficult by a crash on Townwall Street, and then all other roads around it quickly jammed.
There could have been football to watch, but needing a shower and being footsore meant I went to bed instead, though couldn't sleep.
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Ely Cathedral, formally the Cathedral Church of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, is an Anglican cathedral in the city of Ely, Cambridgeshire, England.
The cathedral can trace its origin to the abbey founded in Ely in 672 by St Æthelthryth (also called Etheldreda). The earliest parts of the present building date to 1083, and it was granted cathedral status in 1109. Until the Reformation, the cathedral was dedicated to St Etheldreda and St Peter, at which point it was refounded as the Cathedral Church of the Holy and Undivided Trinity of Ely. It is the cathedral of the Diocese of Ely, which covers most of Cambridgeshire and western Norfolk, Essex, and Bedfordshire. It is the seat of the Bishop of Ely and a suffragan bishop, the Bishop of Huntingdon.[1]
Architecturally, Ely Cathedral is outstanding both for its scale and stylistic details. Having been built in a monumental Romanesque style, the galilee porch, lady chapel and choir were rebuilt in an exuberant Decorated Gothic. Its most notable feature is the central octagonal tower, with lantern above, which provides a unique internal space and, along with the West Tower, dominates the surrounding landscape.
The cathedral is a major tourist destination, receiving around 250,000 visitors per year,[2] and sustains a daily pattern of morning and evening services.
Ely Abbey was founded in 672, by Æthelthryth (St Etheldreda), a daughter of Anna, King of East Anglia. It was a mixed community of men and women.[4] Later accounts suggest her three successor abbesses were also members of the East Anglian Royal family. In later centuries, the depredations of Viking raids may have resulted in its destruction, or at least the loss of all records.[5] It is possible that some monks provided a continuity through to its refoundation in 970, under a Benedictine rule.[5] The precise siting of Æthelthryth's original monastery is not known. The presence of her relics, bolstered by the growing body of literature on her life and miracles, was a major driving force in the success of the refounded abbey. The church building of 970 was within or near the nave of the present building, and was progressively demolished from 1102 alongside the construction of the Norman church.[6] The obscure Ermenilda of Ely also became an abbess sometime after her husband, Wulfhere of Mercia, died in 675.
The cathedral is built from stone quarried from Barnack in Northamptonshire (bought from Peterborough Abbey, whose lands included the quarries, for 8,000 eels a year[clarification needed]), with decorative elements carved from Purbeck Marble and local clunch. The plan of the building is cruciform (cross-shaped), with an additional transept at the western end. The total length is 164 metres (537 ft),[8] and the nave at over 75 m (246 ft) long remains one of the longest in Britain. The west tower is 66 m (217 ft) high. The unique Octagon 'Lantern Tower' is 23 m (75 ft) wide and is 52 m (171 ft) high. Internally, from the floor to the central roof boss the lantern is 43 m (141 ft) high. The cathedral is known locally as "the ship of the Fens", because of its prominent position above the surrounding flat landscape.
Having a pre-Norman history spanning 400 years and a re-foundation in 970, Ely over the course of the next hundred years had become one of England's most successful Benedictine abbeys, with a famous saint, treasures, library, book production of the highest order and lands exceeded only by Glastonbury.[11] However the imposition of Norman rule was particularly problematic at Ely. Newly arrived Normans such as Picot of Cambridge were taking possession of abbey lands,[12] there was appropriation of daughter monasteries such as Eynesbury by French monks, and interference by the Bishop of Lincoln was undermining its status. All this was exacerbated when, in 1071, Ely became a focus of English resistance, through such people as Hereward the Wake, culminating in the Siege of Ely, for which the abbey suffered substantial fines.
The half-built west tower and upper parts of the two western transepts were completed under Bishop Geoffrey Ridel (1174–89), to create an exuberant west front, richly decorated with intersecting arches and complex mouldings. The new architectural details were used systematically to the higher storeys of the tower and transepts. Rows of trefoil heads and use of pointed instead of semicircular arches,[24] results in a west front with a high level of orderly uniformity.[25]
Originally the west front had transepts running symmetrically either side of the west tower. Stonework details on the tower show that an octagonal tower was part of the original design, although the current western octagonal tower was installed in 1400. Numerous attempts were made, during all phases of its construction to correct problems from subsidence in areas of soft ground at the western end of the cathedral. In 1405–1407, to cope with the extra weight from the octagonal tower, four new arches were added at the west crossing to strengthen the tower.[26] The extra weight of these works may have added to the problem, as at the end of the fifteenth century the north-west transept collapsed. A great sloping mass of masonry was built to buttress the remaining walls, which remain in their broken-off state on the north side of the tower.
The central octagonal tower, with its vast internal open space and its pinnacles and lantern above, forms the most distinctive and celebrated feature of the cathedral.[41] However, what Pevsner describes as Ely's 'greatest individual achievement of architectural genius'[42] came about through a disaster at the centre of the cathedral. On the night of 12–13 February 1322, possibly as a result of digging foundations for the Lady Chapel, the Norman central crossing tower collapsed. Work on the Lady Chapel was suspended as attention transferred to dealing with this disaster. Instead of being replaced by a new tower on the same ground plan, the crossing was enlarged to an octagon, removing all four of the original tower piers and absorbing the adjoining bays of the nave, chancel and transepts to define an open area far larger than the square base of the original tower. The construction of this unique and distinctive feature was overseen by Alan of Walsingham.[43] The extent of his influence on the design continues to be a matter of debate, as are the reasons such a radical step was taken. Mistrust of the soft ground under the failed tower piers may have been a major factor in moving all the weight of the new tower further out.[44]
The large stone octagonal tower, with its eight internal archways, leads up to timber vaulting that appears to allow the large glazed timber lantern to balance on their slender struts.[45] The roof and lantern are actually held up by a complex timber structure above the vaulting which could not be built in this way today because there are no trees big enough.[46] The central lantern, also octagonal in form, but with angles offset from the great Octagon, has panels showing pictures of musical angels, which can be opened, with access from the Octagon roof-space, so that real choristers can sing from on high.[46] More wooden vaulting forms the lantern roof. At the centre is a wooden boss carved from a single piece of oak, showing Christ in Majestry. The elaborate joinery and timberwork was brought about by William Hurley, master carpenter in the royal service.
Actually, I believe this is the new studio Robert Graham is building next to the home he shares with Anjelica Huston.
" Fraud: Going Back Home Is Actually a Fraud of Being Arrested and Taken to Prison
Hello, everyone! Welcome to pay attention to today’s topic of revealing the truth! Let’s get to know the truth behind the demonstration against refugees in Korea together!
Pro-CCP activist, Ms. O Myung-ok (오명옥) lured the relatives of the members of the Church of Almighty God to travel abroad to South Korea between August 30 and September 4, 2018. She claimed to let them reunite with their family and incited them to persuade the Christians of the Church of Almighty God to “return home.” According to informed Korean sources, in that demonstration, it was the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) who called for the recruitment of the relatives of the asylum seekers who still live in China, if necessary through threats and coercion, who would then call for the “return home” of the refugee. Obviously those Christians would not return “home” but, once in China, will be arrested and will thus “return” to jail. The CCP will also torture Christians by various means to force them to give up their faith and betray God. That is the sinister and evil purpose of the CCP!
The CCP not only persecutes religious beliefs and dissidents, but also uses the pro-CCP activists like Ms. O Myung-ok etc. to get those Christians who suffer persecution and have fled abroad back to China. These actions of the CCP have aroused people’s indignation! People’s eyes are bright and the fact is the most powerful weapon to fight back against rumors. Although Ms. O Myung-ok and other people held a series of demonstrations against refugees in Korea, as a result, not only did their scheme not succeed, but instead the fact that the CCP persecutes the Church of Almighty God overseas was made known to the public. More people can not only see the CCP’s evil deeds of persecuting Christians and but also recognize the real refugee status of Christians from the Church of Almighty God.
The CCP’s persecution of Christians of the Church of Almighty God absolutely won’t cease but will only get worse and worse because it has the satanic essence of resisting God and hating the truth. Ms. O Myung-ok etc. will not rest either. Then, what schemes do they still have exactly? Tomorrow’s topic of revealing the truth will give you the answer!"
Image Source: The Church of Almighty God
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In truth, I didn't have time to actually add my personal artistic touch on any of these hundreds of photos, because there simply were too many photos for me to even think about doing such a thing inside Lightroom 4. Instead, I used Lightroom 4 for what it is best of, was that I just applied Lightroom 4 default filters such as Punch to sharpened the photos up a bit and Video Color Pop to festive up the photos with lively colors. Furthermore, I added a personal touch by adding 25% of noise reduction to these photos as these photos were taken with a guided mode on my Nikon D3200 DSLR camera. Furthermore, if the photos were taken with my cousin's Cannon EOS T2i Rebel DSLR camera, these photos were too taken on auto mode and not in RAW. So in a sense, we were festive enough to not bother with actual camera settings such as ISO, Aperture, and Shutter Speed, because if we do we could not simply take this many pictures since we were also busy enjoying the Christmas 2012 Gathering festivity. Anyhow, this is why I think these photos weren't came out as we had hoped! Worse, we didn't have time to edit them all in Lightroom 4 to our artistic tastes, instead we relied on default filters from Lightroom 4. Nonetheless, these photos weren't too bad either, just more noise if we enlarge them near the original size. Why am I referring to we when I speak about these photos? It's a family cooperation, therefore I spoke of we as in sometimes I did hand my camera to a cousin or two to take these pictures also. Furthermore, I also added some photos that were taken by a cousin with her Cannon EOS T2i Rebel DSLR camera.
Actually a great design. The two outer red lights are big and bold and really grab your attention and let you know the light is red. The inner lights are green and yellow. They're all different shapes, too, presumably to help people with color blindness.
This is in Amherst, Nova Scotia, while I was looking for a unique-to-Nova Scotia donair (which is presumably reminiscent of the döner kebabs I had in Germany and the kebabs in Turkey and gyros in Greece). I did find one at a fast-food restaurant between the center of town and the highway, but I didn't like the sauce. I'm not sure if it was terribly authentic, though, so I may try another one next time I'm in the area.
Actually, it's a heavily cropped 500mm shot of a coot; they don't let you get very close. View Large On Black
Actually, I don't know what to call it but it's a passage from the sidewalk through the building to the backyard.
The Conmmander class release for the Legacy United line is Magmatron. I'd seen pictures of the original Beast era figure, but never actually played with one. Looked pretty solid, which of course makes sense given its Japanese anime origins. Plus it's a combiner which generally wins for me. So when this new version was announced it was a pretty much no brainer pre order.
I'm not sure how this new set compares to the old one, but in addition to Landsauraus, Airsaurus, and Seasaurus, you get two red blades that connect to the wings of Airsaurus, a blade that is part of Landsaurus, and some blast effects that I basically will never use again in my life.
Packaged in robot mode, I have to admit that for a Mainline release, it's actually pretty well designed. Now, it's not a traditional Gestalt, where Hasbro has failed over and over again to deliver. The Beast era triple combiners were all pretty good, mostly due to the fact they didn't have to deal with strange size difference between the components.
Actual articulation of the robot mode isn't anything special by Commander class standards, though there is that extra hinged used for the transformation of Landsaurus that gives Magmatron a bit more articulation in the abs. You can, however, squeeze a decent Twerk and Jack'O from this figure. Weapons consist of the aforementioned red blades or a sword made up of various components, with the bottom half of Seasaurus used as a shield.
Separation into its individual Dinosaur modes is, for the most part, a decent challenge. As with the recent Beast Mainline releases, specifically the larger ones, there's a lot of Shellforming involving, but these days the shells are segmented and while more complex to transform, allow for much better articulation (and appearance) than back in the day.
Well most of them.
Landsarurus has the most useful articulation, with some decently articulated hind legs and functional front claws and tail. The head has some decent range of motion but due to design the mouth only opens a small amount.
Skysaurus is actually quite well articulated with movement in both the wings and the feet. The head doesn't turn but you still have jaw action. Seasaurus... well it can flap it's flippers and move its neck.
Now, Magmasaurus (Dino Centipede) is... interesting. I honestly thought thsi would have been my favourite mode, but now that I have it in hand it's not bad but it's... kind of underwhelming and looks exactly like what you imagine. Just the three components combined the best they could to recreate an impossible to replicate mode.