@Paddington basin, LDN

 

First of all, I'm on a bit of a saturated phase at the moment, bear with me.. Secondly, the APO Sonnar = Nikon 58G on some truly Bokehlicious crack!

 

\begin{rant}

 

I've always wondered about the hocus-pocus-y terms "pop" or "3-D" in a lens. I suppose these two are not quite independent as each other since there are a few mechanisms going on:

 

1. Micro-contrast

2. Ability to slice scene cleanly into "planes"

3. Field curvature and aberrations

 

I define micro-contrast as the contrast difference between two adjacent points of a certain small distance. So it is possible to have a high micro-contrast (i.e. image very sharp) and a low global contrast (i.e. uniform tonality). Similarly, point two replaces contrast with focus.

 

Having defined these two things, then I guess a lens designer would optimise these two properties with different profiles. E.g. a peak function profile (i.e. one that looks like _/\_) would be desirable I think, since you'd end up with an image with sharp transition between focus/oof and a sudden "contrast-vignetting" effect which would increase pop, perception of sharpness and a depth effect (3-d ness).

 

A Gaussian function profile (hill with round top) on the other hand, would produce a relatively smeared image (in terms of focus/oof transition and micro-contrast) but if the maximum height of the hill is larger through the addition of field curvature, then an even more pleasant image of supreme "pop" and "3d" can be found, sacrificing sharpness and introducing unwanted aberrations (these lenses are usually chromatic-aberrate-a-lots).

 

Whenceforth, I've a feeling that the Nikon 58G has a Gaussian profile with a large height aided by the strategic addition of severe field curvature whereas the APO Sonnar is a lens with a peak function profile for supreme sharpness and edgy focus/oof transition but with a smaller maximum height since there's practically no field curvature. As a result, it may be the case that a flat-field lens is easier to correct aberrations for (easier to line things/rays up maybe).

 

On the extremely expensive side, a Noctilux 50/0.95 (I've tried one in the shop but remain underwhelmed) is actually closer in rendering to the APO Sonnar but with some blur/aberration characteristics of the 58G, though not all.. It's why they charge £8k for it I suppose. But to be honest, I'd be surprised if there's a world of difference if you compare it with a good copy of the 58G on a 16MP sensor like the Df. (Btw, the 58/1.4 is comparable to a 50/1.2 dof-wise I think.)

 

So, in the end, you've got to balance how much do you value the 58G kind of aberration-ridden-unsharp-but-incredible-depth pop vs the APO Sonnar kind of perfect-and-sharply-delineated kind of pop.

 

tl;dr - 58G if you want to pop like Andy Warhol on stilts on ice, APO Sonnar if you want to pop like a precision-fuelled optical diglett with a license to erm.. overkill?! ..nvm

 

\end{rant}

 

Anyway, procrastination over, back to bubbles...

Local legend says that if you stand with your back directly towards the frogs, and throw a coin* precisely over your head so it cleanly falls into the fountain...good fortune is guaranteed to follow...the caretaker, who drops by each evening to clean and tidy the place is then really fortunate XD

 

* A silvery one, not some cheap arse brown coin.

A demolition site framed like a theatre set. Layers of torn wallpaper and paint become a grid of absence. Buenos Aires never erases cleanly - it just leaves palimpsests on the walls.

 

📝 This image is available under Creative Commons 2.0 (Attribution required). Please link to the original photo and the license. License for use outside of the Creative Commons is available by request.

Shot 2 stop under exposed. Initially for bracketing shots, however with the Capture One..it manage to pull out most details done cleanly.

The herd was running together, one mind with a hundred hooves, until the fence appeared.

 

Most veered. One didn’t.

 

He jumped it cleanly, a picture of confidence in motion, while the rest thundered along the inside, still together.

 

When he realized he was alone, he stopped, turned, and looked at me. For a moment, I thought it was a meaningful glance. It wasn’t. He was trying to rejoin the herd.

 

Moral: Momentum feels like wisdom until you land on the other side.

  

Contrasting colours of Myrtle leaves. Myrtus, with the common name myrtle, is a genus of flowering plants in the family Myrtaceae, described by Swedish botanist Linnaeus in 1753. Over 600 names have been proposed in the genus, but nearly all have either been moved to other genera or been regarded as synonyms. The genus Myrtus has three species recognised today: Myrtus communis – Common myrtle; native to the Mediterranean region in southern Europe; Myrtus nivellei – Saharan myrtle; native to North Africa; Myrtus phyllireaefolia. Myrtus communis is widely cultivated as an ornamental plant for use as a shrub in gardens and parks. It is often used as a hedge plant, with its small leaves shearing cleanly. 2378

The Hypar is usually folded starting from a complete grid, but precreasing it cleanly is rather straightforward. Start by precreasing both diagonals of the square. Then, fold creases parallel to the sides of the square at half the distance between the edge and the square’s center, creasing only the segment which lies between the diagonals. Repeat on each side. Then, make the creases denser by folding halfway between the crease from previous step and the edge and between it and the center. Continue to get as fine a division as needed (already a division into 32nds results in a pretty smooth hypar).

 

See origami.kosmulski.org/models/hypar-clean for more pictures since this design is so elegant each view is interesting in its own way.

Tea Dueling is where contestants dunk a biscuit in a cup of hot tea to the count of three, the biscuit must be dunked to at least 3/4 depth, Contestants must then consume the biscuit cleanly before it dissolves but after their opponent does.

 

For Americans biscuit = cookie

Tea Dueling is where contestants dunk a biscuit in a cup of hot tea to the count of three, the biscuit must be dunked to at least 3/4 depth, Contestants must then consume the biscuit cleanly before it dissolves but after their opponent does.

 

For Americans biscuit = cookie

Wickham Place is the London home of Lord and Lady Southgate, their children and staff. Located in fashionable Belgravia it is a fine Georgian terrace house.

 

Today we are below stairs in the Wickham Place kitchen. The Wickham Place kitchens are situated on the ground floor of Wickham Place, adjoining the Butler’s Pantry. It is dominated by big black leaded range, and next to it stands a heavy dark wood dresser that has been there for as long as anyone can remember. In the middle of the kitchen stands Cook’s preserve, the pine deal table on which she does most of her preparation for both the meals served to the family upstairs and those for the downstairs staff.

 

Today Mrs. Bradley, fondly known as Cook by most of the Wickham Place family and staff, has been given instructions by Lady Southgate to come up with a splendid dinner with very little notice. She had to go and visit the local grocers in person, yet there is still part of the servant’s dinner* to prepare, and she cannot do both, and this leaves her with a decision to make.

 

“Agnes! Agnes!” Mrs. Bradly calls to her scullery maid who is standing over the sink, a place she is often found to be in the kitchen. “Have you finished scouring those pots yet, Agnes?”

 

“Oh, yes Mrs. Bradley!” Agnes enthuses, indicating to the gleaming copper pot in her careworn hands that she has just dried. “They’s all set to go back into their place on the dresser!”

 

“’They are’, is what you mean to say my girl!” she corrects her. “No lady of distinction is going to hire a cook who can’t speak the Queen’s English properly.”

 

“Oh, yes Mrs. Bradley. They are all set to go back into their place on the dresser.”

 

“That’s better.” Mrs. Bradley replies, satisfied. “Well come over here then girl. I have a job for you.”

 

“Yes, Mrs. Bradley!” Agnes scuttles across the flagstone floor, her skirts rusting and her shoes clattering in her haste. It is only at that moment that she realises that Mrs. Bradley is dressed to go out, wearing a thick black coat and an impressive felt picture hat covered in black feathers. Her reticule** hangs about the wrist of her black leather glove clad ring hand. “You’re all dressed up, Mrs. Bradley!” Agnes observes, her mouth falling open in surprise.”

 

“Oh for goodness sake, you silly girl!” Mrs. Bradley scolds. “There’s no need to gawk at me like that! It’s not like you’ve never seen me dressed to go out on an errand before. Close your mouth at once, or you might just swallow a fly!”

 

“Yes, Mrs, Bradley!” Agnes shuts her mouth immediately, gulping self-consciously.

 

“Now, before I set you this task, I need to make sure you’ve been listening to me Agnes.” Mrs. Bradley says, giving the young girl a serious look. “I need to know I can trust you not to be a silly goose and muck it up.”

 

“Oh, you can trust me, Mrs. Bradley.” Agnes nods emphatically.

 

“Hmmm…” the older woman ponders, a doubtful look clouding her face and deepening the wrinkles in her forehead as her lips purse. “I do wonder…”

 

“For certain, you can trust me Mrs. Bradley. Honest!”

 

“Well, I certainly hope so, because I need your help, Agnes. Let’s see if you’ve been listening.”

 

“I listen to everything you say, Mrs. Bradley.”

 

“I should think you do, my girl.” the older woman remarks loftily. “Now, can you tell me how to bake a lemon cake?”

 

Agnes stands silently for a moment and thinks, her eyes cast to the ceiling above. “Can I refer to the notebook you gave me to write recipes in.”

 

“You may, Agnes!”

 

The scullery maid scuttles over to the dresser and pulls open a drawer where she keeps her precious notebook and stubs of pencils. She returns to stand before the cook and flicks through her book. Mrs. Bradley’s face twitches as she glances up at the old clock hanging on the wall. Time is wasting. Time she doesn’t have. She huffs impatiently, but her anxiety falls on deaf ears as Agnes concentrates on finding the recipe that Mrs. Bradley has recited to her a number of times.

 

“Here it is!” Agnes says in triumph. “Two cups of good flour, one and three quarter ounces of butter, two large eggs, the juice and grated peel of two to three lemons, a cup of sugar and two thirds of a cup of milk, with an extra half a cup of sugar for dressing the cake.”

 

“Good! Good, Agnes!” Mrs. Bradley replies, pleasantly surprised at the correct measurements recited by her sometimes scatterbrained scullery maid. “Keep going.”

 

“Oh, yes Mrs. Bradley.” Agnes replies, looking back down to her little notebook, her blushing face screwing up in concentration. “Combine all ingredients in a large mixing bowl, keeping back a quarter of the lemon juice and the extra sugar to dress the cake. Mix thoroughly until all the ingredients are well combined, then pour mixture into a greased springform tin. Place in a moderate oven for three quarters of an hour to an hour when the top should be golden brown, the cake firm, yet springy to the touch, and a skewer comes out cleanly from its centre. Mix retained juice and sugar in a cup, then pour over the top of the cooked cake. Return to the oven for ten minutes. Remove the cooked cake and allow to cool. Remove cake from the springform and allow to fully cool on a rack. Serve with cream.”

 

“Excellent my girl!”

 

“Do I pass, Mrs. Bradley?” Agnes asks anxiously.

 

“You do, my girl, with flying colours.” the older woman affirms with a smile.

 

“So can I help you, Mrs. Bradley.”

 

“You can, Agnes.” Mrs. Bradley beams. “Her Ladyship,” She casts her eyes heavenwards. “Needs me to whip up a feast for a dinner party tonight, with next to no warning I might add, and I don’t have enough ingredients. So, I need to go to Mr. Willson’s the grocers. Servants’ dinner is partially ready with a nice beef and suet pie in the oven, but I’ll need you to make the dessert whilst I’m out.”

 

“Oh, yes Mrs. Bradley.” Agnes says excitedly. “What shall I make?”

 

“What… what should you make?” Mrs, Bradley splutters in astonishment. “Good heavens girl! What recipe did I just get you to recite?”

 

“Lemon cake, Mrs. Bradley.”

 

The cook’s eyes turn heavenwards again before she continues, trying with all her might not to lose her temper at her scullery maid, “Then that’s what you should make. Do you think you can do that? Make the lemon cake for servants’ dinner dessert? Before I come back?”

 

“Oh! Oh yes, Mrs. Bradley!” Agnes enthuses.

 

“Then off you go, girl!” the older woman shoos her with flapping hands. “Quickly!”

 

“Yes, Mrs. Bradley.” Agnes scuttles about the kitchen, gathering the ingredients to make the cake.

 

Mrs, Bradley walks across the kitchen to the door leading to the alleyway entrance used by the servants and tradespeople who frequent Wickham Place. As her fingers curl around the brass doorknob, worn smooth by many hands turning it over the years, the older woman takes one final look back across the kitchen. Agnes has laid out all the ingredients for the lemon cake and now stands at the deal table before the kitchen range looking very satisfied with herself, and to Mrs. Bradley’s surprise, remarkably confident. Her usual trembling kowtow has been replaced with a proud stance with shoulders back and her heard held high. Mrs. Bradley releases as satisfied sigh, shakes her head slightly and slips out through the door.

 

*Servants dinner was actually their midday meal. It was the largest meal in a servants’ day, usually involving simple courses with meat and vegetables followed by a pudding of some kind, with a lighter meal of tea and bread with jams or cheese later in the evening. This allowed to cook to prepare the grander upstairs meals for the evening without having to worry about serving a hot servants’ dinner as well.

 

**A reticule also known as a ridicule or indispensable, was a type of small handbag or purse, typically having a drawstring and decorated with embroidery or beading, similar to a modern evening bag, used mainly from 1795 to before the Great War.

 

This year the Flickr Friends Melbourne Group have decided to have a monthly challenge which is submitted on the 5th of every month. This month’s theme for the 5th of August is “in the pantry”, chosen by Laszlo. This was a great challenge, and I wanted to show the ingredients, easily accessible from the pantry, for a French Lemon Cake recipe that was given to my Great Grandmother by her cook, Eadie, when she left service in the 1960s. Eadie gave my Great Grandmother a small hand written book of recipes that were easy, failsafe and made with easily accessible ingredients, as my Grandmother had never had to cook a meal in her life. What Eadie didn’t know was that my Great Grandmother just hired another cook and never made a single recipe from the book. It was passed to my Grandmother (who also didn’t cook), and for some reason it bypassed my mother (who does cook) and came to me. The way the recipe is recited in the story by Agnes is the way it is written in the book. To illustrate the ingredients from the pantry for the recipe, I decided to use my miniatures collection.

 

This tableau is made up of part of my 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures collection. Some pieces come from my own childhood like the ladderback chair in the background. Other items I acquired as an adult through specialist online dealers and artists who specialise in 1:12 miniatures.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

On the chopping board in the centre of the picture you will see two lemons, a knife and a citrus juicer. The lemons are vintage 1:12 artisan pieces that have come from Kathleen Knight’s Dollhouse Shop in England. The attention to detail on these is amazing! You will see the stubs in the skin were the stalk once attached them to the tree, but even more amazing is that, if you look very closely, you will see the rough pitting that you find in the skins of real lemons! The kitchen knife with its inlaid handle and sharpened blade comes from English miniatures specialist Doreen Jeffries Small Wonders Miniature store. The metal citrus juicer comes from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The onions hanging net to the range in the background also come from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures.

 

Cook’s yellow stoneware mixing bowl and wooden spoon to the right of the chopping board I have had since I was a teenager. I bought it from a high street doll house miniature specialist. Also from the same shop is the mixing bowl containing eggs and the whisk. You can even see the egg yolks in the bowl. All these items are 1:12 artisan miniatures with amazing attention to detail so they match the life size equivalent.

 

To the right of the bowl, and to the far left of the picture, stand two of Cook's Cornishware cannisters. A Cornishware bowl of eggs also stands in the foreground. Cornishware is a striped kitchenware brand trademarked to and manufactured by T.G. Green & Co Ltd. Originally introduced in the 1920s and manufactured in Church Gresley, Derbyshire, it was a huge success for the company and in the succeeding 30 years it was exported around the world. The company ceased production in June 2007 when the factory closed under the ownership of parent company, The Tableshop Group. The range was revived in 2009 after T.G. Green was bought by a trio of British investors.

 

The Art Nouveau silver cup to the left of the chopping board is a dolls’ house miniature from Germany. Made in the first decade of the Twentieth Century it is a beautiful work of art as a stand alone item, and is remarkably heavy for its size.

 

Behind Cook’s Art Nouveau measuring cup stands a bag of Dry Fork Four. The Dry Fork Milling Company was based in Dry Fork Virginia. They were well known for producing cornmeal. They were still producing cornmeal and flour into the 1950s. Today, part of the old mill buildings are used as a reception centre.

 

The pat of butter in the glass bowl standing to the right of the white bowl of eggs waiting to be whisked has been made in England by hand by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination.

 

To the right of the butter stands a miniature Blue Calico milk jug. Traditional dark blue Burleigh Calico made in Staffordshire, England by Burgess & Leigh since 1851. It was inspired by Nineteenth Century indigo fabrics. Blue Calico is still made today, and still uses the traditional print transfer process, which makes each piece unique.

 

The copper kettles on the range and the copperware in the dresser in the background are all made of real copper and come from various miniature stockists in England and America. Cook’s floral teapots, one resting on the range and the other on her dresser in the background, I acquired from a specialist high street tea shop when I was a teenager. I have five of them and each one is a different shape and has a different design. I love them, and what I also love is that over time they have developed their own crazing in the glaze, which I think adds a nice touch of authenticity.

 

The large kitchen range in the background is a 1:12 miniature replica of the coal fed Phoenix Kitchen Range. A mid-Victorian model, it has hinged opening doors, hanging bars above the stove and a little bass hot water tap (used in the days before plumbed hot water).

The larger of two look alikes, the Hairy Woodpecker is a small but powerful bird that forages along trunks and main branches of large trees. It wields a much longer bill than the Downy Woodpecker's almost thornlike bill. Hairy Woodpeckers have a somewhat soldierly look, with their erect, straight-backed posture on tree trunks and their cleanly striped heads. Look for them at backyard suet or sunflower feeders, and listen for them whinnying from woodlots, parks, and forests. Cornell Labs

Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.

 

Today we are in the very modern and up-to-date 1920s kitchen of Lettice’s flat: Edith her maid’s preserve. Two of Lettice’s Embassy Club coterie of bright young things are getting married: Dickie Channon, eldest surviving son of the Marquess of Taunton, and Margot de Virre, only daughter of Lord Charles and Lady Lucie de Virre. Lettice is hosting an exclusive buffet supper party in their honour at the end of the week, which is turning out to be one of the events of the 1921 London Season. Over the last few days, the flat has been in upheaval as Edith and Lettice’s charwoman* Mrs. Boothby have begun cleaning the flat thoroughly in preparation for the occasion. Things have been so tumultuous that Lettice has decamped and fled to Margot’s parents’ house in Hans Crescent in nearby Belgravia. This leaves Edith with a little more time to do the chores that need doing in the led up to the party, without having to worry about Lettice’s needs.

 

Whilst Edith awaits the arrival of Mrs. Boothby, she takes advantage of the beautiful morning and gathers pieces of silverware from around the flat and sets them up on her green baize cloth in the middle of the kitchen table where a pool of beautiful sunlight pours through the kitchen window. She takes out her tin of Silvo silver polish paste and her cleaning rags and sets about polishing each piece. Taking up one of the tall, elegant candlesticks that sit on either end of the console in the dining room Edith applies the paste with a small brush and then proceeds to wipe it with her cloth, burnishing away any sign of golden tarnish until the piece gleams in her hands. She sighs with satisfaction as she sets it aside where it winks and shines in the sunlight.

 

“A job worth doing is a job well done.” she says quietly as she grasps the next candlestick.

 

Edith is grateful that unlike her previous positions, she does not have to scrub the black and quite chequered kitchen linoleum, nor polish the parquetry floors, not do her most hated job, black lead the stovetop, as Mrs. Boothby does them all without complaint, with reliability and to a very high standard. However, unlike the butler of the townhouse in Pimlico where she held her last position, Edith doesn’t mind polishing silver. She finds it more gratification in seeing the silver pieces shine, whereas for her a floor is just that – a floor. The items she polishes have elegant lines like the Georgian water jug and the Edwardian sugar castor, and in some cases, like the avant-garde Art Deco decanter and goblet set, are artisan pieces purchased by her mistress from the Portland Gallery in Soho. Putting aside the second candlestick, Edith reaches out and picks up one of the goblets from the drinks set. They each have several bands around the cup and have a sturdy weight to them. Applying Silvo paste she starts to hum ‘Look for the Silver Lining’**.

 

“Morning dearie!” Mrs. Boothby calls cheerily as she comes through the servants’ entrance door into the kitchen, a fruity cough that comes from deep within her wiry little body and her footfall in her low heeled shoes announcing her presence just as clearly as her greeting. “Oooh. Someone’s cheery today. Meetin’ a sweetheart this afternoon, are we?”

 

“Good morning Mrs. Boothby,” Edith replies without getting up from her Windsor chair. “No, I’m not meeting anyone this afternoon. I just happen to enjoy cleaning the silver.”

 

The older cockney woman shirks off her long dark blue coat and hangs it on the hook she has claimed as her own by the door. “You what?” Her eyes bulge from her wrinkled face as her mouth falls open in surprise.

 

“I enjoy cleaning silver.” Edith reiterates, holding out the half polished goblet. “See how nicely it burnishes up.”

 

Mrs. Boothby recoils from the proffered goblet with a disdainful look as she turns and hangs her pre-war blue toque up on the hook too. “Nah, just let me rest me weary bones for a few minutes before I start, Edith love!”

 

“There’s tea in the pot by the stove, Mrs. Boothby.” Edith indicates with a movement of her head to the stove behind her. “I’ve only just finished my own so it’s still warm and not too steeped.”

 

“Aah, nah that’s the ticket!” Mrs. Boothby drops her beaded bag on the table with a thud before bustling over to the dresser where she withdraws a Delftware teacup and saucer. “I’m parched after me trip up from Poplar this mornin’! Tottenham Court Road was a sewer of traffic! I swear I’m gonna get ‘it by a crazy cabby or lorry driver one a these days! Now, I’ll just sit ‘ere and ‘ave a reviving cup of Rosie-Lee*** and a fag before I get started.”

 

“What are you going to do this morning?”

 

“Give Miss Lettice’s barfroom a good scrub ‘n polish.” She pours tea into her cup and then walks over to the food safe where she takes out a pint of milk and adds it to her tea. “’Er makeup don’t half leave marks. Lawd knows ‘ow she gets that muck off ‘er face.” She shakes her head in disbelief.

 

“Snowfire Cold Cream.” Edith replies matter-of-factly as she puts aside the gleaming goblet and sets to task on an ornate Georgian lidded serving dish which has been borrowed from Glynes**** silver selection for the soirée.

 

“You know, in my day, a lady what painted ‘er face was, well, a you-know-what.” The old Cockney charwoman’s eyebrows arch over her eyes, wrinkling her forehead more as she gives Edith a knowing look.

 

“Yes, well, this is the 1920s, and some ladies paint their faces now.” Edith starts applying Silvo paste to the crimped edge of the serving dish’ lid. “It’s quite fashionable these days you know.”

 

“Don’t I evva!” Mrs. Boothby utters another barking cough. “It’s indecent the way some girls dress an’ paint their faces nowadays. Not that Miss Lettice is one of ‘em girls. She’s got a bit of class what does our Miss Lettice,” She pauses. “But only just.”

 

“My poor Mum would be horrified if I came home on my day off wearing makeup.” Edith remarks. “She might even take to scrubbing my face rather than the linens she has to wash.”

 

Both women chuckle lightly at the thought as they exchange smiles.

 

“Nah, you don’t need no makeup Edith, love! Youse pretty as a picture, you are, wiv your peaches ’n cream complexion. Youse a right English rose!”

 

“That’s very kind of you to say so, Mrs. Boothby.” Edith blushes awkwardly at the compliment from the old woman and busies herself even harder with burnishing the lid on the green baize before her.

 

Mrs. Boothby starts fossicking through her capacious beaded bag before withdrawing her cigarette papers, Swan Vestas and tin of Player’s Navy Cut. Rolling herself a cigarette she reaches over to the deal dresser and grabs a small black ashtray. Lighting her cigarette with a satisfied sigh and one more of her fruity coughs, she wanders over to the open window with her cup of tea in one hand, the ashtray in the other, and her cigarette between her teeth. She deposits the ashtray and her cup and saucer on the wide window ledge.

 

“You must be the only maid in London, what likes cleanin’ silver, dearie.” she observes as she blows a plume of blueish white smoke out of the window. “How can you get pleasure from cleanin’ somethin’ that’s just gonna get tarnished again?”

 

“Well, don’t you take pleasure from seeing the drawing room floor beautifully waxed, or the bathroom clean?”

 

The wry laugh that erupts from Mrs. Boothby’s ends up morphing into more barking, fruity coughs. “Good lawd, no!” She wipes her mouth with a cleanly laundered handkerchief from her pocket. “It’s the same! No sooner are them floors polished, than some la-di-dah toff comes along wiv their dirty boots traipsing muddy prints all over ‘em.” She shakes her head. “Nah! What I take pleasure from, is the thought of the bunse I get skivvying, and what I’m gonna do wiv that bunse.”

 

“Bunse, Mrs. Boothby?”

 

“Money, Edith love. Money!”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah, it’s the bunse wot get me frough cleanin’, scrubbin’ and skivvying all day, ev’ry day. Do you fink any of the toffs at this party is gonna look at the candlesticks you just polished and fink of the elbow grease you put into makin’ ‘em shine? No!”

 

“Oh I know, Mrs. Boothby. I don’t expect them to.” Edith replies. “But I’ll know. I want to do my job to the best of my ability. Mum always taught me, and Dad too, that any job doing, is worth doing right. If Miss Lettice or any of her friends notice the nicely polished silver, even if I never hear about it, that is an added bonus.”

 

Mrs. Boothby shakes her head in mild disbelief. “Youse too good for any of ‘em, dearie.”

 

“It’s funny you should say that, Mrs. Boothby. It’s what I keep telling Mum about old Widow Hounslow. I told her just the other week that she was too good for her when she told me that she was monogramming the nasty old so-and-so’s pillowcases.”

 

“Like mum, like daughter, then.” the older Cockney woman observes with a long and noisy slurp of tea.

 

“I suppose,” Edith smiles shyly.

 

“’Ere! Thinkin’ of your mum.” Mrs. Boothby points her smoking cigarette end at Edith. “Did she like the teapot you bought ‘er dahwn the Caledonian Markets**** then?”

 

“Oh yes!” Edith deposits the nicely polished ornamental lid onto the green baize. “Of course, she did exactly what I told you she would do.”

 

“Keepin’ it for good?”

 

“She says she’ll use it on Christmas Day when my brother Bert and I are home.”

 

“Well, Christmas Day is as good a day to use it as any, ‘specially if you and your bruvver is comin’ ‘ome. Better use it once a year, than not at all. Eh?”

 

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

 

“Course I’m right.” Mrs. Boothby remarks with a satisfied smile, before taking another loud slurp of tea from her cup.

 

The two women remain in comfortable silence for a little while, each lost in their own thoughts, whilst outside the quiet kitchen, the constant burble of distant London traffic coming Mortimer and Regent Streets and the occasional twitter of a bird carries across the rooftops of Mayfair.

 

“Well, this ain’t gonna get the barfroom done, nah is it?” the old Cockney char remarks at length with a resigned sigh. She stubs out the butt of her cigarette in the ashtray where it is extinguished with a hiss and a final long curl of blueish white smoke. Downing the last of her tea, she thrusts herself forward forcefully, causing another of her rasping coughs to burst forth from within her diminutive frame.

 

“Just leave your cup and saucer in the sink, Mrs. Boothby, and I’ll wash it when I’ve finished polishing.” Edith remarks as she picks up a silver spoon to burnish.

 

“Alight dearie.” she replies. “Ta!”

 

Depositing the cup and saucer as instructed, the char reaches down below the sink to fetch her box of cleaning agents.

 

“When you’ve finished the bathroom, let me know, Mrs. Boothby,” Edith adds. “And we’ll borrow the caretaker’s ladder so we can dust and polish the crystal on the chandeliers in the drawing room and dining room.”

 

“Right-oh, dearie.” she replies.

 

As Mrs. Boothby is about to walk through the green baize door that leads from the kitchen into the dining room of the flat, Edith pipes up, “I do think of the wages I earn too, Mrs. Boothby.”

 

“I should ‘ope so, dearie!” she replies with a smile. “I’s glad to ‘ear it though.”

 

“And why is that?” Edith deposits the spoon and picks up another to apply Silvo paste to.

 

“Cos, for a minute there I fought I was workin’ wiv a bloomin' saint!” Her smile changes, betraying her cheeky nature as her eyes light up. “Gawn!”

 

After the old woman has disappeared through the door with her cleaning box, Edith smiles and starts humming ‘Look for the Silver Lining’ again as she picks up another goblet to polish.

 

*A charwoman, chargirl, or char, jokingly charlady, is an old-fashioned occupational term, referring to a paid part-time worker who comes into a house or other building to clean it for a few hours of a day or week, as opposed to a maid, who usually lives as part of the household within the structure of domestic service. In the 1920s, chars usually did all the hard graft work that paid live-in domestics would no longer do as they looked for excuses to leave domestic service for better paying work in offices and factories.

 

**’Look for the Silver Lining’ was a popular 1919 song written by Jerome Kern, popularised by singer Marion Harris in 1921.

 

***Rosie-Lee is Cockney slang for tea, and it is one of the most well-known of all Cockney rhyming slang.

 

****Glynes is the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, the childhood home of Lettice and the current home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie.

 

***** The original Caledonian Market, renown for antiques, buried treasure and junk, was situated in in a wide cobblestoned area just off the Caledonian Road in Islington in 1921 when this story is set. Opened in 1855 by Prince Albert, and originally called the Metropolitan Meat Markets, it was supplementary to the Smithfield Meat Market. Arranged in a rectangle, the market was dominated by a forty six metre central clock tower. By the early Twentieth Century, with the diminishing trade in live animals, a bric-a-brac market developed and flourished there until after the Second World War when it moved to Bermondsey, south of the Thames, where it flourishes today. The Islington site was developed in 1967 into the Market Estate and an open green space called Caledonian Park. All that remains of the original Caledonian Markets is the wonderful Victorian clock tower.

 

This selection of silver for Edith to polish is a little different to what you might think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures from my miniatures collection.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

All of Edith’s silver to clean are 1:12 artisan miniatures. The pair of candelabra at the end of Edith’s deal table are sterling silver artisan miniatures from Karen Ladybug Miniatures in England. The silver drinks set and tray is made by artisan Clare Bell at the Clare Bell Brass Works in Maine, in the United States. Each goblet is only one centimetre in height and the decanter at the far end is two- and three-quarter centimetres with the stopper inserted. The sugar castor of sterling silver is one and a half centimetres in height and half a centimetre in diameter. It has holes in its finial actually and actually comes apart like its life size equivalent. The finial unscrews from the body so it can be filled. I am told that icing sugar can pass through the holes in the finial, but I have chosen not to try this party trick myself. A sugar castor was used in Edwardian times to shake sugar onto fruits and desserts. Georgian water jug, the salt and pepper in the foreground and the two Georgian lidded serving dishes were made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces.

 

The green baize cloth on the table is actually part of a green baize cleaning cloth from my linen cupboard, and Edith’s sliver cleaning rag is cut from one of my own old Goddard silver cleaning cloths. The Silvo Silver Polish tub was made by me, and the label is an Edwardian design. Silvo was a British silver cleaning product introduced to market in 1905 by Reckitt and Sons, who also produced Brasso. Silvo has a Royal Warrant.

 

Edith’s Windsor chair is a hand-turned 1:12 artisan miniature which came from America. Unfortunately, the artist did not carve their name under the seat, but it is definitely an unmarked artisan piece.

 

On the left hand draining board of the sink in the background stands a box of Sunlight soap. Produced at Port Sunlight in Wirrel, Merseyside, a model village built by Lever Brothers for the workers of their factories, Sunlight was one of the most popular brands of soap created by Lever Brothers in England. Port Sunlight also produced the popular soap brands Lux, and Lifebuoy. Sunlight Soap was first introduced in 1884.

 

To the left of the sink is the food safe with a mop leaning against it. In the days before refrigeration, or when refrigeration was expensive, perishable foods such as meat, butter, milk and eggs were kept in a food safe. Winter was easier than summer to keep food fresh and butter coolers and shallow bowls of cold water were early ways to keep things like milk and butter cool. A food safe was a wooden cupboard with doors and sides open to the air apart from a covering of fine galvinised wire mesh. This allowed the air to circulate while keeping insects out. There was usually an upper and a lower compartment, normally lined with what was known as American cloth, a fabric with a glazed or varnished wipe-clean surface. Refrigerators, like washing machines were American inventions and were not commonplace in even wealthy upper-class households until well after the Second World War.

Ok, I finished the book last night, but I had neglected my family a bit.... so we went out today!! The book was really good. A bit long and drawn out in my opinion, but she finished the book series up nice and cleanly!!

 

Best spot in Explore: 88

Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.

 

Today however we are at Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie and his wife Arabella. Lettice is visiting her family home over the Christmastide and New Year period. She motored down to Wiltshire with her old childhood chum, Gerald, also a member of the aristocracy who has tried to gain some independence from his family by designing gowns from a shop in Grosvenor Street. His family, the Brutons, are neighbours to the Cheywynds with their properties sharing boundaries. That is how Gerald and Lettice came to be such good friends. However, whilst both families are landed gentry with lineage going back centuries, unlike Lettice’s family, Gerald’s live in a much smaller baronial manor house and are in much more straitened circumstances.

 

It is mid-morning and Lettice pads as quietly as possible across the cavernous Adam style entrance hall of Glynes, the louis heels of her shoes echoing around the space. Anxiously she looks over her shoulder down the corridor that passes the morning room, her mother’s domain where she knows Lady Sadie is right now, and where she does not wish to be drawn into. She turns to her right and walks up to a pair of beautiful walnut double doors and knocks loudly.

 

“Come!” comes a muffled male voice from inside.

 

Lettice opens the doors and walks through into the light filled library where she is greeted by the comforting smell of old books and woodsmoke. Although as masculine as the morning room is feminine, Lettice feels far more at home in her father’s library, partially because it is his domain and also because he and she both know that, with her reading extending not much further than The Lady*, Horse and Hound** or a sedate Regency romance, Lady Sadie is unlikely to disturb either of them as long as they remain within the library’s four walls. The walls of the long room are lined with floor to ceiling shelves, all full of books: thousands of volumes on so many subjects. Weak wintery sunlight drifts through the tall windows facing out to the front of the house, burnishing the polished parquetry floors in a ghostly way. The fire, another constant in the library, crackles contentedly. And there, sitting at his Chippendale desk, sits Viscount Wrexham, dealing with estate business.

 

“Ah! My darling girl!” the Viscount puts aside his pen, pushes his chair back over the richly woven carpet and stands.

 

Lettice walks down the length of the room carrying a tapestry carpet bag in shades of red wine and moss green – a piece of luggage that she used to convey her Christmas presents for the family down to Wiltshire, and the only piece that does not match any of her other elegant deep blue leather Vuitton*** luggage that accompanied her from London in Gerald’s motorcar.

 

“Have you a moment to spare for me, Pappa!” Lettice asks as she reaches her father’s desk.

 

“Yes,” the Viscount says a little wearily. “Only if it isn’t too long. Shall I ring for tea?”

 

When Lettice nods eagerly, the Viscount pulls the handle of the servants call bell. The Chetwynd’s faithful butler, Bramley’s, familiar footfall outside the library door precedes his knock, and he is quickly dispatched with an order for tea to be served indulgently in the Viscount’s favourite blue and white gilt Art Nouveau tea set.

 

Sitting opposite her father at his desk, Lettice ponders her father’s face, which looks wan, and she notices the dark circles in the sagging flesh under his eyes. “You look and sound tired, Pappa.” she states matter-of-factly. “Are you all right?”

 

“Oh, your brother and I have to deal with some not too pleasant business at Mile End Farm. It’s been keeping me awake at night, and I didn’t want to deal with it before Christmas.”

 

“What business, Pappa?”

 

“Estate business.” The Viscount brushes his daughter off with a dismissive wave. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty head about.”

 

“If it is causing you to have sleepless nights, and as the estate is our family’s, I think it is very much my business, Pappa.” Lettice presses. “Even if Leslie is to inherit it, and not me. Have you difficulties with old Farmer Cooper again?”

 

“Well,” the Viscount admits. “Since you insist, yes. Ever since his son died in Ypres, and his wife of influenza, he’s taken to drinking heavily, and all but given up on Mile End Farm, and I can’t have such fertile soil untilled. If Cooper doesn’t start working the farm again, Leslie and I will have no choice but to break his leasehold in favour of another farmer.”

 

“But Coopers have been farming Mile End Farm for generations.” Lettice protests.

 

“The estate is getting expensive to maintain. Taxes have increased to help pay for the war that the Kaiser dragged us into, yet the Weimar Republic won’t pay for****,” The Viscount sighs heavily. “And I can’t afford to run a charity any more, not even for the likes of Cooper, however long his family have worked our estate.”

 

“Charity?”

 

“He’s not paid his rent.”

 

“How in arrears is he?”

 

“Three months.”

 

“Oh my!” Lettice’s hand goes to her mouth.

 

“Now you see why I didn’t want to deal with this before Christmas.” The Viscount sighs sadly again. “For all his latter faults, Cooper doesn’t deserve to be given an ultimatum on Christmas Eve. But, I can’t wait any longer. I have at least three farmers I know of who would give their eye teeth to be given Mile End Farm to work, and as the future owner of the estate, Leslie needs to know how it works.”

 

“That’s sad, Pappa.”

 

“This is the new post-war world, Lettice. You know as much as anyone that the world has changed, inexorably so. If Cooper chooses to drink his life away, I can’t stop him.”

 

Their conversation is interrupted by the gentle knocking at the door.

 

“Come!” Viscount Wrexham calls commandingly again.

 

Bramley enters carrying a silver tray laden with the blue and white gild Art Nouveau tea things, just as requested. “Tea, My Lord.”

 

“Very good, Bramley.” the Viscount acknowledges the butler. “We’ll have it here, I think.” He looks to his daughter. “Yes?” To which she nods in reply.

 

With the tea things set up on the gilt tooled brown leather surface of the Viscount’s Chippendale desk, and Bramley discreetly retreated beyond the library doors this Viscount says, “Now, before Leslie and I pay a call on Cooper, what is it you wanted to see me about, my girl?”

 

“Well Pappa,” Lettice replies. “I need your advice on these.”

 

Lettice withdraws the four silhouettes in black ebonised frames that she bought from Mrs. Trevithick’s Treasures when working on Margot and Dickie’s house in Cornwall and places them on her father’s desk.

 

“And what have we here?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow as he admires the two Regency gentlemen and the Georgian lady and gentleman in black on white within the thin black frames. “Hhhmmm.” He scratches his cleanly shaven chin and ruminates quietly. “These look a little bit like something your mother has in the morning room. Wouldn’t you be better asking her?”

 

“Oh no, Pappa!” Lettice exclaims awkwardly and with a little too much protesting to be polite. “Mamma would only tell me what I already know about them.”

 

“And what do you know about them, my girl? What does your interior designer eye tell you?”

 

“They are silhouettes and two are Regency, or early Victorian and two are Georgian. The two gentlemen appear to be cut paper, and the Georgian couple possibly painted.”

 

“Where did you acquire these from, Lettice?”

 

“From a little curiosity shop in Cornwall when I was doing preliminary works on the redecoration of Dickie and Margot Channon’s house. I thought you might have a book on the subject?” Lettice asks hopefully.

 

The Viscount settles back in his seat and sips tea from his gilt edged cup, the blue and gilding glowing in the electric light of the chandelier overhead. He gazes around the shelves about them. Lettice holds her breath in anticipation of her father’s answer, not daring to speak for fear of breaking his considered concentration. Only the gentle ticking of the clock on the mantle and the quiet cracking of the fire breaking the silence.

 

“I think I do have a book on silhouettes here somewhere.”

 

He heaves himself out of his seat with a groan and dragging his library steps along the parquet floor to a section of shelves near the fireplace, he climbs up to one of the upper shelves. “I’m sure I had something up here, possibly ordered by your mother when she had a mania for collecting silhouettes that ended up in here when she grew tired of it.” He begins running his fingers along the dark vellum volumes with gilt letting and others with brightly coloured dustjackets. “Ah! Here we are!” He pulls out a blue coloured volume with gilt lettering. “The history of Silhouettes by E. Nevill Jackson*****!”

 

Taking the volume over to the desk, the pair begin to look through the photographic plates in the book, scanning image after image, sipping their tea as companionably they look at silhouette after beautiful silhouette.

 

“I’d say, looking at this,” Lettice points to an image of a gentleman in a top hat. “That the two gentlemen may be Swiss or German. See the similarity in the cut of the frock coats.”

 

“Very good, Lettice.” her father replies approvingly. “Well spotted, my girl. And they are thin card like these.” He indicates to the notes about how the image was created. “This would make them Biedermeier, then.”

 

They continue to look.

 

“Ahh, now this is interesting,” the Viscount announces as they reach a page featuring five very fine silhouettes. “Your Georgian couple, unlike the Biedermeier pair, appear to be Indian ink painted on paper, and look like the work of Francis Torond*******.”

 

“Who was Francis Torond?” Lettice asks excitedly.

 

“Let’s consult Ms Jackson’s biography section.” The Viscount flicks through the book. “Here we are. Francis Torond was French, but emigrated to England around 1796.” He scans the biography. “He only worked as a silhouette artist for about ten years. He painted in Indian ink on fine paper using a quill pen for fine detail. His works are usually in framed in oval turned ebonized wood or oval giltwood frames.” Lettice gasps. “And his works are often identified through trade labels. Let’s see.” The Viscount turns the picture of the Georgian lady over and using his silver letter opener, carefully prises the backing from its frame, and the pair see a very dirty paper label pasted across the back of the portrait. “There we are! Torond, number thirteen Wells Street, London. This is a Frances Torond! And I’ll wager the pair is then too!”

 

Outside in the entrance hall, the distant trill of the telephone can be heard ringing out anxiously.

 

“How much did you pay for them?” the Viscount asks, continuing to look at the portraits before him.

 

“Fifteen shillings each.”

 

“Quite the bargain then, I’d say.” the Viscount says proudly with an approving nod. “Canny girl.”

 

Their conversation is interrupted yet again by the gentle knocking at the library door.

 

“Come!” Viscount Wrexham calls commandingly again.

 

Bramley pokes his head around the door. “Sorry to disturb, My Lord.”

 

“Good heavens Bramley! Is Leslie here already?” the Viscount asks anxiously. “I’m afraid Lettice and I have quite lost track of the time. We’ve been quite engrossed in successfully solving a little mystery.”

 

“Ahh… no My Lord. It’s the telephone. My Lord.”

 

“Who is it then, Bramley?”

 

“It’s actually for Miss Lettice, My Lord.” the butler replies coolly in his friendly baritone voice.

 

“For me?” Lettice raises her hand to the pearls at her throat and toys with them.

 

“Yes, My Lady. It’s Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon******** ringing from St. Paul's, Walden Bury.”

 

“Oh well, I’ll take the telephone call in here then, Bramley.” Lettice says, walking over to the small round three legged Georgian pedestal table the old fashioned black candlestick telephone stands on. ‘That is if you don’t mind, Father.”

 

“Not at all.” the Viscount acquiesces.

 

Lettice picks up the telephone and picks up the receiver in her left hand, placing it to her ear, and speaks clearly into the round mouthpiece of the candlestick base that she holds in her right hand. “Hullo Elizabeth darling!” she exclaims happily. “What an unexpected surprise! Merry Christmas and happy New Year.” A distant female voice speaks down the line. “Oh yes! Yes, it was marvellous. Mamma wasn’t too painful. Lally, Charles and the children came up, and so did Aunt Egg, of course. And Pappa,” She glances over at her father who has resumed looking at the silhouette portraits in an effort to be discreet and not overhear his daughter’s conversation. “Gave me a wonderful book on Egyptian art. He thinks that the discovery like the boy king’s tomb by Mr. Carter********* in Egypt is going to start a new wave of Egyptomania**********.” She smirks. “How was yours?” She listens to Elizabeth’s voice. “Is he?” The voice at the other end grows more excited. “Did he really? Again?” The voice answers animatedly. “And what did you say?” Even the Viscount, however discreet with his back turned, cannot help but pick up his ears to his daughter’s conversation. “You did? Oh congratulations, Elizabeth darling!” Lettice beams with delight. “No misgivings this time, I hope?” She listens again. “Well, that is a relief! How absolutely thrilling!” She listens again. “Oh, thank you Elizabeth darling! Oh yes I’d love to!” The voice at the other end of the telephone grows more serious. “Well of course I will! How could I refuse? Well, I’ll be back in London the day after tomorrow. Gerald’s motoring us both back to town. You must come over for tea, or cocktails and tell me all about it.” The voice speaks again. “Yes, alright Elizabeth darling. Yes… yes, I shall see you then. And congratulations again! Alright. Goodbye for now!”

 

Lettice hangs up the receiver and squeals with delight.

 

“Well!” Lettice gasps with excitement. “You’ll never guess who that was, Pappa!”

 

“I was led to believe by Bramley that it was your friend, Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon.” her father says dourly.

 

“She won’t be Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon much longer! The Duke of York proposed for a third time, and this time she said yes!” Lettice squeals again, jumping up and down on the spot. “She’s going to become the Duchess of York!”

 

“Well, that is jolly news!” the Viscount replies. “I can’t wait to tell your mother! She’ll be beside herself with joy that she entertained the future Duchess of York here at the Hunt Ball last year! I might even get a few days without any quibbles from her thanks to the news. Here’s hoping, anyway.” He crosses his fingers. “I say,” he adds dourly at the end. “I do hope she knows what she’s doing, getting married to the Windsors. I can’t say I’d fancy the King and Queen as my in-laws, Queen Mary especially!”

 

“I suppose since this is the third time the Duke of York proposed, that she realises. She says that she has no misgivings this time. I’ll have to get Gerald to design me a new dress and get Harriet to make me a hat for the wedding.”

 

“When will the wedding take place?”

 

“Elizabeth doesn’t know yet, but I don’t imagine it will be too far away.”

 

“Yes, no doubt the Windsors want to secure her for the Duke and marry them quickly before she changes her mind, if this is the third proposal.”

 

*The Lady is one of Britain's longest-running women's magazines. It has been in continuous publication since 1885 and is based in London. It is particularly notable for its classified advertisements for domestic service and child care; it also has extensive listings of holiday properties.

 

**Horse and Hound is the oldest equestrian weekly magazine of the United Kingdom. Its first edition was published in 1884. The magazine contains horse industry news, reports from equestrian events, veterinary advice about caring for horses, and horses for sale.

 

***Louis Vuitton Malletier, commonly known as Louis Vuitton, is a French luxury fashion house and company founded in 1854 by Louis Vuitton. The label's LV monogram appears on most of its products, ranging from luxury bags and leather goods to ready-to-wear, shoes, watches, jewellery, accessories, sunglasses and books. The Louis Vuitton label was founded by Vuitton in 1854 on Rue Neuve des Capucines in Paris. Louis Vuitton started at $10,567 as a sales price. Louis Vuitton had observed that the HJ Cave Osilite trunk could be easily stacked. In 1858, Vuitton introduced his flat-topped trunks with Trianon canvas, making them lightweight and airtight. Before the introduction of Vuitton's trunks, rounded-top trunks were used, generally to promote water runoff, and thus could not be stacked. It was Vuitton's grey Trianon canvas flat trunk that allowed the ability to stack them on top of another with ease for voyages. Many other luggage makers later imitated Vuitton's style and design, but Vuitton was the choice of luggage for the rich and influential.

 

****In order to repay the expenditures made by the British during the Great War, like had been occurring since the Napoleonic Wars, the government increased Income Tax. The standard rate of income tax, which was six per cent in 1914, stood at thirty per cent in 1918. Following the ratification of article 231 of the Treaty of Versailles at the conclusion of the Great War, the Central Powers were made to give war reparations to the Allied Powers. Each of the defeated powers was required to make payments in either cash or kind. Because of the financial situation in Austria, Hungary, and Turkey after the war, few to no reparations were paid and the requirements for reparations were cancelled. Bulgaria, having paid only a fraction of what was required, saw its reparation figure reduced and then cancelled. Due to the lack of reparation payments by Germany, France occupied the Ruhr in 1923 to enforce payments, causing an international crisis and hyperinflation in Germany. As a result of all of this, income tax rates amongst the wealthy were maintained at a high level, far in excess of those charged in the years before the war, making the management of estates very difficult if they were not productive.

 

*****“The History of Silhouettes” by Emily Neville Jackson was published by The Connoisseur, in London in 1911. The first edition has blue cloth boards with gilt lettering on the cover. It has one hundred and twenty one pages of text and bibliography with an additional seventy two plates of photographs of silhouettes. Emily Jackson was a noted collector and authority on silhouettes, especially the work of Auguste Amant Constant Fidèle Edouart, who was a French-born portrait artist who worked in England, Scotland and the United States in the Nineteenth Century who specialised in silhouette portraits.

 

*******Francis Torond was an accomplished and successful silhouette artist of the late Georgian and Regency periods in England. He experienced financial difficulty and decided it was not a profitable career, so sadly only worked as a profilist for a decade. He is renowned today for his exquisite conversation pieces, and also for his clare-obscur style – the technique of using light and shade in a pictorial piece of art. Born around 1743, he emigrated withhis family from France to England around 1776, settling in Westminster in London. Francis Torond painted entirely in Indian ink on fine laid paper, using a quill pen to depict detail. He was incredibly skilled in highlighting the details of clothing and the background in which his sitters were painted. China, furniture and lighting were all beautifully painted. He did not use any mechanical means to produce his silhouettes, and he advertised that he could copy any silhouette onto furniture or jewellery. He died at his St Giles home in 1812.

 

********Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, as she was known at the beginning of 1923 when this story is set, went on to become Queen of the United Kingdom and the Dominions from 1936 to 1952 as the wife of King George VI. Whilst still Duke of York, Prince Albert initially proposed to Elizabeth in 1921, but she turned him down, being "afraid never, never again to be free to think, speak and act as I feel I really ought to". He proposed again in 1922 after Elizabeth was part of his sister, Mary the Princess Royal’s, wedding party, but she refused him again. On Saturday, January 13th, 1923, Prince Albert went for a walk with Elizabeth at the Bowes-Lyon home at St Paul’s, Walden Bury and proposed for a third and final time. This time she said yes. The wedding took place on April 26, 1923 at Westminster Abbey.

 

*********On the 4th of November 1922, English archaeologist Howard Carter and his men discovered the entrance to the boy king, Pharaoh Tutankhamun's tomb in the Valley of the Kings. He unseals the entrance on the 16th of February 1923, discovering the most intact Egyptian burial chamber ever unearthed. It sparks a worldwide interest in all things Egyptian. The craze he started became known as Tutmania, and it inspired everything from the architecture of public building and private houses alike to interior design and fashion. Famously at the time, socialite Dolores Denis Denison applied one of the earliest examples of getting the media of the day to pay attention to her because of her dress by arriving at the prestigious private view of the King Tut Exhibition in London, dressed as an Egyptian mummy complete in a golden sarcophagus and had to be carried inside by her driver and a hired man. Although it started before the discovery of the tomb, the Art Deco movement was greatly influenced by Egyptian style. Many of the iconic decorative symbols we associate with the movement today came about because of Howard Carter’s discovery of Tutankhamun's tomb in the Valley of the Kings.

 

**********Egyptomania refers to a period of renewed interest in the culture of ancient Egypt sparked by Napoleon's Egyptian Campaign in the 19th century. Napoleon was accompanied by many scientists and scholars during this Campaign, which led to a large interest after the documentation of ancient monuments in Egypt. The ancient remains had never been so thoroughly documented before and so the interest in ancient Egypt increased significantly. Jean-François Champollion deciphered the ancient hieroglyphs in 1822 by using the Rosetta Stone that was recovered by French troops in 1799 which began the study of scientific Egyptology.

 

Cluttered with books and art, Viscount Wrexham’s library with its Georgian furnishings is different from what you might think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures from my collection.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The majority of the books that you see lining the shelves of the Viscount’s library are 1:12 size miniatures made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. So too are all the books you see both open and closed on the Viscount’s Chippendale desk. Most of the books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed, sitting on shelves or closed on desks and table surfaces. Therefore, it is a pleasure to give you a glimpse inside one of the books he has made. “The History of Silhouettes” by Emily Nevill Jackson was published by The Connoisseur, in London in 1911. To give you an idea of the work that has gone into this volume and the others, the book contains thirty double sided pages of silhouette images and script and measures thirty-three millimetres in height and thirty millimetres in width and is only five millimetres thick. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s opening books are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make this a miniature artisan piece. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter. I hope that you enjoy this peek at just one of hundreds of his books that I own, and that it makes you smile with its sheer whimsy!

 

The miniature silhouettes that Lettice bought in Cornwall were made by Lady Mile Miniatures in the United Kingdom.

 

The Art Nouveau tea set I acquired from an online specialist of miniatures in E-Bay.

 

Also on the desk to the left stands a stuffed white owl on a branch beneath a glass cloche. A vintage miniature piece, the foliage are real dried flowers and grasses, whilst the owl is cut from white soapstone. The base is stained wood and the cloche is real glass. This I acquired along with two others featuring shells (one of which can be seen in the background) from Kathleen Knight’s Dollhouse Shop in the United Kingdom.

 

On the desk are some 1:12 artisan miniature ink bottles and a blotter on a silver salver all made by the Little Green Workshop in England who specialise in high end, high quality miniatures. The ink bottles are made from tiny faceted crystal beads and have sterling silver bottoms and lids. The ink blotter is sterling silver too and has a blotter made of real black felt, cut meticulously to size to fit snugly inside the frame.

 

The Chippendale desk itself is made by Bespaq, and it has a mahogany stain and the design is taken from a real Chippendale desk. Its surface is covered in red dioxide red dioxide leather with a gilt trim. Bespaq is a high-end miniature furniture maker with high attention to detail and quality.

 

In the background you can see the book lined shelves of Viscount Wrexham’s as well as a Victorian painting of cattle in a gold frame from Amber’s Miniatures in America, and a hand painted ginger jar from Thailand which stands on a Bespaq plant stand.

 

The Persian rug you can just glimpse in the bottom left-hand corer of the photo was hand woven by Pike, Pike and Company in the United Kingdom.

 

The gold flocked Edwardian wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.

After our Gold Datex turn we dropped back on shed at Loughborough to dispose British Railways Standard 9F 2-10-0 92214. The fire has been cleaned, the ashpan dropped and the smokebox emptied. I had been gradually filling the boiler & Steve now tried to put the "red dot" injector on for a final top-up and to the use the slacking pipe to clean the footplate before clocking off.

 

However he discovered what I had experienced all afternoon; this injector doesn't pick up cleanly and no matter how much adjustment you try it still wastes a lot of water!

 

92214 has only 10 months left of its 10 year boiler "ticket" and the paintwork is beginning to show its age - see the cab front.

Ace up a Satin Sleeve

Trumping with an Ace

 

I had met the Fab Four at the posh early evening reception they were quests of. They, of course, assumed I was a guest also, why wouldn’t they?

 

Of course, this would be their first mistake. One that many before them have made.

 

I first met them outside, behind the venue I was targeting.

 

They were hanging out at a small park across the street from a back entrance to that venue.

 

I myself had come from the opposite direction of the park, having left my deep green sports coupe in a nearby church lot 2 blocks away.

 

I saw them before they saw me, saw the shine of fine clothing, glittering of even finer jewellery, and like a bee to nectar, zeroed in on them.

 

It was a clique of four young darlings of around 17 that I stopped by to say hello to and admire the beautiful attire of the girls.

 

And make no mistake, it was all beautiful.

 

The Fab Four I tagged them. And they happily acknowledged me as I came upon them.

 

A close-knit group made up of a brother, sister act. Twins, Craig and Cadie, and the sister’s two friends pretty Ginny and diminutive Lilly. They all were obviously pups of wealth-infused parents.

 

Craig, a red-headed male, wore a nicely fitted tux, black with a shiny gold brocade patterned vest. an old-style tie on a brown silk shirt., The tie with Newport School stripes was held with a real gold tiger eye pin. He was also wearing a thick silver wristwatch and a silver tiger eye pinky ring, as well as a gold school ring.

 

His red-haired twin sister Cadie is breathtakingly radiant, wearing a far too wickedly lovely long satin dress of a rich hue of chocolate brown. The dress was embroidered with flickering rhinestones outlining her small round breasts and the thin-tied sash waistline, from which an exquisite leaf-shaped diamond broach was pinned off to one side.

Long chocolate brown satin gloves graced her hands up to her elbows. The shiny gown flows elegantly down along the girl's delightful svelte figure.

And adorning that well-pointed figure is a rather healthy, (or in some cases, unhealthy) royally full display of flickering diamonds that are undeniably, expensively, and deliciously real.

 

Their friend Ginny was wearing a long fluttering black satin Kimono style dress with a lime green interior. A dragon formed with dazzling rhinestones reached up along the kimono's front, a glittering claw wedged between her breasts as it was grasping up. I believe she wore no bra, nor needed one, to hold her youthfully plump breasts in place.

Her cascading, eye-boggling expensive jewels were silver set with emeralds. Included in the set was a gorgeous emerald/diamond pendant with fringed chains of rhinestones that resembled the flowing dragon's beard.

Ginny also was wearing green mascara, her long fingernails were coated with emerald green and sparked. As were her bare toes sticking out from silver sandals. A very pretty package all around.

 

The fourth, a short petite young lady named Lilly was very attractively wearing a brite shiny red satin high-necked, long puffy sleeved blouse with long cuffs and with it, a black tiered silk skirt that simply poured down along her youthful figure, spilling out from her petite waist which was encircled with a rhinestone filled black leather belt. She also wore a very mouth-watering, eye-catching full collection of solid gold jewelry expensively set with synthetic rubies and real diamonds. Hair, ears, neckline, wrists and four gloveless fingers all were decked out with some form of ruby/diamond-enhanced baubles.

 

We happily chatted for a few minutes about the wedding reception we were all at. I gathered a few tidbits that should be useful if questioned by someone to prove I belonged there, which of course, I didn’t.

 

As we chatted I was able to get an expert eyeful of the jewellery worn by the girls. This gave me an hors d'oeuvre like taste for what I would be found inside this evening to satisfy my appetite.

 

Seeing they were in no hurry to join in the reception, I reluctantly left them to their own devices as I went across the street to make my way in with an arriving swarm of gown-swishing arriving guests

 

I snuck in with the group of chatty females who accepted me as one of the groom’s invitees ( after I learned they were from the bride's side). Finding them to be easily distracted, I lifted a gold Cartier watch from a well-dressed lady's wrists as we squeezed in the narrow back side door they were using rather than the main two-door entrance around the front.

 

It was too easy, like shooting fish in a bowl easy.

 

I was wearing a thin gown of black satin that I had adapted to include several hidden pockets. One of which now held the solid gold Cartier wristwatch. I was also wearing real 2-carat stud earrings, my only jewels, but enough to make a statement of my own of being well off.

 

Once inside I began to mingle, making myself at home to be on the prowl to do a bit more lifting.

 

And what a “home” it proved to be. As indicated by the way the Fab Four were decked out, this affair was a gold mine, or is that a diamond mine? It was a fact, all the guests here were very wealthy, and were wearing their finest.

 

A “dips” smorgasbord of delight. And here I was in the thicke of it. Security was surprisingly light, and I took advantage of that as I selected my marks.

 

My second score was a young lady wearing a short gold lame dress and sparkling diamonds. I spotted her at the bar lighting a cigarette and jostled her as I sat next to her. Apologizing I place my arm on her wrist(covering her diamond bracelet) as I excitedly talked about being here. She squirmed her way from me making an excuse, as I squeezed her wrist and lifted off her bracelet.

 

A handsome tux-clad male whom I hugged (mistakenly thinking he was someone I knew) lost his gold pocket watch to my nimble fingers.

 

A second male was left alone at a table watching over the valuables of three ladies who had left him to head to the dance floor. Minks were hung on the backs of chairs, and an expensive clutch purse made up of rhinestones was laying across from him. Two more purses hung from chairs. He was lighting a cigarette as I walked past, I bumped his elbow sending his lighter to the floor. As he bent down to pick it up. I did a circle around the table and lifted the small rhinestone clutch and shoved it inside my purse.

 

Then an adorable young lady, darling in a long sheer silk peach coloured dress, was nice enough to pick up my purse, dropped conveniently at her gown covered painted toes. Later she would discover her long pearl necklace had mysteriously disappeared.

 

Likewise, yet another female mark, this one in a luxurious and luscious lavender rhinestone decked gown, sitting next to me at the bar, helped me by retrieving my lighter as it was “accidentally “ knocked to the floor. as she stood up. As she was bending over to retrieve it, her gown tightly outlined her fine figure, and the diamond pendant that had been hanging from around her throat, somehow, vanished?

 

Then there was the snooty thirteen-year-old devil doll-faced girl, bratty to her parents, who were delightedly dressed and decked up like a princess. Sweeping satin with lace and loaded down with her grandmother’s real diamonds.

Countless people (including me)were stopping and coddling her over her admitted cuteness, as she ignored her parent's advice to stay close to them.

Somehow, somewhere(though not believed at the same time), the pair of vulgarly expensive old-fashioned clasp diamond earrings she was wearing, both disappeared from her silky let-down hair-covered ears. I’m sure it was a true mystery to some, but not me.

 

Now as much as I’d love to delve into the more delicious details of the picks I made at the reception that day, the truth is that my lifts at that party are not the reason I am writing the story, and I don’t want to bog down the telling of it too much.

 

So with that being said….

 

During the course of my “raid,” I kept an eye out for any peek of the Fab Four.

 

They did eventually come inside, and I saw them from time to time in the cavernous room filled with several hundred guests.

 

I could see the brother was sweet on the kimono-wearing chick Ginny by the way he teased and kept taking her out onto the dance floor, the pair getting dangerously close in a rather provocative manner.

 

Which was a pity, I really coveted lifting that diamond-filled “bearded” emerald pendant from pretty Ginny. But could not see any way to do so as of yet, with Craig hogging all her attention.

 

But I was captivated and kept close tabs on the Fab Four who stayed together thicke as thieves. To thicke it appeared for me to make any lifting attempts.

 

Though I did spy Cadie walking with an older lookalike, either an older sister or a quite young mum. Either way, her walking mate appeared like a klutzy one, which is a favorite characteristic of mine to see in someone that has something of value I’d like to lift. And, blimey, this one did!

 

The lady was very attractive, carrying an aire of wealth about her. Her long reddish brown hair was up in an elegant bun, held by a deep blue sapphire-trimmed thin tiara that rippled blue sparks as she and pretty Cadie walked on.

 

The lady beautifully wore a sky blue, too-tight, taffeta dress that shone with a slick wet appearing sleekness along her still very svelte figure.

 

Aside from the tiara, the rest of her jewels, like her daughters, were noteworthy.

 

The silver diamond set consisted of pierced earrings, set with 4-carat round stones with a full 8-carat pear-shaped larger stone dangling. The necklace was a silver chain with 5 round 5-carat diamonds in a v pattern. Hanging from the two end and middle round stones were three 8-carat pear-shaped diamonds, the same size as the ones swinging from her earrings. There was also a 12-carat diamond pinky ring, with a pear-shaped diamond flamed on each side with 6 smaller round diamonds, which the happy lady was wearing on her right pinky. She also was wearing an impressively large diamond engagement and wedding band set.

 

I whistled under my breath. There was easily a cool £150,000 in “Ice” staring me in the face, being temptingly worn by the two females swishing by, combined.

 

I pondered, as I often do, that it would be brilliant to watch the reactions of ladies dressed up like these two, if they could read my thoughts at that moment, without knowing who was thinking them!

 

Salivating, I watched them disappear, then I gave a deep sigh. The more I saw of the guests in this place, the more tingly I felt from head to toe, cementing my feelings about my quest in this place’s being a proper corker.

 

My fingers were constantly prickling with anticipation, as I continued casing the room full of happily drinking very well-dressed guests. For obvious reasons, I avoided the wedding party proper, staying out on the still richer fringes of lesser-invited well-wishers.

 

I worked over that patch the rest of the afternoon until late evening. It may not appear that I made many lifts, but they were very satisfactory and profitable ones.

 

I soon acquired two men’s billfolds surprisingly thicke with notes, and a lady's large diamond pin to add to my already pocketed ill-gotten gains.

 

The billfolds had been easy lifts, one from a groping young male who asked me to dance, the other from an older gent who I had “bumped” into.

 

The lady had been more of a challenge. Dressed in a dusty pink velvet and silk gown. I had to endure her endless chattering about herself before I was able to extract myself by placing a hand on her shoulder and pretending I was being summoned by an Aunt. As I pulled my hand away, the pricey 8-carat diamond pin she wore on that shoulder had been extracted also.

 

I had made quite a little haul during my time there, thoroughly enjoying myself in the hunt.

 

And I was not through yet I murmured to myself as I saw the 13-year-old devil doll-faced princess all alone as she was hovering over a deserted cocktail cart.

 

She had slipped the time-out invoked by her parent’s after her earrings had both disappeared without any explanation as to how?

 

But they foolishly did not have her hand over her remaining diamonds for safe keeping, as I saw she still had a sparkling necklace of them hanging down around her throat.

 

My finger’s tingling as I watched the hardly innocent brat’s necklace with its expensive shimmer. I slipped off and began to circle around my new prey as I could see her lifting a full cocktail glass.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

I was standing by a neglected cocktail cart. as one does, allowing the 13-year-old devil doll to sneak in an adult drink. My hand was caressing her sleek gown, as I sinfully was working off the antique diamond necklace from the distracted female brat. The pricy diamond necklace was far too tempting a target to allow the bratty girl to wear it any longer. I already had lifted her antique diamond-encrusted earrings earlier, so now I had doubled the value by having the complete matched set.

 

It was then I happily had spied Cadie’s overly jewel-burdened mum( I had figured it wasn’t her sister, too much panache) who had come up to the bar to order a drink while I was otherwise entertained.

 

I finished slipping off the girl’s expensive diamonds, pocketed them, squeezed her as she was looking at the glass with a disgusted gaze, and took my leave.

 

Cadie’s Mum was leaning over the bar, her tight blue satin-covered rear end just sticking out enough to make her a decent target.

 

Coincidently, from the speaker came the announcement for the bridal bouquet toss.

 

Approaching the bar area I saw that my target had started to reach back to straighten her shiny blue dress, diamond pinkie ring blazing up magnificently like the fancy bugger was daring me.

 

My fingers were tingling like wildfire as I made my approach. I had wanted a chance at lifting from this lady the moment I saw her walking with my “Chocolate Delight”

 

As the commotion that an announcement like the bridal toss brings began, I moved along the bar, acting like one of the single ladies scurrying to join in with the bridal fun.

 

I bumped into Cadie’s mum in doing so. One hand caught her by the silken waist for “support” while I wedged her ring-bearing hand between her tight blue satin-clad buttocks and my very damp crotch. My free hand caught up her fingers and easily pulled down, then off from her pinkie her diamond ring.

 

A textbook lift.

 

I apologize. She sweetly looked at me with the understanding of why I was in a hurry as I quickly moved off.

 

My heart was beating up like a storm. The diamond pinkie ring I had just lifted from Cadie’s wealthy mum was worth a dizzying payday.

 

I could/should have just kept walking straight out the door.

 

But I couldn’t pass up on the bridal bouquet toss.

 

My favorite part of any reception raid I am on.

 

As I was pocketing her mum’s ring, I spotted a diamond-bearing chocolate delight(as I was calling Cadie) with pretty ruby-burdened Lilly, the one wearing the touchable red satin blouse. But the third Emerald displaying Ginny, wearing the black satin kimono, was curiously not with them. Pity, for I would have gotten in with them to attempt lifting Ginny’s necklace. As it was there were more profitable targets in that gathering storm of flickering jeweled-up females.

 

I wedged myself in the midst of the well-dressed chattering females, heart pounding furiously from the excitement of the hunt.

 

As the bride threw her bouquet of white roses I delved into that squirming crowd of satin and silk-clad females and came away with, not the bouquet, but a fancy wide gemstone set bracelet from the gloved wrist of a lady wearing a deliciously fitted taffeta gown of burgundy.

 

As we all broke up I decided I was done for the night. A nice evening's work for me had been accomplished. Both profitable and jolly fun.

 

As I left I saw Cadie and Lilly off in a corner talking like a couple of puppy cute conspirators over something.

 

They were standing under an incandescent light that made the diamonds and rubies they wore blaze into provocative life as they moved in place.

 

I murmured to myself as I placed a hand over my still fast-beating heart.

“Girls, again you have my curiosity.”

 

I went over to say toodles and for a last look at the pair of beautifully attired young girls. They stopped talking as I approached and chirped happy greetings. Brother Craig joined and said to the two girls.

“Ready?”

 

I pounced on that, saying…

“Oh you’re leaving too, could I walk out with you?”

 

The 3 of them happily obliged and we walked out together.

 

Lilly had a friendly arm wrapped around Cadie’s sleek svelte waist. I was very jealous that it wasn’t my arm there fingering that pretty broach Cadie was wearing.

 

With that thought in mind, I moved closer, ready to make a lift for her broach should an opportunity arise.

 

It didn’t and Cadie reached the exit door still wearing her diamond broach.

 

As we went outside, On a total whim, I stated I was going to a pub and asked if they cared to join me for a drink, knowing full well they were all underage. So I was merely dangling what I’d hoped would be tempting bait.

 

They all laughed Lilly saying they were all too young yet to be served drinks.

 

But had I caught a sad tone to her voice and if I was reading Cadie and Craig’s expression correctly, all three were vulnerable game to be out drinking.

 

So I tried to set the hook I felt these wealthy youngsters may have been nibbling at.

 

I place my hand on Lilly’s extremely soft shoulder and put a finger to my lips, leaning in. They all followed suit giggling, as I whispered.

“Tell you what. I can pick up a bottle of wine and we can meet in that little park yonder. You know maybe I will share a bit of it!”

I made a drinking motion.

“No one will know”

 

Craig looked at his sister, who nodded, making her long earrings flicker.

Then he looked at Lilly who also nodded agreement, her earrings also breaking out and doing a blazing ruby dance of their own.

 

It made my heart melt, it did, the show those pretty jewels of theirs did along with their deliciously attractive attire. And I was that much closer to, well, you know (winks).

 

Craig looked at me

“We actually have a private spot that we hang out at, an unused cemetery down old Abbots Chase Road. Can you meet us there ?”

 

Played and hooked em. Licking my lips I readily agreed

“Certainly darlings.”

 

Cadie quickly explained how to get there, it was 20 minutes away, only a few kilometers from a village where I could purchase the wine.

 

The four of us happily left, me probably being the happiest as I took a renewed interest in chocolate delight’s diamonds and meek little Lilly’s savory rubies.

 

We parted ways at the park and with a gleeful step I made quick way to my sports coupe.

 

As I drove off I tried to curtail my excitement, not wanting to jinx any luck I may end up having. Definitely Chocolate Delight’s diamond-burdened figure would be a victim of my light touch.

 

But I would hate to let the delightful rubies young Lilly was wearing left out of the fun.

 

And I had more than one plan up my sleeve to acquire far too darling jewels.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Easily finding the village I went to a local and purchased a bottle of cheap red wine.

 

I headed off on the mostly tree-lined Abbots Chase Road. At one point crossing a bridge over a wide river, after which I passed what appeared to be an old university, on my left then more trees, and finally the cemetery on my right.

 

The only car parked was theirs, they had pulled in straight. I backed in under the shadows of a bush hanging over the old wrought iron fence. I broke off a small branch and stuck it in my front plate, obscuring most of the numbers.

 

I had no problems locating the tro hanging out on the wide steps of a large pavilion.

 

For tonight’s moon was full, and nothing sparkles in the light of a brite moon more than expensively real diamonds and pricy synthetic rubies. Even little Lilly’s rhinestone belt shone like a bloody beacon exploding with frenzied bursts of light, all of it giving them away as rich targets.

 

I’ve heard that some pickpockets could lift a person's belt as easily as a wallet. And Lilly’s would be just the type of belt worth a lifting.

 

I smacked my lips over that thought.

 

“Cheers,” they gleefully hailed me as I approached.

 

Sitting down next to Lilly, two steps below Cadie and Craig, I reopened the bottle and handed off to Craig who took a healthy swig and handed it to Lilly, who took a rather large gulp, giggling as I watched her diamond/ruby-filled necklace flashing from down the sheer front of her red satin blouse.

 

Then Cadie took it, diamond bracelet and rings flashing, and also took a healthy swallow before handing it back to me.

 

I pretended to drink as I watched the three of them happily continue chatting away not paying me any real heed.

 

Cheers, I said, another round, I’m buying.

 

The girls giggled at that as the bottle was passed around again, I was given another front seat show of their heart-wrenching jewels sparkly dance.

 

As I watched over the cheery lot. I was also keeping an eye on the road. No cars were coming either way. We were alone and it appears it would stay that way.

 

I daringly asked what had happened to their (adorably jeweled up) friend Ginny.

 

“Where is your friend, Ginny I think her name was?”

 

Cadie said proudly …

“Yes, Ginny. She had left early with her parents. Her mum is a judge .”

 

Craig cut in dryly…

“with higher political aspirations”

 

Cadie nudged her brother coyly before continuing…

“Her Mum had an important fundraiser tonight.”

 

Craig added sadly,

“And Ginny not attending with her parents wasn’t a bloody option.”

 

I looked at him with sincere disappointment, sharing his feelings that Ginny was not there, albeit for a very different reason.

“Aye laddie, too bad she isn’t here for the fun. Those stuffed-shirted politicians can be a dreary lot to hang with.

 

Cadie giggled…

“I know right, Ginny wanted Lilly and me to go with her, didn’t she now? But Lilly’s parents said no. So I decided to say with Lilly now didn’t I.”

  

I took the bottle back from Craig and held it up. Let’s drink to Lilly’s parents, otherwise, I would not have the pleasure (opportunity) being here with you three luvs.”

 

Cadie rose and hugged me from behind, her king earrings hitting my face as she bent over me saying.

“Aww, thank you., that’s a sweet thing to say.”

 

I handed her the bottle and she happily took a deep swig, then passed it to Lilly.

 

Cadie sat down and began sleepily fingering her handsome necklace, diamonds dripping down from it, spilling the sparklers out onto the front of her chocolate satin gown, she looked so pretty, and I was hungry for that sweet necklace shimmering so delectably from her shiny gloved fingers.

 

Lilly passed the bottle to Craig who had been sulking, he happily took a swig, and another healthy gulp. Then yet another. I saw his eyes then begin to droop down to being half closed.

 

He gently put an arm around Cadie, his fingers gently caressing his sister's waist and side. I was envious, for I could imagine how tingly they must have felt touching that rich brown satin gown she wore. he leaned on her shoulder and soon fell asleep.

 

Cadie and Lilly both giggled at this, and I joined in, taking the bottle from his hand, and saying to Cadie.

 

“Here let’s not have that spill over your pretty party dress.

 

I handed the bottle to Cadie and asked.

 

“How did you all happen to be hanging out here, at a cemetery?

 

Cadie, my little chocolate delight, explained it to me after gulping wine, and as I listened, feeling the time was finally coming, in anticipation I took in a full inventory of Cadie’s expensively glittering collection of diamonds as she spoke.

 

She explained in great detail how this backed the woods behind their house…

 

As she said house I pictured a mansion.

 

She said that the cemetery was not used anymore so it became a place to play their games.

 

“And a nice place to play mine.” I thought.

 

I now had the bottle and handed it to Lilly as Cadie finished.

 

I asked her...

“Don’t you ever feel frightened out here at night?”

 

Cadie accepted the quickly emptying bottle from Lilly as she slowly answered, her words a wee bit slurred.

“Sometimes, though I’ve never seen anything here at night that would harm us.”

 

I had to ask.., now that Craig was out of the protective equation

“Even this evening with us all dressed up, can I feel safe here?”

 

Chocolate Delight then thoughtfully took another gulp of wine, passing it to me, I passed it on to Lilly. Craig stirred in his sleep.

 

“Of course luv, I cannot think of any reason someone would bother us tonight?”

 

I heard Lilly giggle from behind.

“Nor something “

 

I looked at them both, at their brightly flickering jewels and far too richly shiny attire thinking to myself...

(I just bet the two of you really haven’t a clue as to what makes a thief tick!)

 

I said apologetically…

“I guess you’re right, silly of me to worry. You know choc…Cadie That’s a perfectly lovely necklace you are wearing. May I?”

 

She happily held it up, and I fingered it. Her eyes reflected a total innocence, obviously she felt no danger wearing out jewellery like this. No matter how hard I tried to steer her thoughts in that direction.

 

“Gorgeous, simply lovely, not real are they though, of course.”

 

Cadie giggled,

“They are ever so real. These are all mums, aren’t they? Papa keeps them at the bank. Says they are very valuable. He worries too much Mum said to him,” hun, it’s not like we’re in London tonight…. Then mum said I looked so pretty that she insisted I wear her diamonds instead of my own.”

 

Lilly chimed in…

“I like getting dressed up and going to London. Ever so much fun. “

 

I chuckled thinking certain parts of London would just love to see these two wealthy pups walking down their street dressed up like they were tonight. But what I said was something quite different…

“Parents do worry too much. Though I guess I’m surprised they let you come out here alone. And Lilly, you do dress up very beautifully.“

 

Lilly(blushing)and Cadie both answered together

“Oh we didn’t think to tell them, no reason really, we’re always out here now, aren’t we now.”

 

Cadie added...

“After all, we’re far from London., right?”

 

“Right,” I said, patting her shoulder, my excitement rising as I see how sleepy she is also getting.

“No reason I could mention.”

 

Cadie now passed the bottle to me almost dropping. It. Poor thing is tired I thought.

 

As Cadie’s eyes closed and she cuddled in and soon was falling asleep against her brother's shoulder.

 

I felt my fingers trembling with anticipation.

 

Meanwhile, Lilly had taken a sip of wine and was also swaying like she was tipsy as she was holding the now mostly empty bottle.

 

I moved and sat next to her.

 

Lilly lifted the bottle giggling .sayin “Cheers” to the still sleeping Craig as she saluted him with it before taking a long pull.

 

“Here sweetie, those two don’t know how to hold their liquor like we do.”

 

I put my arm around her, lovingly stroking her hair, and then petted her backside as I spoke. Spotting her ruby bracelet peeking out from the long cuff of her red satin blouse, I felt my heart beating fast.

 

“Lilly looked up at me with glazed-over eyes, saying with concern….

 

“I always find this place a little scary at night. I’m glad you’re here with us. ”

 

I held Lilly’s hand, the one holding the wine bottle. Her rings digging into deliciously into my palm as I helped her lift the bottle to her lips. She obediently took another swig. Her flashy ruby necklace hanging down was glimmering away.

 

I reached over and lifted it, lovingly looking at the desirable rubies and diamonds it held, licking my red lips with growing delight.

 

Feeling the girl slipping off into sleep. I whispered soothingly.

 

“I am glad to be here too luv. Your rubies were a very nice touch to wear out tonight. ”

 

Lilly cuddled into my side,

 

“Thank you, I’m so happy you, you like my R…rub…..”

 

Finally, she succumbed to sleep. I wrapped an arm around her warm satiny figure and cuddled her next to me as her breathing became heavier, I felt her leaning lifelessly up against me, out cold.

 

I looked over, Craig also still out, cold leaning against his now sleeping sister.

 

I trembled with delight while gently prying Lilly from my side and placing her head onto Craig’s lap.

 

I rose and deliciously looked over their very well-attired figures. Their ample valuables glistened in that late evening full moons bath.

 

“Ripe for the picking!”

 

I lit a cigarette and watched the trio, teasing myself with the temptation of the view. As I muttered

“From vulnerable sweet jewel-laden prey lured out, to now my innocent sleeping victims to soon be cleaned out”

 

I shivered with a delighted prickliness of sheer pleasure at my truly wicked thoughts.

 

It had actually worked, the whimsical ace I had “ carried up my sleeve” for some time.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Now three years ago at a formal garden party that spilled out into the evening, I was befriended by an older velvet and lace-clad lady who had taken a liking to me, especially since I was there alone. I had taken a liking to her diamonds.

 

We had ended up in the deserted gardens carrying glasses of wine. Sitting on a bench enjoying the moon I had the opportunity to nick from her the fancy gem-encrusted bracelet she was wearing

 

But much later that evening as I was in bed unable to sleep I mulled over how it seemed a pity not to have gotten away with lifting more of that lady’s diamonds.

 

I thought up different scenarios as I was falling asleep. Suddenly my eyes opened wide.

 

How easy it would have been to slip her a “Mickey”, by placing knockout drops in her wine, and as she was unconscious I could have had her diamond rings, necklace, and earrings, as well as her fine purse in an easy haul.

 

I studied up on it later and ever since had

carried a small bottle of knockout drops contained in a perfume bottle which happened to have an ace of diamonds etched on the crystal glass.

 

I carried it with me, well because one just never knows if lightning will strike twice.

 

But in all those years, in all the many posh receptions, parties, and the ilk that I had raided, I never came close to using my little “ace” that I had added to my “raiding” arsenal.

 

But just maybe, tonight I could pull it off. Risky as it was I had thought, which is why I had suggested buying wine.

 

I had bought cheap Red because it had a stronger acidic taste, which was useful for covering the taste of the ace up my sleeve that I was about to use.

 

Because Red wine will mask the taste of the knock-out drops better than white.

 

I had pulled off into a deserted parking area by the bridge, opened the wine bottle, took out a perfume bottle and poured in 1/8 of its contents, then shook the wine well before recapping it.

 

Man as I did, I was hoping my little plan would work.

 

It appears it had.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

So I crushed out my cigarette.

“Time to work them over.”

 

I went over to sister Cadie first with the sinister intention of making a proper job of it.

 

My fingers took the opportunity to delightfully stroke with caressing pets, what was the absolute sensuousness of touching her chocolate brown satin gown's thick texture. I lifted the dazzling necklace from her chest the diamonds dangling down. They were far too enchanting to gaze at up close. I laid them back down upon her sleek chest.

 

I leaned in and whispered in Cadies ear

“Cadie, can you hear me?”

 

She didn’t budge.

 

“Cadie, I’ve a confession, I’m a thief…”

 

Still no answer. She was dead to the world.

 

I petted my fingers down to her waist and worked off her broach, laying it on her lap.

 

Then I reached around behind her throat, undoing her fine gemmed encrusted necklace, then slipped it off, laying it reverently curled upon the broach. Her ears were quickly relieved of the long diamond earrings, then I ran my fingers through her silky curly hair, pulling out her, sorry, her mum’s long diamond clip.

 

I caressed down her silky red locks till they framed her cherub-like face.

 

Lifting each limp gloved wrist I worked off her rings, then lastly her diamond bracelet, adding them to the satisfyingly growing, glittering pile.

 

I then pulled off her long deep brown satin gloves.

 

Lastly, I did a thorough pat down of her figure to make sure nothing was missed. I went from head to dark brown high heels, where her painted toenails stood out. It was around her left little toe where I found a shiny solid gold toe ring she had been wearing.

 

As I pulled it off I said to her sleeping form.

“I’ll be having this also, dearie.”

 

I then turned my full attention to the brown-haired sleeping Lilly.

 

I leaned in and whispered in her ear.

 

“Lilly darlin…”

 

No response, I stuck a finger into her chest, watching closely…

 

“This is a stickup, hand over your Rubies honey.”

 

She didn’t move.

 

I then lifted her dead to the world figure and carried her to a nearby stone bench. I sat her up in a corner, her head down, short hair covering her face.

 

I delved my fingers into her silky hair and located each of her delicious ruby earrings. Reaching behind me and adding them to the glistening pile laid out upon young Cadie’s satin-covered lap.

 

I then lifted the ruby necklace and pulled it around till the clasp was exposed. Easily flicking it open, I pulled the shimmery beauty from around her throat.

 

I watched it swaying from my hand, rubies glistening a red fire, diamonds sparkling white. I then added it to the pile.

 

I then lifted each of her petite hands petting them as I worked off her surprisingly tightly fitting rings. Peeling back the long cuffs of her sleeves, exposing her dazzling bracelets which I worked off from her wilted wrists and happily added to my growing pile.

 

I then ran my fingers slowly along her downy soft clad figure. Making sure nothing was missed.

 

I will admit I was taking longer than necessary to do this, on both sleeping girls, but it was an exciting experience that I wanted to take the fullest advantage of.

 

My efforts with Lilly were rewarded when I found that she was wearing a small 1/2 Carat diamond in her navel. I had to fish up under her satin blouse to remove it.

 

Then I scooped up all the jewels that lay in a glimmering heap upon sweetly passed out chocolate delight’s lap and stuffed them all into my purse.

 

After gleefully stripping the girls of their valuables, I turned my attention to the sleeping male who should by all rights have been their protector.

 

“Okay laddie, let’s see what’s in your pockets.”

 

I patted my fingers along his satin gold calico vest while peeling back his tux jacket where I pulled a thin billfold filled with small denomination notes from a breast pocket. I placed that down the front of my dress to join the others lifted earlier.

 

I unfastened his watch and pulled off his rings placing them both inside my purse.

 

Then pulled out the cat's eye tie pin and also dropped it inside my purse

 

Undoing the tie I pulled it from around his neck, laying it on top of his sister’s brown satin gloves.

 

I then checked his trouser pockets, noticing he a bulge had risen from his crotch. Inside his pockets I came across a gold money clip with larger denominations of notes, and his car keys. The clip went into my purse and the keys I laid on the step. His rising bulge I left alone.

 

Then searching in his vest pocket I felt something hard and unusually shaped.

 

Curiosity turned to a shock that swept over me as I pulled out the very rhinestone-fringed diamond/emerald pendant that the missing chick Ginny had been so deliciously wearing with her black satin kimono. The very one I couldn’t take my eyes off at the reception.

 

I whispered to the passed-out lad…

“What’s up with this?”

 

Was he a budding thief or a lad who likes to play games? Which as a young lass is how I had started out.

 

I shrugged, stowing away the necklace in a special pocket.

 

I unceremoniously pulled him off the bench and holding his shoulders up, dragged him over behind the gazebo and set him up behind a long stone cross. Using his school tie I gagged him mum, using his sister’s long satin gloves I tied his hands and bound his legs. He would work off of his bounds eventually, but it would add to my escape time once he came to.

 

I went back and picked up the car keys, thought for a moment before I tossed them up on the gazebo floor

 

That should buy me some time. I wickedly smiled to myself.

 

I went back. The girls were also still out cold.

 

I looked them both over. Those pretty frocks would fetch a nice price.

 

I shook my head, lectured myself as I said no.

 

But I did take the sleeping girl's fancy designer purses and swinging them happily I made my way to the sports coupe and hid them, along with mine, in my sports coupe’s boot.

 

Closing it I looked back over towards the gazebo and let out a long sigh.

 

I could see Lilly’s rhinestone belt shining and shimmering, filling me with a shivering desire.

 

A thought, like a dog worrying an old shoe, would not let me go.

“I would probably never have another opportunity like this again.”

 

Was it with it to make a few quid more?

 

Or do I skedaddle with my over £70,000 in takings and not press my luck?

I chose the latter..

Firing up the engine I pulled onto Abbots Chase Road , and drove back down the road heading towards the village.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Now if this was a movie( one I’ll admit I would love to watch) the story would end at that point. Not knowing the outcome.

 

And in movies, a thief keeps pushing the envelope enough so that they eventually end up in cuffs.

 

Oh to have a crystal ball

 

The rational thing for our thief would have been to take off at that point. Drive back through the village and cleanly make her get away without taking any more risks.

 

Though if she had been thinking that way she would have left the wedding reception and avoided that last meeting with Lilly and Cadie, thus missing out on the cemetery score all together

 

But I’ve always been interested in life’s paths. What if one took the path less traveled sort of thing?

 

So I did that, I wrote another ending. One that I could not just leave on the cutting room floor. One that in a movie would. Have been possibly the risk gone too far and ending up being caught, or ending up with a bigger payday?

 

But then this isn’t a movie, though it would be fun to watch if it was.

 

So, let’s just take the other path, the one not usually chosen.

 

Now then, onto part two, for those who want to know just what I’m babbling on about

 

To be continued

She's cleaning her tiny hands... :-)))

 

(Contrary to all rumors, rats are very cleanly animals! )

Architecturally, New Orleans is not just famous for its wrought iron balconies in the French Quarter.

 

It's also famous for its shotgun houses. The house has its rooms arranged one behind the other.

 

The term 'shotgun' is a reference to the idea that if all the doors are opened, a shotgun blast fired into the house from the front doorway will fly cleanly to the other end and out at the back.

 

I'm fascinated with shotgun houses; however, I can't imagine living in something so narrow.

 

Two story shotgun houses appear to be quite rare.

EXPLORED #246

 

Muscadines are a grapevine species native to the present-day southeastern United States that has been extensively cultivated since the 16th Century. They become ripe enough to eat in late August/ early September. They are big and delicious. I had my fill of them this Labor Day weekend. YUMMY!

 

If you want a glimpse of Southern life,

Come close and walk with me;

I'll tell you all the simple things,

That you are sure to see.

You'll see mockingbirds and bumblebees,

Magnolia blossoms and dogwood trees,

Caterpillars on the step,

Wooden porches cleanly swept;

Watermelons on the vine,

Strong majestic Georgia pines;

Rocking chairs and front yard swings,

Junebugs flying on a string;

Turnip greens and hot cornbread,

Coleslaw and barbecue;

Fried okra, fried corn, fried green tomatoes,

Fried pies and pickles too.

There's ice cold tea that's syrupy sweet,

And cool, green grass beneath your feet;

Catfish nipping in the lake,

And fresh young boys on the make.

You'll see all these things

And much, much more,

In a way of life that I adore.

 

--Patricia Neely-Dorsey

 

I used Isabelle Lafrance's soulful textures and action.....

 

Soothing texture - Multiply 100%

Retro texture - Overlay 100%

Soulful soothe action

 

Visit me at my BLOG. Pretty Please? ;0)

The final shot I got of the return of 3526 and 3265, and luckily in perfect sun. Captured here they are only a few kms short of arriving into Thirlmere on the loop line, and are seen climbing a steep grade that all locos must pass through to access Thirlmere, usually putting on quite a show. Not the case in this photo though, with the two locos running very cleanly up the hill.

The prototype mold cut perfectly, and the ABS injects cleanly.

Finished these up while watching Three Amigos. Now that they're uploaded of course, I can see they still have a tad more finishing up to do, but whatever.

 

The helmets are casted, but I ruined both those molds, and neither is a final design anyway. I'll add screws and sculpt on an eagle symbol to the one on the left, then cast it as a final and make a bunch of helmets. The one on the right was the first reproduced one and you can tell by the poorly-cleaned up top.

 

Now, I'm not entirely certain that Fallshirmjager jackets were ever really produced in white like the one on the left is wearing. FGs certainly wore white uniforms, but I can't find any evidence of the FG uniform mine wears made in white. Anyone know of any? Link me sum ref pics

 

Also, its painted not decaled, and the dk bley all around is meant to be wrinkles not camo. I think the dark bley did kinda well forming the semi-visible seams, I really want feedback on that in particular though. What do you think of it?

 

Anyway the winter one is wearing a couple of FG42 pouches, and the Splintermuster one has MP40 pouches on a full Heer rig/harness. Yes is sculpted on the back too, but theres no exciting gear back there. Oh and those FG42 mag pouches are just modified BAR pouches, sorry they're a tad rough right under the flaps. The paint didn't really cleanly cover up the brass rod that's securing them to the hips.

 

Anyway hope you enjoy! Thanks!

recently, I've been getting messages from an ex.

 

THE ex,.... my longest relationship ever. the most turbulent and self destructive to date.

 

ex-me.

 

from 20 years ago.

 

and like any relationship that you think you've ended cleanly and amicably,.... one day, out of the blue, you run into them in a dark alley way.

 

to be honest though, this wasnt the first time running into each other since we parted ways. he shows his face once in a while and I've been lucky enough to have a nice sharp blade in my back pocket every time.

 

after the initial shock wears off, the frantic reach for the trusty switchblade begins.

 

grab it, open blade, scream like a banshee and sink the knife right into his goddamned heart before he gets a chance to even say hello. a couple dozen thrusts later and I feel better.

 

it was survival. a necessary self defense. also though, there was nothing more satisfying than watching him bleed into the gutter and die,... again. until next time.

 

this photo malarkey though,... this search for something real to photograph in other people,...

 

it's a double-edged sword. a double-edged sword that at some point you will eventually have to turn around and point at your own jugular.

 

this time, maybe I was being suicidal or maybe I was just tired,... or maybe this photo malarkey has actually helped me grow,...

 

I still freaked out when we met again, I still reached for the switchblade,... but this time something stopped me, I paused and then just gave it to him. to old me,... expecting the worst.

 

but he just closed it back up,... threw it in the river,... and we sat down and had a nice long chat.

 

"it's time to come home," he said.

 

I know, I said.

 

"it'll be different this time, you're not me anymore," he said. "hell,... I'm not even me anymore."

 

"it's been 20 years,... I was getting tired of waiting for you to get your head together," he said.

 

you should have said, I said.

 

"I tried, but you wouldn't listen, and you kept getting better with that damn knife," he said.

 

I know, I'm sorry,... it became a habit,...

 

"no worries, no harm done, I'm not real anyways, haha." he said.

 

I know, I said.

 

it's time to head home,.... the bastard had been looking out for me all this time.

 

This is just one from a serious of photos. The storm was producing just awesome lightning! The biggest issue was ambient light from the still bright evening sky.

 

The ambient light and the lightning coupled with a little artificial light really brought the farm equipment and storm to life here. All the structure is cleanly visible with a beautiful intra-cloud bolt making its way up to the storm anvil.

UPDATE: Test Print Release 1

 

• Here she is folks! Hot off the presses, first test prints are back!

 

• We are very happy with the final product and I'm sure our buyers will be as well.

 

• A few housekeeping notes:

 

• We were not 100% satisfied with some of the printing on all of the legs we ordered (specifically alignment of the side legs on some of the prints) -- those are going back to be reprinted

 

• We have enough cleanly printed figs to begin shipping out shortly

 

• Shipments will be made strictly on a "FIFO" first paid, first sent basis for all shipments -- no exceptions.

 

• We expect all re-printed parts to be back and all figs to be sent to all buyers of this initial run to be completed within the next 2 weeks latest.

 

• Lastly, thank you for your patronage and support!!

 

• We've got another very small run on another figure coming up very shortly -- its a simpler design, but I think you guys will like this one as well -- keep posted!!!

 

THANK YOU!

 

Time to reboot my earlier 356 build. I took the original apart almost immediately as the front proportions never sat right with me. So here's take 2, I still wish there was an elegant solution for some hint at a front bumper, but nothing has quite worked cleanly yet.

 

I'm pretty happy with the overall result - hope you like it too. Follow me on Instagram and my website

The original color of the walls is cream to light orange but opening the aperture does make the color pop. This photo was not saturated nor was it enhanced so I myself am surprised with the result. I know this shot can be cleanly done so I just snapped at the same spot using a tripod but at different shutter speeds. The early morning sunlight did the rest.

 

at a hotel in Yogyakarta, Central Java, Indonesia

 

more pics and journeys in colloidfarl.blogspot.com/

These represent something like nine or ten hours of work. I think I might be too anal.

 

And I still haven't sorted out my newish camera...

 

More pics on BS

Slices of membrillo and cheese to be enjoyed with snacks of your choice and a glass of beer or cider. Perfect!

 

Take 6 lbs. of fresh damsons and take off the stalks. Add 1/2 pint water and simmer gently until in a soft, mushy pulp. Sieve the pulp si all the stones and skin is out. Add 12 oz. castor sugar to each pond of pulp collected and put in a jam pan. Heat and simmer gently for about an hour until you can see the bottom of the pan cleanly when running a wooden spoon through the mix. Pour the membrillo into thin containers and allow to set properly.

The sleek, curving corridor of the London Underground’s Jubilee Line at London Bridge Station captures both the elegance and efficiency of Britain’s famed transit system. This photograph highlights the station’s futuristic tunnel design, where steel ribs and gradient blue paneling arch overhead like a spaceship interior. The perspective leads the viewer’s eye forward, toward the distant glow of the next connection and the promise of movement beneath the city’s surface.

 

London Bridge Station is one of the oldest and busiest transport hubs in London, serving not only the Jubilee Line, but also the Northern Line and multiple National Rail services. Opened in 1836 and rebuilt several times since, the station has evolved into a modernized gateway connecting southeast London to the city’s heart. The Jubilee Line itself is one of the youngest in the Tube system, known for its accessibility, modern design, and architectural drama.

 

In this image, the symmetry and lighting create an almost cinematic feel. Harsh fluorescent tubes run cleanly along the ceiling, casting their glow onto alternating metal grates and signage. The green emergency exit sign and blue directional placard mark the utilitarian function of the tunnel, while also adding subtle visual punctuation to an otherwise tightly disciplined space. The walls are marked with “London Bridge” repeating across the curved panels—a visual rhythm that reinforces the location and adds texture to the shot.

 

The absence of people in this photo lends a sense of quiet anticipation. It’s a rare moment of stillness in one of the world’s busiest metro systems. The tunnel becomes a character itself—calm, sturdy, waiting. For photographers, this type of image represents a celebration of urban minimalism: clean lines, practical beauty, and infrastructure that hums with human purpose, even when humans are temporarily absent.

 

The Jubilee Line is also one of the most accessible lines on the Underground, and London Bridge Station underwent significant renovations to improve step-free access, clear signage, and better wayfinding. These improvements reflect the broader push across the Transport for London (TfL) system toward more inclusive, modern infrastructure.

 

For travelers, this image evokes memories of navigating the Tube—watching the blinking signs, rushing through corridors like this to make a connection, or standing still to admire how impressively the system is built. For locals, it may feel like a moment of calm in the daily commute. For architecture and design fans, it’s a testament to form following function, where even public transportation tunnels can possess a quiet, industrial beauty.

BB18 1/4 1089 steams along cleanly shortly after departing South Brisbane with Another shuttle around the Suburbs in conjunction with the Brisbane Science Expo.

The day has come! I've released it to the world!

 

This is how I customize. Seriously. This technique is kind of the basis of my skill. I've used it on almost everything I've made since...Oh god...April of last year. All it is is a way to take advantage of paint's tendency to grab up at edges and stop there. Almost any flat edge of anything 2d-painted you find on my photostream uses this. Its how I make clean edges.

 

I discovered it while making my old Aliens Pulse Rifle . I had done the first coat of the green layer and wanted to put in thin black lines, but was too lazy to design decals for the lines and knew I wasn't good enough to freehand little black detail lines in cleanly. So I tried like, cutting in little lines with my hobby blade. It worked alright as just lines, but the revelation of this technique came when I went to apply the second layer. I tried painting really close to the line edges, and found that my paint sort of pulled itself the rest of the way to the line, but not across the line. I realized I could use it to make the clean bley rectangles lower on the gun, and that was the start. It wasn't until a couple months later that I realized the implications of this--I could use it to make lots of little neat squares, to form digital camo! At the time, of course, I was still unskilled with the blade, and my first use of this as digicamo was literally a turd in Lego form. I've learned since then and, well, let's just say I've improved a little bit.

 

I use this for everything ever. Digital camo, splintermuster camo, boot edges, guides for lines on mods, painting on straps or something, defining edges for anything anywhere. This fig was basically the ultimatum of this technique before I bought sculpting putty.

 

Please, please start using this. Try some digital camo that ISN"T made from sponges. Spend some time on it. With this, you actually have to take the time to design each digicamo shape and decide where each square is going to go. The square size is determined by the skill of the user of this technique, and can go as small as you can carve a square. I understand the appeal of sponging, since its rather quick and requires less effort, but with that you aren't really making digicamo, you're just making little blobs so small that the eye can't tell they're not squares. (That being said, sponging is AWESOME for flecktarn!!) Its good to have both techniques going around. Sponging reliably gives realistically-scaled bits (in terms of a minifig to how big a camo print at their scale would be) every time. I really want to see what everyone does with this though.

 

EDIT: Stamping is not involved at any time in this procedure. You paint up to the lines, the paint drys, and thats it. Sorry about any confusion :P

 

Please use this well, it is the basis of my customization and I am very proud to share it with everyone. If you use it for something special, feel free to add me to the pic, because I want to see what everyone does with this. Thanks! Have fun!

Context for the subject line: jonathanmorse.blog/2022/10/17/an-appetite-cleanly/

Here is the Agamemnon with stickers applied and micro Starfury fighters flying formation.

 

This micro Starfury design was created by my buddy Dark_Syntax after he found out that I was building the Omega Class Destroyer for SHIPtember. Huge thanks to him for a really cool design that only uses 12 parts! They are scaled just a little too big for the ship, but I still think they look totally awesome!

 

My other buddy ZKaiser helped me out by printing the custom made stickers that I designed. He did a really nice job, especially on getting the perforations on the letter "A" to come out so cleanly. Huge thanks to him as well!

NGC 7000 is an emission nebula about 2600 light years away in the constellation Cygnus. This is a false color image taken through [sulfur, hydrogen, and oxygen filters](i.imgur.com/bFv1VCg.png) that were then mapped to red green and blue channels respectively to make a color image. This is used to help highlight the different ionized gases, as in [true color photos](c1.staticflickr.com/5/4812/46335334442_bda5168027_o.png) the dominant hydrogen gas makes the whole nebula look red.

 

This is a [3 panel mosaic image](i.imgur.com/Hz2eMBX.png) I shot over the course of ~16 months. I had originally shot the [right panel](www.reddit.com/r/astrophotography/comments/gauicq/the_cyg...) back in April 2020, and the [top left panel](www.reddit.com/r/astrophotography/comments/pu62xw/north_a...) in August/September 2021. I saw they overlapped some so I got some data on the bottom left panel to make a more cohesive mosaic of the region. I didn't get around to processing it until now because ~~I'm lazy~~ pixinsight refuses to mosaic these images cleanly for some reason. Huge thanks to /u/EasyQuest for showing my your mosaic technique with ICE. Because I moved in 2020 to an area with less light pollution, there is some noticeable border with the signal to noise ratio between the panels. Due to the varying rotations i had to do a heavy crop on the image overall. I also [ran it through starnet to make a starless version for the hell of it](i.imgur.com/DQoHoRQ.jpg).

 

Captured over 16 nights from April 2020 through September 2021. Right panel from Bortle 7 light pollution (downtown Athens, GA) and the left two panels from Bortle 6 suburbs.

 

---

 

**[Equipment:](i.imgur.com/ejpKkwU.jpg)**

 

* TPO 6" F/4 Imaging Newtonian

 

* Orion Sirius EQ-G

 

* ZWO ASI1600MM-Pro

 

* Skywatcher Quattro Coma Corrector

 

* ZWO EFW 8x1.25"/31mm

 

* Astronomik LRGB+CLS Filters- 31mm

 

* Astrodon 31mm Ha 5nm, Oiii 3nm, Sii 5nm

 

* Agena 50mm Deluxe Straight-Through Guide Scope

 

* ZWO ASI-120mc for guiding

 

* Moonlite Autofocuser

 

**Acquisition:** 36 hours 12 minutes (Camera at Unity Gain, -15°C)

 

* **Right Panel**: 5h 30m

 

* Sii- 19x360

 

* Ha- 18x360"

 

* Oiii- 18x360"

 

* **Top Left:** 15h 12m

 

* Sii- 52x360

 

* Ha- 44x360"

 

* Oiii- 56x360"

 

* **Bottom Left:** 14h 36m

 

* Sii- 54x360

 

* Ha- 35x360"

 

* Oiii- 57x360"

 

* Darks- 30

 

* Flats- 30 per filter

 

**Capture Software:**

 

* Captured using [N.I.N.A.](nighttime-imaging.eu) and PHD2 for guiding and dithering.

 

**PixInsight Processing:**

 

* BatchPreProcessing

 

* SubframeSelector

 

* StarAlignment

 

* [Blink](youtu.be/sJeuWZNWImE?t=40)

 

* ImageIntegration

 

* DrizzleIntegration (2x, Var β=1.5)

 

**Creating the Mosaic:**

 

> For whatever reason mosaic by coordinates refused to work for me despite updating/reinstalling pixinsight, or even downloading the script directly from others.

 

* DynamicCrop to remove stacking artifacts

 

* Several rounds of automatic and dynamic background extractions to remove gradients

 

* LinearFit

 

* Exported photos as tiff, stitched in Microsoft ICE per filter

 

* CloneStamp to remove artifacts from the Sii mosaic

 

**Linear:**

 

* DynamicCrop

 

* EZ Decon/Denoise

 

* STF stretch via HistogramTransformation to bring each image nonlinear

 

**Nonlinear:**

 

* PixelMath to map SHO images to RGB

 

* Extract L > LRGBCombination for chrominance noise reduction

 

* Invert > SCNR > invert to remove magentas from stars and partially from the background

 

* Shitloads of CurveTransformations to adjust lightness, saturation, contrast, hues, etc.

 

* MultiscaleLinearTransform noise reduction

 

* EZ Star reduction

 

* NoiseGenerator to add noise into reduced star areas

 

* LocalHistogramEqualization

 

* HistogramTransformation for lightness adjustments

 

* ColorSaturation to further tweak star color (was still extremely red)

 

* CloneStamp to remove a few weird looking stars

 

* Content aware fill in Photoshop to fill in a small part of a corner that the mosaic didn't cover (I know, I sinned)

 

* Even more curves

 

* Integer Resample to 50%

 

* Annotation

I have admit I have found working with new Polaroid Originals film to create emulsion lift prints extremely frustrating! Just when you think you've got your technique honed so you can make print with reasonable consistency you open the next pack of film and it behaves completely differently!

 

I found the main difference between my most recent bacth of Polaroid Originals i-Type Color film is that emulsion layer is once again sticking to the transparent mylar front layer (just like it used to with old original Polaroid film and Impossible film). But often bits of the layer of white rubbery developer tend to stick to the black plastic bottom layer. This causes a big problem because when this happens there is still a residue on the emulsion layer that will simply never come off.

 

I found that the best way to prevent this from happening is to only use really fresh prints. I.e. you need to separate the print layers within about 15 minutes of making the print.

 

I also found it helpful to go back to my old technique of trimming of about 1-2mm from all 4 sides of the Polaroid print. I then remove all of the white frame from the back of the print and trim the four plastic tabs from each corner that hold the layers together. So long as your are using a really fresh print all the white/grey layer of developer should stick to the emulsion layer.

 

Finally I found it worked well to use hotter water than I have used previously (90 degrees). When I did all this the layer of white/grey developer comes of quickly and cleanly.

 

The only problem now is that the hotter water does weaken the emulsion layer somewhat after it has separated from the transparent mylar.

 

I only got 5 triptych prints plus t single prints from my last batch of 6 packs of i-Type Color… ouch!!!!! (Much lower than my success rate from my 1st pack of Polaroid Originals i_type Color!) But I was very happy with this one :-)

 

Let's see if all this holds when I order my next batch of i-Type Color! Hopefully I will get a better success rate next time!!

cleanly...

Despite similar looks, this tessellation is not Momotani’s Wall — it is a different pattern designed by myself. Its relation to Momotani’s Wall is roughly such as the relation of Pythagorean Tiling to Rectangle and Square Flagstone.

 

The twists being placed around the rectangle with rotational but without axial symmetry lead to some interesting properties. First, the tessellation is not rectangular, although the staggered rectangles create a roughly rectangular outline whose sides are not parallel to the sides of the bricks. Second, unlike Momotani’s Brick Wall, the bricks in this design can be made with different proportions. The height is always two grid units and the length can be arbitrary as long as it’s at least two grid units. In this fold, the proportions are 3:2. The case with square bricks is the same design as Pythagorean Tiling with 1:1 ratio and the way I came up with the idea for Shifted Bricks was by modifying that model. It is even possible to mix different brick lengths in a single model as long as the length is consistent along each strip of bricks whose top and bottom edges are adjacent.

 

Shifted Bricks is an iso-area tessellation. In contrast to Momotani’s Wall, the bricks on both sides are parallel rather than perpendicular to each other. The direction of the slant between brick columns is mirrored between the sides. In the pictures you can see that I folded the model in such way that the front side is completely clean while the back side has some visible construction creases. Folding both sides cleanly seems possible for but rather tedious for larger grids (the model shown here is from 32×32 grid).

 

I will be teaching this model at the online CDO convention this November. If you want to try making a clean fold (with lots of precreasing), you can use the instructions I made available at origami.kosmulski.org/instructions/shifted-bricks

Venus low in the twilight in an April evening sky, with Orion and the winter stars setting in the west. Venus is between the Hyades and Pleiades. Orion is at left, Auruga is at centre, and Cassiopeia is at right.

 

This was from the Hoodoos on Highway 10 east of Drumheller, Alberta, April 26, 2018. Light from the waxing gibbous Moon provides the illumination, as well as the last of the evening twilight.

 

The ground is a stack of 6 x 15-second exposures to smooth noise while the sky comes from a single 15-second exposure. all at ISO 800 with the Nikon D750 and f/5.6 with the Sigma 14mm Art lens. And no, no amount of healing or cloning could cleanly get rid of the power lines in such a twilght sky. So I left them!

There is no recipe for melancholy like an abandoned school. Two years ago this place would have been full of life, kids laughing, playing and filling the air with the enthusiasm that comes before adulthood.

 

Now, most of those children are dead. The lucky ones went cleanly during the Fall, the unlucky ones still walk the earth as pint-sized predators.

 

You can almost hear the happy ghosts laughing on the wind...... mocking the memory of a future that wasn't meant to be.

Seattle - A city of industry, a city of hope, a city with a future.

 

"Hello, welcome to KOMO 4. Just last night, Oliver Queen was found walking through the city. For the viewers that don't know, Oliver went missing in 2013 after a tragic safari accident that killed his parents: Robert and Moira. The two were avid investors in many charities including the World Wildlife Fund.

 

One of the quote, 'interesting details' about Oliver's reappearance is that he was in torn clothing and covered in a jarring amount of facial hair. A change from the once cleanly shaven face; suggesting that he was in fact not running off with his fortune and partying--which was the most popular theory amongst our watchers.

 

The question standing now is: What does Oliver do now that he's back? Does he even want to do anything?

 

We'll keep you updated as the story unfolds."

 

====================================

 

6 MONTHS LATER

 

====================================

 

Oliver Queen, squatting on the edge of a rooftop, observes the city.

 

Green Arrow: "Henry, how's it looking?"

 

Henry Fyff: *The suit looks great. A bit iffy on the pants but it makes do-*

 

Green Arrow: "I meant the city, not my pants."

 

Henry Fyff: *Oh jeez! Sorry about that! The city, uh, it's actually looking quiet. I don't see any alarms going off or anything.*

 

Green Arrow: "Maybe I can go get some sleep now--always needed some."

 

Henry Fyff: *Well, you'll really be screwing with your sleep cycle. Not sure that's a great idea.*

 

Oliver stands up on the roof and walks towards the open door to stairs

 

Green Arrow: "Fairly certain that's just something people say as an excuse to get sleep early."

 

Henry Fyff: *Heh, sorry to make your night a little more restless here.*

 

Oliver jolts to life as he turns around back to the rooftop he was once perched on.

 

Green Arrow: "What?"

 

Henry Fyff: *Washington Trust Bank, I would hurry too--it looks like the alarm was jammed with something. I'm about to pull up surveillance to see what we've got here.*

 

Green Arrow: "Thanks Henry. Better hurry, think I'll be beating you to the bank."

 

Oliver knows exactly where the Trust Bank is, considering it was next to one of China White's drug operations. With a swift motion, Oliver leapt from the rooftop of the current building he was on, grabbed and arrow and quickly set it on his bow's drawstring. With a mighty pull, the arrow jolted back then was released. Like a rocket, the arrow blasted through the skies until it grabbed onto the intended building.

 

With a shriek of joy, Oliver swung over buildings yet was cut off by an antenna.

 

Oliver rolled onto the next rooftop with a groan of pain.

 

Henry Fyff: *Ouch. That looked painful.*

 

Green Arrow: "Thanks Henry, I appreciate your concern for the superhero."

 

Henry Fyff: *Any time buddy, well here's the run down--*

 

Green Arrow: "Buddy? When did we become friends?"

 

Henry Fyff: *Since that last paycheck. Anyways--*

 

Oliver is slow to get up but once he does, he quickly darts to the edge of the rooftop to look for the bank.

 

Green Arrow: "Man, I wish I got payed for doing the right thing."

 

Henry Fyff: *You get payed by the police force hating you. If that's not a win, I don't know what is. Anyways, enough chit-chat. I'll make this quick, one guy, heavy arm, motorcycle helmet, one hostage.*

 

Oliver spots the building that the drug deal had taken place in. He quickly fires another arrow but this time he uses his bow as a zip line to get him to the next destination.

 

Green Arrow: "If you're going to rob a bank, why not just run for your life afterwards? I swear, these guys all want to just be known for something."

 

Oliver spots a man with a blue motorcycle helmet walking across the rooftop of the bank

 

Green Arrow: "I spy with my little eye--something blue."

 

Oliver whispers as he looks around the rooftop, a guard is tied to a chair on the ledge.

 

Green Arrow: "And another blue thing."

 

Henry Fyff: *Watch out, scanned the roof, he's got explosives up there too. Not sure why they aren't set up yet.*

 

Green Arrow: "Is this guy trying to make a statement?"

 

The man with the helmet gets towards the guard and whispers in his ear. He grabs the guard's leg as Oliver leaps down and points his bow and arrow at the thief.

 

Green Arrow: "Not really the best venue for a murder, huh?"

 

Robber: "You have no point in being here, leave me be."

 

Green Arrow: "Quick question... Why? You're trying to kill this guy, have explosives, an automatic weapon, and the cherry on top being you just robbed a bank dude."

 

Robber: "You're hated by the cops anyways, let me do you a favor."

 

Green Arrow: "I may be annoyed with the cops but I'm not going to endorse killing them."

 

Robber: "Are you afraid of the consequence? Once we get started there will be some but soon they'll be scared of us. We'll be doing whatever we want."

 

Green Arrow: "I'm afraid of the consequence. I'm afraid of leaving a family without a father, a husband, or a poor old couple who can't even set up a new appliance because their son died doing his job until someone thought they could send a message. The only message you're sending is that you're an asshole, kid. I don't want people to be afraid of me, I want them to think before they act! What do you gain? If you try to be some enforcer, where's the line between order and insanity?"

 

The thief drops his gun and pulls the security guard back onto the rooftop, secured.

 

Green Arrow: "Why did you want to kill this guy?"

 

Robber: "These cops... They don't help bring change. If someone sent a message, a message that this world needed to shape up. Maybe they'd stand for what's good."

 

Green Arrow: "They still do stand for what's good. The biggest change you could make is doing the right thing. The right thing isn't always dressing up and fighting. It's standing up for the person who needs it, helping the person who's in need. Not making the problem worse. Even while you're doing time you can be a change for good."

 

Silence fills the night until a microphone echoes from the motorcycle helmet.

 

???: *Thank you for the speech.*

 

Oliver hears two silent shots in the night and watches as the robber falls to the ground.

 

???: *However! You-zzt-can't just make my men understand what they did was wrong. That's not how my system works! There's absolutely no time in reason!*

 

Oliver, dead silent stares at the dead robber as the voice from the helmet continues.

 

???: *But thank GOODness you've arrived on time!*

 

A building a block away suddenly blows up, the sharp, dark night turns into an ugly formation of fire and screams.

 

Henry Fyff: *Hey Ollie--*

 

Green Arrow: "What the hell."

[]Please comment if you favorite[]

 

A man steps into the light of a street lamp. A car zooms past him and splashes a puddle of the freshly fallen rain up to him. The water hits him in the face. He raises his middle finger up to the car driver. Moments pass and the man still stands under the lamp. The light of the lamp flickers and suddenly a shadow shows itself next to the mans. The man doesn't look behind him as he's been expecting the newly arrived shadow. No words are said as none have to be. The first man pulls a pack of cigarettes from his trench coat pocket. He then pulls out a lighter and flicks it on, causing the end of the cigarette to light up with a bright orange light. The man pulls the cigarette from his mouth and lets out the smoke from his lungs.

 

"I'd offer you one, but I know you don't smoke."

 

No answer was made. Instead the shadow on the ground disappeared. The man in the coat turns to where the shadow was. No man was seen walking away. This would be a strange sight to any ordinary man, but the man who stood under the lamp was anything but ordinary. Instead the man let out another puff of smoke and cracked a small smile. Moments later a scream was heard just a block away from the man. The scream was loud but died down as quickly as it started. The man's smile faded as he sighed and turned to where the scream came from.

 

"Fantastic."

 

The man did not say this in a sarcastic tone. In fact, he enjoyed the sound of the scream. He knew that the shadow that was just next to him was the cause of such a scream. Not for who was casting it, but the fact that no one cast it. The shadow was not of a living man, but that of a dead man. The man in the trench coat began to run to where the scream sounded.

 

As he arrived he saw a sight that would make any man lose his lunch. The man in the trench coat, however, was used to the sight and smell of such a scene. Instead of hurling, the man took in another breath of smoke and releasing it seconds later. The man flipped the butt of the cigarette to the ground and stomped on it. He walked closer to the fresh corpse. He took out a small magnifying glass from his pocket and inspected the wounds the woman had. The wounds were cleanly made. Much cleaner than even a surgical knife. The man knew that no weapon on earth could make clean punctures like this. The man looks around to see the cops pulling up at the scene. A police man demands the man to step away. The man raises his hands in the air and walks silently away. A second police man stops him and asks him if he saw anything. The man shook his head and began walking away. The police tried to stop him, but the man kept walking.

 

"Be on the look out, though."

 

"Of what?"

 

"The rogue shadow of the Moon Man."

 

The police man turns to his partner who abruptly shrugged his shoulders. After this strange encounter, the police man made his way to his car and grabbed the radio.

 

"Be on the lookout. Suspect is wearing a long tan trench coat."

 

"Really? It's the middle of December. There are going to be thousands of men in trench coats. Did anyone get a good look at his face?"

 

The policeman who issued the report looked to his partner who again shrugged his shoulders. The policeman with the radio sighed and lifted the radio back to his mouth.

 

"No..."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Heyo, this is my new Constantine App for the DCSG. I know that holding 4 roles at one time is absolutely crazy, but there is one thing about this role. If I get it, fingers crossed, this role will be one that won't be uploaded as frequently as my other three roles. Given the way I want to take this, I will be taking my time planning out arcs. (But aren't you doing that already?) Yes I am, but for Constantine I want this to be extremely awesome.

 

That being said, I've had the idea for this story for months just sitting around, so this one will come out more frequent than the future volumes. (That is, if I actually get the role).

April 3, 2011.

 

I realised the reason why I love Photoshop so much is because things are erasable. If I didn't like the colour of something? Change it to something I did like. Mess with the reality of appearances. Create things that don't exist. Eradicate mistakes cleanly, without leaving their evidence behind. Probe into imagination once again without worrying about what will happen because I know there's always a back up. Always.

It's like a second life; a dream that doesn't exist but has objects from reality. It's an escape route.

  

The object of the game is to advance the ball towards the line defended by the opposition and place the ball cleanly on the ground. Once in possession each team is able to use the ball up to six times to make their attempt. Each of these six plays comes to an end when a tackle is made and the ball can not be released to a teammate. In this instance with at least three opponents clinging on Tongan forward Fui Fui Moi Moi is well and truly tackled. This action comes from the very first game that Toronto Wolfpack played in last years challenge cup against a strong amateur side Siddal.

Probably one of the most unusual imports I've seen whilst abroad, and the first time I have ever seen a Stealth in the wild. Very cleanly shaped, and very reminiscent of the Corvette. Based on the Mitsubishi GTO.

 

I suspect ZA plates are reserved for re-regs and imports.

Opening doors, still fits minifigs and you can see how the turret rotates cleanly over the roof.

The sky was changing so quickly I didn't have much time to work, but I knew I wanted to grab a panorama of this spot when I saw how the clouds were coming in. This was actually constructed from 2 quick panos, one exposing for the sky and another exposing for the water and rocks. They didn't stitch together as cleanly as I would have liked but it does give a full perspective on what it's like near the overlooks.

 

6 shots for the top, 7 shots for the bottom.

  

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Time to reboot my earlier 356 build. I took the original apart almost immediately as the front proportions never sat right with me. So here's take 2, I still wish there was an elegant solution for some hint at a front bumper, but nothing has quite worked cleanly yet.

 

I'm pretty happy with the overall result - hope you like it too. Follow me on Instagram and my website