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Keith Cotton and Ted Horobiowski with Connie Rines of Del Monte Foods Inc. (Commute Smart Employer Leadership).
This morning, my daily commute was slowed by a low pressure system stretching from Newcastle down to the Illawarra.
The traffic heading into town is definitely *not* going at 110kph.
It always starts to rain just before a long weekend!!
I spotted a bullock cart passing by as we stopped at a highway street shop to get some refreshments. It was on my way to Mogok, where the most precious stones like Ruby, Sapphire & hundreds more to name are found.
When I talked to the street shop owner, I found out that owning a bullock cart was equivalent to having a good comfort car in terms of city life.
So, don't make a mistake of thinking they are poor. Who knows they might be thinking they are riding Ferrari of their life. :P
Daily Shoot assignment number 255:
The world is always in motion. Make a photo that conveys a bit of your own motion to your viewer.
1. The first stop on my commute is the facilities. No, I don't go in the catbox. Though in 2001, Mary and I spent two weeks in an AMC (Appalachian Mountain Club) cabin, which had no electricity and no running water. We filled a 5-gallon, plastic-toilet-seat-topped bucket with clumping kitty litter and had our own private, scoopable bathroom. It saved us a fair walk to the outhouse, which we especially appreciated in the middle of the night. PS: We had a fabulous time "roughing it" -- and our "peoplebox" was sheer luxury.
I do clean the catbox in the morning, sometimes even before I go for my coffee.
2. We don't mess around; we brew industrial amounts of java at a time. That 45-cup coffee pot looks shiny and new because it is. Our 35-cup, which is at least a quarter-century old, finally bit the dust.
The pint plastic containers to the left of the pot collect bits of compost that we transfer to our compost bin in the back yard. The bottle of red stuff to the right is Texas Pete hot sauce, which I use quite liberally, though not in my coffee. The silver stuff behind the silver pot is mylar covering the kitchen window, which reflected heat away from us during the summer.
3. Undress for success! My work clothes nowadays are either thermals (if I'm staying in) or street clothes (if I'm going out). My foot is usually not this swollen, but I took this shot after I'd been up for 17 hours straight (flex time!). As you can see, my office supplies also wear clothes.
4. The hub of my home office. My desk currently suffers from piles. It's not always this bad, but after two conventions and a flurry of emails and contract review I need to set aside some clean-up time. Generally I clean when the clutter reaches critical mass, meaning I have no place to put my coffee cup.
My commutes are basically really low budget disaster movies.
Noone was harmed, just the bar right by my bus stop had been gutted by fire and the police shut the whole block down (Upper parliament St., Market St. and Angel Row+Chapel Bar). It took 2 hours to move the 20 miles from my house to the office as a result.
If they knocked down the Victoria Centre and rebuilt the original station in the rock underneath it, Nottingham could basically have an amazing transport network. Instead, everything will always bottleneck through Castle Marina or spool out through Canning Circus.
An LIRR EMU makes an easier trek into the city than the cars on the nearby Long Island Expressway following winter storm Hercules.
Keith Cotton and Ted Horobiowski with Kevin Harding of Hewlett Packard (Commute Smart ETC Champion).
LONDON - MARCH 8: People, blurred by long exposure, commuting in a symmetrical tunnel in the London underground. London, UK, March 8, 2013.
St Mary, Coddenham, Suffolk
Coddenham has a reputation for being one of the poshest villages in Suffolk; within commuting distance of Ipswich for executives and businessmen, but beyond the reach of anyone ordinary. Despite this, the people in the shop seemed very friendly, and a poster in the window for village hall line-dancing sessions presented a side of the place I’d never imagined.
It is a very old village. The layout of the streets reflects this; there’s something not quite right about it. The blind corner opposite the shop was not meant for modern traffic, and the way the roads twist out of the village and into the fields seems stubborn, as if they do not want to conform to the needs of the modern world, but prefer to reflect something that was before, and is now gone. It may be that this is something to do with the fact that Coddenham was almost certainly the largest Roman settlement in Suffolk, at a time when Bury and Ipswich were tiny hamlets, and Lowestoft probably did not even exist.
A big clue that things were not always the way they are now is the 15th century porch on the side of St Mary. Instead of being perpendicular to the north aisle, as is usual, it is uniquely angled to face up the village street, at about sixty degrees to the north wall. At one time, the purpose of the street must have been simply to take the Faithful into the body of the church. Now, it approaches as before, but suddenly veers away wildly around the churchyard and down the hill. At one time, liturgical processions must have used it, but it isn’t clear if it was the Reformation that made the change, or a pressing need for villagers to get to Hemingstone in a hurry.
This was an important place on the eve of the Reformation. The clerestory is one of the most beautiful in Suffolk, particularly because it is not very long. It rises like battlements of lace, and the inscription reads orate pro animae Johannis Frenche et Margaret ('Pray for the souls of John and Margaret French'). At the east end of the north aisle is a gorgeous fat red-brick rood stair case, that obviously postdates the windows either side of it.
Wandering around to the east, I found the memorial to the 17th century Minister Matthias Candler. His firebrand Puritanism would have important consequences for Suffolk churchcrawlers. One of his parishioners was William Dowsing, who had a house in this village, although actually just over the border in Baylham parish. Dowsing learned to be a thorough-going protestant at the feet of Candler’s pulpit; in 1644, Dowsing would make a journey through Suffolk and Cambridgeshire on behalf of the Earl of Manchester, wrecking sacramental imagery in more than 250 churches. Candler died in 1663 while still Rector, which suggests that the Restoration of three years earlier had not been dramatic, or that Candler was a wily enough character to survive it.
I stepped through into a wide, urbanised nave, very much the product of a 19th century restoration under the watchful eyes of Richard Phipson. The 15th century brought glamorous aisles and the soaring clerestory; but this must have been a small church once, and the nave is now as wide as it is long. Beyond it, a vast 19th century chancel stretches so far that it doubles the length of the church; it was rebuilt in 1840, and then greatly extended in 1893 by the Anglo-catholics. It was clearly meant as a statement that sacramental liturgical practices were back. Candler and Dowsing must have turned in their graves.
If, externally, the clerestory is breathtaking, the internal glory of St Mary is undoubtedly the roof. It is very late medieval, probably 15th century, but Mortlock thought it might be 16th century. It is an unstained double hammerbeam roof, not quite so steeply pitched as is common in Suffolk. Angels gaze down from the gloom.
There are plenty of hatchments, for those who like that kind of thing, mostly to the Bacon family, one of Suffolk's most significant landed families. They also have a number of memorials, and even a window designed by one of them, the Pre-Raphaelite Percy Bacon.