View allAll Photos Tagged Compellingly
"Le Périgord pourpre, partie sud du Périgord, a plus affaire avec l'Aquitaine qu'avec le Périgord noir tout proche. Tout le rattache en effet au Bordelais: la Dordogne, sa vallée alluvionnaire et ses versants plantés de vigne là où la terre est d'argile et de calcaire. Rouge (pourpre) parce qu'il donne du raisin, ce Périgord là n'est pas des plus riants." (Le Guide Vert Périgord Quercy)
Other views // Autres vues:
www.flickr.com/photos/regisa/33565662972/in/photolist-T95...
www.flickr.com/photos/regisa/32251739156/in/photolist-T95...
www.flickr.com/photos/regisa/33912022205/in/photolist-T95...
www.flickr.com/photos/regisa/33404103146/in/photolist-T95...
www.flickr.com/photos/regisa/33219932733/in/photolist-T95...
www.flickr.com/photos/regisa/33302255342/in/photolist-T95...
www.flickr.com/photos/regisa/33245092510/in/photolist-T95...
www.flickr.com/photos/regisa/33611994145/in/photolist-T95...
"Appealing, compelling, beautiful." // "Attirant, irrésistible, beau." (Elliot MARGOLIES / www.flickr.com/photos/elliotmar/)
"Superbe ligne de fuite et très beau traitement !" // "Great vanishing point and lovely treatment." (FLORENCE.V / www.flickr.com/photos/flo59/)
San Candido: a Charming Blend of Art and Compelling Nature at the Dolomites' Doorstep
San Candido – Innichen in German – is the main centre of the Alta Val Pusteria (Hochpustertal) and it is also an historical market town, ideally located in a position which allows easy access to the Dolomites, lying just to the south.
It is situated just on the other side of the “Sella di Dobbiaco” – an important watershed located just west of town. San Candido and its basin are crossed by the Drava (Drau), a river which flows into the Danube and eventually drains into the Black Sea – a geographical peculiarity in the whole of Italy, shared only by the neighbouring municipality of Sesto/Sexten, and partly by Dobbiaco itself.
San Candido/Innichen was founded as a religious centre at the highest point of what is known today as Val Pusteria/Pustertal – a valley with two branches coming from the Italian (Rienza/Rienz) and the Austrian side (Drava/Drau; region Osttirol) at once.
The centre developed around a monastery that was wanted by Duke Tassilone III of Bavaria in 769, and then constructed by the Bishop of Frisingen to contrast the Slavs – at the time still Pagan people. In fact, for centuries the locality has remained dependent on the Diocese of Frisingen – the most ancient in Bavaria – and the links with this town have led to a twinning between the two centres (in 2007).
Around the middle of the 14th century, an attempt to turn San Candido into a market town along the important route connecting Cadore with Carinthia was contrasted by the Counts of Gorizia, as they did not wish to initiate an economic rivalry with the nearby market town of Lienz. San Candido therefore remained mainly a religious centre, gravitating around the “Chiesa Collegiata” – the Collegiate Church, which since its foundation has attracted many pilgrims over the centuries. Still today the town centre is characterized by the presence of many religious buildings (chapels and churches), as well as noble examples of houses for the local gentry, dating mainly to the 18th and 19th centuries.
At the partition of Tyrol between Austria and Italy in 1918, San Candido – given its history and geography – should in theory have remained in Austria, being situated beyond the main Alpine watershed, but for what were then purely military reasons it was assigned to Italy instead; on that occasion, two huge barrack compounds were built, and the town – given its proximity to the border – has remained an important military outpost ever since (now, with the opening of the frontiers within Europe, this aspect has been somewhat relaxed).
Breve cenno sulla storia di San Candido:
Verso il 1000 a.C. la zona dell'odierna San Candido venne attraversata da popolazioni illiriche provenienti da sud-est. Dato che queste tribù vivevano come nomadi ed allevatori di bestiame, esse hanno lasciato solo poche tracce.
Nel 4° secolo a.C. in quella zona si sono insediate tribù celtiche; esse accanto all'allevamento di bestiame praticavano anche l'agricoltura ed hanno fondato un piccolo villaggio fortificato.
Nel 15 a.C. le province della Rezia e del Norico (quindi anche la regione di San Candido) vennero conquistate dai romani. Dato che la strada romana (via Claudia Augusta) che collegava l'Aquileia con Augusta (Augusta Vindelicorum) attraversava quella zona, i romani con grande probabilità fondarono qui una stazione militare denominata "Littamum" (ca. 500 abitanti).
Alla fine del 6° secolo d.C. gli slavi che avanzavano da est e le popolazioni baiuvariche provenienti da nord nella zona dell'alta Pusteria diedero luogo a gravi scontri. L'odierna San Candido venne distrutta, non è chiaro se a conseguenza di avvenimenti bellici o di una inondazione o a causa di un grande incendio.
Nel 769 il Duca bavarese Tassilo III° concesse all'abate Atto von Scharnitz un tratto di terra che andava dall'attuale Monguelfo ad ovest fino all'attuale Abfaltersbach ad est, a condizione che nel "campus gelau" (=terra gelata) venisse fondato un convento di Frati benedettini, onde cristianizzare i pagani slavi; da qui nacque l'attuale San Candido. San Candido dunque è il più antico monastero ed è uno degli insediamenti più antichi di tutto il Tirolo.
Nel 783 l'abate Atto von Scharnitz divenne Vescovo di Freising. Da allora San Candido appartenne, tranne una breve interruzione, al principato di Freising fino alla secolarizzazione dell'anno 1803. Da qui scaturisce anche il "Moro", distintivo del principato di Freising, raffigurato sullo stemma comunale. In occasione della festa per il giubileo dei 1200 anni (1969) sono stati intrapresi nuovi rapporti di amicizia con la città di Freising, i quali negli ultimi anni si sono approfonditi. Questi contatti da un lato riguardano gli organi politici, dall'altra però anche diverse associazioni di entrambi i comuni.
Nel 965 l'Imperatore Otto il Grande (1°) concesse al dominio di San Candido l'immunità, questo significa che la marca di San Candido divenne "indipendente dal regno"; Signore di San Candido rimase comunque il Vescovo principale di Freising.
Verso il 1140 il monastero benedettino venne trasformato in una collegiata di tipo occidentale, al posto dei Frati benedettini si insediarono ora ecclesiastici "occidentali" e canonici.
Il dominio di San Candido nel tardo medioevo, quindi nel 12° e 13° secolo, raggiunse il suo massimo splendore. Il suo territorio spaziava da Monguelfo ad ovest e Abfaltersbach ad est, fino ad arrivare alla pianura veneziana (Cadore). Nel 13° secolo alcune famiglie di agricoltori della regione di San Candido colonizzarono alcune zone dell'attuale Tolmin (Slovenia) ed ivi fondarono sei comuni.
Il 15 luglio 1303 Re Albrecht I° concesse alla marca di San Candido il diritto al mercato.
Dal tardo medioevo i Giudici (Conti di Gorizia, successivamente Conti del Tirolo), che in realtà sarebbero stati incaricati di tutelare il dominio di Freising, strapparono a questo quasi tutti i territori, così che alla fine (1803) del dominio iniziale rimase solo una parte del paese di San Candido.
Dopo la prima guerra mondiale anche San Candido (e Sesto), sebbene questo non fosse previsto dall'accordo di Londra, venne accorpata all'Italia (in realtà il futuro confine tra Italia ed Austria doveva essere lo spartiacque presso Dobbiaco).
Black and White version - Model: Krystal Smith - Please view large p.s. Just passed 16 million views. Thank you!
Featured Favorite:
With new each image I will mention one of my very favorite Flicker photographers. These are not in any order except for chronologically - how could one possibly rank such different artists?
(3) Enrique Salvo - Enrique captures the human condition with compellingly touching power. I once commented that his work reminded me of the superlative Great Depression photography of Dorothea Lange.
www.flickr.com/photos/142882734@N07/
p.s. Flickr has recommended my group. Please check out the Little Select Gallery of Eclectic Visual Poetry
Thank you
"Compelling shapes and elements in the mist and the foggy texture." (Elliot MARGOLIES / www.flickr.com/photos/elliotmar/)
"A voir à la loupe pour entre autres apprécier les plans les plus lointains, une composition qu'on pourrait mettre en parallèle avec les peintes de marines locaux du XIXème." (VINCENT / www.flickr.com/photos/58769600@N07/)
"J'adore ton travail de texturing et ta présentation." (SOPHIE C. / www.flickr.com/photos/sophie-clb/)
Own texture.
A slackening of the tension of the soul, a feeling of emptiness and listlessness, moroseness, the inability to concentrate on a single task, lassitude and weariness of heart (Cassian)—who would claim that this state of soul (état d’âme) is proper only to anchorites? The ancient philosophers knew it well, and the church fathers speak of it. In the modern age this “perhaps most painful human phenomenon” (Romano Guardini) seems to have acquired even more depth and power. Pascal’s ennui (boredom) and Kierkegaard’s melancholy compellingly grip one; and what will one say about Angst (anxiety), the twin sister of acedia as we shall see? Has it not become the mark of Cain on our civilization?
-Despondency The Spiritual Teaching of Evagrius Ponticus on Acedia, Gabriel Bunge translated from the German by Anthony P. Gythiel
"A street performer adorned with balloon animals brings smiles to passersby. Captured in black and white, this image highlights the vibrant energy of street life and the simple joys found in unexpected places. The intricate balloon creations contrast with the gritty urban backdrop, creating a compelling street portrait
"Un artista di strada ornato di animali fatti con i palloncini regala sorrisi ai passanti. Catturata in bianco e nero, questa immagine evidenzia l'energia vibrante della vita di strada e le semplici gioie che si trovano in luoghi inaspettati. Le intricate creazioni di palloncini contrastano con lo sfondo urbano grintoso, creando un ritratto di strada avvincente.
Given favorable atmospheric conditions, sunrise at Paradise can be stunning and double that when it’s peak fall colors as it was the first weekend in October. An explosion of autumnal color carpeted the Paradise landscape in fiery reds, yellows and oranges – it was sensory elation but manic when trying to zero in on a composition so I settled on this view. While the morning sun bathed the face of Mount Rainier in soul-tingling light , the autumnally painted ridge in this image would remain in shadow until the sun rose higher – but by then the special light on the mountain would be long gone. There’s a waterfall coming through that gulch down into Edith Creek basin – hidden in this image. Earlier I had scouted the Golden Gate trail to see whether I could include that waterfall but I couldn’t get Mount Rainier placed compellingly in the background. Since that didn’t work out I planted myself along Skyline trail to get this image. I originally had the entire mountain in frame but the foreground meadow had too many random clumps of vegetation and trees, so I opted to crop for a tighter shot later. There had been some fresh snowfall during the past week so the mountain looked less bare.
Flickr Explore 5jan22
Tha Sabattier Effect can produce some astonishing results. Very unexpected consequences often chaotic and just plain ugly. But sometimes hit a seam, some kind of subliminal understanding, and the results are shockingly strange but compellingly gorgeous.
Un petit air de marais salant à l'approche de la baie de Canche. Avec l'étonnant crépitement sonore qui l'accompagne.
"Au grès des marées toujours un bel endroit, comme ici avec ces spots de lumière naturelle." (VINCENT / www.flickr.com/photos/58769600@N07/)
"Compelling." (Elliot MARGOLIES / www.flickr.com/photos/elliotmar/)
Hey peeps, my IRL sojourn from Second Life is starting to feel more and more permanent as I get up to more compellingly fun and queer hijinx here! 🌈
I’m exploring being ethically non-monogamous IRL and it’s been exciting so far, but it leaves me less time to lose myself in SL as I’m more and more immersed in RL. 😘
For a bit I needed SL like I needed air to breath just so I could cope / escape from some of the overwhelming RL trauma I’ve since moved on from. I may still pop in from time to time, but SL is still in my thoughts from all the fond memories there. 😌
I hope you all are well! I’ll see ya when I see ya! 💜
Tha Sabattier Effect can produce some astonishing results. Very unexpected consequences often chaotic and just plain ugly. But sometimes hit a seam, some kind of subliminal understanding, and the results are shockingly strange but compellingly gorgeous.
"West of Krafla is Leirhnjúkur, a black, compellingly grotesque lavafield whose eighteenth-century eruptions nearly destroyed Reykjahlíð’s church. A similar event between 1977 and 1984 reopened the fissures in what came to be called the Krafla Fires, and this mass of still-steaming lava rubble is testament to the lasting power of molten rock: thirty years on, and the ground here remains, in places, too hot to touch. Pegged tracks from the parking area mark out relatively safe trails around the field, crossing older, vegetated lava before climbing onto the darker, rougher new material, splotches of red or purple marking iron and potash deposits, white or yellow patches indicating live steam vents to be avoided – not least for their intensely unpleasant smell. From the high points you can look north towards where the main area of activity was during the 1980s at Gjástykki, a black, steaming swathe between light green hills." (www.roughguides.com/destinations/europe/iceland/m%C3%BDva...;
Pinwella outside Kandy is a popular stop for tourists in Sri Lanka. I've seen this elephant orphanage grow over more than 25 years but it still remains compellingly photogenic. – Jeremy Miles dancingledge.com
Saya juga mengedit gambar ini secara eksklusif dengan Windows Paint.
Ini diambil dari setidaknya dua foto saya. Salah satunya menunjukkan proyek Ibukota Budaya Eropa 2025 Chemnitz, yang saya foto pada bulan Agustus dengan nama "Blühwiesen".
Berikut ini tautan ke situs web resmi: chemnitz2025.de/bluehwiesen-fuer-chemnitz/
Foto di dalamnya adalah interpretasi penutup mulut dan hidung "Zweckgeblüht".
Publikasi saya berikutnya adalah dua bentuk mutasi. Di mana yang satu harus selesai bagi saya pada bulan Januaridan yang lainnya sama seperti yang harus saya selesaikan, pada bulan Februari. Oleh karena itu, publikasi interpretasi penutup mulut dan hidung berikutnya mungkin baru akan dilakukan pada bulan Maret. ^.^
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I also edited this picture exclusively with Windows Paint. It was created from at least two of my photographs. One shows a project of the European Capital of Culture 2025 Chemnitz, which I photographed in August with the name "Blühwiesen" (the link to the website of it, please see in the Indonesian text).
The photo in it is the mouth and nose cover interpretation "Flowered_purpose".
My next publications are two mutation forms. Whereby one should be finished absolutely for me in January the other just as compellingly for me in February. Therefore, the next mouth and nose cover interpretation publication will probably be in March.
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Auch dieses Bild habe ich ausschließlich mit Windows Paint bearbeitet. Es ist aus mindestens zwei meiner Fotografien entstanden. Das eine zeigt ein Projekt der europäischen Kulturhauptstadt 2025 Chemnitz, das ich im August fotografiert habe mit der Bezeichnung „Blühwiesen". (der Link zur Webseite davon, siehe bitte im indonesischen Text./ )
Das Foto darin ist die Mund-und Nasen-Abdeckungsinterpretation "Zweckgeblüht".
Meine nächsten Veröffentlichungen sind zwei Mutationsformen. Wobei die eine unbedingt für mich im Januar die andere ebenso zwingend für mich, im Februar, fertig werden sollte. Daher wird es die nächste Mund-und Nasen-Abdeckungsinterpretationsveröffentlichung wohl voraussichtlich erst im März geben.
Usually I do not post shots that are similar, but here, having taken a few steps back, I really prefer this version (shot a little earlier than the previous one I posted). The light is much more compelling (even though the sky is a little less powerful, but you cannot have it all…). So here goes a second take ;o)
D’habitude je ne poste pas deux photos similaires, mais là avec le recul je préfère vraiment cette version (prise un peu plus tôt que celle que j’ai déjà postée). La lumière est bien plus puissante (même si du coup le ciel est un peu moins impressionnant, on ne peut pas tout avoir…). Donc voilà un 2e essai ;o)
"Bien connu des pêcheurs, le lac de Tazenat enchâsse ses eaux bleues dans un cratère volcanique d'origine explosive, un maar, alimenté par le ruisseau de Rochegude. La position géographique du lac marque la limite nord de la chaîne des Puys. D'une superficie de 32ha, sa profondeur de 70m en moyenne atteint parfois 90m. Hautes de plus de 50m, ses berges dessinent une forme quasi circulaire." (Le Guide Vert Auvergne)
In EXPLORE (26.08.2017)
"Une fin d'été rayonnante dans une composition artistique de belle qualité. Toujours admirative de tes oeuvres ! " // "A radiant summer end in a lovely artistic compo. I'm still a fan of your artworks !" (TRISKELLFLEUR / www.flickr.com/photos/131430984@N02/)
"Quel bel endroit ! et ton traitement le magnifie encore." // "Such a lovely place. And your treatment magnifies it more." (SOPHIE C. / www.flickr.com/photos/26450367@N04/)
"Excellente compo bourrée de détails." // "An excellent compo full of details." (VINCENT / www.flickr.com/photos/58769600@N07/)
"Love the colors and the fallen tree; very compelling." // "J'aime les couleurs et cet arbre mort. Particulièrement fascinant." (Elliot MARGOLIES / www.flickr.com/photos/elliotmar/)
Own texture.
Since the camera was in the Downtown Eastside (DTES) why not let it roam the alleys and streets and check out how COVID-19 is affecting the homeless, drugs users (and pushers), prostitutes and the area mentally handicapped residents.
This alley is looking surprisingly clean for the DTES. Typically it is littered with garbage and crowds of people selling and using drugs.
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Permission to use photo.
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Greetings Ted,
I am a priest and an outreach worker in the Downtown Eastside where I work have been working with street involved adults for 18 years now. Street Outreach Initiative is a small not-for-profit organization.
I contact you seeking permission to use three of your photographs.
They compellingly depict men and women, and their courage to keep going, amidst a community filled with challenges. They were taken on Gore St near the back of the Fire Hall Theatre. I found them using a google image search, with “commons use” selected. I then discovered they were posted on Flickr.
I write seeking permission to use these in a limited circulation print newsletter (not on the web) that provides updates on our work and the situation on the street.
Our organization seeks to serve our street involved brothers and sisters in a variety of ways, through trauma workshops, events focused on Indigenous Reconciliation, addiction counsel, memorial services (too many of them), work with refugees, pastoral care at end of life, and other things. We have an Indigenous Elder as well as a Clinical Counsellor on our Team.
Although I am a priest, and our work is based at St James Church in the DTES, and we provide among many things, pastoral care, our mission is to build relationships and to care for all. We are not religious proselytizers.
We would like to compensate you for use of each photo, and can offer seventy five dollars each. May we use your three photographs for this purpose?
Alas, we are approaching printing, it took a while for me to find an email address, so I’m sorry to make this ask with such a rush!
With every good wish
Matthew
The Reverend Father Matthew Johnson
Street Outreach Priest
Downtown Eastside
St James Anglican Church
Diocese of New Westminster
Tha Sabattier Effect can produce some astonishing results. Very unexpected consequences often chaotic and just plain ugly. But sometimes hit a seam, some kind of subliminal understanding, and the results are shockingly strange but compellingly gorgeous.
Montagne
J’aime la montagne
Belle comme une compagne
Jolie et Imprévisible
Mais aussi irrésistible
Je me sens tout petit
Comme au paradis
Dans un Monde étrange
Où dansent les anges
Domi
Mountain
I love the mountains
Beautiful as a companion
Jolie and Unpredictable
But as compelling
I feel very small
As in Paradise
In a strange world
The dancing angels
Domi
The eschif is located in Périgord , in the center of the department of the Dordogne, in Périgueux . It is a building located at 9 boulevard Georges-Saumande, at the corner of Rue Tourville, in the protected area , on the edge of the Isle , a hundred meters south-east of the cathedral Saint-Front .
Although it has never been used as a mill, the eschif is mistakenly called "Old mill" or "Mill of the Chapter" or "Mill of Saint-Front". The confusion comes from the near mill of Saint-Front which was in the middle of the Isle and which was demolished in 1860
History [ edit | Change the code ]
A watchtower was built in 1347 on the ramparts of the Puy-Saint-Front (the medieval city corresponding to the historic center of Périgueux), at the foot of which the Isle s 'flowed 4 . It is built on the site of a house in Creyschat , destroyed the previous year following a flood of Isle
In 1860, the ramparts were destroyed to allow the construction of the imperial road 21 from Paris to Barèges 5 (the present boulevard Georges Saumande).
In 1929, the eschif is inscribed under the name of the historical monuments under the name (erroneous) of mill Saint-Front. This inscription is canceled in 1977 and replaced by a classification for historic monuments .
It belongs to the town of Périgueux since 1976 .
Architecture
The eschif has retained its wooden sides and its mud. The edifice seems to hold miraculously on a thin support to which it is connected by legs of force on its two longitudinal facades
"In The Red Wind" - Trio Viriditas' 3rd recording (not published) with Wilber Morris / A23H / Kevin Norton. Recorded June 2001 in NYC.
(not for sale)
Trio Viriditas was a short-lived but striking constellation in New York’s downtown scene at the turn of the millennium. The group brought together three musicians from different corners of the avant-garde: bassist Wilber Morris, a stalwart of American free jazz whose deep pizzicato and bow work carried the authority of several decades on the loft scene; percussionist Kevin Norton, equally adept on drums and vibraphone and at that time closely affiliated with Anthony Braxton; and reed player Alfred Harth, an under-recognized German improviser whose warm saxophone sound and compositional contributions provide much of the trio’s signature character.
The trio’s first studio album, waxwebwind@ebroadway, recorded in 2000 and released in 2002, exemplifies their range. The program balances visceral free jazz eruptions with chamber-like refinement and sly melodic allusions. Morris contributes the incantatory “Interstice,” accompanying his bass with an almost ritual vocal, while Norton’s vibraphone lends a shimmering surface to more reflective episodes. Harth, long known in Europe as a fearless experimenter, emerges here as a compellingly lyrical improviser whose pieces—such as “Starbucks” and its variation, composed in New York diners—thread folkloric hints, Dolphy-esque angularity, and unexpected tenderness into the flow.
The trio’s chemistry was especially evident in live settings. Recordings from a 2001 concert, later issued on Live at Vision Festival VI (2008), show the group at full throttle: Harth’s clarinet squalls and pocket-trumpet cries pushed against Norton’s explosive yet architecturally precise percussion, while Morris anchored the proceedings with a steady, glowing pulse. Listeners could sense the depth of their rapport, described by Norton as “a revelation of sonic, formal, and even inter-personal possibilities.”
Sadly, Trio Viriditas did not continue. Wilber Morris passed away in summer 2002, just as waxwebwind@ebroadway appeared, cutting short what Harth saw as a group with real future potential. Yet their legacy persists in this handful of documents: a music at once free and finely balanced, rooted in jazz history while always reaching into the unknown. waxwebwind@ebroadway in particular stands as a vivid reminder of what three distinctive voices can uncover when they find perfect equilibrium—an ensemble whose “democratic working unit” delivered one of the more memorable improvisational statements of its era.
L'image est pittoresque: on peut effectivement croiser des vaches au bord de l'eau sur la plage de Verghia, sur le littoral ouest corse. Baptisée "Mare E Sole" (mer et soleil) et surnommée "Plage d'Argent" pour la couleur de son sable, véritable poussière de lumière, elle est renommée pour ses vues superbes, côté mer mais aussi côté pinède.
"Ahhhh ! Superbe compo ! Pittoresque et inédit ! J'adore !" : "Wow ! Superb composition ! Picturesque & unhackneyed ! I'm fond of it !" (FLORENCE.V / www.flickr.com/photos/flo59/ )
"Compelling image.... at first I thought she was lying in the water. Love the simple elements and the swirls in your artistic render." / "Une image fascinante... Au début, je croyais que la vache était couchée dans l'eau. J'aime les éléments simples alentours et l'effet artistique créé tout en tourbillons et volutes." (Elliot MARGOLIES / www.flickr.com/photos/elliotmar/ )
"Tatum the Girl Wonder
A stroke left her mind drawn towards the light."
by Ali Warren
This compellingly disorienting drawing will be part of an unusual group exhibition titled "Deposition: Drawn" with 20+ artists at North Park University opening on February 14, Valentine's Day 4:30 - 6:30 and run through March 9.
This exhibition is an unusual mash-up of my work as curator (primarily as gallery director at NPU) and my work as an artist ( particularlly my work that is related to my most frequent subject, my daughter Temma). I sent each of the participating artists a unique prompt which was for me somehow related to Temma. The participating artists then made a drawing related to their prompt. They also developed an accompanying text / title for the drawing. And then they sent that text to me along with a high resolution scan of their drawing.
2023 A New Year's Eve Soliloquy
I was asked recently by a friend if I would ever be likely to teach someone what
he/she felt were my skills at pickpocketing.
Extremely flattering as the question was, I had never thought of what we do as a skill. Rather than just role play, or taking advantage of a friend’s condition ( like Pissed drunk, or compellingly overwhelmed emotionally) that makes them vulnerable.
We had a discussion over this with my brother and our group of friends, concluding that since non of us would ever try to do a lift on a stranger for keeps, the topic of this being an actual skill is pretty much mute.
That all being said, if there are professional pickpockets that are adept enough to actively lift jewelry from a victim, then either they are incredibly skilled, or just know how to spot an advantage brewing that would cook up into a victim’s concocting condition as described above.
For a clearer example of a concocting condition, let me relate my own experience this past New Year’s Eve.
As is our habit, my friends and I celebrated New Year's Eve at our local “The Poet & Peasant Pub”.
I was on the decorations committee, so I was there to observe most of the guests coming in.
I was at the top of the stairs leading to the upper rooms, placing a party hat on Erik, the skull of the medieval poet who is the pub’s namesake. The macabrely grinning thing sits high on a ledge of the stairs overlooking the pub and its guests (peasants).
So I had a great vantage point to take an early drink and watch.
A friend(and he knows of whom I speak) had sorta challenged me to make a lift this evening. So it was with a thief’s eye that I tried to look innocent as I watched the partiers coming in.
The pub proper is not large, but it has two larger first-floor rooms, one for dance, the other for dart competitions. Since we usually can expect a crowd of two hundred, all three areas come into play.
The upstairs rooms are old bedrooms used for various pub-related antics.
Now, It’s not supposed to be a dressy affair at this party, but the guests, regulars, and visitors make it one.
The gents in suits, and tuxes, the lady’s getting a second chance to show off by wearing an old gown or dress they’ve only worn once.
Rhinestones and pearls are the majority of jewels worn with splashy brilliance.
This year was no exception.
Once it was in full swing one would have thought it was an after-party at a actors' awards show.
Use that thought to picture in your mind a quick visual without me going into boring paragraphs of detail.
But for a brief idea, I’ll describe what my clique was wearing…
Which, since it was one(or more)of us girls that became a victim that evening, it appears appropriate to do so.
So, In my role-play thief's mind I observed:
First off, myself.
I had on a smart ocean blue coloured satin dress with a below-knee length skirt and a slick solid top with a mock turtleneck collar. The sleeves flared out just below my elbows. I was wearing my gold necklace set with diamond Sapphire rhinestones with matching long earrings. Also being worn was my rhinestone cuff bracelet. The same one my brother once nicked from me at the very pub we were now partying at.
I also added two of my real cocktail rings to complete the glittery effect.
As far as the type of mark I’d be for a thief? Well if being a twit came in degrees, and I was in my monthly period, I would be certified as a solid brown belt. If I was wearing real jewels, thieves would be able to have a field day lifting the bloody things, as did actually happen to me in a very similar situation as this evening. But it was not done by a real thief, just by an opportunist who took advantage of a victim who had been having herself a pisser.
But then, this is not that story.
My friend Byrne was wearing an old-fashioned black tux, black vest, black shirt, and blue bow tie, topped off by a black bowler. He had to work late at the Dyfed station that day and said he was wearing the suit he had on. So it was a pleasant surprise to see him dressed up, and I let him know it in no uncertain terms.
My brother was dapper in his tawny-colored herringbone vest suit, brown silk shirt, and gold satin necktie. A gold satin handkerchief stuck jauntily out from a vest pocket.
Ginny had again poured her lithe figure into the sleek satin Japanese-style Qipao sheath dress she had bought to wear in a play she acted in last spring. It was midnight black with a brite lime green inner lining and tight lime green Lycra pants. The only decoration on the elegant dress was a glittery silver rhinestone Dragon, with green slanted eyes and a red fiery tongue. It was embroidered crawling up one side of the dress, reaching around up towards her bosom.
Ginny was wearing a bib-style necklace of rhinestone emeralds with matching earrings.
The necklace she usually wore was still in a police evidence locker at Dyfed ( see my tea party story).
Her hair was held up on one side by a glittery clip. She wore no gloves, so her diamond rhinestone cuff bracelet lay on bare skin, as were the 3 cocktail rings she was wearing.
Ginny would be a tougher nut for thieves to crack. For she is logical to a fault and witty. She is also a black belt in Jiu-Jitsu.
But one really after her jewels, would just have to follow her around to see she is on the wee bit clumsy side. I immediately thought how useful a satin handkerchief could be if employed along the high, partially exposed neckline of her gown to acquire her necklace. And I happened to now know where to obtain one ….
Two other two close friends (members of our role-playing troupe) also eventually showed up.
Merrick was dashing in a James Bond-styled black tux. The vest he wore had a gold and black calico silk pattern.
His Heather enticingly was wearing a very shiny black satin, slightly off shoulders gown with long white lace frills hanging down from the neckline and the gown’s puffy elbow-length sleeves.
Her jewellery was a ruby rhinestone necklace with matching earrings. Like Ginny, one side of her hair was pulled back and held by one of her real diamond chip hair clips. She wore black satin gloves, and around one wrist was the wide tennis bracelet Merrick had given her last Valentine’s Day. It was a beauty, two rows of diamonds and a centre row of round rock rubies. She also wore twin ruby cocktail rings.
Heather is a timid meek little thing who blushed easily and turn her head away whenever complimented(think of Actress Alison Pill ). Also, those black satin gloves of hers would hinder feelings of lifting from her skin.
Mum and Auntie were also in attendance.
Mum was wearing a shimmering dress of silvery metallic material. She was wearing a necklace of round diamond rhinestones, with matching earrings and bracelets. They were ones I first “borrowed “, sneaking them out of mum’s day jewel case and started wearing as my twin and I began first exploring our games of thievery.
Her personality and looks matched the actress Haley Mills. Her eyes getting delightfully large as she was surprised by something. It would be worth trying for her necklace just to witness that reaction.
Father was working the Dyfed station this evening, so my bodyguard-built uncle was the escort of both ladies.
Uncle(or the man from U.N.C.L.E . As I thought of him) was a rugby player in his youth and still had the physic for it. The tight tux he wore looked like it was bursting from the seams over his muscular build. But for all his looks he was a pussycat. Though a fierce darts competitor.
Auntie was very elegant in a long white silk dress with a red and green flowery print. She was wearing her gleaming set of pearls.
Our Aunt reminded me of the actress Janine Duvitski, in looks, and the way she was insecure, like Janine’s character in the Telly series” Waiting for God.” She was a foil to far too many things in her life and would offer no challenge to a proper thief, which may be her saving grace.
Then there was our cousin Michelle(Micke)
She has come there with a group of her coworkers but divided her time with us.
Micke was enticingly wearing a very sleek, slick brown satin fully off-shoulder number that nicely outlined her petite figure as it poured along it down to her silver high heels.
Her Jewels were a sparkling collection that consisted of a wide V-shaped necklace that looked like a falling river of rhinestones, amazingly sparkling chandelier earnings, her favorite diamond-appearing bracelet, and several enticing rings.
But the real showpiece was the eye-grabbing broach she had pinned to the gown just at her waistband. It had a sparrow egg-sized diamond at its centre.
Now blonde Micke just wears her heart upon her sleeve. Just as gullible as her mum, she has fallen victim to many of our pranks. Micke was easy prey to a compliment or falling into a tight, searching hug.
And by now most of the rest of the crowd had entered.
I tapped Erick’s boney jaw open so the poor sod of a poet was grinning, then came down from my perch to begin mugging, er, mingling.
^^^^^^^^
And so the party rambled on, properly behaving like most pub-held New Year’s Eve affairs.
I highly recommend going to one if you have never been.
Plenty to drink, and eat, games to play dancing to music( ours was live this year) camaraderie, storytelling and jokes, attempts to lite the cigar someone had stuck in Erik’s mouth, etc
Oh, And did I mention games?
Especially the one I was playing on my own, pretending to be a thief on the prowl.
I did miss one early opportunity on me mum’s necklace when I stood behind her in the snack line. She had literally backed into me and was reaching down to snag a small pork pie, exposing her throat and necklaces' clasp. But uncle was in front of her and turned to look as she asked him if he had one for himself.
Victims 1 Thief 0
But then as the night went by quickly and since I’m not a real thief, I found myself having so much fun I almost forgot I was looking for a further lifting opportunity.
Almost…
End Acte 1
^^^^^^^^^^^^*
Acte 2
Almost forgot I had been dared to do a lift, that is until I had l came out of the loo around 11:00 and realized I was on my own.
For the first time that evening.
Everyone I had been with was split up into small groups now doing their own thing
I could either join in, watch, or….
And now I thought licking my freshly touched-up lips, time to do something on my own.
So like my pretend thief, I decided to have a walk around and seek an opportunity amongst my chosen potential victims.
Byrne, Merrick, Uncle, and my brother Craig were we’re still playing darts with another group of men. I had been watching before slipping away to freshen up.
Micke and one of her co-workers ( in green taffeta) were amongst a group dancing. I thought of cutting in as a possibility to make a score, for that glittering broach of hers was an enticing calling card.
I watched for a minute or so when suddenly an opening appeared that paved my way in. A man had cut in and was dancing with Micke’s girlfriend. His back to Micke. I curled my fingers while licking my lips ready to plunge in and make a lift of a glittery broach.
I got no more than two steps in when the music stopped and the dancers headed off the floor in the opposite direction, including my Cousin.
I walked away, my heart pounding.
Victims 2 Thief 0
Our Mum and Auntie were sitting at a side table of the long mahogany bar, chatting away. Mum has an almost empty glass, so I surmised she may need to be making a trip to the ladies' room. I stored away that tidbit.
But there, in an opposite corner, underneath Erik’s perch, a makeshift stage was set up. With guests coming up to tell jokes and stories.
It was at one of the tables, chairs backed against the stairway, Ginny and Heather sat listening to an Irishman telling one of his drinking stories.
Both, in my thief’s eye, were a royal treat to be observed. Two enticingly dressed and deliciously jeweled prospects, very distracted, sitting in a rather vulnerable location.
It was all far too tempting, and I felt an overwhelming urge to acquire a piece of jewellery and strted to excitedly tingle from deep within.
Ginny’s necklace was beckoning with a flashy invitation. Heather's elegantly gloved hands with the inviting jewelry she wore, also called out to my inner thief with a fiery blazing hot lure.
^^^^^
The Irishman telling the joke was holding a long cigar as he started, his accent and mannerisms adding much embellishment to the story.
(Look up on Utube Mike Dunafon. An Irish drinking joke)
“Irishman Paddy O'Brien has moved to a small city in Wales. And as men are won’t to do, looks for a new local. He walks into the first pub he finds, and tells the bartender, "Give me three pints of Guinness."
The bartender obediently brings him three pints…..
As the story started I had circled over to the empty staircase and snuck up it till I was level with Heather and Ginny’s chairs. Then I sat down.
I earlier decided that my game would be to lift a piece and make it outside to the victim’s car and write gotcha on it, for my thief to win, if I was caught or stopped by anyone, then I lost.
The Irishman took a long puff of his cigar and carried on.
Paddy proceeds to alternately sip one, then the other, then the third until they're gone. Then he rose, threw coins on the table, winked at the bar mistress, and left.
Meanwhile, I was leaning against the rails, my hands reaching out to the back of Ginny’s throat, aiming for the clasp of her emerald-laden necklace. Figuring once the punchline was given, the laughing (if it was as funny as I hoped) would provide the perfect opportunity.
The Irishman continues…
The next Saturday evening Paddy walks in, hanging his cap, taking a seat, he walks again and orders three more pints.
The bartender brings them over, and says, "Sir, you don't have to order three pints at a time. I can keep an eye on one and when you get low, I'll bring you a fresh pint."
Paddy responds, "You don't understand. I just moved to wales and I have two brothers, one in Australia and one Canada. We made a vow to each other that every Saturday night we'd still drink together. So right now, me brothers are having three Guinness Stouts and we're drinking together.
The bartender thought that it was a wonderful tradition and said as much.
Both Ginny and Heather were now leaning back in their chairs. My fingers had been slowly working on pulling Ginny’s necklace down lower on her back so it would dangle. Just then Heather put her arms behind her chair. Her bracelet danced with rippling sparks that just cried out to the thief in me to be taken.
So, as the Irishman took a sip of his drink, I moved my hands from Ginny, and moving down a stair reached for Heather’s ruby bracelet. As the next part of the joke was told, I delicately worked at removing it.
Now, every week for several years Paddy came in and ordered three pints at a time.
Then one Saturday week he came in and ordered only two pints.
He solemnly drank them, rose. Put on his cap and went over to pay his tab.
The bartender, who had worriedly been watching, said to Paddy, "I know your tradition, and I'd just like to say that I'm sorry that one of your brothers died."
Paddy responded, “oh no, both my brothers are just fine Dontchay knows now.”
The Bartender, puzzled asked, “then why only two beers now? laddie?”
But I never heard the answer, for as Paddy was still drinking his two beers, I had fiendishly slipped off Heather’s glittering ruby bracelet from around her sleekly gloved wrist and had snuck off the staircase and was heading towards the back door.
Victims 3 Thief 1
I managed to slip past the table where my Aunt sat( mum was gone).
Behind me, I hear vigorous laughter and applause at the ending of the Irishman’s joke.
I would have to ask later what it was.
Then, by the entrance to the dart room, I waited until everyone was watching a dart being thrown before walking past the room.
The dance floor was again packed. But I couldn’t spy Micke, so I took a chance and scurried past.
I made it to the door, excitedly letting out my breath as I pulled it open and slipped through into the chilly night.
A couple was walking in the parking lot, so I ducked into a shadowy side alley and skirted around a fence. Kneeling, I peeked through the pickets.
I did not know the couple, but they obviously had been having a great time, though I wondered why they were leaving so soon. The lady was dressed in a blue taffeta gown with prickling rhinestone adornments. Her jewelry also prickled fire in the moonlit evening.
In my thief’s eyes, I saw them being approached and held up. The lady is forced to hand over her jewels to a masked female thief. Not me though, the thief I was picturing had bigger boobs.
Of course, that would be something only I would find to be that amusing, and let out a giggle.
They both heard it and looked around as I slinked back into the shadows.
They shrugged it off and got inside the car.
I took my eyes off them and soon spotted Merrill and Heather’s black sports car.
I rose.
Suddenly a male voice snarled sinisterly from behind me...
“Who let you out all dressed up looking like a mugger's dream?”
I let out a shriek as I jumped up and turned around.
Byrne stood there grinning.
I playfully pounded his shoulder, my heart thumping as I scolded him between breaths that gave off wisps of vapor into the cold night.
“Byrne you rotter. Scared the Jesus out of me you did, and almost peed my undies. And how would that have looked I ask you?!”
Byrne held onto my shoulders and laughed.
“Sorry, you looked so mischievous as I saw in the corner of my eye you sneaking out. I followed, then lost you until I heard the giggle. So tell me what you are up to now?”
I explained to him my game, that upon the thief’s success, I had come out to write “gotcha” on the car door.
“Then what were you gonna after that Ms. Cadence?”
“Follow Heather out when she left and give it back …?”
Byrne looked thoughtfully at Merrick’s car.
“I have got a better idea. She won’t know who did it.”
He led me over to his auto. Goes to the back and pulls a long slender bar from what I call his cop box, in the trunk.
We go over to Merrick’s black sports car and Byrne, looking around first, uses the tool to lift the latch on the passenger side.
“Now lay her bracelet out on the seat.
I did so letting it curl up on the black leather, where it lay sparkling. Then I locked and shut the door.
With a smirk, Byrne reminded me not to forget what else I was going to do
I nodded and in the dirty side of the door, I traced the word “Gotcha” as Byrne went over to put back his tool.
Arm in arm, with a co-conspirator's air, we walked onto the sidewalk, making our way to the front of the pub and went back inside. Innocent as a sparrow…
Another gent was getting up on the stage telling a story so we went and joined Ginny and Heather with an air of innocence as we began laughing along with them.
An old Irishman, Paddy, is about to go to his eternal reward. He looks at his grieving friend, Mike, and says, "Michael, I have one last request."
Ginny’s necklace was still lifted and the backside hanging down. She hadn’t noticed that fact. Nor had giggling Heather noticed her flashy bracelet was now missing.
"Anything, Paddy," Mike says. "What is it?"
"In me kitchen pantry lad, you'll find a bottle of whiskey from the year I was born. When they put me in the ground will you pour it over me grave as a final salute?"
"I will, Paddy," Mike says.
“Thank you Michael, you have been a true and thoughtful lad.”
I nudged Byrne and pointed to my wrist. He looked over and saw that Heather had her hand on the table, with her other gloves hand over it. I was tingling with excitement over how my game had played out.
Byrne nudged me back and I shook my head in agreement. He was loving the fact that we had pulled it off. So like a man to take the whole credit now that he had contributed a wee bit to my game.
We both turned back to listen to the stories finish.
"But Paddy?”
Mike asks earnestly ….
“Would you be minding if I be passing it through me kidneys first?"
The whole room erupted into laughter as the gent merrily raised his glass.
It was then announced that we were only ten minutes away from midnight and everyone should take their places.
I gasped inwardly. Blimey had not been keeping track of the time.
Byrne helped us out of our chairs, and we followed Ginny and Heather to where my brother was standing next to Merrick.
Lights soon dim as the countdown begins
10,9,8,
Everyone behind us is prancing around
7,6,5
We go around hugging. I lift my brother's satin handkerchief from his pocket as I hug him.
4,3,2
I hug Ginny
Wrapping the handkerchief around Ginny’s throat as we hug. Feeling the clasp of her necklace. Oh so tempting.
Victims 4 Thief 1
Then 1 was called out at the stroke of midnight.
“Happy new years everybody!!!”
Lights flicker horns are honked, crackers exploded, and drinks were toasted.
As Ginny turns to hug my brother, I grab and hug Heather, seeing Merrick and Byrne hugging.
I then pull Bryne from his man crush on Merrick and hug him.
Then we spilt up to wish others a Happy New Years.
^^^^^^^^^
We party for another hour before Merrick and Heather say they must leave.
We say our goodbyes and as Byrne and I watch Heather being helped on with her wrap we smirk at each other knowing what she will be finding on her car seat. Love to be a fly on the wall for that.
The music was still playing. A series of slow dances now that the party was winding down.
As we dance, Byrne, looking over at Ginny, commented:
“Damn if Ginny’s necklace isn’t a corker. If I’d been playing your game, I would have had a go for it, though I may have needed a bit of good luck to pull it off.”
I smirked and explained I had originally been attempting to lift it but had gone for the bracelet instead…and that in his case luck may have been needed, but it would not have been good.”
Then, as we both were watching Ginny, with that lovely necklace just sparking away around her throat, I purred into his ear…
“Say the word, and I’ll get for you, my love.”
He shook his head no…
“The scary part is if I said yes you would do it.”
I giggled:
“And wear it until she noticed.”
Byrne smiled:
“You will play nice here the rest of the party won’t you now?”
I nodded as a delighted thought crept into my head.
“So if Ginny had been skulking outside would you have snuck up on her luv, maybe had her hand it over?”
“And have my arse thrown over the fence. No, think I’ll stick to the easily distracted ones who meltdown in my arms.”
“Dream on mister.” I chide him happily.
^^^^^^^^^^^^
Early the next morning as the last of us were kicked out long after the party was officially over, Byrne bundled me into his car, knowing I was too wasted to drive my own self home. I sat there in a mute stupor, hornily replaying the evening's fun.
Suddenly Byrne spoke into the windshield.
“Let’s go to the playground.”
I perked up, for ideas like that usually came from me.
“Your drunk.” I teases
“Well, So are you Lass.”
“But it’s too cold. Let’s go to your flat and play at burglars…”
Byrne, sensing my hot flashy feelings, nudged me…
“I knew you would like to role-play since you were playing your games this evening.”
I poked him
“You were the one to mention muggers. Steal my jewelry and strip me naked, is that what’s in your head me lad?”
“Something like that.”
“Do you have your cuffs?”
That perked him up royally.
“Do you want me to use them?”
I giggled with a burgeoned horny appetite.
“Yes, laddie. On yourself. So you can do the thieving and stripping of my easily distracted person without using your hands.”
I do so enjoy it when one can score by making my Byrne speechless.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
So I would like to think that in real life, once upon a time, there may have been an actual pickpocket attending an actors' award show after a party, with real jewellery being worn, that may have seen what I saw, made observations as I did. and lurked, and waited to take advantage of the situation once it developed.
As I did.
Food for thought
Fini
Mike Dunafon. An Irish drinking joke
Wilber Morris / A23H / Kevin Norton, 2001
Photo by Yi Soonjoo.
Trio Viriditas was a short-lived but striking constellation in New York’s downtown scene at the turn of the millennium. The group brought together three musicians from different corners of the avant-garde: bassist Wilber Morris, a stalwart of American free jazz whose deep pizzicato and bow work carried the authority of several decades on the loft scene; percussionist Kevin Norton, equally adept on drums and vibraphone and at that time closely affiliated with Anthony Braxton; and reed player Alfred Harth, an under-recognized German improviser whose warm saxophone sound and compositional contributions provide much of the trio’s signature character.
The trio’s first studio album, waxwebwind@ebroadway, recorded in 2000 and released in 2002, exemplifies their range. The program balances visceral free jazz eruptions with chamber-like refinement and sly melodic allusions. Morris contributes the incantatory “Interstice,” accompanying his bass with an almost ritual vocal, while Norton’s vibraphone lends a shimmering surface to more reflective episodes. Harth, long known in Europe as a fearless experimenter, emerges here as a compellingly lyrical improviser whose pieces—such as “Starbucks” and its variation, composed in New York diners—thread folkloric hints, Dolphy-esque angularity, and unexpected tenderness into the flow.
The trio’s chemistry was especially evident in live settings. Recordings from a 2001 concert, later issued on Live at Vision Festival VI (2008), show the group at full throttle: Harth’s clarinet squalls and pocket-trumpet cries pushed against Norton’s explosive yet architecturally precise percussion, while Morris anchored the proceedings with a steady, glowing pulse. Listeners could sense the depth of their rapport, described by Norton as “a revelation of sonic, formal, and even inter-personal possibilities.”
Sadly, Trio Viriditas did not continue. Wilber Morris passed away in summer 2002, just as waxwebwind@ebroadway appeared, cutting short what Harth saw as a group with real future potential. Yet their legacy persists in this handful of documents: a music at once free and finely balanced, rooted in jazz history while always reaching into the unknown. waxwebwind@ebroadway in particular stands as a vivid reminder of what three distinctive voices can uncover when they find perfect equilibrium—an ensemble whose “democratic working unit” delivered one of the more memorable improvisational statements of its era.
Monbazillac is a world famous wine, but it is also a 16th century castle, located in the heart of the vineyards on the hillside of the same name, overlooking the Dordogne valley and Bergerac below.
Built around 1550, the fortress is a subtle blend of feudal and Renaissance styles. La Cave de Monbazillac now owns it, it has deeply restored and landscaped it.
Visit this beautiful building, its dry moats, inside, the great room and its Renaissance fireplace, furniture and tapestries from Flanders, and upstairs the reconstructed bedroom of the Viscountess of Monbazillac.
Finally, make a stop before leaving in the enclosure of the castle to the Wine Museum where you will discover the best "bottles" of the vintage, as well as old instruments of wine making and grape harvest.
Open all year except January
We felt we'd had quite enough of bricks and mortar, ecclesiastical or otherwise, so here's a real life flesh and blood human being to start this week.
Stratospheric bonus points will be awarded to the Flickroonie who convincingly and/or compellingly and/or comedically convinces us as to what book Professor Dowden is perusing here.
Photographers: Lafayette Studio
Collection: Irish Personalities Photographic Collection
Date: Circa 1890-1913
NLI Ref: NPA PERS11
You can also view this image, and many thousands of others, on the NLI’s catalogue at catalogue.nli.ie
“Photography is compellingly attractive because it is recording light. But it’s not so much for me the light in photographs that I’ve been attracted to, it is the experience of light in my life that interested me in photography.” – Adam Fuss
2023 A New Year's Eve Soliloquy
I was asked recently by a friend if I would ever be likely to teach someone what
he/she felt were my skills at pickpocketing.
Extremely flattering as the question was, I had never thought of what we do as a skill. Rather than just role play, or taking advantage of a friend’s condition ( like Pissed drunk, or compellingly overwhelmed emotionally) that makes them vulnerable.
We had a discussion over this with my brother and our group of friends, concluding that since non of us would ever try to do a lift on a stranger for keeps, the topic of this being an actual skill is pretty much mute.
That all being said, if there are professional pickpockets that are adept enough to actively lift jewelry from a victim, then either they are incredibly skilled, or just know how to spot an advantage brewing that would cook up into a victim’s concocting condition as described above.
For a clearer example of a concocting condition, let me relate my own experience this past New Year’s Eve.
As is our habit, my friends and I celebrated New Year's Eve at our local “The Poet & Peasant Pub”.
I was on the decorations committee, so I was there to observe most of the guests coming in.
I was at the top of the stairs leading to the upper rooms, placing a party hat on Erik, the skull of the medieval poet who is the pub’s namesake. The macabrely grinning thing sits high on a ledge of the stairs overlooking the pub and its guests (peasants).
So I had a great vantage point to take an early drink and watch.
A friend(and he knows of whom I speak) had sorta challenged me to make a lift this evening. So it was with a thief’s eye that I tried to look innocent as I watched the partiers coming in.
The pub proper is not large, but it has two larger first-floor rooms, one for dance, the other for dart competitions. Since we usually can expect a crowd of two hundred, all three areas come into play.
The upstairs rooms are old bedrooms used for various pub-related antics.
Now, It’s not supposed to be a dressy affair at this party, but the guests, regulars, and visitors make it one.
The gents in suits, and tuxes, the lady’s getting a second chance to show off by wearing an old gown or dress they’ve only worn once.
Rhinestones and pearls are the majority of jewels worn with splashy brilliance.
This year was no exception.
Once it was in full swing one would have thought it was an after-party at a actors' awards show.
Use that thought to picture in your mind a quick visual without me going into boring paragraphs of detail.
But for a brief idea, I’ll describe what my clique was wearing…
Which, since it was one(or more)of us girls that became a victim that evening, it appears appropriate to do so.
So, In my role-play thief's mind I observed:
First off, myself.
I had on a smart ocean blue coloured satin dress with a below-knee length skirt and a slick solid top with a mock turtleneck collar. The sleeves flared out just below my elbows. I was wearing my gold necklace set with diamond Sapphire rhinestones with matching long earrings. Also being worn was my rhinestone cuff bracelet. The same one my brother once nicked from me at the very pub we were now partying at.
I also added two of my real cocktail rings to complete the glittery effect.
As far as the type of mark I’d be for a thief? Well if being a twit came in degrees, and I was in my monthly period, I would be certified as a solid brown belt. If I was wearing real jewels, thieves would be able to have a field day lifting the bloody things, as did actually happen to me in a very similar situation as this evening. But it was not done by a real thief, just by an opportunist who took advantage of a victim who had been having herself a pisser.
But then, this is not that story.
My friend Byrne was wearing an old-fashioned black tux, black vest, black shirt, and blue bow tie, topped off by a black bowler. He had to work late at the Dyfed station that day and said he was wearing the suit he had on. So it was a pleasant surprise to see him dressed up, and I let him know it in no uncertain terms.
My brother was dapper in his tawny-colored herringbone vest suit, brown silk shirt, and gold satin necktie. A gold satin handkerchief stuck jauntily out from a vest pocket.
Ginny had again poured her lithe figure into the sleek satin Japanese-style Qipao sheath dress she had bought to wear in a play she acted in last spring. It was midnight black with a brite lime green inner lining and tight lime green Lycra pants. The only decoration on the elegant dress was a glittery silver rhinestone Dragon, with green slanted eyes and a red fiery tongue. It was embroidered crawling up one side of the dress, reaching around up towards her bosom.
Ginny was wearing a bib-style necklace of rhinestone emeralds with matching earrings.
The necklace she usually wore was still in a police evidence locker at Dyfed ( see my tea party story).
Her hair was held up on one side by a glittery clip. She wore no gloves, so her diamond rhinestone cuff bracelet lay on bare skin, as were the 3 cocktail rings she was wearing.
Ginny would be a tougher nut for thieves to crack. For she is logical to a fault and witty. She is also a black belt in Jiu-Jitsu.
But one really after her jewels, would just have to follow her around to see she is on the wee bit clumsy side. I immediately thought how useful a satin handkerchief could be if employed along the high, partially exposed neckline of her gown to acquire her necklace. And I happened to now know where to obtain one ….
Two other two close friends (members of our role-playing troupe) also eventually showed up.
Merrick was dashing in a James Bond-styled black tux. The vest he wore had a gold and black calico silk pattern.
His Heather enticingly was wearing a very shiny black satin, slightly off shoulders gown with long white lace frills hanging down from the neckline and the gown’s puffy elbow-length sleeves.
Her jewellery was a ruby rhinestone necklace with matching earrings. Like Ginny, one side of her hair was pulled back and held by one of her real diamond chip hair clips. She wore black satin gloves, and around one wrist was the wide tennis bracelet Merrick had given her last Valentine’s Day. It was a beauty, two rows of diamonds and a centre row of round rock rubies. She also wore twin ruby cocktail rings.
Heather is a timid meek little thing who blushed easily and turn her head away whenever complimented(think of Actress Alison Pill ). Also, those black satin gloves of hers would hinder feelings of lifting from her skin.
Mum and Auntie were also in attendance.
Mum was wearing a shimmering dress of silvery metallic material. She was wearing a necklace of round diamond rhinestones, with matching earrings and bracelets. They were ones I first “borrowed “, sneaking them out of mum’s day jewel case and started wearing as my twin and I began first exploring our games of thievery.
Her personality and looks matched the actress Haley Mills. Her eyes getting delightfully large as she was surprised by something. It would be worth trying for her necklace just to witness that reaction.
Father was working the Dyfed station this evening, so my bodyguard-built uncle was the escort of both ladies.
Uncle(or the man from U.N.C.L.E . As I thought of him) was a rugby player in his youth and still had the physic for it. The tight tux he wore looked like it was bursting from the seams over his muscular build. But for all his looks he was a pussycat. Though a fierce darts competitor.
Auntie was very elegant in a long white silk dress with a red and green flowery print. She was wearing her gleaming set of pearls.
Our Aunt reminded me of the actress Janine Duvitski, in looks, and the way she was insecure, like Janine’s character in the Telly series” Waiting for God.” She was a foil to far too many things in her life and would offer no challenge to a proper thief, which may be her saving grace.
Then there was our cousin Michelle(Micke)
She has come there with a group of her coworkers but divided her time with us.
Micke was enticingly wearing a very sleek, slick brown satin fully off-shoulder number that nicely outlined her petite figure as it poured along it down to her silver high heels.
Her Jewels were a sparkling collection that consisted of a wide V-shaped necklace that looked like a falling river of rhinestones, amazingly sparkling chandelier earnings, her favorite diamond-appearing bracelet, and several enticing rings.
But the real showpiece was the eye-grabbing broach she had pinned to the gown just at her waistband. It had a sparrow egg-sized diamond at its centre.
Now blonde Micke just wears her heart upon her sleeve. Just as gullible as her mum, she has fallen victim to many of our pranks. Micke was easy prey to a compliment or falling into a tight, searching hug.
And by now most of the rest of the crowd had entered.
I tapped Erick’s boney jaw open so the poor sod of a poet was grinning, then came down from my perch to begin mugging, er, mingling.
^^^^^^^^
And so the party rambled on, properly behaving like most pub-held New Year’s Eve affairs.
I highly recommend going to one if you have never been.
Plenty to drink, and eat, games to play dancing to music( ours was live this year) camaraderie, storytelling and jokes, attempts to lite the cigar someone had stuck in Erik’s mouth, etc
Oh, And did I mention games?
Especially the one I was playing on my own, pretending to be a thief on the prowl.
I did miss one early opportunity on me mum’s necklace when I stood behind her in the snack line. She had literally backed into me and was reaching down to snag a small pork pie, exposing her throat and necklaces' clasp. But uncle was in front of her and turned to look as she asked him if he had one for himself.
Victims 1 Thief 0
But then as the night went by quickly and since I’m not a real thief, I found myself having so much fun I almost forgot I was looking for a further lifting opportunity.
Almost…
End Acte 1
^^^^^^^^^^^^*
Acte 2
Almost forgot I had been dared to do a lift, that is until I had l came out of the loo around 11:00 and realized I was on my own.
For the first time that evening.
Everyone I had been with was split up into small groups now doing their own thing
I could either join in, watch, or….
And now I thought licking my freshly touched-up lips, time to do something on my own.
So like my pretend thief, I decided to have a walk around and seek an opportunity amongst my chosen potential victims.
Byrne, Merrick, Uncle, and my brother Craig were we’re still playing darts with another group of men. I had been watching before slipping away to freshen up.
Micke and one of her co-workers ( in green taffeta) were amongst a group dancing. I thought of cutting in as a possibility to make a score, for that glittering broach of hers was an enticing calling card.
I watched for a minute or so when suddenly an opening appeared that paved my way in. A man had cut in and was dancing with Micke’s girlfriend. His back to Micke. I curled my fingers while licking my lips ready to plunge in and make a lift of a glittery broach.
I got no more than two steps in when the music stopped and the dancers headed off the floor in the opposite direction, including my Cousin.
I walked away, my heart pounding.
Victims 2 Thief 0
Our Mum and Auntie were sitting at a side table of the long mahogany bar, chatting away. Mum has an almost empty glass, so I surmised she may need to be making a trip to the ladies' room. I stored away that tidbit.
But there, in an opposite corner, underneath Erik’s perch, a makeshift stage was set up. With guests coming up to tell jokes and stories.
It was at one of the tables, chairs backed against the stairway, Ginny and Heather sat listening to an Irishman telling one of his drinking stories.
Both, in my thief’s eye, were a royal treat to be observed. Two enticingly dressed and deliciously jeweled prospects, very distracted, sitting in a rather vulnerable location.
It was all far too tempting, and I felt an overwhelming urge to acquire a piece of jewellery and strted to excitedly tingle from deep within.
Ginny’s necklace was beckoning with a flashy invitation. Heather's elegantly gloved hands with the inviting jewelry she wore, also called out to my inner thief with a fiery blazing hot lure.
^^^^^
The Irishman telling the joke was holding a long cigar as he started, his accent and mannerisms adding much embellishment to the story.
(Look up on Utube Mike Dunafon. An Irish drinking joke)
“Irishman Paddy O'Brien has moved to a small city in Wales. And as men are won’t to do, looks for a new local. He walks into the first pub he finds, and tells the bartender, "Give me three pints of Guinness."
The bartender obediently brings him three pints…..
As the story started I had circled over to the empty staircase and snuck up it till I was level with Heather and Ginny’s chairs. Then I sat down.
I earlier decided that my game would be to lift a piece and make it outside to the victim’s car and write gotcha on it, for my thief to win, if I was caught or stopped by anyone, then I lost.
The Irishman took a long puff of his cigar and carried on.
Paddy proceeds to alternately sip one, then the other, then the third until they're gone. Then he rose, threw coins on the table, winked at the bar mistress, and left.
Meanwhile, I was leaning against the rails, my hands reaching out to the back of Ginny’s throat, aiming for the clasp of her emerald-laden necklace. Figuring once the punchline was given, the laughing (if it was as funny as I hoped) would provide the perfect opportunity.
The Irishman continues…
The next Saturday evening Paddy walks in, hanging his cap, taking a seat, he walks again and orders three more pints.
The bartender brings them over, and says, "Sir, you don't have to order three pints at a time. I can keep an eye on one and when you get low, I'll bring you a fresh pint."
Paddy responds, "You don't understand. I just moved to wales and I have two brothers, one in Australia and one Canada. We made a vow to each other that every Saturday night we'd still drink together. So right now, me brothers are having three Guinness Stouts and we're drinking together.
The bartender thought that it was a wonderful tradition and said as much.
Both Ginny and Heather were now leaning back in their chairs. My fingers had been slowly working on pulling Ginny’s necklace down lower on her back so it would dangle. Just then Heather put her arms behind her chair. Her bracelet danced with rippling sparks that just cried out to the thief in me to be taken.
So, as the Irishman took a sip of his drink, I moved my hands from Ginny, and moving down a stair reached for Heather’s ruby bracelet. As the next part of the joke was told, I delicately worked at removing it.
Now, every week for several years Paddy came in and ordered three pints at a time.
Then one Saturday week he came in and ordered only two pints.
He solemnly drank them, rose. Put on his cap and went over to pay his tab.
The bartender, who had worriedly been watching, said to Paddy, "I know your tradition, and I'd just like to say that I'm sorry that one of your brothers died."
Paddy responded, “oh no, both my brothers are just fine Dontchay knows now.”
The Bartender, puzzled asked, “then why only two beers now? laddie?”
But I never heard the answer, for as Paddy was still drinking his two beers, I had fiendishly slipped off Heather’s glittering ruby bracelet from around her sleekly gloved wrist and had snuck off the staircase and was heading towards the back door.
Victims 3 Thief 1
I managed to slip past the table where my Aunt sat( mum was gone).
Behind me, I hear vigorous laughter and applause at the ending of the Irishman’s joke.
I would have to ask later what it was.
Then, by the entrance to the dart room, I waited until everyone was watching a dart being thrown before walking past the room.
The dance floor was again packed. But I couldn’t spy Micke, so I took a chance and scurried past.
I made it to the door, excitedly letting out my breath as I pulled it open and slipped through into the chilly night.
A couple was walking in the parking lot, so I ducked into a shadowy side alley and skirted around a fence. Kneeling, I peeked through the pickets.
I did not know the couple, but they obviously had been having a great time, though I wondered why they were leaving so soon. The lady was dressed in a blue taffeta gown with prickling rhinestone adornments. Her jewelry also prickled fire in the moonlit evening.
In my thief’s eyes, I saw them being approached and held up. The lady is forced to hand over her jewels to a masked female thief. Not me though, the thief I was picturing had bigger boobs.
Of course, that would be something only I would find to be that amusing, and let out a giggle.
They both heard it and looked around as I slinked back into the shadows.
They shrugged it off and got inside the car.
I took my eyes off them and soon spotted Merrill and Heather’s black sports car.
I rose.
Suddenly a male voice snarled sinisterly from behind me...
“Who let you out all dressed up looking like a mugger's dream?”
I let out a shriek as I jumped up and turned around.
Byrne stood there grinning.
I playfully pounded his shoulder, my heart thumping as I scolded him between breaths that gave off wisps of vapor into the cold night.
“Byrne you rotter. Scared the Jesus out of me you did, and almost peed my undies. And how would that have looked I ask you?!”
Byrne held onto my shoulders and laughed.
“Sorry, you looked so mischievous as I saw in the corner of my eye you sneaking out. I followed, then lost you until I heard the giggle. So tell me what you are up to now?”
I explained to him my game, that upon the thief’s success, I had come out to write “gotcha” on the car door.
“Then what were you gonna after that Ms. Cadence?”
“Follow Heather out when she left and give it back …?”
Byrne looked thoughtfully at Merrick’s car.
“I have got a better idea. She won’t know who did it.”
He led me over to his auto. Goes to the back and pulls a long slender bar from what I call his cop box, in the trunk.
We go over to Merrick’s black sports car and Byrne, looking around first, uses the tool to lift the latch on the passenger side.
“Now lay her bracelet out on the seat.
I did so letting it curl up on the black leather, where it lay sparkling. Then I locked and shut the door.
With a smirk, Byrne reminded me not to forget what else I was going to do
I nodded and in the dirty side of the door, I traced the word “Gotcha” as Byrne went over to put back his tool.
Arm in arm, with a co-conspirator's air, we walked onto the sidewalk, making our way to the front of the pub and went back inside. Innocent as a sparrow…
Another gent was getting up on the stage telling a story so we went and joined Ginny and Heather with an air of innocence as we began laughing along with them.
An old Irishman, Paddy, is about to go to his eternal reward. He looks at his grieving friend, Mike, and says, "Michael, I have one last request."
Ginny’s necklace was still lifted and the backside hanging down. She hadn’t noticed that fact. Nor had giggling Heather noticed her flashy bracelet was now missing.
"Anything, Paddy," Mike says. "What is it?"
"In me kitchen pantry lad, you'll find a bottle of whiskey from the year I was born. When they put me in the ground will you pour it over me grave as a final salute?"
"I will, Paddy," Mike says.
“Thank you Michael, you have been a true and thoughtful lad.”
I nudged Byrne and pointed to my wrist. He looked over and saw that Heather had her hand on the table, with her other gloves hand over it. I was tingling with excitement over how my game had played out.
Byrne nudged me back and I shook my head in agreement. He was loving the fact that we had pulled it off. So like a man to take the whole credit now that he had contributed a wee bit to my game.
We both turned back to listen to the stories finish.
"But Paddy?”
Mike asks earnestly ….
“Would you be minding if I be passing it through me kidneys first?"
The whole room erupted into laughter as the gent merrily raised his glass.
It was then announced that we were only ten minutes away from midnight and everyone should take their places.
I gasped inwardly. Blimey had not been keeping track of the time.
Byrne helped us out of our chairs, and we followed Ginny and Heather to where my brother was standing next to Merrick.
Lights soon dim as the countdown begins
10,9,8,
Everyone behind us is prancing around
7,6,5
We go around hugging. I lift my brother's satin handkerchief from his pocket as I hug him.
4,3,2
I hug Ginny
Wrapping the handkerchief around Ginny’s throat as we hug. Feeling the clasp of her necklace. Oh so tempting.
Victims 4 Thief 1
Then 1 was called out at the stroke of midnight.
“Happy new years everybody!!!”
Lights flicker horns are honked, crackers exploded, and drinks were toasted.
As Ginny turns to hug my brother, I grab and hug Heather, seeing Merrick and Byrne hugging.
I then pull Bryne from his man crush on Merrick and hug him.
Then we spilt up to wish others a Happy New Years.
^^^^^^^^^
We party for another hour before Merrick and Heather say they must leave.
We say our goodbyes and as Byrne and I watch Heather being helped on with her wrap we smirk at each other knowing what she will be finding on her car seat. Love to be a fly on the wall for that.
The music was still playing. A series of slow dances now that the party was winding down.
As we dance, Byrne, looking over at Ginny, commented:
“Damn if Ginny’s necklace isn’t a corker. If I’d been playing your game, I would have had a go for it, though I may have needed a bit of good luck to pull it off.”
I smirked and explained I had originally been attempting to lift it but had gone for the bracelet instead…and that in his case luck may have been needed, but it would not have been good.”
Then, as we both were watching Ginny, with that lovely necklace just sparking away around her throat, I purred into his ear…
“Say the word, and I’ll get for you, my love.”
He shook his head no…
“The scary part is if I said yes you would do it.”
I giggled:
“And wear it until she noticed.”
Byrne smiled:
“You will play nice here the rest of the party won’t you now?”
I nodded as a delighted thought crept into my head.
“So if Ginny had been skulking outside would you have snuck up on her luv, maybe had her hand it over?”
“And have my arse thrown over the fence. No, think I’ll stick to the easily distracted ones who meltdown in my arms.”
“Dream on mister.” I chide him happily.
^^^^^^^^^^^^
Early the next morning as the last of us were kicked out long after the party was officially over, Byrne bundled me into his car, knowing I was too wasted to drive my own self home. I sat there in a mute stupor, hornily replaying the evening's fun.
Suddenly Byrne spoke into the windshield.
“Let’s go to the playground.”
I perked up, for ideas like that usually came from me.
“Your drunk.” I teases
“Well, So are you Lass.”
“But it’s too cold. Let’s go to your flat and play at burglars…”
Byrne, sensing my hot flashy feelings, nudged me…
“I knew you would like to role-play since you were playing your games this evening.”
I poked him
“You were the one to mention muggers. Steal my jewelry and strip me naked, is that what’s in your head me lad?”
“Something like that.”
“Do you have your cuffs?”
That perked him up royally.
“Do you want me to use them?”
I giggled with a burgeoned horny appetite.
“Yes, laddie. On yourself. So you can do the thieving and stripping of my easily distracted person without using your hands.”
I do so enjoy it when one can score by making my Byrne speechless.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
So I would like to think that in real life, once upon a time, there may have been an actual pickpocket attending an actors' award show after a party, with real jewellery being worn, that may have seen what I saw, made observations as I did. and lurked, and waited to take advantage of the situation once it developed.
As I did.
Food for thought
Fini
Mike Dunafon. An Irish drinking joke
A " Lavoir" (Laundrette) was a public basin for washing clothes. The " Lavoir" was fed with water either from a water source or a running stream, and in general the washing area was under cover. Some of the lavoirs had a fireplace for producing the cinders required for blanching. Either in stone, in brick or more modestly in wood or cob (timber frame with a clay mix infill), they well deserve to be preserved
Mural by Alucina aka @yosoyalucina, seen at 2110 South Halsted Street in the Pilsen area of Chicago, Illinois.
.The woman depicted is Malinal, later nicknamed La Malinche. She was the daughter of an Aztec chief, which allowed her to receive a high level of education. After her father’s death, Malinal was sold to the conquistador, Hernán Cortés, where she quickly rose to prominence for not only her ability to interpret, but also her skills at speaking compellingly, strategizing, and forging political connections. Malinal was indispensable to Spain’s success in North American colonization.
Drone photo by James aka @urbanmuralhunter on that other photo site.
Edit by Teee
The Saint-Nazaire Bridge is a cable-stayed bridge spanning the river Loire and linking Saint-Nazaire on the north bank and Saint-Brevin-les-Pins on the south bank, in the department of Loire-Atlantique, Pays de la Loire, France. The bridge is crossed by the "Route bleue".
Today's my birthday so a flash from a birthday past : this pic was taken, with an instamatic camera, at my 43rd birthday party......a long time ago :)) The young man is Keanu Reeves. An actor friend brought him along to the party. I did not know him.........but I knew of him. I had seen him perform, compellingly, in a play called "Wild Boy", in Toronto. I think it might have been his first play out of theatre school. He came into my home, sat in a chair and stayed there all evening ! He spoke only when spoken to....which wasn't often as most found his silent charismatic presence too intimidating to dare try to engage him in conversation ....including me :) So there he sat .....still, quiet, taking everything in......the role of observer so often seen in actors when "off stage". None of us could have known, including Keanu no doubt, the path his future would take. Was shortly after this that he left Toronto to pursue an acting career in Los Angeles. And we all, fan or not, know how that turned out !
How did we get the young man out of the chair & posing with Ana? A friend, Bezana, was so smitten by his strange presence she insisted I ask him if she could take photos. Gave the pics to my son years ago. He wanted to impress his friends, "my mom and Keanu Reeves" Think it worked too :)). Terrible photo quality but....hey, it's just a birthday story :))
keanu reeves / youtube 3mins 40secs
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If it’s even possible to traverse the vast Sun Ra universe on board a single starship, then Strut Records’ new compilation Singles: The Definitive 45s Collection offers a compellingly sturdy vessel. It’s a 65-track set of 7-inch fragments of the celestial god, sent to earth to help us map out details of his galaxy that the albums could not