(en) : bullet holes setting over a scrimpy domestic desert inspiring three paille-en-queue a resilient conjecture about the bigote and manichean dialectic between the tabernacle and the trash can . .

 

__________________________________________________

Outlining a Theory of General Creativity . .

. . on a 'Pataphysical projectory

 

Entropy ≥ Memory ● Creativity ²

__________________________________________________

 

Study of the day:

 

The observation method could not start from language without admitting this principled truth that, in what can situate as Real, the language does not appear as making hole. It is from this notion, hole function, that the language operates his grip on the Real. (...) There is no truth as such possible without to hollow out the Real.

 

La méthode d'observation ne saurait partir du langage sans admettre cette vérité principielle que, dans ce qu'on peut situer comme Réel, le langage n'apparaisse pas comme faisant trou. C'est de cette notion, fonction de trou, que le langage opère sa prise sur le Réel. (...) Il n'y a de vérité comme telle possible que d'évider le Réel.

 

( Jacques Lacan, Le sinthome )

 

__________________________________________________

rectO-persO | E ≥ m.C² | co~errAnce | TiLt

Nightcliff is a northern suburb of the city of Darwin, Northern Territory, Australia, and is set on the shores of Darwin Harbour (named after Charles Darwin).

Although the origin of the name Nightcliff has always been surrounded by conjecture and controversy, the naming can be tracked back to 8 September 1839 (the time of discovery of Port Darwin/Darwin Harbour by European explorers). Early that day, HMS Beagle, which was engaged on an excursion of the Australian coast, sailed into the area and anchored in Shoal Bay near Hope Inlet. John Lort Stokes, William Forsyth and several other crew members left Beagle on a longboat for an excursion and passed around Lee Point, in the vicinity of which, there appeared to be a major opening. Stokes was later to record.

"The sea breeze setting in early, we did not reach it till after dark, when we landed for observations at a cliffy projection near the eastern entrance point: this we found to be composed of a kind of clay, mixed with calcareous matter. We had some difficulty in landing, and then in scrambling up the cliffs by the light of a lantern. If any of the watchful natives happened at the time to be on the look out, they must have stood in astonishment at beholding such strange persons, who at such a time of night, with no ostensible object were visiting their shores".

The term 'Night Cliff' was thus applied to the locality, and it subsequently appeared in this form on Surveyor-General George W. Goyder's original plan of 1869. Goyder also mentioned the locality a couple of times in the diary he kept as leader of the Northern Territory Survey Expedition.

The Nightcliff foreshore was the site of Royal Australian Air Force camps with spotlights and large guns used to defend Darwin from Japanese aircraft bombing during the Second World War. During 1941, a naval outpost including a large concrete artillery outpost bunker was established on the headland. Various other defence facilities were constructed inland as large numbers of military personnel moved into the area. The 2/14 Field Regiment A.I.F. (Australian Infantry Force) was given the task of planning and constructing a hutted camp which became known as "Night Cliff's Camp". After the war, increasing pressure for suburban development caused the Nomenclature Committee of the N.T. to officially name the area on 29 October 1948. The conjoint version of the name, "Nightcliff" was adopted.

Today, a long footpath along the foreshore of Nightcliff is used for walking and cycling, particularly in the evenings after work. Along the footpath there is Nightcliff Jetty, Nightcliff Beach and Nightcliff Swimming Pool.

 

Other photos in First Comment Box and Photos from the net to make this tribute up and put it together to remember the lives lost that night 40 years ago

 

Remembered Today.

December 19th 1981, 40 years ago.

 

Loss of the Penlee Lifeboat "Solomon Browne"47 ft Watson Class going to the aid of the coaster "Union Star".

 

The helicopter stood by as Penlee’s 14m Watson class wooden lifeboat launched into the hurricane force 12 gale, fighting against 90-knot winds and 18m waves.

 

The Solomon Browne struck against the side of the coaster and the lifeboat crew stood against the railings, throwing lines across to pull themselves alongside.

 

The lifeboat valiantly battled to come alongside the coaster for half an hour.

 

The Solomon Browne radioed back to the Coastguard: ‘we’ve got four off’

 

But the lifeboat decided to make a final rescue attempt – and after that point, all radio contact was lost at 21.21

 

The Coastguard radioed back to the lifeboat, but there was no response. Ten minutes later, the lights of the Solomon Browne disappeared.

 

All 8 Crew of the Lifeboat Lost.

 

All 8 on board of the coaster lost.

 

The Penlee lifeboat

 

Cornwall, at the south-west corner of England, juts out into the Atlantic, attracting the worst of the weather and the massive breakers that crash against its granite cliffs and rocks. It is not surprising that there are no fewer than fourteen lifeboat stations around the coast of this one county alone.

 

Penlee Point is just to the north of the fishing village of Mousehole (pronounced Mousle to rhyme with tousle). The first lifeboat was stationed here in 1913, transferred from nearby Newlyn, although there had been a rescue service in the area from as far back as 1803. In the years before 1981 the station distinguished itself by carrying out many operations and saving lives, recognised by the award of many medals and certificates.

 

In 1981 the station was equipped with “Solomon Browne”, a 47-foot Watson class wooden boat, a type that has long been superseded. However, it was highly manoeuvrable and could be launched straight down a steep slipway into St Mount’s Bay.

 

The voyage of Union Star

 

Union Star was a small bulk carrier, registered in Dublin, that was making its maiden voyage from Denmark via the Netherlands to Ireland, with a cargo of fertiliser. The master was Henry Morton, who had a crew of four on board, plus his wife and her two teenage daughters. He was breaking the rules by having family members on board, but that is a rule that is often broken.

 

Weather conditions were bad as Union Star beat her way towards Lands End, hoping to make it round the headland and into relatively calmer waters before the worst of the storm struck. However, Captain Morton’s luck ran out when his engines failed just as he reached the most exposed part of the voyage. He was offered a tow from a tugboat, the Noord Holland, but declined the offer. By riding out the storm at anchor and repairing the engines in calmer weather, he would avoid having to pay salvage charges.

 

The storm was one of the worst to strike that part of the coast for years, with winds of 85 mph, gusting to 95 mph, which is hurricane force. Union Star started to drag her anchor, and the fuel tanks became contaminated with seawater. The ship was being driven towards the Cornish coast and had no means of avoiding her fate if the storm continued, which it did. The Noord Holland was still in the area, should the captain change his mind, but even this option vanished when conditions became so bad that the tug itself would have been in danger. Eventually, Henry Morton called Falmouth Coastguard for help, and the call went out to the Penlee lifeboat crew.

 

The launch of Solomon Browne

 

When the call goes out, a lifeboat crew stops what it is doing and gets to the lifeboat station with all due speed. All the crew of the Penlee boat lived in Mousehole, some of them being local fishermen, and some with other jobs. They included the landlord of the Ship Inn, for example. That night, most of the crew were socializing in the British Legion club in the village, but, knowing that they were on call and also being aware of the state of the weather, they would have kept their alcohol intake to a minimum.

 

The Coxswain was William Trevelyan Richards, at 56 a highly experienced lifeboatman who already had commendations for bravery for previous rescues. Richards knew that this was going to be a very dangerous mission, and for that reason he refused the services of Neil Brockman, aged 17, because his father was already in the crew, and the Coxswain would not risk the lives of two members of any one family. This is common practice in the lifeboat community. The lifeboat was launched shortly after 8pm, well after dark, into waves that reached as high as forty feet.

 

Solomon Browne did not have far to go to find the Union Star, which was approaching the rocks close to Boscawen Bay and the Tater Du lighthouse, only a few miles down the coast. A helicopter from the Royal Naval Air Station at Culdrose was overhead, but conditions were so bad that it was impossible to winch anyone off the ship. Eventually the helicopter had to break off, and so did not witness the final outcome. There were also people on the cliff top, but in the darkness they could see very little apart from the lights of the two vessels.

 

Tragedy strikes

 

In those tumultuous seas, and in the dark, it was essential that nobody went into the water, as their chances of survival would be virtually nil. Solomon Browne therefore had no choice but to get alongside Union Star and for the crew and passengers to be helped across on to the lifeboat. Coxswain Richards was in radio contact with Falmouth Coastguards, and we know from the radio transcripts that several attempts were made get the two vessels as close as possible. On at least one occasion, it would appear that the lifeboat actually landed on the deck of the coaster and was then thrown off again.

 

We know that four people did manage to get aboard Solomon Browne, as Coxswain Richards’s final message was “we’ve got four off at the moment”. Exactly what happened next must be conjecture, because no more was heard from the Coxswain, and the watchers on the cliffs saw no more lights from shortly afterwards. Nobody from either vessel survived.

 

A huge rescue mission was launched, but nothing could be done. Other lifeboats were called out, but the Sennen Cove boat could not get round Land’s End, and the Lizard boat, from the other direction, only found wreckage when it arrived. Only eight bodies were ever recovered, four from Union Star and four from Solomon Browne. Union Star lay capsized at the foot of the cliffs for several days before she broke up, but little was ever found of Solomon Browne.

 

The aftermath

 

So what happened? It is highly unlikely that the lifeboat capsized, because all lifeboats of its class were self-rightable. However, if a huge wave had turned the boat over, would all of its crew have been washed over the side? Or was one more collision between the vessels too much for Solomon Browne’s wooden hull?

 

Whatever the cause, the result sent shockwaves through the whole country, which had been looking forward to Christmas and was suddenly reminded of the perils faced by seafarers and the courage of those who volunteer to save their lives.

 

The shock was particularly profound among those people whose living is made from the sea, and the entire population of south-west England. The custom at Mousehole itself has been, on the evening of 19th December every year, to extinguish all lights in the village as a mark of respect.

 

A local appeal raised three million pounds to support the families of the crew and provide fitting memorials, although many contributions came from well beyond the local area.

 

There are always “might have beens” that are asked on such occasions. Should Henry Morton have been required to take a tow from the Noord Holland? One consequence of the disaster has been that, in similar circumstances, today’s regulations demand exactly that. Had Morton’s three family members not been on board, would Solomon Browne have needed to make another attempt to get alongside? Perhaps so, given that only four people had been rescued and not five, but would it have been easier to rescue five seafarers rather than eight people who included two teenage girls? Such questions can be asked, but probably not answered.

 

There is still a Penlee lifeboat today, although the old lifeboat station is no longer used, being instead preserved as a memorial to Solomon Browne and her crew. In 1983, an Arun class lifeboat, the Mabel Alice, came into service, based at Newlyn. In 2003, a Severn class boat, the Ivan Ellen, came into service. Both boats have made many lifesaving rescues in recent years, including some that have earned awards for courage and outstanding service.

 

The full list of the lost crew of Solomon Browne, all of whom received posthumous awards, is as follows:

 

William Trevelyan Richards (age 56) (Coxswain)

 

James Madron (35) (2nd Coxswain)

 

Nigel Brockman (43)

 

John Blewett (43)

 

Kevin Smith (23)

 

Barrie Torrie (33)

 

Charles Greenhaugh (46)

 

Gary Wallis (23)

 

In 1992, Neil Brockman, who at 17 was refused a place aboard Solomon Browne on the night that his father lost his life, was appointed Coxswain of the Penlee lifeboat.

 

I grew up in Poole, which is where the Royal National Lifeboat Institution has its headquarters. I have known many men and women who have gained their living or recreation from the sea, and some who have been members of lifeboat crews. I am delighted to have this opportunity to pay my own tribute to the selfless dedication of these volunteers who put their lives at risk to help save others.

  

player.bfi.org.uk/free/film/watch-the-loss-of-the-penlee-...

 

Jerusalem, Israel: On entering the bathroom, to shower, one evening, I was bewildered to discover this series of strange reflections on one of the tiled walls. Looking around the room, to find their source, my eyes fell on the double-sided mirror, my wife had just used and left on the sink. Its magnifying side had been positioned, by chance, in such a way as to reflect the light, from three spot-lamps affixed to the ceiling above the sink (and whose direct reflections are visible at the top left of the frame). These reflections, I conjecture, then, ricocheted from the enlarging mirror sitting on the sink, to the much larger mirror, on a door of the medicine and toiletries cabinet, affixed to the wall behind and above the sink - and, from there, to the facing wall, on the other side of the room. Whichever trajectory the light actually took, however, the mystery of the strange reflections was, now (more, or less) solved.

This scene shows the motte and bailey in the foreground, with the spire of the church just behind. In the distance on the left of the scene Ingleborough dominates the landscape.

 

North Craven Historical Research:

 

"The earliest recorded direct mention of the motte and bailey castle at Burton in Lonsdale was during the early 14th century period in an account rendered to the Exchequer by Robert de Widvilla and Henry de Montfort for expenses ‘de castro de Burtona de Lanesdala’ for payment of a ‘militis’ (knight), 10 ‘servientes’ (sergeants), a ‘janitoris’ (gatekeeper) and a ‘vigil’ (watchman) [1] Also Moorhouse [2] discusses this and gives a review of finds in excavations at the motte in Burton.

 

Stephens [4] infers from the 1379 Poll Tax that the castle at Burton ceased to function a little before 1379, by observing that Adam and Willhelmus de Burgh were in the Poll Tax returns from Thornton, not Burton. The Norman castle was more of a support base than a stronghold; he further conjectures that whereas there is no archaeology to support that it was formerly an Anglo-Saxon fortified site, it may be worth considering it as one of several in the Lunesdale area that could have been in use as signaling posts by the Romans. Burton was the head manor of the Burton Chase, a roughly circular region centred on Ingleborough that included Whernside, Penyghent, Lawkland and Bentham; Ewcross was the wapentake area that included Burton."

 

Nightcliff is a northern suburb of the city of Darwin, Northern Territory, Australia, and is set on the shores of Darwin Harbour (named after Charles Darwin).

Although the origin of the name Nightcliff has always been surrounded by conjecture and controversy, the naming can be tracked back to 8 September 1839 (the time of discovery of Port Darwin/Darwin Harbour by European explorers). Early that day, HMS Beagle, which was engaged on an excursion of the Australian coast, sailed into the area and anchored in Shoal Bay near Hope Inlet. John Lort Stokes, William Forsyth and several other crew members left Beagle on a longboat for an excursion and passed around Lee Point, in the vicinity of which, there appeared to be a major opening. Stokes was later to record.

"The sea breeze setting in early, we did not reach it till after dark, when we landed for observations at a cliffy projection near the eastern entrance point: this we found to be composed of a kind of clay, mixed with calcareous matter. We had some difficulty in landing, and then in scrambling up the cliffs by the light of a lantern. If any of the watchful natives happened at the time to be on the look out, they must have stood in astonishment at beholding such strange persons, who at such a time of night, with no ostensible object were visiting their shores".

The term 'Night Cliff' was thus applied to the locality, and it subsequently appeared in this form on Surveyor-General George W. Goyder's original plan of 1869. Goyder also mentioned the locality a couple of times in the diary he kept as leader of the Northern Territory Survey Expedition.

The Nightcliff foreshore was the site of Royal Australian Air Force camps with spotlights and large guns used to defend Darwin from Japanese aircraft bombing during the Second World War. During 1941, a naval outpost including a large concrete artillery outpost bunker was established on the headland. Various other defence facilities were constructed inland as large numbers of military personnel moved into the area. The 2/14 Field Regiment A.I.F. (Australian Infantry Force) was given the task of planning and constructing a hutted camp which became known as "Night Cliff's Camp". After the war, increasing pressure for suburban development caused the Nomenclature Committee of the N.T. to officially name the area on 29 October 1948. The conjoint version of the name, "Nightcliff" was adopted.

Today, a long footpath along the foreshore of Nightcliff is used for walking and cycling, particularly in the evenings after work. Along the footpath there is Nightcliff Jetty, Nightcliff Beach and Nightcliff Swimming Pool.

 

digital art

I have been led to believe that consumption is good for the economy, that a shortage of supply causes inflation, that inflation is bad, that a chap in NZ had a thought bubble that if more people were unemployed they wouldn't buy stuff, thereby reducing consumption, thus increasing supply and lowering inflation. This curious bowl of spaghetti logic could be all that I know or care of economics. All the same, like other superstitions, what if they are right? I should do my bit…

 

To my left is one half of Watson's Bay Beach, a strip of golden sand inside Sydney Harbour; and the Vaucluse Yacht Club. In a few weeks time the Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race will make a run down the harbour, out through the Heads, hang a tight right, and bolt southward. Today, my little ferry had to give way to one of the aspirants tacking back and forth as it practiced for the big day.

 

On the right of Watson's Bay is the other half of that unbearably pretty sand and sparkling clear water. Backing it is arguably one of the best known fish restaurants; at least one from long ago. I'm not going in there. Instead I focus on an excellent little fish café on this very jetty. I say excellent, but there is a stupid "NO DOGS" placard on the wall. The other well known fish restaurant is further south from here, and owned by a chap from Cornwall whose Newquay establishment certainly allows dogs; to the extent that when I stepped in without one, I felt underdressed.

 

Here, on the jetty I consumed excellent fish and chips, and a glacially cold Mexican beer. I say excellent chips, and I mean chips, not "fries", all crispy outside and floury inside; a satisfying mouthful. I didn't eat so much as to compromise supply, and if the boffins are correct, I didn't induce inflation. Alright, maybe my waistline inflated! They really were brilliant fish and chips. I may have eaten too many. I've also heard that food waste is a problem too, so dutifully, I didn't contribute to that either!!

 

Duty done, another little ferry on this route, maybe a bit lower in the water with fish and chips, "chugs it's way to Circular Quay"…

HISTORY OF HELMSLEY CASTLE

 

A castle may have been built at Helmsley following the Norman invasion or during William I's subsequent 'harrying of the North' in 1069-70. If so it was unlikely to have been a traditional motte-and-bailey as the rocky outcrop on which the current castle is positioned would have lent itself better to a ring-work fortification; a fortified enclosure using just a ditch and earth and timber rampart. The existence or not of this castle is conjecture as the first recorded castle on the site was established by Walter Espec in the 1120s/1130s. Espec, a prominent supporter of King Stephen during the Anarchy, used Helmsley as his principal residence.

 

The castle was taken into Crown ownership in 1464 when the then owner, Thomas de Roos, was executed following the Battle of Hexham for his support for the Lancastrian cause in the War of the Roses. The property was restored to the Roos family following the Battle of Bosworth (1485) by the new Tudor King, Henry VII. In the mid-sixteenth century significant upgrades were made to the castle aimed at making it a comfortable Elizabethan residence; the Tudor mansion was added at this time.

 

During the Civil War Helmsley was held by the Royalists and as their fortunes in the north deteriorated following the defeat at Marston Moor (1644), the castle came under siege. From September through to November Parliamentary forces surrounded the castle and, despite an unsuccessful attempt by Royalist forces from Knaresborough to lift the siege, the garrison was forced to surrender through lack of food. Sir Thomas Fairfax, commander of the Parliamentary army, slighted the curtain walls and east tower to prevent further military use. The Tudor mansion, however, was left intact.

 

ADDITIONAL NOTES

 

1. Unlike many medieval castles, Helmsley had no motte or central Keep instead using a double bailey system. This was modified into a single bailey when significant upgrades were made in the late twelfth century; the east tower was heightened and enhanced at this time to become the centre-piece of the castle.

 

2. Richard, Duke of Gloucester (later Richard III) was granted Helmsley Castle in 1478. Already a powerful landowner he owned a significant number of castles including Middleham, Sheriff Hutton and Penrith from the holdings of the former Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick. By his marriage to Anne Neville, daughter of the Earl, he also acquired Barnard Castle. His brother, Edward IV, also granted him Skipton Castle in 1475 then Richmond Castle in 1478.

The Czech traveler Thaddeus Xaverius Peregrinus Haenke's (1761-1816) first, baptismal names were clearly auspicious for his life to come: brave-hearted, destined for a new home - in Amazonia -, and a pelgrim as a naturalist and anthropologist.

Haenke was a member of a number of naturalist expeditions in the service of the crown of Spain, and later he settled in the remote regions of the warlike Yurakaré people in Bolivia, in the town of Cochabamba on the Mamoré River, a tributary of the Amazon. Here he served as the town's physician and cultivated his own botanical garden.

He befriended a local Franciscan missionary, Francisco la Cueva, and the two of them explored the wilds and also wrote notes on the anthropology of the tribes there. Haenke waxes quite eloquent on Yurakaré religion, stresssing their belief in a good God, Tantoco, who wards off an evil spirit, Limpelite. But Haenke didn't get around to describing everything he saw....

It seems he and La Cueva had come upon the amazing waterlily we today know as Victoria amazonica in the Mamoré River (1801). La Cueva tells a later explorer that Haenke had fallen on his knees and praised the Creator of such a marvellous plant. Haenke didn't live to give the lily a name - he was inadvertently poisoned by his maid. But soon European botanists devised a series of names of which the present one has survived.

Here at the top is a floating leaf of this majestic flower. it can sustain a weight of perhaps some 20 kilos. The upturned edge and bottom are studded with those sharp spines (see bottom inset). It's unclear what their purpose is, but it's conjectured they protect the plant from hungry fish and manatees; the strife of Tantoco and Limpelite in a nutshell.

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 south of the Thames in the middle-class London suburb of Putney in the front room of a red brick Edwardian villa in Hazelwood Road, where Gerald has brought Lettice to visit his friend, Harriet Milford. The orphaned daughter of a solicitor with little formal education, Harriet has taken in lodgers to earn a living, but more importantly for Lettice, has taken up millinery semi-professionally to give her some pin money*. As Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, has forbidden Lettice to wear a shop bought hat to Leslie, Lettice’s brother’s, wedding in November and Lettice has quarrelled with her own milliner, Madame Gwendolyn, Gerald thought that Harriet might benefit as much from Lettice’s patronage as Lettice will by purchasing one of Harriet’s hats to resolve her fashion conundrum.

 

Lettice glances around the front parlour of the Putney villa, which doubles as Harriet’s sewing room and show room for her hats, with the critical eye of an interior designer, all the while listening to the notes of the oboe being played upstairs. The room’s middle-class chintzy décor immediately appals her as she takes in the floral covers of the flouncy Edwardian sofa on which she perches gingerly, and its matching roomy armchair by the fire, a hand embroidered pouffe and the busy Edwardian floral wallpaper. A bookcase stands in the corner, full of mystery novels covered in dust which Lettice suspects might have belonged to Harriet’s father, the deceased Mr. Milford. The bookcase’s top and the fireplace mantle are cluttered with family portraits taken in the possibly happier days of the idyllic summers before the Great War. The walls are hung with a mixture of cheap botanical prints and quaint English country scenes, all in gaudy gilded plaster frames. “How ghastly,” Lettice utters quietly with a sigh.

 

“I know: you hate the floral chintz,” Gerald says in reply to Lettice’s laconic observation. “You don’t need to tell me. The look of distaste on your face says it all. But you aren’t here to redecorate Lettuce Leaf, so be a darling and remember to mind your manners. You are a viscount’s daughter, after all, and Hattie is just a solicitor’s daughter. However, in spite of her low birth in comparison to your own, she is a good person, and she is my friend. Show some of your good breeding and be gracious.”

 

Lettice shoots Gerald an annoyed look at his use of her abhorred nickname yet again. “I’m beginning to question your choice of new friends – not that I even knew she existed prior to today.”

 

“Oh, there is a lot about me you don’t know, Lettice darling.” Gerald says with an air of mystery.

 

She glances around her again. “It’s awfully untidy in here.” she remarks not unjustly as she takes in the sight of a concertina sewing box on casters which stands cascaded open next to the armchair, threads, embroidery silks, buttons and ribbons pouring from its compartments like entrails. Hats in different stages of being made up and decorated lie about on the arm of the chair and the settee or on the floor in a haphazard way. The brightly patterned rug is littered with spools of cotton, scissors, ribbon, artificial flowers and dogeared copies of Weldon’s** magazines.

 

“Yes, well, Hattie hasn’t learnt the finer points of presentation yet,” Gerald admits. “But I’m working on that. However, suspend your judgement until you see what she can create for you.” Pointing to the three hats Lettice inspected a few minutes before sitting atop what must have formerly been a tea table, he adds, “You’ve already seen that her work really is every bit as good as Madame Gwendolyn’s.”

 

“Well, we shall see.” Lettice pronounces, withholding her judgement on Harriet’s work.

 

Just at that moment, Harriet’s scurrying footsteps across the tiled vestibule floor outside the door announce her arrival and she hurries through the door bearing a tray loaded with tea making implements and a plate of biscuits. “Be a lamb and bring over father’s chess table, will you Gerry darling.” she instructs Gerald.

 

Obediently Gerald gets up from his seat on the floral sofa next to Lettice, and with the familiarity of a regular houseguest, picks up a tilt table nestled on the far side of the fireplace. Tilting its surface into an upright position, Lettice momentarily sees the chess board set in marquetry on its surface before it is quickly obscured by an old fashioned Edwardian gilt banded tea set and the plate of biscuits as Gerald takes everything off Harriet’s tray.

 

“Thanks ever so!” Harriet sighs with relief before depositing the tray on the floor by the door, walking back across the room and around the table and then collapsing into the armchair with another deeper sigh.

 

“As an interior designer, Lettice has just been commenting on your décor, Hattie darling,” Gerald says to their hostess as he resumes his own seat.

 

“Gerald!” gasps Lettice, her face flushing at her friend’s frank admission.

 

“Oh I’m sorry it’s so untidy, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet apologises as she snatches a rather tattered copy of Weldon’s* off the arm of her chair, shoving in behind her floral cushion, and tries to bundle her sewing bits back into the tray of her sewing box on casters. “Gerry has told me I need to improve the presentation of my premises, but having no domestic staff to speak of other than me, and trying to run a boarding house at the same time as make hats means I just don’t seem to have the time to tidy up in here.”

 

“Nor do I, Hattie darling,” Gerald scolds. “But that’s no excuse.”

 

Harriet blushes at her friend’s gentle rebuke.

 

“Shall I be mother then***?” Lettice asks. When Harriet nods in agreement, Lettice perches herself on the edge of the chintz sofa and sets out the tea things. “So,” she asks, pouring hot brackish tea into the first china cup. “You run a lodging house too?”

 

“Yes, for theatrical artistes.” Harriet explains proudly with a smile. “That’s Cyril playing his oboe upstairs,” She rolls her eyes up to the white plaster ceiling decorated with floral boiseries. “Although he is a professional actor as well as a musician in the West End.”

 

“Indeed,” muses Lettice.

 

“Although I do wish he’d play something other than Schumann or Mozart when we have guests.” mutters Harriet.

 

“Oh why, Miss Milford?” Lettice asks.

 

“Well, it’s not exactly the jolliest of music, is it?” Getting up again, Harriet walks over to the open doorway leading to the vestibule. Standing astride the threshold she calls up the stairs, “Do you think you could play something a bit jollier on the oboe, Cyril? We have guests. Gerry’s brought a friend. How about a nice bit of jazz?”

 

The music stops abruptly followed by a rather feminine sounding man’s fey voice opining from upstairs, “How can you, Hattie? I’m an artiste!” The last word is uttered dripping with melodrama. “Jazz music does not make one money.”

 

“Really? Then explain to me how the Savoy Havana Band**** make a living, Cyril? Please? Do it for Gerry, if not for me!”

 

“Oh, alright,” the fey voice bemoans. “But only because Gerry brought a chum.” The music recommences, only this time the opening bars to ‘The Sheik of Araby’***** fill the air.

 

“Hattie had a rather awkward situation with a retired colonel when she first started letting rooms.” Gerald says in a lowered tone as Harriet smiles at the change in music.

 

“Yes, the old chap couldn’t keep his hands to himself.” Harriet replies with a curt nod as she walks across the room and takes her place again. “Dirty old lecher was old enough to be my grandfather!”

 

“How awful, Miss Milford!” Lettice exclaims.

 

“I don’t find I have the same problem with men who are theatrical types, especially those from the chorus, those who paint the sets or work in the wardrobe department,” She smiles at Gerald, who smiles back. “If you understand my meaning, Miss Chetwynd” Harriet says with a wink, returning her attention to Lettice “I feel much safer around the likes of Cyril and his chums.”

 

“Indeed yes.” agrees Lettice, glancing between Gerald and Harriet, the pang of jealousy curdling her stomach as it did when she first saw Gerald and Harriet embrace in the way she thought only she and Gerald did.

 

“My father sent me to domestic science classes, so I’m quite a dab hand at plain cooking and keeping house when I get the chance, so my lodgers are happy.”

 

“Do try one of Harriet’s jam fancies, Lettice,” Gerald encourages, picking up one for himself from the blue and gilt banded sandwich plate, placing it on the edge of his saucer as he picks up his cup of tea. “They really are rather good.”

 

Lettice picks one up and takes a small bite, the biscuit dough melting in her mouth. “Very good, Miss Milford.” she enthuses. “Every bit as delicious as my maid’s baking.”

 

“Thank you, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet replies with a proud smirk. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 

“Considering that Lettice doesn’t know how to make a cup of tea, never mind bake a biscuit, I would.” Gerald remarks cheekily.

 

Ignoring his remark, Lettice asks, “So how is it that you came to make hats, Miss Milford? I was just admiring those hats on the table over there before you came in. They are beautifully made.”

 

Turning her head, Harriet gazes pleasingly at the three hats sitting on the table next to her sewing machine in the bay window. “Thank you, Miss Chetwynd. Well, my mother before she passed on taught me how to sew and embroider. She embroidered that.” Harriet indicates to the pouffe at Lettice’s feet with its green flounces and a rose stitched on its top. “I always enjoyed sewing and working with fabrics, so I thought I’d try my hand at making hats.”

 

“Harriet had to turn over her sewing room to Cyril when he came to board with her.” Gerald adds.

 

“How do you know where Cyril sleeps?” Lettice asks with mild shock, her face flushing with colour when Gerald clears his throat awkwardly and blushes bright red as a silent form of reply. “Oh… oh, I see.”

 

“The light is much better in here anyway,” Harriet quickly pipes up brightly in a chivalrous effort to prevent her friend any further embarrassment, a gesture that does not go unnoticed by both Gerald and Lettice who both admire her action. “The bay windows downstairs are much bigger than the oriel windows up under the roof. Besides it’s much easier for customers to step in here than trudge up three flights of stairs to the attic.”

 

“And your little enterprise has taken off, I believe Miss Milford.”

 

“I’ve been moderately successful, Miss Chetwynd.”

 

“You’ve been very successful, Hattie darling.” Gerald corrects her encouragingly.

 

“And what are you going to call your cottage industry, Miss Milford?” Lettice asks. “Not Hattie’s Hats, I hope.”

 

“Oh how drole you are, Miss Chetwynd,” laughs Harriet. “No. Well, I hadn’t actually thought what I should call my ‘little enterprise’, as you call it, Miss Chetwynd. Maybe you and Gerry can help me find the perfect name.” Clearing her throat, she carries on. “Which brings me to the reason why you are here. I believe that you are in need of a new hat, Miss Chetwynd.”

 

“So, Gerald has told you about me then, Miss Milford?”

 

“Well, yes, Gerry did tell me that you are both to attend your brother’s wedding at the end of November – a country wedding in Wiltshire I’ve been told – and he did tell me that you have fallen out with your former milliner, Madame Gwendolyn of Oxford Street. He also gave me some background to your family,” She leans forward in her seat, her demeanour suddenly going from a relaxed stance to a more professional and formal one. “However, I am also perfectly capable of doing my own research, Miss Chetwynd. I’ve often seen your picture in the society pages in the company of Gerry, Minnie and Charles Palmerston, Celia Bamford, Willie Chelmsford, Priscilla Kitson-Fahey and more recently, American department store heir Georgie Carter: your ‘Embassy Club Coterie’ I believe you call it. You are also acquainted with Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon****** who has been linked romantically with the Duke of York in the last year. I also saw you in Vogue twice this year: once at the wedding of Dickie and Margot Channon in January - Margot Channon née de Virre your best friend – and then again at the marriage of the Princess Royal******* in February.”

 

“My, you are well informed, Miss Milford!” remarks Lettice, unable to disguise how impressed she is at Harriet’s research.

 

“I also noticed, without Gerry needing to tell me,” Harriet glances momentarily at Gerald slyly scoffing another of her jam fancies before returning her attention quickly to Lettice. “That the rather fetching straw hat with silk and feather trim you wore to the Royal Wedding was a model bought from Selfridges.”

 

“Gerald!” Lettice exclaims, slapping him hard on the knee.

 

Sitting up and spluttering out bits of biscuit onto the floor in front of him he manages to utter between coughs, “I… I didn’t… tell… her.”

 

“It’s true,“ Harried elucidates. “Gerry didn’t need to. I make it my business to study fashion, and anyone with a keen eye who reads Selfridges advertisements would know that it is a French mode Mr. Selfridge paid to import from Paris. Pretty yes, but not unique. No doubt, after your falling out with Madame Gwendolyn you found yourself in a tight spot Miss Chetwynd, needing a new hat, but not one from her. Being one of hundreds of guests at the wedding, you could get away with a shop bought hat. As a significant event on the Wiltshire social calendar, I imagine that you need something a little more discerning to wear to your brother’s wedding, considering that there will be far fewer guests in attendance than there were at Westminster Abbey, and therefore more attention paid to you.”

 

“Please forgive me, Miss Milford,” Lettice smiles across at Harriet, suddenly sitting up straight and looking her hostess directly in the eye. “I must confess that I underestimated you. When Gerald brought me here, and when I first met you outside, I didn’t detect an ounce of your shrewdness.”

 

“My father may not have valued my further education, but I did learn a few tricks and traits from him before he died.”

 

“Bravo, Miss Milford.” Lettice’s eyes glisten with interest. “You have my full and undivided attention. What are you proposing?”

 

“I believe you are wearing lemon yellow to the wedding, with russet accents. Is that right, Gerry darling?” Still recovering his breath after choking on biscuit crumbs he can only nod in reply before coughing again. “Then considering the shape of your face and the colour and style of your hair, I would suggest a yellow dyed straw, small brimmed picture hat with lemon yellow muslin and perhaps some russet flowers or autumnal shaded imitation fruit.”

 

“Hmmm….” Lettice ponders Harriet’s suggestions with a downwards gaze, envisaging what the hat might look like, before looking up again. “Very well Miss Milford. Consider yourself engaged to make my hat for Leslie’s wedding.”

 

“Oh hoorah!” exclaims Harriet, clapping her hands in delight. “We can settle terms later.”

 

Just as Lettice is about to agree, a tall, slender and handsome young man with pale patrician skin and a mop of blonde curls walks through the parlour door, dressed in a set of tails with a square instrument box in his right hand. Unnoticed by the party sitting in the parlour, the oboe music had ceased a short while ago, and the player now stood before them.

 

“Well, I’m off up the West End, Hattie.” Cyril’s voice, still containing that fey quality, was instantly recognisable. Placing a kiss on Harriet’s proffered right cheek, Cyril turns and snatches up a biscuit off the tray on the table before leaning over to Gerald and placing a kiss squarely on his lips, causing Gerald and Lettice to both blush at the brazen expression of affection bestowed upon Gerald so openly by the young men. As if nothing could be more natural, the young musician spins on his heel and elegantly walks to the door. Pausing on the threshold he turns back to the trio and says dramatically, “Don’t wait up.” Then he looks intently at blushing Gerald and adds, “I’ll see you after the show, Gerry darling. Ta-ta!” And he disappears from view, his exit from the villa being heralded moments later by the opening and then slamming of the front door.

 

The room is suddenly plunged into quiet, broken only by the ticking of the floral china clock on the mantle and the chirp of birdsong in the bushes outside the parlour window, the silence even more evident by the lack of Cyril’s playing drifting from upstairs.

 

“Well, you were right, Gerald,” Lettice says breathily after a few moments.

 

“About Harriet?” he asks gingerly.

 

“Well yes,” she agrees. “But also, about the fact that there is so much about you I don’t know.” She smiles cheekily, breaking the nervous feeling in the room. “So, is Cyril the reason you have come to know Miss Milford, or did you come to know Cyril through Miss Milford?”

 

*Originating in Seventeenth Century England, the term pin money first meant “an allowance of money given by a husband to his wife for her personal expenditures. Married women, who typically lacked other sources of spending money, tended to view an allowance as something quite desirable. By the Twentieth Century, the term had come to mean a small sum of money, whether an allowance or earned, for spending on inessentials, separate and in addition to the housekeeping money a wife might have to spend.

 

**Created by British industrial chemist and journalist Walter Weldon Weldon’s Ladies’ Journal was the first ‘home weeklies’ magazine which supplied dressmaking patterns. Weldon’s Ladies’ Journal was first published in 1875 and continued until 1954 when it ceased publication.

 

***The meaning of the very British term “shall I be mother” is “shall I pour the tea?”

 

****The Savoy Havana Band was a British dance band of the 1920s. It was resident at the Savoy Hotel, London, between 1921 and 1927. Players in the band included future American crooner Rudy Vallée and British pianist and composer Billy Mayerl.

 

*****“The Sheik of Araby” is a song that was written in 1921 by Harry B. Smith and Francis Wheeler, with music by Ted Snyder. It was composed in response to the popularity of the Rudolph Valentino feature film The Sheik. "The Sheik of Araby" was a Tin Pan Alley hit, and was also adopted by early jazz bands, especially in New Orleans, making it a jazz standard.

 

******Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon as she was known in 1922 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" She was one of Princess Mary’s eight bridesmaids at her 1922 wedding.

 

*******Mary, Princess Royal and Countess of Harewood (1897 – 1965), was the only daughter of King George V and Queen Mary. She was the sister of Kings Edward VIII and George VI, and aunt of Queen Elizabeth II. She married Viscount Lascelles on the 28th of February 1922 in a ceremony held at Westminster Abbey. The bride was only 24 years old, whilst the groom was 39. There is much conjecture that the marriage was an unhappy one, but their children dispute this and say it was a very happy marriage based upon mutual respect. The wedding was filmed by Pathé News and was the first royal wedding to be featured in fashion magazines, including Vogue.

 

This rather cluttered and chaotic scene of a drawing room cum workroom may look real to you, but believe it or not, it is made up entirely with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection, including pieces from my childhood.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism such as these are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable. The natural yellow straw hat with white ribbon trim on the arm of the settee was made by an unknown artisan in the United Kingdom and was sold through Doreen Jeffrey’s Small Wonders miniatures shop. The red velvet hat covered with roses on the arm of the chair was made by an unknown British artisan. The two hats on the carpet were both acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House in the United Kingdom.

 

The copies of Weldon’s Dressmaker and the Lady’s World Fancy Work Book scattered about the room are 1:12 size miniatures made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. The books on the bookshelf in the background are also made by Ken Blythe. 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. In this case, the magazines are non-opening, however what might amaze you is that all Ken Blythe’s books and magazines 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, as well as through his estate via his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.

 

The concertina sewing box on casters which you can see spilling forth its contents is an artisan miniature made by an unknown artist in England. It comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the in the United Kingdom. All the box’s contents including spools of ribbons, threads scissors and buttons on cards came with the work box. The box can completely expand or contract, just like its life-sized equivalent.

 

The hand embroidered and home made cream and green pouffe, the black japanned fire screen, the black metal fire tools and the plant in the corner all also come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop.

 

Harriet’s family photos seen cluttering the mantlepiece and the bookshelf in the background are all real photos, produced to high standards in 1:12 size on photographic paper by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The frames are almost all from Melody Jane’s Dollhouse Suppliers in the United Kingdom and are made of metal with glass in each.

 

The porcelain clock on the mantlepiece is made by M.W. Reutter Porzellanfabrik in Germany, who specialise in making high quality porcelain miniatures. The pot of yellow and blue petunias on the mantlepiece has been hand made and painted by 1:12 miniature ceramicist Ann Dalton. The castle shaped cottage orneé (pastille burner) on the bookshelf has been hand made, painted and gilded by Welsh miniature ceramist Rachel Williams who has her own studio, V&R Miniatures, in Powys. The bowl decorated with fruit on the bookshelf was hand decorated by British artisan Rachael Maundy.

 

The spools of threads, the tape measure, the silver sewing scissors in the shape of a stork and the box of embroidery threads I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House in the United Kingdom.

 

The tilt chess table in the middle of the room I bought from Mick and Marie’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom. The Edwardian tea set and cake plate on its surface come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House in the United Kingdom, whilst the biscuits on the plate come from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.

 

The sewing basket that you can see just behind the straw hat sitting on the arm of the sofa I bought from a high street shop that specialised in dolls and doll house furnishings. It is an artisan miniature and contains pieces of embroidery and embroidery threads.

 

The floral chintz settee and chair and the Art Nouveau china cabinet are made by J.B.M. miniatures who specialise in well made pieces of miniature furniture made to exacting standards.

 

The sewing machine to the left of the photo, I bought from Melody Jane’s Doll House Suppliers in the United Kingdom. It is made with extreme attention to detail, complete with a painted black metal body, authentic sewing mechanisms and a worksurface “inlaid” with mother-of-pearl.

 

The Chinese carpet beneath the furniture is hand made by Mackay and Gerrish in Sydney, Australia.

 

The Edwardian mantlepiece is made of moulded plaster and was acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House in the United Kingdom.

 

The bookshelf in the background comes from Babette’s Miniatures, who have been making miniature dolls’ furnishings since the late eighteenth century.

 

The paintings and prints on the walls all come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House in the United Kingdom.

On 19 February 1985, headcode 96 denoted London Charing Cross to Reigate, so it is a service on this route which facelifted BR Standard 4EPB (class 415) is working, seen just south of Norwood Junction on this slightly snowy Tuesday. The headcode had been changed since 1981, so without a 1985 timetable to hand I can only conjecture that this was a short-lived service. Three coaches from 4CEP 1605 are stabled near the station. This unit may have been at Selhurst at this time having a modification to facilitate disabled access by providing a door between the van and the adjacent compartment.

So, my favorite day at We're Here has arrived, a brilliant concept created by the ever creative Ruth Raymond... Fruits and Vegetables on a Tripod.

 

I don't know if it's just because its winter or something, but all the produce I went to use from the refrigerator was all wrinkly and old-looking. I think folk tend to make less salads in the colder months (and its been friggin' cold here) however, that is just conjecture on my part.

 

And yes... the tripod has seen better days.

theory? story?

you might need to look at it closely

(btw, i have no answers, just questions, myself)

An-Nisa - Quran

And because of their saying: We slew the Messiah, Jesus son of Mary, Allah's messenger - they slew him not nor crucified him, but it appeared so unto them; and lo! those who disagree concerning it are in doubt thereof; they have no knowledge thereof save pursuit of a conjecture; they slew him not for certain. (157) But Allah took him up unto Himself. Allah was ever Mighty, Wise.

An unusual working on the Vale of Glamorgan line so I was pleased to get this one. 66555 crosses Porthkerry Viaduct on its long journey to Scotland heading 30 PCA wagons of flyash from Aberthaw cement works to Longannet power station (6Z68). There is some conjecture as to the origin of the flyash but according to discussion on Freightmaster it's likely to have come from Aberthaw power station and loaded into the PCA wagons at the cement works using pressurised air equipment. Thanks very much to Buzz - www.flickr.com/photos/buzz68/ - for the "heads up" on this working which might be the last one.

I know that some of you are going to yell that Flickr "interestingness" and Explore are silly things to worry about, and that's fine... But for those interested in how it works, let me run down a quick top 10 list. (Yes, this pic made Explore)

 

Caring about getting into Explore per se is silly, because Explore has a big random component to it. However, Explore is important because it is the only "signal" we easily have about how "interesting" the photo is. Flickr doesn't give us the actual interestingness number so Explore is a good way to know it must be pretty high.

 

Why does interestingness matter? If you get happier the more people that see and appreciate your work, then you care about interestingness. Beyond your contact network, the vast majority of Flickr views come from search engines. Flickr has a zillion photos, so if you're photo isn't Flickr-interesting, people will never see it come up in the search engines.

 

Ten things to do to improve Flickr Interestingness:

 

1. Take good photos.

 

2. Have a good network of contacts who will view and comment and fave.

 

3. Post to at least one group, but don't post to more than five for the first few days. During the first week, posting to lots of groups hurts; after the first week, it helps.

 

4. In first week, don't post to more than a few award groups.

 

5. Have notes.

 

6. Have map and camera data. If you block camera data, or use film and don't add the camera meta data, you'll be penalized, A LOT. There's thousands of film people or people who don't want to give up their "secret settings" who can't figure out why they can't get into Explore... This is it!

 

7. Have a title and tags and text that people will search for, as that drives search engine traffic.

 

8. Don't upload too much per day. Maybe 3 max? If you upload more than 3 per day it not only hurts interestingness, but it taxes your contact network. It also means any given photo is de facto seen by less people, since most contacts only look at last 1-4 photos.

 

9. Be active. If you give significantly less than you get, it terms of views, comments, and faves, all of your photos will be penalized significantly.

 

10. Challenge yourself. There's a lot of competition when it comes to grabbing people's limited attention. Take interesting photos!

 

--

To answer Steve-H's question about why if you get into Explore do you not get in their more highly ranked?

 

I am in same boat. Had one reach #9 that is now permanent at #26. Some of it is random. The difference in interestingness between #1 and #500 is like 99.99999 to 99.99998. If you are the lucky one to get in the top (e.g.) 50, then you get a lot of additional views and it becomes self-fulfilling (esp. if women are in pic).

 

Some of it may be network related. I don't know if they sample central people, or people who are boundary spanners, but that would make a difference too. I do notice that everything else can be essentially equal between two photos and they differ in interestingness because different people commented and faved.

 

It also depends on the interestingness and timing of surrounding pics. If you have a strong network like ours your pics tend to get the same views, comments, faves, roughly. This is good for getting in but not getting into the top. I think a pic at the top of Explore tends to have much much much better stats than other pics by that artist around the same time. So in the example below, Joe would get one pic high into Explore, whereas Sally would get two into Explore but not as high:

 

Joe: pic 1--8 views, 3 comments, 2 faves; pic 2--100 views, 21 comments, 28 faves

Sally: pic 1--85 views, 24 comments, 18 faves; pic 2--100 views, 21 comments, 28 faves

 

------

Update 1.29.09... I may be wrong about the groups, at some level. Above I conjecture that posting to too many groups may be harmful, and I do believe that is still true. However part of the negative effect on Interestingness that one gets from posting to many groups is that it decreases the ratio of comments to views, and faves to views, which in turn decrease Interestingness.

 

I have also discovered a possible cumulative limit to how many pics one can have in Explore at one time. Most of the time, I have about 5 or 10 pics in Explore (versus the hundreds that were in it at some time but aren't at that moment). Recently some of my older pics have been getting in and staying in, or mostly staying in, the top 50 or 100. (This is mostly due to Yahoo! using my photos for news stories, blogs, etc.) As this has happened, my daily likelihood of getting into Explore has decreased, even though my other "stats" are the same. It may be that 20 or 25 serves as a practical limit.

 

-----

Update 11.18.10... Regarding the point above about Explore, I now have about 50 in Explore at one time and don't seem to be getting many more in, so that may be a saturation point, but who knows... Since I last updated, the Interestingness algorithm has changed. I talk about it here:

www.flickr.com/photos/pagedooley/4233691578/

 

------

Update 5.14.15... Much has changed over the years since I first wrote this. The general guidelines noted above still hold very true, but Explore and Flickr's Interestingness algorithm have evolved and become more nuanced. Since Explore is and always has been about "sampling" Flickr's community, there are various limits and constraints that have been added to ensure a few people don't dominate Explore day-to-day. Additionally, from what I can best gather from other experts on the subject, some people have been excluded from Explore due to a glitch on Flickr's side (I fall into that camp now). But if you're asking - why didn't I get into Explore - the most likely answers are still reflected in the principles above: you're not getting enough faves/comments, not including EXIF data, posting to too many groups, or not acting with reciprocity to other Flickrites.

 

For the best and most up-to-date discussions on Explore, Interestingness, and analytical topics re Flickr, see Saffron Blaze's "In Explore" discussion pages.

 

-----

Here are some other essays that may be of interest:

* All About Flickr titles, text, tags, and views

* All about Creative Commons

* The scaling issue in digital art

* How Flickr is diffferent than "great" photography

* At a loss for Flickr comments? Here's a catalog

* Five key decisions in photography.

* How I make the Christmas light paintings.

* www.flickr.com/photos/pagedooley/3084967790/in/set-721576... on how to improve your photography.

* The Impassioned Eye, Henri Cartier-Besson.

* You can't always get what you give: A study of Flickr award groups

* The skills of enthusiastic amateurs

* Open source photography--are you in or out?

* Suspicion, trust, and Flickr

* I'm bokeh, you're bokeh, pure bokeh

* See the World Through My Eyes and Explore the Motel at Wink's Place in the Golden Garden of Karma because L'amicizia fa la differenza! (or, Flickr the Soap Opera)

* Why is one of my photos more Interesting than the other?

* Photography versus video

* Flickr life

* Live photography

* All about Flickr contacts

Torre das Águias (Eagles' Tower) - difficult to find:)) - Brotas, Portugal.

Near to the Shrine of Our Lady of Brotas . The Eagles Tower is located in the town of Eagle, parish of Sprout, Mora county, district of Evora, Portugal.

 

Neighbor Divor Rriver and the shrine of Our Lady of Sprout, was part of the village called the Eagles of which there are still some houses. It is one of the most significant example of Manueline towers in the region (Tower Spur, Solar Camoeira) Coelheiros Castle Tower and the Tower of Carvalhal Thursday), but needs urgent intervention of consolidation and restoration... urgently.

Francês

Built from 1520 by Nuno Manuel, chief guard of the King Manuel I (1495-1521), possibly over a previous structure, the guard tower included a solar-house and was used for rest of the nobles in hunting large mount, common in the region at the time. It is even conjectured that the tower would be connected to the cult of Our Lady of the sprout, the big and important sanctuary door.

Although it has withstood the 1755 earthquake, began to decline from the nineteenth century.

Classified as a National Monument it was seized of repairs, in 1946.

 

It is currently in private hands and lack of conservation, in an advanced state of degradation.

 

This tower is a 15th Century Manueline architecture style, the plant has a square shape with about 18 meters away for about 20 meters high, masonry, stone masonry and granite, divided internally into four floors, where windows also tear square. The coverage would be in battlements or terrace, crowned by merlons Matacães counters with the wedges, fetched conical turrets.

Internally the ground floor comprises a large hall, covered by a vault ribbed vaults, the second floor is divided into hall, with extensive ground fire and coverage vaulted ribbed vaults, and contiguous divisions, the third and fourth floors do not have divisions, covering vaults dome slaughtered.

 

There is a legend related with the location:

The Legend of Santa Maria de Aguiar region has become a legend surrounding the tower, according to which, at the time of the struggles of the Christians against the Moors, Mr. Tower was ambushed and killed by the Moors as he went hunting. A squire saved up and ran to tell the lady, very pious lady, asking him to flee, since the enemies came to attack the tower. The lady, with devotion, implored the protection of Santa Maria de Aguiar. The saint, miraculously came forward, causing a winged horse along one of the upper windows, which transported her to a safe place. The head of the Moors, who witnessed the miracle, was converted to Christianity. The lady, when he died, he bequeathed all his possessions to the monastery of Santa Maria de Aguiar.

........................................................................................................................................................

Thanks to Lenabem - Anna for the texture.

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. Lettice is visiting her family home after receiving an invitation via her parents for a musical evening at the grand Victorian Gothic home of the Chetwynd’s neighbours, Lord Sherbourne and Lady Isobel Tyrwhitt. The Tyrwhitt’s only daughter, Arabella, is engaged to Leslie with a wedding planned for the autumn. Whilst the families are used to spending time with one another Lord Sherbourne, who has a great love of music, is using the gathering of the two aristocratic families to indulge in his passion. After freshening up after her train journey from London to Glynes, Lettice has been informed by Bramley, the Chetwynd’s butler, that her father is ill in bed with a head cold and is not to be disturbed, and that refreshments are being served by her mother in the morning room, the thought of which sinks Lettice’s spirits.

 

“Ahh, Lettice,” Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, calls from her favourite wingback chair by the fireplace where she sits embroidering. “There you are. Do come and sit down.” She indicates with a sweeping gesture to the less comfortable armchair sitting across from a small side table graced with a vase of beautiful golden yellow tulips.

 

“Good afternoon, Mamma.” Lettice replies as she walks into the room, Lady Sadie’s signature scent of lily of the valley immediately tickling her nose as she steps across the threshold.

 

The Glynes morning room always makes Lettice a little nervous. She feels at home in her father’s grand library, but this is very much Lady Sadie’s preserve, and Lettice has never felt that she can be at ease in the morning room, which she associates with her best manners. The original classical Eighteenth Century design has been overlayed with the comfortable Edwardian clutter of continual and conspicuous acquisition that is the hallmark of a lady of the Countess’ age and social standing. China cabinets of beautiful porcelain line the walls. Clusters of mismatched chairs unholstered in cream fabric, tables and a floral chaise lounge, all from different eras, fill the room: set up to allow for the convivial conversation of the great and good of the county after church on a Sunday. The hand painted Georgian wallpaper can barely be seen for paintings and photographs in ornate gilded frames. The marble mantelpiece is covered by Royal Doulton figurines and more photos in silver frames. Several vases of flowers stand on occasional tables, but even their fragrance cannot smother her mother’s ever present Yardley Lily of the Valley scent.

 

“Now you’re here, I’ll ring for tea.” Lady Sadie continues, reaching over to the handle by the fireplace to ring servant’s bell.

 

The fire in the grate crackles welcomingly whilst a gilt clock’s muffled tick marks the time with regularity.

 

“How are you Mamma?”

 

“Oh fair to middling,” Lady Sadie replies as she sets aside the embroidery on her lap. “Mustn’t grumble. I’m better than your father at any rate. Did Bramley tell you he is laid up with a bad head cold and is not to be disturbed.”

 

“He did, Mamma. Thank you.”

 

Lettice stands before her mother and leans down as the older woman leans up from her seat, the two exchanging a whispery kiss on the cheek where their skin almost connects, but not quite.

 

“Don’t you look lovely today.” the older woman remarks as she gives her youngest daughter an appraising look. “I’ve always liked you in powder blue. It suits your pallor.”

 

“What’s this?” Lettice asks as she slides herself gingerly into the seat proffered by her mother. “Paying your errant daughter a compliment, Mamma? You must be up to something.”

 

“How very cynical of you Lettice.” her mother replies, a tone of offence in her voice. “That’s Gerald Bruton’s acerbic tongue influencing you again. Can’t a mother compliment her daughter on her choice of outfit?”

 

“Not when it’s you, Mamma,” Lettice sighs. “However, I suppose whatever is generating your magnanimity will worm its way out over tea, I’m sure.”

 

“Can’t a mother have a convivial chat over a nice cup of tea with her daughter?”

 

“There is usually an ulterior motive with you, Mamma.”

 

Ignoring her daughter’s unkind, yet truthful, remarks, Lady Sadie continues, “How was your trip down from London?”

 

“Quite pleasant thank you, Mamma. I have a new novel which I started on the railway journey, so the time passed quickly.”

 

“You should be reading The Lady* or Horse and Hound**, not those silly romance novels you young girls read nowadays.” Lady Sadie scolds with an irritated flick of her hand. “They give your generation peculiar ideas about love and marriage and fill your heads with silly notions about romance and modern love, whatever that is.”

 

“I seem to recall that my generation was not the one to invent the romance novel, Mamma. Just look at Elinor Glynn***.”

 

“Yes, well! The less said about that scandalous woman, the better.” huffs Lady Sadie.

 

“And if you mean by modern love, the idea of actually getting to know the person you think you might marry before you announce it in The Times, then yes, I support that idea wholeheartedly.”

 

“What a load of nonsense. Marriages are made my mothers, you silly girl.”

 

“In your day, Mamma, maybe. Not now.”

 

Their quickly heating conversation is broken by a gentle knock on the morning room door, through which one of the Chetwynd’s housemaids, Alice Emmery, appears after being summoned. Dressed in her afternoon uniform of a black frock and pretty muslin apron and cap, she bobs a curtsey after depositing a silver tray of tea things and a plate of dainty biscuits onto the central table.

 

“Oh Emmery, how is your mother?” Lady Sadie asks kindly.

 

“She’s still laid up in bed with the same head cold His Lordship has, Milady.” the maid answers.

 

“Well tell her that I’ll do a bit of sick visiting in the next few days, won’t you?”

 

“Yes Milady.” Emmery bobs another curtsey. “Will there be anything else Milady?”

 

“No. Thank you, Emmery. I can pour the tea myself.”

 

Mother and daughter wait for the housemaid to discreetly leave and quietly close the door behind her before continuing their conversation.

 

“Oh you are awful, Mamma,” Lettice says as she leans over and takes the two empty dainty floral china cups and saucers from the tray and places them on the table between the two of them.

 

“It’s not all being lady of the manor and embroidery all day, Lettice.” chides Lady Sadie as she picks up the plate of dainty brightly coloured cream biscuits and places them on the table between them too. “I have my Lady Bountiful**** work to do too, and that includes looking in on the estate workers’ families.”

 

“I know Mamma, but now Emmery will go home and tell her mother, and then she’ll be up out of her sick bed cleaning her cottage from the attic to the cellar in an effort to impress you. Heaven forbid Lady Bountiful should sit upon a dusty seat!”

 

“Oh don’t talk such nonsense, Lettice.” Lady Sadie wraps her hand around the handle of the silver teapot and pours brackish red tea into Lettice’s cup and then her own. “And don’t try and distract me from what I was going to ask before Emmery interrupted us.”

 

“Ah, see!” Lettice remarks triumphantly, adding sugar to her tea. “I knew your compliments didn’t come ex gratia.”

 

“Nonsense! I’m just interested in my daughter’s welfare and any recent social developments. Isn’t that the obligation of all mothers?”

 

“So, my wellbeing is an obligation is it, Mamma?” She adds a drop of milk to her tea before passing the jug to Lady Sadie.

 

“Don’t take what I say so literally, Lettice.” Lady Sadie remarks with an irritated sigh as she pours a thin stream of milk into her own tea. “Your constant game of one-upmanship is tiring, not to mention tiresome.”

 

Lettice sinks back into her chair and lets her gaze stray from her mother’s expectant face across the table to the little gilt cherub statue sitting next to the vase of tulips. Holding a small ornamental tray aloft, it’s sweet face seems to mock and tease her cheekily. “Well, if it’s Selwyn you are asking about, Mamma, I have seen him since the Hunt Ball.”

 

“Aha!” Lady Sadie sits up in her armchair and arches a finely plucked eyebrow as she sips her tea and stares with barely controlled excitement at her daughter.

 

“Just once, mind you, Mamma. Selwyn and I haven’t had much time. We went to… yes, well never mind where we went.” She swallows the name of the Metropole Hotel quickly since her mother miraculously doesn’t seem to know that she and Selwyn have had their first rendezvous. “We went out for luncheon last week.”

 

“And?”

 

“And it was very pleasant.” Lettice replies coyly, taking a sip of her tea. “We talked quite a bit about our interests, his architecture, and my love of interior design.”

 

“And?” Lady Sadie leans a little harder on the left arm of her chair as she stretches a little more closely, almost predatorially, towards Lettice.

 

“Oh Mama! You really are infuriating! Yes, we’ve agreed that we will see one another again soon, but I’m not quite sure when. It will depend upon our schedules, as we are both busy socially and workwise.”

 

“That’s fine! That’s fine!” Lady Sadie releases her pent-up breath, her figure physically deflating a little as she lowers her cup into its saucer on the table and sinks back into her chair comfortably. “As long as I know that my daughter’s first assignation with the Duke of Walmsford’s heir has been successful, I’m happy.” She reaches out her bejewelled left hand and takes Lettice’s empty right hand in it, squeezing it encouragingly. “There is progress at least, for my errant daughter.”

 

Used to being at war, or at the very least on an uneasy truce with her mother, Lettice finds Lady Sadie’s smiling face and seemingly genuine pride rather unsettling. Surprisingly, she releases her own pent-up breath that she hadn’t realised she had been holding as she prepared for the usual inquisition from her mother, and it comes out in a quiet juddering stream. “Good,” she sighs. “Now that we have that formality out of the way, might we talk about tomorrow night?”

 

“Of course, of course!” Lady Sadie giggles girlishly, another reaction Lettice has seldom seen in her mother before.

 

“What time are we due to arrive at Uncle Shelbourne’s?”

 

“Eight o’clock, for a light supper, so I’ve asked Cook to serve luncheon at two tomorrow and we’ll have chicken pies rather than a joint.”

 

“And who will be in attendance?”

 

“Oh, just family. Sherbourne and Isobel, Arabella and Leslie of course, Nigel, you and I. Not your father. Even if he should be feeling better, I don’t want him riding in the cold motor even with blankets and hot water bottles.”

 

“Well that does sound like a jolly party.” Lettice says with a smile, genuinely looking forward to a musical evening of fun and hijinks with the family she has spent so much time with over the years that they are like aunt, uncle and cousins to her.

 

“Now, thinking of Leslie and Arabella’s wedding,” Lady Sadie begins.

 

“Oh please don’t tell me that I have to be bridesmaid.” Lettice whines. “I know that Bella’s the only daughter, but surely there are Tyrwhitt cousins who can escort her down the aisle.”

 

“Heaven forbid!” Lady Sadie raises her right bejewelled hand to her throat and worries her pearl necklace. “Not when things are going so well with young Spencely!” Her sparkling eyes grow wide in their sockets. “Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. No! We shan’t take that risk.”

 

“You’re so superstitious, Mamma.”

 

“So would you be if you were me during this delicate time in your budding romance with young Spencely.” Lady Sadie replies sagely. “No, as you know, poor Isobel hasn’t been well, what with the radiotherapy treatment for her cancer. And Arabella does need her trousseau managed.”

 

“I already told you over the telephone that I will happily host Bella at Cavendish Mews and take her shopping around London.”

 

“Good! Good! I just wanted to make sure that, circumstances,” Lady Sadie places emphasis on the last word. “Hadn’t changed.”

 

“Mamma, even if Selwyn and I had decided after our first assignation that we were going to get married - which we haven’t - it could hardly be arranged before Leslie and Bella’s wedding!”

 

“Well, you young people move at such a frenetic pace these days.” She takes up her teacup again. “Oh, and thinking about clothes.” The older woman eyes her daughter with a suddenly steely gaze more usually reserved for Lettice. “I do not want you wearing a shop bought hat to your brother’s wedding. I know you’ve had a falling out with Madame Gwendolyn, and I also have it on good authority that that was a Selfridges hat you wore to Princess Mary’s wedding*****. The very idea! What were you thinking?”

 

“Well I…” splutters Lettice, dropping the biscuit she has just selected back onto the plate where it spills forth crumbs from its impact with the gilt edged plate.

 

“You might have only been one head in Westminster Cathedral, but you will play an important part in Leslie’s wedding, and I do not wish for you to be photographed in a shop bought hat.”

 

“What’s wrong with a hat from Selfridges?” Lettice exclaims. “I looked very fashionable at the royal wedding, and Lady Cavendish****** even complimented me on it.”

 

“No Lettice!” Lady Sadie says in a matter-of-fact tone that tells Lettice that even if she were to have the most exquisite hat from the Oxford Street department store’s millinery department it would not be good enough. “I do not wish you to be dressed in a hat that could be bought by a middle-class draper’s daughter of means, or worse, one of the villagers invited to the wedding like the Miss Evanses, who just might take it upon themselves to go up to London to shop for new outfits for the occasion at Selfridges. The Miss Evanses are just the type of people who would shop at Selfridges.”

 

“Mamma, everyone shops at Selfridges in London.”

 

“You say that like it is a commendation, Lettice.”

 

“Well it is.”

 

“No, either go back, cap in hand, no pun intended, to Madame Gwendolyn,” Lady Sadie pronounces in an imperious tone. “Or find yourself a new milliner of your choice before the wedding. End of discussion.”

 

*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.

 

***Elinor Glyn was a British novelist and scriptwriter who specialised in romantic fiction, which was considered scandalous for its time, although her works are relatively tame by modern standards. She popularized the concept of the it-girl, and had tremendous influence on early 20th-century popular culture and, possibly, on the careers of notable Hollywood stars such as Rudolph Valentino, Gloria Swanson and, especially, Clara Bow. Elinor Glynn’s sister was Lady Lucille Duff Gordon the Edwardian fashion designer who survived the sinking of the Titanic in a lifeboat so empty that it became a scandal in the aftermath of the sinking.

 

****Lady Bountiful is a term used to describe a woman who engages in ostentatious acts of charity to impress others, and was often used in Edwardian times by titled ladies to describe themselves when conducting their charity or ministering works.

 

*****Mary, Princess Royal and Countess of Harewood (1897 – 1965), was the only daughter of King George V and Queen Mary. She was the sister of Kings Edward VIII and George VI, and aunt of Queen Elizabeth II. She married Viscount Lascelles on the 28th of February 1922 in a ceremony held at Westminster Abbey. The bride was only 24 years old, whilst the groom was 39. There is much conjecture that the marriage was an unhappy one, but their children dispute this and say it was a very happy marriage based upon mutual respect. The wedding was filmed by Pathé News and was the first royal wedding to be featured in fashion magazines, including Vogue.

 

******Mary Alice Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire, was a British courtier who served as Mistress of the Robes to Queen Elizabeth II from 1953 to 1967. She was the granddaughter of Prime Minister Robert Gascoyne-Cecil, 3rd Marquess of Salisbury.

 

Cluttered with paintings, photographs and furnishings, Lady Sadie’s morning room with its Georgian and Victorian furnishings is different from what you might think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures from my collection including pieces from my own childhood.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The gilt edged floral teacups and plate on the table in the foreground come from a miniatures specialist stockist on E-Bay. The wonderful selection of biscuits on offer were made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The fluted squat cranberry glass vase on the table is an artisan miniature made of hand blown glass which also came from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures. Made of polymer clay that are moulded on wires to allow them to be shaped at will and put into individually formed floral arrangements, the very realistic looking golden yellow tulips are made by a 1:12 miniature specialist in Germany. The tiny gilt cherub statue I have had since I was a teenager. I bought it from a high street stockist who specialised in dolls houses and doll house miniatures. Being only a centimetre in height and half a centimetre in diameter it has never been lost, even though I have moved a number of times in my life since its acquisition.

 

The silver tea set and silver galleried tray, which peeps from behind Lettice’s table on the central table in the midground, has been made with great attention to detail, and comes from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces.

 

Lady Sadie’s morning room is furnished mostly with pieces from high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq. Lady Sadie’s armchair is a Chippendale piece, whilst the gild decorated mahogany tables in the foreground and midground are Regency style. The desk and its matching chair is a Salon Reine design, hand painted and copied from an Eighteenth Century design. All the drawers open and it has a lidded rack at either end. The china cabinet to the left-hand side in the background is Georgian revival and is lined with green velvet and fitted with glass shelves and a glass panelled door. The cream coloured footstool with gold tasselling which can just be seen on the carpeted floors beyond the table in the foreground came from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom.

 

The plaster fireplace in the background comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom as well, and the fire screen and fire pokers come from the same high street stockist who specialised in dolls houses and doll house miniatures as the cherub statue. The Royal Doulton style figurines on top the fireplace, the skirts of which you can just see, are from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland and have been hand painted by me.

 

The Chetwynd’s family photos seen on the desk and hanging on the walls are all real photos, produced to high standards in 1:12 size on photographic paper by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The frames are almost all from Melody Jane’s Dollhouse Suppliers in the United Kingdom and are made of metal with glass in each. The largest frame on the right-hand side of the desk is actually a sterling silver miniature frame. It was made in Birmingham in 1908 and is hallmarked on the back of the frame. It has a red leather backing.

 

The Persian rug on the floor has been woven by Pike, Pike and Company in the United Kingdom.

Raphael (Raffaello Sanzio - Urbino 1483 - Rome 1520)

La Fornarina (1520 ca.) oil on panel 87 x 63 cm - National Roman Museum Palazzo Barberini - Rome

 

La donna raffigurata è, secondo la tradizione, l’amante e musa ispiratrice di Raffaello: Margherita Luti, figlia di un fornaio di Trastevere, da cui il soprannome “Fornarina”. Non si ha notizia di chi fosse il committente dell’opera e ciò potrebbe avvalorare l’ipotesi che Raffaello l’abbia dipinta per sé, negli ultimi anni della sua vita.

Che si tratti o meno dell’amante di Raffaello, dietro questo volto imperfetto, dai tratti marcati, si nasconde una rappresentazione di Venere. La posa delle mani, una adagiata nel grembo, l’altra sul seno, segue il modello della “Venere pudica” della statuaria classica: un gesto di pudore che tuttavia orienta lo sguardo dell’osservatore proprio su ciò che si vorrebbe nascondere. Simboli della dea dell’amore sono anche il bracciale della donna su cui si legge “Raphael Urbinas”, firma dell’autore e pegno di vincolo amoroso, nonché, sullo sfondo, il cespuglio di mirto e il ramo di melo cotogno, simbolo di fertilità.

Il quadro apparteneva già ai primi proprietari del palazzo, gli Sforza di Santafiora, e fu uno dei primi ad essere acquistato dai Barberini.

 

The subject of this portrait, according to tradition, was Raphael’s inspirational muse and mistress: Margherita Luti, the daughter of a baker in Trastevere, hence known as “Fornarina.” There is no record of any commission for the work, which supports the conjecture that Raphael painted it for himself in the last years of his life.

 

Whether she was Raphael’s mistress or not, behind this imperfect face with marked features lies a depiction of Venus. The pose of her hands, one placed on her lap and the other on her breast, follows the classic statuary model of the “Venus Pudica”: a gesture of modesty which yet directs the viewer’s gaze to what she actually seeks to conceal. Other symbols of the goddess of love are the bracelet inscribed with the words “Raphael Urbinas,” the painter’s signature as well as a token and pledge of love. The myrtle bush and branch of quince in the background are symbols of fertility.

The painting belonged to the original owners of the palazzo, the Sforza of Santafiora, and was one of the earliest works purchased by the Barberini family.

 

it.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Fornarina

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Fornarina

 

“Drawing some resemblance to the rotary-powered Norton NRV588 project, the Norton SG1 also features an Aprilia RSV4 motor in a custom Spondon frame. With all the trappings of a CRT bike, it doesn’t take too much imagination to link the SG1 to the rumours about Norton’s return to MotoGP, which makes for some interesting conjecture on the trajectory of the team’s racing future”.

I got this bar scene. But it was so boring. So, I just thought, if I could just borrow someone gorgeous from the past, this picture could be interesting.

 

Marilyn Monroe was born on June 1, 1926 as Norma Jeane Mortensen Baker. We share the same birthday.

 

Marilyn was an American actress, model, and singer, who became a major sex symbol, starring in a number of commercially successful motion pictures during the 1950s and early 1960s.

 

In 1999, Marilyn was ranked as the sixth greatest female star of all time by the American Film Institute. In the decades following her death, she has often been cited as both a pop and a cultural icon as well as the quintessential American sex symbol.

 

On May 19, 1962, she attended the early birthday celebration of President John F. Kennedy at Madison Square Garden, at the suggestion of Kennedy's brother-in-law, actor Peter Lawford. Monroe performed "Happy Birthday" along with a specially written verse based on Bob Hope's "Thanks for the Memory". Kennedy responded to her performance with the remark, "Thank you. I can now retire from politics after having had 'Happy Birthday' sung to me in such a sweet, wholesome way."

 

The final years of Monroe's life were marked by illness, personal problems, and a reputation for unreliability and being difficult to work with. The circumstances of her death, from an overdose of barbiturates, have been the subject of conjecture. Though officially classified as a "probable suicide", the possibility of an accidental overdose, as well as of homicide, have not been ruled out.

_________________________________________________________________

Watch out for the launching of my book "HDR UNLEASHED" in July.

The book will contain the secret sauce to produce HDRs the KK Touch Way.

Raphael (Raffaello Sanzio - Urbino 1483 - Rome 1520)

La Fornarina (1520 ca.) oil on panel 87 x 63 cm - National Roman Museum Palazzo Barberini - Rome

 

La donna raffigurata è, secondo la tradizione, l’amante e musa ispiratrice di Raffaello: Margherita Luti, figlia di un fornaio di Trastevere, da cui il soprannome “Fornarina”. Non si ha notizia di chi fosse il committente dell’opera e ciò potrebbe avvalorare l’ipotesi che Raffaello l’abbia dipinta per sé, negli ultimi anni della sua vita.

Che si tratti o meno dell’amante di Raffaello, dietro questo volto imperfetto, dai tratti marcati, si nasconde una rappresentazione di Venere. La posa delle mani, una adagiata nel grembo, l’altra sul seno, segue il modello della “Venere pudica” della statuaria classica: un gesto di pudore che tuttavia orienta lo sguardo dell’osservatore proprio su ciò che si vorrebbe nascondere. Simboli della dea dell’amore sono anche il bracciale della donna su cui si legge “Raphael Urbinas”, firma dell’autore e pegno di vincolo amoroso, nonché, sullo sfondo, il cespuglio di mirto e il ramo di melo cotogno, simbolo di fertilità.

Il quadro apparteneva già ai primi proprietari del palazzo, gli Sforza di Santafiora, e fu uno dei primi ad essere acquistato dai Barberini.

 

The subject of this portrait, according to tradition, was Raphael’s inspirational muse and mistress: Margherita Luti, the daughter of a baker in Trastevere, hence known as “Fornarina.” There is no record of any commission for the work, which supports the conjecture that Raphael painted it for himself in the last years of his life.

 

Whether she was Raphael’s mistress or not, behind this imperfect face with marked features lies a depiction of Venus. The pose of her hands, one placed on her lap and the other on her breast, follows the classic statuary model of the “Venus Pudica”: a gesture of modesty which yet directs the viewer’s gaze to what she actually seeks to conceal. Other symbols of the goddess of love are the bracelet inscribed with the words “Raphael Urbinas,” the painter’s signature as well as a token and pledge of love. The myrtle bush and branch of quince in the background are symbols of fertility.

The painting belonged to the original owners of the palazzo, the Sforza of Santafiora, and was one of the earliest works purchased by the Barberini family.

 

it.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Fornarina

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Fornarina

 

Nightcliff is a northern suburb of the city of Darwin, Northern Territory, Australia, and is set on the shores of Darwin Harbour (named after Charles Darwin).

Although the origin of the name Nightcliff has always been surrounded by conjecture and controversy, the naming can be tracked back to 8 September 1839 (the time of discovery of Port Darwin/Darwin Harbour by European explorers). Early that day, HMS Beagle, which was engaged on an excursion of the Australian coast, sailed into the area and anchored in Shoal Bay near Hope Inlet. John Lort Stokes, William Forsyth and several other crew members left Beagle on a longboat for an excursion and passed around Lee Point, in the vicinity of which, there appeared to be a major opening. Stokes was later to record.

"The sea breeze setting in early, we did not reach it till after dark, when we landed for observations at a cliffy projection near the eastern entrance point: this we found to be composed of a kind of clay, mixed with calcareous matter. We had some difficulty in landing, and then in scrambling up the cliffs by the light of a lantern. If any of the watchful natives happened at the time to be on the look out, they must have stood in astonishment at beholding such strange persons, who at such a time of night, with no ostensible object were visiting their shores".

The term 'Night Cliff' was thus applied to the locality, and it subsequently appeared in this form on Surveyor-General George W. Goyder's original plan of 1869. Goyder also mentioned the locality a couple of times in the diary he kept as leader of the Northern Territory Survey Expedition.

The Nightcliff foreshore was the site of Royal Australian Air Force camps with spotlights and large guns used to defend Darwin from Japanese aircraft bombing during the Second World War. During 1941, a naval outpost including a large concrete artillery outpost bunker was established on the headland. Various other defence facilities were constructed inland as large numbers of military personnel moved into the area. The 2/14 Field Regiment A.I.F. (Australian Infantry Force) was given the task of planning and constructing a hutted camp which became known as "Night Cliff's Camp". After the war, increasing pressure for suburban development caused the Nomenclature Committee of the N.T. to officially name the area on 29 October 1948. The conjoint version of the name, "Nightcliff" was adopted.

Today, a long footpath along the foreshore of Nightcliff is used for walking and cycling, particularly in the evenings after work. Along the footpath there is Nightcliff Jetty, Nightcliff Beach and Nightcliff Swimming Pool.

 

This is the east wall of the keep. The bite out of the east side is the hole we looked in though in the previous photo. Notice how part of the line the 'bite' failed along, follows up the line of one of the narrow stair windows. Walls nearly always fail along the lines of windows!

 

The first feature to notice here is the talus or batter at the foot of the walls. Medieval fortresses used batters a lot, to thicken the walls where beseiging armies might try to dig into them and to deflect boulders dropped from off, laterally into the attackers. In this case however, the widening of the base of the castle's walls probably served no other purpose that to spread castle's weight and prevent subsidence - particularly as we are only a few feet above the Endrick Water here and therefore the water table.

 

The doorway occupied the upper half of the oblong hole, as can be seen from the sandstone dressings. The rebate around it appears to my amateur eye to have been intended to receive a draw-bridge style door. The pundits always say of tower-houses with upper floor doors that they were "reached by a removable wooden ladder." While I accept that whatever the means of access was, it was made of timber, I suspect that 'ladder' is an over-simplification! Particularly in the case of a second floor doorway. I think that there was a more solid and semi-permanent wooden structure, in this instance involving a removable bridge (drawbridge), probably fixed wooden steps and, if my interpretation of the rebate in the north-east corner of the wall, is correct, perhaps another gate half way down. Conjecture is a wonderful thing!

 

There is a drain outlet to the right of the door, at what must be floor level. Over the door is an armorial shield with a diagonal stripe, or 'bend dexter'. These were the arms of the Dennistouns, the family that built the tower.

 

As I started before, the floor below the Hall was occupied at this end by the kitchen. This had a slop drain that emerged through this wall, but it appears to have been in the section of walling missing below the door. The pieces of sandstone towards the bottom of the hole on the right are probably part of it. The slit window to the left would have lit the stair leading from the the Hall level, beside the entrance door, down to the kitchen and the shot-hole below it may have lit the stair down to the prison or just possible have been an air vent for the prison - the drawing doesn't show it.

The Colosseum is an oval amphitheatre in the centre of the city of Rome, Italy, just east of the Roman Forum. It is the largest ancient amphitheatre ever built, and is still the largest standing amphitheatre in the world today, despite its age. Construction began under the emperor Vespasian (r. 69–79 AD) in 72 and was completed in 80 AD under his successor and heir, Titus (r. 79–81). Further modifications were made during the reign of Domitian (r. 81–96). The three emperors that were patrons of the work are known as the Flavian dynasty, and the amphitheatre was named the Flavian Amphitheatre (Latin: Amphitheatrum Flavium; Italian: Anfiteatro Flavio [aɱfiteˈaːtro ˈflaːvjo]) by later classicists and archaeologists for its association with their family name (Flavius).

The Colosseum is built of travertine limestone, tuff (volcanic rock), and brick-faced concrete. The Colosseum could hold an estimated 50,000 to 80,000 spectators at various points in its history having an average audience of some 65,000; it was used for gladiatorial contests and public spectacles including animal hunts, executions, re-enactments of famous battles, and dramas based on Roman mythology, and briefly mock sea battles. The building ceased to be used for entertainment in the early medieval era. It was later reused for such purposes as housing, workshops, quarters for a religious order, a fortress, a quarry, and a Christian shrine.

Although substantially ruined because of earthquakes and stone-robbers (for spolia), the Colosseum is still an iconic symbol of Imperial Rome and was listed as one of the New7Wonders of the World. It is one of Rome's most popular tourist attractions and also has links to the Roman Catholic Church, as each Good Friday the Pope leads a torchlit "Way of the Cross" procession that starts in the area around the Colosseum.

The Colosseum is also depicted on the Italian version of the five-cent euro coin.The site chosen was a flat area on the floor of a low valley between the Caelian, Esquiline and Palatine Hills, through which a canalised stream ran as well as an artificial lake/marsh. By the 2nd century BC the area was densely inhabited. It was devastated by the Great Fire of Rome in 64 AD, following which Nero seized much of the area to add to his personal domain. He built the grandiose Domus Aurea on the site, in front of which he created an artificial lake surrounded by pavilions, gardens and porticoes. The existing Aqua Claudia aqueduct was extended to supply water to the area and the gigantic bronze Colossus of Nero was set up nearby at the entrance to the Domus Aurea.

Although the Colossus was preserved, much of the Domus Aurea was torn down. The lake was filled in and the land reused as the location for the new Flavian Amphitheatre. Gladiatorial schools and other support buildings were constructed nearby within the former grounds of the Domus Aurea. Vespasian's decision to build the Colosseum on the site of Nero's lake can be seen as a populist gesture of returning to the people an area of the city which Nero had appropriated for his own use. In contrast to many other amphitheatres, which were on the outskirts of a city, the Colosseum was constructed in the city centre, in effect, placing it both symbolically and precisely at the heart of Rome.

Construction was funded by the opulent spoils taken from the Jewish Temple after the First Jewish–Roman War in 70 CE led to the Siege of Jerusalem. According to a reconstructed inscription found on the site, "the emperor Vespasian ordered this new amphitheatre to be erected from his general's share of the booty." It is often assumed that Jewish prisoners of war were brought back to Rome and contributed to the massive workforce needed for the construction of the amphitheatre, but there is no ancient evidence for that; it would, nonetheless, be commensurate with Roman practice to add humiliation to the defeated population. Along with this free source of unskilled labor, teams of professional Roman builders, engineers, artists, painters and decorators undertook the more specialized tasks necessary for building the Colosseum. The Colosseum was constructed with several different materials: wood, limestone, tuff, tiles, cement, and mortar.

Construction of the Colosseum began under the rule of Vespasian in around 70–72 AD (73–75 AD according to some sources). The Colosseum had been completed up to the third story by the time of Vespasian's death in 79. The top level was finished by his son, Titus, in 80, and the inaugural games were held in 80 or 81 AD. Dio Cassius recounts that over 9,000 wild animals were killed during the inaugural games of the amphitheatre. Commemorative coinage was issued celebrating the inauguration. The building was remodelled further under Vespasian's younger son, the newly designated Emperor Domitian, who constructed the hypogeum, a series of tunnels used to house animals and slaves. He also added a gallery to the top of the Colosseum to increase its seating capacity.

In 217, the Colosseum was badly damaged by a major fire (caused by lightning, according to Dio Cassius) which destroyed the wooden upper levels of the amphitheatre's interior. It was not fully repaired until about 240 and underwent further repairs in 250 or 252 and again in 320. Honorius banned the practice of gladiator fights in 399 and again in 404. Gladiatorial fights are last mentioned around 435.[citation needed] An inscription records the restoration of various parts of the Colosseum under Theodosius II and Valentinian III (reigned 425–455), possibly to repair damage caused by a major earthquake in 443; more work followed in 484 and 508. The arena continued to be used for contests well into the 6th century. Animal hunts continued until at least 523, when Anicius Maximus celebrated his consulship with some venationes, criticised by King Theodoric the Great for their high cost.

The Colosseum underwent several radical changes of use. By the late 6th century a small chapel had been built into the structure of the amphitheater, though this apparently did not confer any particular religious significance on the building as a whole. The arena was converted into a cemetery. The numerous vaulted spaces in the arcades under the seating were converted into housing and workshops, and are recorded as still being rented out as late as the 12th century. Around 1200 the Frangipani family took over the Colosseum and fortified it, apparently using it as a castle.

Severe damage was inflicted on the Colosseum by the great earthquake in 1349, causing the outer south side, lying on a less stable alluvial terrain, to collapse. Much of the tumbled stone was reused to build palaces, churches, hospitals and other buildings elsewhere in Rome. A religious order moved into the northern third of the Colosseum in the mid-14th century and continued to inhabit it until as late as the early 19th century. The interior of the amphitheater was extensively stripped of stone, which was reused elsewhere, or (in the case of the marble façade) was burned to make quicklime. The iron clamps which held the stonework together were pried or hacked out of the walls, leaving numerous pockmarks which still scar the building today.

During the 16th and 17th century, Church officials sought a productive role for the Colosseum. Pope Sixtus V (1585–1590) planned to turn the building into a wool factory to provide employment for Rome's prostitutes, though this proposal fell through with his premature death. In 1671 Cardinal Altieri authorized its use for bullfights; a public outcry caused the idea to be hastily abandoned.

Allied troops consult a guidebook outside the Colosseum after liberation in 1944

In 1749, Pope Benedict XIV endorsed the view that the Colosseum was a sacred site where early Christians had been martyred. He forbade the use of the Colosseum as a quarry and consecrated the building to the Passion of Christ and installed Stations of the Cross, declaring it sanctified by the blood of the Christian martyrs who perished there (see Significance in Christianity). However, there is no historical evidence to support Benedict's claim, nor is there even any evidence that anyone before the 16th century suggested this might be the case; the Catholic Encyclopedia concludes that there are no historical grounds for the supposition, other than the reasonably plausible conjecture that some of the many martyrs may well have been.

Later popes initiated various stabilization and restoration projects, removing the extensive vegetation which had overgrown the structure and threatened to damage it further. The façade was reinforced with triangular brick wedges in 1807 and 1827, and the interior was repaired in 1831, 1846 and in the 1930s. The arena substructure was partly excavated in 1810–1814 and 1874 and was fully exposed under Benito Mussolini in the 1930s.

The Colosseum is today one of Rome's most popular tourist attractions, receiving millions of visitors annually. The effects of pollution and general deterioration over time prompted a major restoration programme carried out between 1993 and 2000, at a cost of 40 billion Italian lire.

In recent years, the Colosseum has become a symbol of the international campaign against capital punishment, which was abolished in Italy in 1948. Several anti–death penalty demonstrations took place in front of the Colosseum in 2000. Since that time, as a gesture against the death penalty, the local authorities of Rome change the color of the Colosseum's night time illumination from white to gold whenever a person condemned to the death penalty anywhere in the world gets their sentence commuted or is released, or if a jurisdiction abolishes the death penalty. Most recently, the Colosseum was illuminated in gold in November 2012 following the abolishment of capital punishment in the American state of Connecticut in April 2012.

Because of the ruined state of the interior, it is impractical to use the Colosseum to host large events; only a few hundred spectators can be accommodated in temporary seating. However, much larger concerts have been held just outside, using the Colosseum as a backdrop. Performers who have played at the Colosseum in recent years have included Ray Charles (May 2002), Paul McCartney (May 2003), Elton John (September 2005), and Billy Joel (July 2006).

The turkey vulture

Is revered in some cultures

So I conjecture

A gömböc (Hungarian: [ˈɡømbøt͡s]) is any member of a class of convex, three-dimensional and homogeneous bodies that are mono-monostatic, meaning that they have just one stable and one unstable point of equilibrium when resting on a flat surface. The existence of this class was conjectured by the Russian mathematician Vladimir Arnold in 1995 and proven in 2006 by the Hungarian scientists Gábor Domokos and Péter Várkonyi by constructing at first a mathematical example and subsequently a physical example. (Text from Wikipedia:

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G%C3%B6mb%C3%B6c)

The Blue Lake is a large, monomictic, crater lake located in a dormant volcanic maar associated with the Mount Gambier maar complex. The lake is situated near Mount Gambier in the Limestone Coast region of South Australia, and is one of four crater lakes on Mount Gambier maar. Of the four lakes, only two remain, as the other two (Leg of Mutton and Brown) have dried up over the past 30 to 40 years as the water table has dropped.

 

Conflicting dates have been estimated for its last eruption, of 4,300 years ago,of 28,000 years ago, and most recently, a little before 6,000 years ago. If the youngest date is correct, this could be the most recent volcanic eruption on the Australian mainland.

 

Blue Lake is thought to be of an average depth of 72 m (236 ft), but in places reaches 75 m (246 ft) deep (but some unconfirmed values mention a 204 m (669 ft) maximum depth due to a natural cave section). The crater rim measures 1,200 by 824 m (3,937 by 2,703 ft), but the lake itself measures 1,087 by 657 m (3,566 by 2,156 ft). The surface of the lake is 17 m (56 ft) below the level of the main street of the nearby town. The Blue Lake supplies the town with drinking water.

 

During December to March, the lake turns to a vibrant cobalt blue colour, returning to a colder steel grey colour for April to November. The exact cause of this phenomenon is still a matter of conjecture, but likely it involves the warming of the surface layers of the lake during the summer to around 20 °C (68 °F), causing calcium carbonate to precipitate out of the solution and enabling microcrystallites of calcium carbonate to form. This results in scatter of the blue wavelengths of sunlight. During winter, the lake becomes well mixed, and recent research indicates that during this phase of the colour cycle, the lake is somewhat murkier due to the redistribution of tannins and calcium carbonate particles throughout the lake. Solar elevation has also been found to influence the perceived colour of the lake. The movement of planktonic life forms within the lake during the seasons and during the day may additionally play a part in the colour change.

“Again, that expression, le point vierge… At the centre of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God, which is never at our disposal… It is like a pure diamond, blazing with the invisible light of heaven. It is in everybody, and if we could see it we would see these billions of points of light coming together in the face and blaze of a sun that would make all the darkness and cruelty of life vanish completely… I have no program for this seeing. It is only given. But the gate of heaven is everywhere.”

-Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander (NY: Doubleday, 1968), 158

 

St Mary Magdalene Church is an Anglican parish church of medieval origin in Gedney, Lincolnshire. Renowned for its large size in the surrounding low-lying landscape, it is commonly known as the Cathedral of the Fens. It is a Grade I listed building.

 

The church is dedicated to St Mary Magdalene. Originating in the 13th century, additions and alterations were carried on into the 17th. It was considerably restored in 1890 however the spire to the tower was unfinished and left as a stump. The tower, 86 feet to its parapet, has Early English lower stages and Perpendicular upper. The nave arcades and the chancel are of Decorated style. During the rebuilding of the south aisle in 1890 a brass of a female (ca. 1390), with a puppy at her feet, was discovered. Also in the south aisle is a damaged 13th century effigy of a cross-legged knight, conjectured to represent Falco D'Oyry, and Jacobean alabaster monuments of Adlard Welby, his wife Cassandra and their five children, erected in 1605. The south porch has an upper chamber.At the east end of the north aisle are the remains of a 14th-century Jesse window.

Nightcliff is a northern suburb of the city of Darwin, Northern Territory, Australia, and is set on the shores of Darwin Harbour (named after Charles Darwin).

Although the origin of the name Nightcliff has always been surrounded by conjecture and controversy, the naming can be tracked back to 8 September 1839 (the time of discovery of Port Darwin/Darwin Harbour by European explorers). Early that day, HMS Beagle, which was engaged on an excursion of the Australian coast, sailed into the area and anchored in Shoal Bay near Hope Inlet. John Lort Stokes, William Forsyth and several other crew members left Beagle on a longboat for an excursion and passed around Lee Point, in the vicinity of which, there appeared to be a major opening. Stokes was later to record.

"The sea breeze setting in early, we did not reach it till after dark, when we landed for observations at a cliffy projection near the eastern entrance point: this we found to be composed of a kind of clay, mixed with calcareous matter. We had some difficulty in landing, and then in scrambling up the cliffs by the light of a lantern. If any of the watchful natives happened at the time to be on the look out, they must have stood in astonishment at beholding such strange persons, who at such a time of night, with no ostensible object were visiting their shores".

The term 'Night Cliff' was thus applied to the locality, and it subsequently appeared in this form on Surveyor-General George W. Goyder's original plan of 1869. Goyder also mentioned the locality a couple of times in the diary he kept as leader of the Northern Territory Survey Expedition.

The Nightcliff foreshore was the site of Royal Australian Air Force camps with spotlights and large guns used to defend Darwin from Japanese aircraft bombing during the Second World War. During 1941, a naval outpost including a large concrete artillery outpost bunker was established on the headland. Various other defence facilities were constructed inland as large numbers of military personnel moved into the area. The 2/14 Field Regiment A.I.F. (Australian Infantry Force) was given the task of planning and constructing a hutted camp which became known as "Night Cliff's Camp". After the war, increasing pressure for suburban development caused the Nomenclature Committee of the N.T. to officially name the area on 29 October 1948. The conjoint version of the name, "Nightcliff" was adopted.

Today, a long footpath along the foreshore of Nightcliff is used for walking and cycling, particularly in the evenings after work. Along the footpath there is Nightcliff Jetty, Nightcliff Beach and Nightcliff Swimming Pool.

 

I hope you're not getting tired of Bluebirds on my stream, but it was cool yesterday to watch this female hop from one Cypress knee to another! If you're in an area that lacks Cypress trees, you may be unfamiliar with Cypress knees...they grow upward from Cypress roots and grow from a foot tall or less to some rare, extreme examples reaching ten feet tall! The shorter ones are easy to trip over, in my experience! LOL Decades ago, they were popular as the base for a table lamp...my aunt and uncle had one! Cutting them off doesn't harm the tree...

 

They are common wherever a Cypress tree grows near water and the true purpose of these intriguing formations has been a subject of conjecture for at least two hundred years...botanists have offered various hypotheses, including aeration of the root system, vegetative reproduction, mechanical support, nutrient accumulation, and carbohydrate storage...aeration of the root system seems to be the most accepted possibility, but no one knows for certain! This Bluebird just knows they're good to hop on!

There’s a window of peacefulness at Smuggler’s Cove, it seems. Earlier in the day there were lots of young families with all the chatter that entails (not annoying, just noisy), as well as lots of dog owners letting the beasts run wild* (just as noisy, much more annoying). But for now everything is peaceful.

 

I love the varied colours in the shallows — the sea here runs from pale green to deep blue.

 

The origin of the name Smuggler Cove is subject to much speculation. One theory holds that the bay was used by one Larry "Pig Iron" Kelly to pick up Chinese labourers to be smuggled into the United States after the building of the Canadian Pacific Railway. Another story is that the concealed cove was used as a transhipment location for the smuggling of bootleg liquor, produced on neighbouring Texada Island, into the US during the prohibition era. Given the cove's proximity to Secret Cove, one can conjecture at some connection.

 

This is a High Dynamic Range panorama stitched from 27 bracketed images with PTGUI Pro, tone-mapped with Photomatix, then touched up in Aperture.

 

Original size: 12652 × 3909 (49.5 MP; 222.53 MB).

 

Location: Smuggler Cover Provincial Park, British Columbia, Canada

  

*Any dog who leaves paw prints on my chest isn’t "under control" — and in any case I would expect the owners to heed the "pets must be on leash" signs.

The 1st century Roman temple at Garni, east of Yerevan and arguably the easternmost major archaeological site of the Roman Empire. It seems that a local Armenian king - Tridates - visited Rome at the time of Nero, saw all the wonderful buildings before they burned down, and thought, I want one of those. So when he got home he built one, this one. It is a matter of conjecture whether it was a proper temple, dedicated to a pagan god, or just a vanity project, like a personal family mausoleum. A massive earthquake brought it tumbling down in 1679 and the Soviets reconstructed it in the 1970s. It is a magnificent sight. (Photo Andrea Turner)

"The 2006 reinstallation in the Museum’s Visitors Pavilion adheres to the guidelines of the International Congress of Architects and Technicians of Historic Monuments in the Venice Charter for the Conservation and Restoration of Monuments and Sites: “the aim is to preserve and reveal the aesthetic and historic value – based on respect for original material and authentic documents. It must stop at the point where conjecture begins ... any extra work which is indispensable must be distinct from the architectural composition and must bear a contemporary stamp.” Hence, the structure that envelops the 18th-century artifact, along with the auditorium seating and ambient lighting, are all distinctly of the 21st century."

 

As background, you need to know that we had these decorated, decorative eggs. One of LG's sisters gave them to her a long time ago. We were never particularly attached to them, but they looked pretty in a bowl on our shelf for years. They were featherlight, and I always thought they were real eggshells that had been painted (albeit in a mass-production kinda way, not a hand-painted specialty item kinda way), and thus had always treated them with great care.

 

There were seven eggs, but pretend you don't know that yet. I did not remember it until later in my story; or perhaps I never knew it at all. Actually there could have been more than seven, but enough about that for now.

 

One day a few weeks ago we had some friends over for brunch. Two couples, each with a young kid. One of the kids was old enough to discover the eggs on our shelf and be interested in them, and the other was young enough that she had great fun playing hide-the-eggs with her very patient mom. The eggs got some rough-ish treatment from both kids, but we didn't care. (Ref. "never particularly attached".) In fact, the eggs came through it all completely unscathed, which got me to wondering about what they were really made of. But they were so light, they HAD to be delicate, real eggs, didn't they?

 

The boy (the older of the kids) had enjoyed the eggs so much (throwing them around, rolling them down the stairs, etc.) that when it was time for him to go home we offered them to him as a present. He was very thankful, and we packaged up all six[sic] of them in a ziploc bag.

 

The next day when I put on my shoes to go to work, there was an egg in one of them.

 

Will there be an eighth? Time will tell. None has surfaced yet.

 

Our friends live far enough across town, and we see them infrequently enough, that it didn't make sense to find a way to get this egg to them, and besides I was curious about their construction, so I proposed that we dissect it instead, and LG readily agreed. I struck up an email conversation with my dad about it. He lives far away, and we love conjecturing on life's little mysteries by email. We speculated for days while I procrastinated on actually cutting into the egg.

 

Through non-destructive observation of the egg I made several more discoveries, probably NOT remembered here in chronological order: 1) The egg was ever so slightly pliable; I could compress it slightly on the side, and it would spring back into shape. 2) And yet the egg seemed very firm, although I never really pressed quite THAT hard on it, because I did not want to dent the egg before its eventual dissection. 3) There was just a hint of an apparent seam around the middle of the egg. 4) The bottom of the egg (i.e. the fat end) had a little "nipple" like the bit of plastic you see on injection-molded plastic things.

 

As I made each new discovery, my dad and I had more enjoyable email conversation about what it must mean regarding the true composition and manufacture of the egg. He was at a disadvantage since not only did he not have the egg, but I didn't even get around to sending him any photos of it, so he only had my descriptions.

 

Finally today, with LG at hand, I dissected the egg.

 

But I will save that story for later.

 

Shirley 4 Seater (Mk,II) (1960-c.63) Engine 1172 Ford S4

Registration Number CSJ 793 (Dumfriesshire)

 

Shirley Sportscars of Monkspath Garage Ltd., Stratford Road, Shirley, Warwks, came about via the Kenmar, which was originally designed by Ken Mugleton. Weyjer je actually marketed any of the cars is a matter of conjecture, but by 1958 Monkspath Garage became the sole distribuitor of the Kenmar shell. Available as a kit to fit a Ford chassis it was available as a 2 or 4 seater, originally priced at £ 89 for the six piece shell - bonnet, scuttle, two doors, tail section and the boot lid., a fold flat windscreen was available as a £ 11-10s (£11-50) option. the four seater was made by cutting out the section behind the front seats stopping at the rear bulkhead, though it was also avail;able ex-works. Other options included a Hardtop (£35) but only for the four seater, a Ford boxed chassis (£26) and a 12 gallon fuel tank (2-5s)

 

From January 1959 the shell was now being called "The Shirley" and from January 1960 the Shirley Mk2 with a re-designed front was available.

 

Monkspath Garage went on to become stockist of a wide range of specialist bodies, including Falcon, Rochdale and Hamblin. Also Ford Ten and Austin Seven speed equipment by Speedex, Aquaplane, LMB and Super Accessories

 

Diolch am 76,752,189 o olygfeydd anhygoel, mae pob un yn cael ei werthfawrogi'n fawr.

 

Thanks for 76,752,189 amazing views, every one is greatly appreciated.

 

Shot 08..09.2019 at Atherstone Classic Car Show, Atherstone, Warwks 143-764

      

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.

 

Returned from her Friday to Monday down at Dickie and Margot’s Cornwall country house, ‘Chi an Treth’, and all the excitement that ensued there, Lettice has settled back into her usual London routine of shopping, receiving and visiting friends and seeing potential clients. It’s a Wednesday, and an unusually quiet one, so Lettice is taking advantage of the gap between engagements and has just sat down in her comfortable white upholstered tub chair to continue reading her latest Georgette Heyer* romance novel when the doorbell to the flat rings noisily, shattering the relative quiet of the flat’s interior.

 

“I’m not expecting any clients,” she muses as she listens as Edith, her maid, walks across the entrance hall to answer the door. “I wonder who it can be.”

 

A few moments later the mystery is revealed when Edith walks in proudly announcing, “Miss Bowes-Lyon**, Miss.”

 

“Elizabeth, darling!” Lettice gasps in delight, casting her book aside. Standing up she embraces her friend who is dressed in a romantic pale pink chiffon moiré dress with a fashionable drop waist and draped in a thick fox fur stole. Elizabeth’s light scent of lily of the valley envelops her. “I didn’t know you were up at Bruton Street***. Please.” She indicates to the tub chair opposite her, which Elizabeth sinks into with a sigh as she places aside her matching pink parasol, and allows the fox fur to slink from her shoulders, snaking across the back of the chair.

 

“I’m up from Scotland just for a few days to have a fitting for Her Royal Highness’**** wedding and run a few errands before going back.”

 

“Oh of course!” Lettice gasps. “The wedding! I’d forgotten you were a bridesmaid.”

 

“Has Gerald finished your outfit for the ceremony yet?” Elizabeth asks as she withdraws a hatpin from her straw cloche decorated with silk roses and feathers and deposits the hat on the stool beside her.

 

“I do wish you’d let Edith take those, Elizabeth darling.” Lettice indicates to the parasol and hat.

 

“Oh I can’t stay for too long.” Eliabeth assures her hostess. “The fitting awaits.” She smiles sweetly, giving a brief view of her slightly crooked teeth.

 

“Well I hope you can stay long enough for a cup of tea,” replies Lettice. “And a biscuit or two. Yes, Gerald’s almost finished my gown. It’s oyster coloured satin, and very plain, with a drop waist and pearl buttons down the back. In fact, the only real decoration it will have will be the lace collar.”

 

“Sounds wonderful.” acknowledges Elizabeth. “When I get married, I only want a simple wedding dress. I saw the photos of Margot’s wedding dress in Vogue. Gerald must have clients pounding at his door now.”

 

“Yes,” Lettice remarks. “I said it would be the making of him, and so far, I’ve been proven correct. I’m so happy for him. Goodness knows he could do with some luck after all the hard work he has put in to setting up his business. Now, thinking of frock fittings and weddings, how does Her Royal Highness’ gown look.”

 

Elizabeth taps her nose in a knowing way, replying, “I’m sorry darling, but I’m not allowed to say.” She smiles apologetically.

 

“Oh! Of course! How foolish of me! I was forgetting that it’s a secret. Yours too, I should imagine?” Elizabeth nods discreetly. “Never mind. I’ll be happy enough to be surprised on the big day.”

 

“Have you settled on a hat yet?”

 

“Ahh, now there I really am in a quandary.” Lettice remarks.

 

Edith appears and walks across the threshold of the drawing room from the flat’s dining room carrying Lettice’s silvery tray from Asprey’s****** on which sits her Art Deco tea service with cups for two and a small plate of rather delicious looking biscuits. She carefully places the items on the black japanned coffee table between the two friends before dropping a bob curtsey and retreating through the green baize door on the far side of the dining room.

 

“Quandary?” Elizabeth asks. “I thought you were getting Madame Gwendolyn to make you a hat.”

 

“Yes. I mean, I know Madame Gwendolyn has made me some wonderful hats in the past.” She pauses.

 

“I sense a but,”

 

“But I wasn’t happy with what she made me for Royal Ascot*******. I think it looked dowdy and old fashioned.”

 

“Oh, I thought it looked lovely.”

 

“Thank you, Elizabeth darling, bless you.” She reaches out a hand and squeezes Elizabeth’s elegant, yet rather cold hand. “But ‘The Times’ agrees with me in their critique of the fashions last year, and it wasn’t exactly the roaring success I’d hoped for, or paid for, for that matter.” Lettice takes up the pot and pours hot tea into Elizabeth’s cup, passing it to her friend, before filling her own. “So, I’m going to see Gwendolyn next week, but I must confess I’ve seen hats I’d prefer to wear in Selfridges’ windows along the way.”

 

“Selfridges? You can’t be serious Lettice!” Elizabeth puts a hand to her throat and clasps the collar length string of pearls she wears. “Wear a shop girl’s hat to a royal wedding?”

 

“Well why not? No-one would know, except perhaps you and I. Besides, not all of Mr. Selfridges hats are shop girl material. He has some beautiful models, directly from Paris, and exclusive to his store. They are a fraction of the price, and are every bit as fashionable and well made as anything Madame Gwendolyn can produce.”

 

“It sounds to me like you’ve already made up your mind, Lettice.” Elizabeth picks up a pink macaron off the plate and pops it delicately into her little round mouth, her eyes closing with delight as it starts melting on her tongue.

 

“Divine aren’t they?” Lettice asks. “My last client, Miss Ward put me onto the most fabulous little baker in Pilmico.”

 

“She’s the moving picture star, isn’t she?”

 

“Yes. Anyway, I haven’t dismissed Madame Gewndolyn – yet. However, I have misgivings.”

 

“Well, I have misgivings too.” Elizabeth adds, her eyelashes trembling with a sudden concern as fear clouds her beautiful blue eyes. “I actually came to see you yesterday, but Edith told me you were still away.”

 

“Oh yes, I’d gone down with Gerald to stay at Dickie and Margot’s new house in Cornwall.” She pauses and ponders for a moment. “But you didn’t leave a calling card, and Edith didn’t tell me you’d called.”

 

“Oh, don’t be cross with her. I asked her not to say anything as I was still in town for a few days and knew I’d catch you between engagements. So, what’s the house like? You’re going to decorate a few of the rooms, aren’t you?”

 

“It’s quite lovely – larger than either Gerald or I expected – about ten bedrooms, and yes I am, but pooh to all of that right now. What misgivings? You can’t be having misgivings about being the Princess’ bridesmaid now, surely? Not after all the fittings and rehearsals and such.”

 

“Oh no, it isn’t that. No, I’m very happy to be her bridesmaid. No, it’s Bertie******** who concerns me.”

 

“Oh!” Lettice picks up a chocolate macaron from the plate and pops it onto her saucer where it nestles against the rounded bottom of the cup. “Of course he’ll be there.”

 

“He seems undaunted by my last refusal. Queen Mary visited Mummy just before Christmas.”

 

“Did she take any of the Glamis china collection*********?”

 

“Thankfully no, but Mummy told me that the Queen is quite convinced that I’m the only woman who will make Bertie happy, and that he’s refusing to consider any other marriage proposals.”

 

“And you think he may propose again?”

 

“Well, it is his sister’s wedding after all.”

 

“But surely he knows that you’re actively being courted by his equerry! What’s his name?”

 

“James. James Stewart.”

 

“That’s it! Well, surely His Royal Highness must know you’ve been seen with James.”

 

Elizabeth sighs, her elegantly plucked eyebrows arching high. “Apparently he thinks he can win me over.”

 

“More likely wear you down.” Lettice remarks disparagingly, taking a slip of her own tea.

 

“They equate to much the same thing.”

 

“Well?”

 

“Well what, Lettice darling?”

 

“Well, do you love him? His Royal Highness that is,” she clarifies. “Not James.”

 

“Oh, I do like him!” Elizabeth sighs, lowering her teacup into her lap, her shoulders rising and then slumping again as she looks away shyly, a blush filling her creamy cheeks. “He’s dashing, and sweet. I don’t even mind his stutter, which I find quite endearing.”

 

“Now it’s my turn to sense a but, Elizabeth. Come on! Spit it out.”

 

“Well, you know my misgivings about public life. I have my own definite thoughts and ideas. To never be allowed to express them again, to not be able to think or speak freely or act as I feel I really ought to,” Elizabeth sighs again. “Well, its intolerable really.”

 

“Yes, I can understand that. I think Mamma would be happier if I didn’t express my opinions or ideas, never mind act as I see fit. You are coming to the Hunt Ball, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes of course, Lettice darling. I’ll even dance with Jonty Hastings to save your feet from too much butchery.”

 

“Thank you. Well, the Prince isn’t really a significant royal. I mean he’s only the Duke of York, not the Prince of Wales, so he’ll never be the King.”

 

“King George was once the Duke of York, Lettice.”

 

“Times were different then, Elizabeth. Once the Prince of Wales settles down,”

 

“If he ever settles down. He shows no signs of it, Lettice, cavorting with other men’s wives. He’s shameless the way he flouts them.”

 

“Yes, I’ve seen him with Mrs. Dudley Ward********** at the Embassy Club on more than a few occasions at His Highness’ table. Well, he’ll have to settle down, eventually. And once he does, and has children, why you and the Prince would be even further from the line of succession.”

 

“Oh I don’t know.” Elizabeth toys with the pearl clip earring at her right lobe anxiously.

 

“Anyway, if you’re sweet on James, why are you even considering the Prince?”

 

“James is talking about going to America. He’s being wooed by an oil company over there, who pays more than the Royal Household does. Could you really see me living in America?” She scrunches up her nose. “I’d stay in Scotland forever with all my cousins and never leave if I could.”

 

“No, I couldn’t. Canada perhaps, but not America. They’re so… so…”

 

“American?” Elizabeth proffers.

 

“American!” agrees Lettice with a chuckle. “Well, it’s up to you. Just because he’s the Prince, doesn’t mean you have to say yes, Elizabeth. If you have misgivings, just refuse him.” She pauses for a moment and sips her tea again before continuing, “Although refusing a marriage proposal from a prince, however minor, isn’t quite as flippant as refusing a hat from Madame Gwendolyn.”

 

“Oh I don’t know,” Elizabeth chuckles, picking up another macaron. “Madame Gwendolyn can be quite fierce from what I know of her, not to mention she’s Lady Sadie’s milliner too. Refusing Madame would be tantamount to committing mutiny, wouldn’t it?”

 

*Georgette Heyer was an English novelist and short-story writer, in both the regency romance and detective fiction genres. Her writing career began in 1921, when she turned a story for her younger brother into the novel, ‘The Black Moth’.

 

**Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon as she was known in 1922 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"

 

***Number 17. Bruton Street was the London residence of the Earl of Strathmore and Kingholme (Elizabeth’s father), and was where she resided when in the capital prior to her marriage.

 

*****Mary, Princess Royal and Countess of Harewood (1897 – 1965), was the only daughter of King George V and Queen Mary. She was the sister of Kings Edward VIII and George VI, and aunt of Queen Elizabeth II. She married Viscount Lascelles on the 28th of February 1922 in a ceremony held at Westminster Abbey. The bride was only 24 years old, whilst the groom was 39. There is much conjecture that the marriage was an unhappy one, but their children dispute this and say it was a very happy marriage based upon mutual respect. The wedding was filmed by Pathé News and was the first royal wedding to be featured in fashion magazines, including Vogue.

 

******Founded in 1781 as a silk printing business by William Asprey, Asprey soon became a luxury emporium. In 1847 the business moved to their present premises at 167 Bond Street, where they advertised 'articles of exclusive design and high quality, whether for personal adornment or personal accompaniment and to endow with richness and beauty the table and homes of people of refinement and discernment’. In 1862 Asprey received a Royal Warrant from Queen Victoria. They received a second Royal Warrant from the Future Edward VII in 1889. Asprey has a tradition of producing jewellery inspired by the blooms found in English gardens and Woodland Flora. Over the decades jewelled interpretations of flowers have evolved to include Daisy, Woodland and sunflower collections. They have their own special cut of diamond and produce leather goods, silver and gold pieces, trophies and leatherbound books, both old and new. They also produce accessories for playing polo. In 1997, Asprey produced the Heart of the Ocean necklace worn in the motion picture blockbuster, ‘Titanic’.

 

*******Royal Ascot Week is the major social calendar event held in June every year at Ascot Racecourse in Berkshire. It was founded in 1711 by Queen Anne and is attended every year by the reigning British monarch and members of the Royal Family. The event is grand and showy, with men in grey morning dress and silk toppers and ladies in their best summer frocks and most elaborate hats.

 

********Prince Albert, Duke of York, known by the diminutive “Bertie” to the family and close friends, was the second son of George V. Not only did Bertie propose to Elizabeth in 1921, but also in March 1922 after she was a bridesmaid at the wedding of Albert’s sister, Princess Mary to Viscount Lascelles. Elizabeth refused him a second time, yet undaunted Bertie pursued the girl who had stolen his heart. Finally, in January 1923 she agreed to marry him in spite of her misgivings about royal life.

 

*********Queen Mary, wife of King George V was an avid collector of bibelots (small decorative ornaments) and decorative arts. She was also responsible for being the first member of the Royal Family to ever do an inventory of the Royal Collections, finding many items had been “borrowed” by the great families of England over the centuries to decorate their own homes. During her husband’s reign, she recovered a vast majority of these pilfered items, returning them to the Royal Collections. For this reason, she was feared when she came to visit, along with her voracious acquisition of other people’s bibelots. She was known to remark on something pretty and then expect that it would be gifted to her as the wife of the sovereign.

 

**********Winifred May, Marquesa de Casa Maury (née Birkin) (1894 – 1983), universally known by her first married name as Freda Dudley Ward, was an English socialite best known for being a married paramour of the Prince of Wales, who later became King Edward VIII, between 1918 and 1929. Known by him by the diminutive “Freddie”, she was supplanted in the Prince’s affections by Lady Thelma Furness, who in turn was supplanted by Mrs. Simpson.

 

This 1920s upper-class drawing room is different to what you may think at first glance, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures including items from my own childhood.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The cream straw cloche hat sitting on the Chippendale stool is decorated with pink roses has single stands of ostrich feathers adorning it. The latter have been hand curled. The maker for this hat is unknown, but it is part of a larger collection I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel. 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable.

 

The furled umbrella is a 1:12 artisan piece made of pink satin and lace with a tiny pink bow. It has a hooked metal handle.

 

You can just see draped across the chair on the right, Elizabeth’s fox fur stole. It is, in actuality, a mink tail attached to one of my vintage fur tippets. It is just the right size to be a thick fur stole that could have been worn by the future Queen Elizabeth, who loved furs.

 

Lettice’s tea set is a beautiful artisan set featuring a rather avant-garde Art Deco Royal Doulton design from the Edwardian era. The strawberry and chocolate macarons are also artisan miniatures from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. He has a dizzying array of realistic looking food and meals which is always growing, and all are made entirely or put together by hand. The green tinted glass comport on the coffee table , spun from real glass, is also from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.

 

The black Bakelite and silver telephone is a 1:12 miniature of a model introduced around 1919. It is two centimetres wide and two centimetres high. The receiver can be removed from the cradle, and the curling chord does stretch out.

 

In front of the telephone sit two paperback novels from the late 1910s created by miniature British artisan, Ken Blythe. 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. 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 these books miniature artisan pieces. 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, as well as through his estate via his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.

 

The Vogue magazine from 1922 sitting on the lower tray of the black japanned occasional table was made by hand by Petite Gite Miniatures in the United States.

 

The vase of yellow lilies and roses on the Art Deco occasional table is beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium, whilst the taller vase of flowers to the right of the photo was made by Falcon Miniatures, who are renown for the realism and detail in their miniatures.

 

Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The black japanned wooden chair is a Chippendale design and has been upholstered with modern and stylish Art Deco fabric. The mirror backed back japanned china cabinet is Chippendale too. On its glass shelves sit pieces of miniature Limoges porcelain including jugs, teacups and saucers, many of which I have had since I was a child.

 

To the left of the Chippendale chair stands a blanc de chine Chinese porcelain vase, and next to it, a Chinese screen. The Chinese folding screen I bought at an antiques and junk market when I was about ten. I was with my grandparents and a friend of the family and their three children, who were around my age. They all bought toys to bring home and play with, and I bought a Chinese folding screen to add to my miniatures collection in my curio cabinet at home! It shows you what a unique child I was.

 

The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug. The geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.

The Church is dedicated to St. Peter and consists of a tower of four stages, surmounted by a peculiar little spire, a Nave with North and South Aisles and a South Porch; and a Chancel with a North Aisle or Chapel.

 

From a close examination of the fabric it would appear that the Church passed through the following main changes.

 

The first Norman Church was built about 1150 and would have a tower of three stages (lower than the existing tower) an aisleless nave and a small Chancel, probably apsidal (i.e. semi-circular at the East end).

 

Barnburgh would be one of very few places in this district where the original church had a tower, the usual Norman construction was without a tower.

 

The first enlargement was some fifty years later in the Transitional Norman period, when a North Aisle was added to the Nave. It is invariably found that the first enlargements to our churches were made on the North side. This was done because there would be fewer graves to disturb, it being remembered that the people of those days, steeped as they were in superstition, avoided being buried on the North side where the shadow of the church would fall upon them.

 

The Chancel built by the Normans would, no doubt, as I have said, be small and as the ritual of the church became more elaborate the need for extension would arise. Furthermore there were two great families in the district at that time (the Cresacres and the Bella Aqua's or Bellews) and instead of founding monasteries as in earlier times, the idea had sprung up among many of these great families to institute Chantries. These usually took the form of little chapels inside the church but screened off, where a priest was maintained to pray for the soul of the founder and his family. Chantry certificates show that two chantries were founded in Barnburgh Church, of which more later.

 

All appearances therefore suggest that about 1330 the church underwent what was almost a rebuilding, and practically only the bottom two stages of the tower remained of the original church. These alterations would include the addition of the South Aisle and Porch, enlargement of the North Aisle, and the rebuilding of the Chancel with the addition of the North Chapel, and also the top two stages of the tower with the little spire. With the raising of the tower the corner buttresses would be built.

 

At this period there was a famous church architect, Henry de Eynsham, living at Bolton-upon-Dearne and it is probably he who planned the rebuilding. The greater part of the cost would no doubt be borne by the two ruling families of the neighbourhood, and the arms of the Cresacres were placed on the South side and those of the Bella Aqua's on the East side of the tower at the rebuilding.

 

As the church was then, it would be rather dark in the Nave somewhat similar to what Hickleton is to this day and so it was that about 1410 the earlier 'Decorated' style windows of the Aisles, with one exception, were replaced by the larger ones of the "perpendicular" style, the roof and walls of the Nave were made higher, and the clerestory windows inserted to give extra light. The original pitch of the roof can still be seen low down in the East wall of the tower.

 

From that date there has been little alteration to the appearance of the church. There have, of course, been restorations, for instance in 1859 part of the top storey of the tower was taken down and rebuilt, and it will also be noted that the windows of the Chancel, including the great East window, are modern, but are no doubt careful reproductions of the originals. This work would probably be done during the restoration of 1869, the cost of which was borne by John Hartop.

 

Whilst looking round the exterior of the church you will notice other features; the Priest's Door in the South of the Chancel, which is of the 'Decorated period', and on the North side, two blocked up doorways. The one which gave entrance to the North Chapel is of the Perpendicular period and no doubt, was constructed during the last alterations to the Church. This entrance would be used solely by the Cresacre family and their Chantry Priest. The other built-up door near the tower was the "Devil's Door" and would be disused after the Reformation. When in existence it would be opened during baptisms and similar ceremonies, to let the Devil out.

 

And so we come back to the Porch, which is of 'Decorated' style, with a ribbed and slabbed room. Notice on the spring of the innermost arch on the right hand side, the Mason's mark chiselled in stone : This was his signature to his work.

 

Notice also the stone benches on either side which remind us of the days when the Church Porch was a very important place, used for many purposes. Here it was that official notices were published (and indeed still are), here that the Coroner held his court, and here that people found guilty of breaking the religious laws had to do penance. Porches were used for many other purposes such as the sale of merchandise, the arranging of fairs, the ratifying of bargains and deals, and sometimes a plough was kept there for Plough Monday which was the Monday after Epiphany when ploughing and rustic toil was restarted.

 

On entering the church we first notice the font which appears to be of the Transitional Norman period, dating to the latter half of the twelfth century, and as such is most probably the original font.

 

At the other side of the main entrance is the South Chapel, which, at the Reformation was bereft of its altar, but the mutilated piscina still remains to remind us of its original use for rinsing the sacred vessels at Mass in the days when this was the private Chantry Chapel of the Bella Aqua family.

 

Returning to the tower we quickly see the indications of the first church in the lower two storeys of the tower which are of a fine type of masonry of the late Norman era, and there is a good example of a deeply splayed Norman window, now blocked up, probably to give added strength when the tower was raised.

 

The Tower Arch and Chancel Arch are unmistakably the result of the great rebuilding in about 1330 and are of this period.

 

Looking down the church from under the tower there are a number of features which catch the eye. The fine roofs of the Nave and of the Chancel should be noticed, and although there do not seem to be any marks which give any guide to dates, I have no doubt that this was the roof installed in the fifteenth century when the walls of the Nave were made higher. The massive tie beams each with a different carved boss show unmistakable signs of great age.

 

Some years ago it was found that some of the ends were rotting and a kind of wall plate was inserted on the South wall and stone corbels were placed here and there without any attempt at uniformity. A piece of one of the tie beams was taken out and may now be seen in a corner of the Chancel doing duty as a table. An examination of this shows the finely moulded carving of which the earlier woodworkers were capable.

 

A puzzling feature to be noticed from the tower arch is the clerestory which is of perpendicular style and was made in 1410 (or thereabouts) when the roof was lifted. Although the clerestory windows on both sides were inserted at the same time it will be seen that those on the South are two light windows and those on the North three light.

 

Why was this unusual procedure adopted? Could it be that the two wealthy families who then owned Barnburgh and who would most likely bear most of the expense of the alterations, differed as to the style and finally decided each to have its own way on its own side. It will also be noticed (but more distinctly from the Chancel) that when the clerestory windows were put in they used as lintels, tomb slabs, probably taken from the church floor. This ruthless despoiling of graves can be seen in a number of churches. It has been suggested that they were brought here from the demolished St. Helen's chapel, but I cannot agree with this as it is more than likely that St. Helen's was still in use when the clerestory of St. Peter's was built.

 

The next thing which draws our attention from under the Tower Arch is the beautiful screenwork for which Barnburgh church is noted, for though it as been damaged much of it remains as it was in pre-Reformation days. In most churches such woodwork as this was utterly destroyed during the Reformation and we at Barnburgh should feel thankful that we have some that escaped this wanton destruction. The entire screenwork of the South Chapel remains and also that at the North end of the Cresacre Chapel, with its original door still doing service.

 

The woodwork under the Chancel Arch which now forms a screen about four feet high is all that remains of the rood screen. Try to visualise this screen as it was before it was destroyed about four hundred years ago. It would almost entirely fill the arch and high up in the screen would be the Rood Loft or gallery from which certain parts of the services would be conducted. On this Rood Loft would be the great crucifix and a number of beautifully coloured statues. The rood screen in most churches was a thing of beauty and it is little wonder that special windows were inserted and existing ones enlarged to throw more light on the screen.

 

Fairly high in the walls on both sides of the Chancel Arch (which, by the way, is much wider than is usual in a church such as Barnburgh) can be traced signs of stones having been cut away in order to provide support for the floor beams of the rood loft. At Barnburgh the ascent to the loft was by wooden ladder, but often a stone stairway was hollowed out in the stone pillar. A close examination of the fragment of the rood screen left to us will give some indication of its antiquity and original beauty.

 

And now let us commence a tour of the church. In the North Wall of the North Aisle will be found a diamond shaped hole cut out in one of the stones. It is a few inches across and has a recess of about the same depth. Four holes filled with lead show that a small iron or wooden door covered the recess at one time. This hole or recess has been the subject of much conjecture, and popular rumour has it that it is a "Lepers Squint." I do not agree with this, as if it had been intended as such it would have been placed in such a position that the lepers (who were not allowed in church) might see the high altar. I am more inclined to the opinion that it was made as a reliquary (a place for relics).

 

The family of Cresacres is reputed to have had more than one member taking part in the Crusades and it was a common custom when a knight died in the Holy Land to bring back his heart which was then blessed and placed in a box, or hole similar to that at Barnburgh, to be preserved for all time. Often valuable articles of gold or precious stones were placed with them. At the Reformation, however, these reliquaries were completely destroyed and their contents scattered.

 

The next item is the shaft of what was a cross near the first pillar of the North Aisle. This would be the original praying or preaching cross around which the people of Barnburgh would gather before they had a church. It is of Saxon origin and is older than anything else about the church in which it now stands. It was found last century, buried in the churchyard, in two pieces, one piece it is said was actually under the foundations of the church. Fortunately it was brought and re-erected in its present position some years ago by the Rev. W. R. Hartley. It lacks arms and is much decayed but it can be seen that it must have been a piece of fine workmanship for its day. The carvings show the figure of a priest with a kind of interlacing work acting as a support for the body. A very careful examination will also show pilasters with voluted capitals, and it is this that helps us to arrive at the period of its construction, which would be about a 1,000 years ago. This cross is one of few of its kind remaining in the country and is mentioned in every book I have seen on such subjects.

 

The bases of the pillars of the North Aisle should next be noticed. They are of late (or Transitional) Norman style and are remnants of the first enlargement which took place to the original church, about 1200. The Transitional Norman arches would be taken down and replaced, and the bases of the pillars lifted when the clerestory was built.

 

And now we come to the Cresacre Chapel which is of course the great attraction to many visitors to Barnburgh church. There is enough here to interest us for half a day if we examine carefully all it contains. The first thing to attract us is the Cresacre Tomb with the "Cat and Man" effigy which is the centre of one of the most remarkable legends in the land. The tomb and the legend I have dealt with fully earlier in this volume, but there is one thing to which I would draw attention. It will be noted that the two arches between the Chapel and the Chancel are modern (though to be sure they do blend well with the remainder of the church), and these replaced a single arch under which the Cresacre tomb originally stood. These alterations were probably carried out early last century, for the organ, which stands almost under one of the arches was put there in 1829, the gift of Henrietta Griffith of Barnburgh. It may be that these arches were inserted at the same time.

 

Of the other items of interest in the chapel I have already mentioned elsewhere the two mural tombstones to the Vincents of Barnburgh Grange, the slab tombstone of Alice Cresacre, wife of Sir Percival, and the brass to the memory of Anna Cresacre, the last of that name.

 

On the wall of the chapel there are three boards which record the charities of the Parish and as they are almost unreadable. Behind one of the boards, the oaken door by which the Cresacres made their entrance can be seen, still hung, the walling up of the doorway having been done on the outside only.

 

The screen which now encloses the East end of the chapel to form a vestry for the clergy, is part of a much older one than the rest of the screen work in the church and may have been part of the screen which stood in the original arch dividing the chapel and the chancel. It is of excellent though rather crude workmanship and of a design peculiar to South Yorkshire.

 

This North Chapel is now almost filled by the Organ, the Cresacre Tomb and the Choir and Priest's Vestries so that it is not easy to try to see it as it was when it functioned as the Cresacre Chapel with its own altar under the East window. However, the piscina remains, although its front edge has been shorn off. It is probable that this Chapel continued as a private place of worship to a much later date than the South Chapel.

 

It is a surprising thing that the North Chapel, which was undoubtedly in the possession of the Cresacre family for several centuries before, was, apparently, not founded as a Chantry Chapel until 1507.

 

In the Chancel there is a seat for about three persons which, though restored, is extremely old and is of the same workmanship as the small screen at the East End of the North Chapel. Indeed the Rev. E. P. Cook suggests it is part of that screen reconstructed to form a seat.

 

In the Chancel also may be noted the piece of a roof beam end (now serving as a small table) which I have mentioned earlier, and a number of brasses and tombstones of interest, all of which I also covered in parts of this little book.

 

Before the Reformation many of the windows of the church would be filled with beautiful stained glass, but unfortunately all was destroyed, with the exception of a few fragments which still remain in the small upper lights of the East window of the South Chapel, during Oliver Cromwell's time when his soldiers even used the churches as stables for their horses.

 

For two or three centuries after that the windows were filled with plain glass, but to-day there are several windows which once again fill the church with many colours. These are :

 

Part of the Great East window, given in memory of the Rector who built the present Rectory and gave us our greens the Rev. T, C. Percival and his wife.

 

In the South wall of the Chancel there is a window given in 1904 to the memory of John Hartop of Barnburgh Hall by his nephews and nieces. He was a great lover and benefactor of Barnburgh Church.

 

The window behind the font was given in the year 1906 to the memory of her sister by Mrs. Mary Hartop, and the window on the other side of the Tower Arch, in the North Aisle, was given in 1914 to the memory of this same Mary Hartop.

 

The latest coloured window to be inserted was that in the East end of the South Chapel which was given in 1946 by Archdeacon Clarke in memory of his wife, nee Christabel Marie Lockwood, formerly headmistress of Becket Road Infant School at Doncaster.

 

Barnburgh Church has a peal of three very fine bells, and although they are of no outstanding historical interest (none of them are pre-Reformation and none have inscriptions apart from being dated) they are of excellent workmanship and have a fine mellow tone. They were cast in the early part of the seventeenth century.

Taken in SL A Land of Eight Places

 

Unlucky Evening

 

Cadence

 

First off, I would like to thank my twin brother for writing this out as a story. A brilliant part of his recent birthday gift to me.

 

It is a written memory-based loosely on a dress-up play game we used to act whilst in our sixth form years. We called it the “Cons game”.

 

Named after Conner, a lad I once met as a naive young teen lass while attending a dress-up dance. Conner attached himself to our group, joining our table, dancing, and acting as a chum. As he took a breather, Conner offered to watch over our things as my cousin Micke and I went back to the dance floor. Well, as our backs were turned, the Git snuck off with Micke’s wallet along, with the expensive gold lamee clutch purse I had “borrowed” from mum. It may have been a wee bit less painful if I had actually asked mum to take it.

 

“Con’s game” borrowed from that unsettling occurrence. Except that it evolved to where it was my jewels that were taken from me using various deceitful devices. Then we introduced the French jewels thief Arsene’ Lupin into the mix and the game grew into even more cunning as elaborated attempts upon tricking me out of my valuables were dreamed up. This by far eclipsing a mere purse snatching by a common rude twit of a thief.

  

Of course, after reading through my brother’s story “ gift “ I knew where he got his inspiration to write it from. I had been showing off the black gown I have purchased to wear at a dance next month(still need to lose a few pounds yet)when he came into the room. I also was wearing my rhinestones, which match the “diamonds” in the story, though the gown in it is pure fantasy.

My brother is picking me up after the affair. So I am expecting he has an ulterior motive and I may have a “price to pay” for the ride home. Lol.

 

So with that, all background said, here is the story he wrote for me. (with maybe some embellishments by, me-giggles)

  

Con’s Game: An Unlucky Evening

 

Cadence had been having a smashing time at the royal ball.

 

It was an upper-class posh affair that requires one to dress appropriately at their very best. No holds barred, sky’s the limit.

 

She had risen to the occasion, in her opinion. Confirmed by the way attention had been coming her way by the various(and varied) tuxedo-clad males that were in attendance. She felt that her look was not very far off the mark set by the other richly attired ladies there.

 

But all the dancing and drinking she had been doing finally took a toll and she found herself rushing down a long corridor leading to a ladies powder room. ( no mere loo’s here ).

 

Fortunately, it was not too crowded, and by the time she had finished, found herself alone there.

 

She took the time before leaving to fix her mascara, apply more apple red lipstick, and admire the overall effect of what she had chosen to wear out that evening.

 

A long midnight black sheath gown of luxurious(and expensively sleek)satin. The gown’s appearance was that it had to have been poured onto her figure, it fit that tightly. Smoothly outlining the subtle bumps and curves of her rather pleasantly youthful figure.

 

Her jewels, all diamonds on silver chains, sparkled and shimmered in the incandescent light above the mirror. The same showy fireworks of sparkles she knew had been displayed while dancing on the ballroom floor. As she had caught herself multiple times silhouetted in one of the long mirrors that lined the dance floor.

 

She decided to wear her long cascading diamond earrings. Loving the glittering effect they made swinging in and out of her long freshly washed reddish hair. To increase the effectiveness of her dazzling earrings, she had not worn any necklace.

One black satin gloved wrist held her decadently wide, diamond cuff bracelet. Cadence also wore one solitary ring, her finest. Cadence wore it on the index finger of her right hand. It was a quite large diamond encrusted cocktail ring that flashed like the powerful beacons of a surfside lighthouse. At the v of her gown, nestled just below her breasts, she had pinned a long, valley fern leaf-shaped, a diamond brooch, the most expensive piece of jewellery Cadence possessed and one that spent most of its time in her father’s bank box.

 

Sighing happily, she finished applying her lipstick, remarking under her breath, into her reflection as she pulled back on her long blush satin gloves…

 

“I must say, you look brilliant this evening Luv!”

 

Smiling with conviction, Cadence then headed back out to the adventures ahead that she knew was awaiting her back at the ballroom

 

She did not have long to wait:

 

For no sooner had she entered the corridor before the door had time to even close, a smooth, gloved hand was placed around her eyes, while another was delicately placed just below her heaving breasts, as Cadence had been duly startled.

 

As she was pulled back against a warm figure, a male voice, with a heavy, heavenly, French accent said…

 

“Allo Sarah you minx, caught you at last.

 

Cadence, a wee bit disappointed, answered back in a teasing tone.

 

“If I was Sarah, that you did, but unfortunately you have hold of the wrong “minx,” my devious capture…”

 

Cadence felt herself swirled around by strong arms, which did not appear to be in sync with the delicate way his hands had been placed along her figure.

 

She found herself facing a far too handsome Frenchman. A full tux-wearing gentleman complete within a monocle in his mischievously twinkling left eye and a neatly trimmed mustache. A dead ringer for a 30ish David Niven (the actor who portrayed the Raffles character)

 

He lifted Cadence’s black-gloved hand and holding down her fingers, kissed it gently on the back, apologizing as he did.

 

“Bon seigneur je suis tellement désolé , I am so sorry miss, but you are the mirror image of my dazzling friend Sarah. I do hope you can forgive me. Perhaps the honour of a dance would repair my boldness ?”

 

Cadence smiled, pleased at the tantalizing offer so gallantly extended. She gave him her hand and he led her off down the darkened corridor.

 

A waltz was playing and the mystery man proved to be an adept dancer.

 

As they swirled around in and out of the other couples, Cadence introduced herself.

 

Her partner smiled and again apologized.

 

“My manners have left me with my blunder. Of course, dazzling Cadence, my pleasure to make you acquaintance, my name is Arsene’. “

 

Cadence smiled, then closed her eyes to soak in the dance, and the titillating feeling of being held by this dashingly suave gentleman.

 

After a minute Arsene spoke again, his words warningly cutting into Cadence’s reverie.

 

“Allow me, madam, to apologize once again for startling you as I did. Especially under the circumstances…”

 

As his voice trailed off Cadence opened her eyes wide with puzzlement.

 

“What circumstances, Arsene?”

 

Arsene’ looked deeply into her eyes, appearing surprised that she did not know.”

 

“‘Ave you heard, no? The police, Mademoiselle, they have tracked a notorious jewel thief here this evening!”

 

As Cadence gasped, Arsene’ quickly twirled her in a circle, as he dispelled her concerns over his announcement.

 

“No worries dear Cadence, you are quite safe with me. Trust me, a thief would not be admitting himself to one he planned to rob, now would he?”

 

Cadence shook her head In agreement, her earrings swaying from under her long red hair, sparkling merrily. She happily saw that Arsene had noticed them.

 

The newly met couple now danced on, twirling in and out in rhythm with the slow chamber music. Cadence had had her eyes closed. Feeling another lady’s gown swirl by her, she now opened them.

 

The lady in question was wearing a real diamond tiara. Cadence watched for a few seconds thinking how the lady in her fancy satin ball gown looked like a princess, and may have actually been.

 

She turned to her partner, who was also watching the same lady with a look upon his face that appeared to be one of savoring. She could see the tiara’s diamonds sparkling in the reflection of Arsene’s eyes.

 

She mused to herself for a moment, relishing in a few more beats of the dance, musing that what if the tiara-wearing lady’s partner had been the thief Arsene had mentioned. After a few more seconds of pondering, Cadence boldly spoke aloud her thoughts.

 

“Arsene, what if that lady’s dance partner was the thief, what would he do? I mean, how does one go about stealing jewels at a Ballroom dance ?”

 

Arsene’, lost in thought also, jumped a little at the question, looked down at Cadence, and chuckled his answer.

 

“Ah sweet Cadence, apologies not paying attention to my partner, and most sincere ones for planting that seed of worry in your mind.”

 

He smiled winning you into Cadence’s eyes. Not saying anything, she simply shivered with delight as he divulged his thoughts on the matter …

 

“For it was upon my mind also. My guess is that he could not do anything but look and admire. One would not believe he could do nothing else. For how could even a renowned jewel thief steal without his pretty victim’s notice? What trickery could he possibly use? Eh Mon Cherie ?”

 

Cadence nodded her head in agreement, her curiosity happily placed in check as she said.

 

“Your right, it’s not as if a thief could very well trick her into giving her jewels over to him?”

 

“Arsene’ looked his dance partner over, pursing his lips in thoughtful examination.

 

“Very well put. And as for my not giving you my full admiration, let me repair that at once.”

 

“I have been meaning to give you a compliment. Your earrings Mademoiselle, they are rather breathtakingly beautiful, may I ?”

 

As he asked this, he lifted Cadence’s left hand and, with his fingers over hers, guided them into her silky hair lifting the hair off one side of her face, exposing an earring in all its dazzling beauty… Then slowly repeated the performance on the other side using her right hand to pull back her long red hair, obviously admiring the jewel dangling there.

 

Arsene’ started to say something, but at that moment the music came to an unexpected stop. The dance had ended far too soon for Cadence, who was still very much caught up in the enchanting moment.

 

They followed the group of dancers heading off the floor.

 

Stopping at the edge of the dance floor Arsene’ took Cadence’s hand thanking her for the dance.

 

As he kissed it as she asked him if he would like to go and have some champagne.

 

Arsene’ placed his arm around her waist he guided Cadence from the dance floor while apologizing.

 

“Mon Cherie, I must take leave of you. And this wonderful gala.”

 

Cadence felt her heart drop. She had been looking forward to spending more time with her newfound friend. She found herself discarding etiquette, pleading with him, the words leaving her mouth before thinking.

 

“Arsene, couldn’t you stay for one more dance?”

 

He looked at her fondly as she realized her faux pas…. And promptly began to make amends

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that. Silly of me, now it is my turn to apologize. I realize you are a busy man…“

 

Arsene’ took her up by the hand, Smiling as his eyes looked over her puppy sad face before catching her gaze.

 

“Ah my sweet Cadence, how can a mere mortal refuse such a charming request. Arsene’ shall do it, postpone his business to spend a few more precious moments with such a charming lady. Yes, that will be best. ”

 

As luck would have it, the music was starting back up. As the lights now dimmed, Cadence was thrilled to realize was a more modern, jazzier beat that was now being played.

 

Arsene’ led the willing Cadence back in retreat to the Ballroom’s polished dance floor.

 

An arm around her waist, the other holding her hand high, Arsene’ propelled Cadence into the thick of the now again crowded dance floor.

 

It was a vigorous and invigorating cotillion type of experience as Arsene’ expertly led his partner in circles and loops . She could barely catch her breath as he twirled her around several times with Cadence ending up backside against her partner, laughing merrily.

 

The music suddenly slowed and the couples took a more formal position.

  

As Arsene’ twirled her around, Cadence found herself face to face with him, looking into his eyes as he practically beamed into hers. Their figures touched, almost embraced. Cadence felt the points of her breasts slightly being massaged as her partner move up against her figure. Relishing, she closed her eyes firmly to absurd as much of the enticement as possible.

 

Arsene‘s figure moved even closer, causing Cadence to almost squeal in a decadent ecstasy as she leaned back her head, soaking in the moment.

 

Arsen’s fingers slipped in alongside her face and lifted up Cadence‘s silky long hair above her head. Then letting it fall back down, ran his fingers back alongside her upturned face. Cadence had kept her eyes pressed shut relishing the moment, not ever wishing it to end.

 

Arsene’ placed his closed hands upon her satin-clad shoulders as hers went to his waist.

 

Maintaining that position, the couple then made a swirling twirl, their now hot figures brushing up against one another’s as they managed to make a complete circle of the ballroom dance floor before the musicians began to enter the final chords of the music.

  

Arsene’ slipped his balled hands down along from Cadence’s shoulders till they fell behind her. His left hand then went around her waist, where she could feel it pressing against her while he pulled Cadence in closer to him. His right hand pulled her left from his waist and held it up.

 

Cadence finally opened her eyes and locked into Arsene’s deliciously happen gaze. He winked at her and she smiled.

 

All too soon, again for Cadence, the chords waned and the chamber music ended and faded away.

 

Arsene’ gazed tenderly down upon Cadence’s upturned face. He found her gleaming with delight.

 

“Come,” he said, placing his arm around her svelte waist walking Cadence towards the main exit.

 

Drained, She submissively allowed him to do so, still caught up in the rapture of the moment.

 

At the cloak check, Arsene’ let her go and went up to the booth.

 

Cadence waited obligingly as he reclaimed his evening cloak, top hat, and walking stick.

 

Once retrieved he put on his top hat and cloak before turning turned to face her.

 

“Au revoir ma Jolie mademoiselle Cadence, thank you for being such a lovely partner. I could hope to have encountered no one more endearing and promising this evening …”

 

He took up her limp hand and kissed it on the back. Her ring sparkling like the fire the still fawning Cadence had felt stirring deep within ever since meeting Arsene.

  

Gracefully letting go of her, he tipped his hat with a wink of his eyes.

 

Arsen’ then turned and walked out the door with a proud skip to his step, not looking back.

 

Amazed, and still utterly speechless, Cadence watched him disappear through the door.

 

Placing a hand just underneath her breasts, once again heaving with her astonishment. Cadence marvels over what all had transpired since she had gone off to the loo, sorry, a powder room.

 

“That was quite riveting in its way .”

 

Cadence murmured to herself as she stroked her fingers along her slick gown.

 

Indeed, it was quite interesting how a bit of mistaken identity could be …could be such ….!?

 

Cadence had stopped frozen, as her fingers felt around the lower neckline of her gown

 

finding nothing….

 

Horror stricken, Cadence went up the full-length mirror on the wall next to the cloak check stand to verify that which her fingers appeared to indicate.

  

“My broach, it is gone. lucidity mulled it over, coming to an all to obvious conjecture…

 

“The scoundrel must have nicked it while distracting me over being Sarah !”

 

“That man had absolutely no conviction!”

 

In shock, Cadence looked over at the still swinging exit door.

 

Her mind going darting back to how a gloved hand had so slickly went around her chest, as the name Sarah distracted and drew away from her attention, to anything else going on…. Like a brooch being removed from a gown!

 

Then she froze. Something else was decidedly not right. “

 

As she quickly pulled back her hair to reveal a startling revelation that jolted her entire being

 

“No, it’s not possible, how could he?”

 

But the stark reality was evidenced by the bare earlobes that she was staring at. Her lovely earrings were bloody well…. gone!”

 

Had he been testing the water while admiring her earrings, during that first dance?

 

Had he decided the earrings were too difficult, then the music ended so he was just going to be happy with her lifted broach? Then she had talked him into a second dance and he saw an opportunity come knocking again?

 

“What a gullible twit I am. “

 

Cadence muttered as she looked towards the old iron strapped oak exit door

 

Arsene, you devious, devilishly rotten bugger!”

 

Cadence yelped to the empty exit not caring who heard.

 

Then, without grabbing her red taffeta wrap, scurried out through those doors into the cool evening outside, in hot pursuit of the conniving Frenchman Arsene’, and Lucidity's recently nicked diamond jewellery!

A gömböc (Hungarian: [ˈɡømbøt͡s]) is any member of a class of convex, three-dimensional and homogeneous bodies that are mono-monostatic, meaning that they have just one stable and one unstable point of equilibrium when resting on a flat surface. The existence of this class was conjectured by the Russian mathematician Vladimir Arnold in 1995 and proven in 2006 by the Hungarian scientists Gábor Domokos and Péter Várkonyi by constructing at first a mathematical example and subsequently a physical example. (Text from Wikipedia:

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G%C3%B6mb%C3%B6c)

 

Took this photo at Bettystown Ireland

 

Throw back to our days in Ireland

 

The Maiden's Tower which stands 60 foot high was built during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I who came to the throne in 1558. It is suggested that from this association with the Virgin Queen it got its name and Sir William R. Wilde in his book "The Beauties of the Boyne ..." (1849) mentions this as a conjecture at that time.

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 northwest of Lettice’s flat, in the working-class London suburb of Harlesden where Edith, Lettice’s maid, is paying an unexpected call on her beloved parents whilst her mistress is away visiting her own parents in Wiltshire. Edith’s father, George, works at the McVitie and Price biscuit factory in Harlesden and has just recently been promoted to Line Manager, and her mother, Ada, takes in laundry at home. They live in a small, two storey brick terrace house which opens out directly onto the street, and is far removed from the grandeur of Lettice’s Mayfair flat, but has always been a cosy and welcoming home for Edith. Usually even before she walks through the glossy black painted front door, Edith can smell the familiar scent of a mixture of Lifebuoy Soap, Borax and Robin’s Starch, which means her mother is washing the laundry of others wealthier than she in the terrace’s kitchen at the rear of the house. Yet with her father’s promotion, Edith’s mother is only laundering a few days a week now, and today, rather than soap and starch, the delicious scent of freshly baked bread greets her.

 

“Mum!” Edith calls out cheerily as she opens the unlocked front door and walks in. “Mum, it’s me!” She takes a deep breath and inhales the aroma of a loaf in the kitchen range’s bread oven. “Something smells good.”

 

“Edith! It isn’t Wednesday! I wasn’t expecting you today!” Ada gasps in delighted surprise, glancing up from her work on the kitchen table to the door leading from the hallway into the kitchen. “What a lovely surprise!”

 

Edith walks across the flagstone floor of the kitchen and embraces her mother. “Hullo Mum.” Ada opens her arms and embraces her daughter as lovingly as she can, anxious not to get flour on Edith’s smart three-quarter length black coat - a second-hand remodel that Edith did after acquiring it from a stall in Petticoat Lane*.

 

“Watch my floury hands, Edith love,” Ada exclaims before placing a kiss on her daughter’s cheek. “I don’t want to ruin your fancy coat with white finger marks. Pop the kettle on the hob and pull up a chair. Keep me company whilst I finish this,” She indicates to a half shaped loaf on a baking tray before her. “And tell me how it is that you can visit me on a Friday that isn’t your day off. What’s Miss Chetwynd up to now, that she’s not at home? Gone back to stay with her friends in Cornwall, has she?”

 

“Not this time, Mum.” Edith takes the kettle from the range over to the small plumbed enamelled sink standing on bricks in the corner of the kitchen and fills it with water. “She’s gone home to her parent’s house in Wiltshire for a big ball, being held for her. So, I thought I’d take advantage of a few light days and slip in unannounced to see you.” She takes the tarnished old kettle and hangs it over the range’s fire to boil. “I hope you don’t mind, Mum.”

 

“Mind?” Ada scoffs as she starts fussing with the cups and the flour cannister on the table in front of her. “Why would I mind my only daughter coming to visit?” She pauses and watches her daughter walk towards the back door and contemplates a difference in her: an imperceptible bounce in her step to most, but quite obvious from a mother’s keen observations of her child. She ponders as she restores the cork stopper to a jar of salt. “A fancy ball, in her honour! Well, isn’t Miss Chetwynd the lucky one!”

 

“You’d think so,” Edith replies. “But apparently it’s her parents’ idea to help her find a suitable husband. Being the independent woman that she is, Miss Lettice is none too happy about it.”

 

“But she’s going?”

 

“Yes, but only out of a sense of duty or obligation, I think. It’s a fancy dress too, and she is going as Cinderella.” Edith removes her purple rose and black feather decorated straw hat and shirks off her coat to reveal a rather simple but pretty plum coloured serge dress with a white lace collar.

 

“Well, thinking of Cinderella, look at you, my darling girl.” The older woman says with pride in her voice. “I recognise that lace. Wasn’t it off that old tea gown Mrs. Beech gave me for rags that I cut off for you, because you took a fancy to it?”

 

“It is, Mum!” Edith smiles as she hangs her coat and hat up on a couple of spare hooks by the back door.

 

“Another Petticoat Lane second-hand clothes stall, remodel you’re wearing, is it?”

 

“Not this time, Mum. I made this myself from scratch with a dress pattern from Fashion for All**,” Edith replies proudly, giving a little twirl that sends her calf length skirt flaring out prettily. “You taught me well. I wore it out for the first time on Sunday.”

 

Ada looks at her daughter’s face, noticing a slight cheekiness to her smile and a sparkle in her eyes as she idly spins with her mind elsewhere than Ada’s kitchen, and she begins to ponder the difference in her.

 

“What are you looking at, Mum?” Edith asks, stopping her turn and catching her mother’s particularly observant gaze.

 

Realising that she has been caught out staring harder than perhaps she should, Ada coughs and quickly covers up her contemplation with bluster. “Well, I’m looking at you, you ninny.” She glances away. “Who else would I be looking at, since you’re the only one parading around my kitchen like you were in one of those fashion magazines you like so much.” Ada’s pride swells as she returns to the task at hand on the table and begins shaping some dough into a loaf shape. “You look very pretty, Edith love. Your Dad and I are so proud of you, you know.”

 

“Thanks Mum. I know you are. Here. Why are you baking bread, Mum?” Edith asks her mother, slipping into her usual perch at the worn kitchen table on the old ladderback chair. “You always get bread from Mr. Rawlinson’s.”

 

“Oh! Well, now I’m only laundering three days a week, what with your Dad being a Line Manager now and all,” the older woman explains as she takes up her knife and scores the top of the freeform loaf with crosshatches. “I’ve got some extra time on my hands, and I’d thought I’d take up baking bread again.” She slaps Edith’s curious hands away as she gently starts to move the blue and white gingham cloth off the top of the large white porcelain bowl before her. “Shoo, my girl! Don’t touch that! It’s proving***!” She returns to scoring the loaf before her. “Harlesden wasn’t always the London suburb that it is today. My Mum, your Granny, used to bake bread for the workers on the farm she lived and worked on, one of the last in the district, and she taught me how to bake bread. I thought I’d bake some as a treat for your Dad and your Aunt Maude.”

 

“I am glad you’ve been able to give up some of your laundering, Mum.” Edith smiles over at Ada. “Now you can do some of the things you want to do for a change.”

 

“Oh, thinking of laundering, Mrs. Hounslow was over here yesterday, and she gave me one of her cast off ladies’ magazines. She’d seen a picture of your Miss Chetwynd looking lovely at Princess Mary’s Wedding**** so she circled it and thought to bring it over when she was bringing me a few extra delicates to wash for her.” She turns towards the great dark Welsh dresser that it seems the kitchen has been built around. “I’ve got it here somewhere.”

 

“Oh Mum!” Edith sighs. “I do wish you’d given nasty old Widow Hounslow up when you stopped some of your laundering.”

 

Ada turns back and brushes a stray strand of mousey brown hair fallen loose from her bun and guides it around the back of her ear. “I can’t do that, Edith! Her sixpences kept food…”

 

“I know. I know!” Edith stops her mother, raising her hands. “Her sixpences kept us fed many a day.” She looks up at Ada’s careworn face looking back at her, again a scrutiny in her features as she looks back at Edith. “But you have to admit, Mum, she asks a lot of you and has made you work for every sixpence she’s ever begrudgingly given you.”

 

“We should all work hard for the sixpences others pay us, my girl.”

 

“I know Mum, and I do.” she replies exasperatedly. “I just wish you didn’t have to work so hard for Mrs. Hounslow’s sixpences. You should have dropped old Widow Hounslow and kept that nice Mrs. Young. She was never late paying you.”

 

“Oh, now Mrs. Young’s daughter is out of nappies, she doesn’t need me laundering for her anymore, Edith love. I’m sure she only kept me on out of kindness. Anyway, I know your opinion about Mrs. Hounslow.”

 

“And we all know yours, Mum.” Edith starts drawing with her finger idly on the worn surface of the table.

 

“Alright my girl!” Ada says, flattening her palms before her on the table applying her weight to her locked arms as she leans forward and looks her daughter in the eye. “There’s a wriggling, tickling tummy fish in you, just desperate to get out.”

 

“A what, Mum?” the young girl laughs.

 

Shaking her head, Ada says, “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten wriggling, tickling tummy fish, Edith!” When her daughter returns a perplexed look of confusion, the older woman continues, “It’s what we used to call secrets when you were little. You know, wriggling fish trying to escape, just like wriggling secrets wanting to be told?” Looking at her daughter again with incredulity she adds, “I can’t believe you don’t remember wriggling, tickling tummy fish!”

 

“I vaguely do, Mum.” Edith admits, although more to please her mother than in truth.

 

“Well then?” Ada demands. “Spit it out! You’ve been dying to tell me something ever since you arrived.” She pulls herself upright again and rubs her lower back with a groan. “I can tell. There is something,” She contemplates her daughter again with her thumb and index finger of her right hand worrying her chin. “Something, different about you. Something, bonny and gay. You didn’t come all this way just to visit me when you were here two days ago. What’s happened?”

 

“Oh Mum!” Edith exclaims with a joyful giggle. “Such wonderful news! Frank Leadbetter has asked me to walk out with him!”

 

“Frank Leadbetter?” Ada queries with a questioning look.

 

“I’ve told you about Frank before, Mum. He’s Mr. Willison the Mayfair grocers’ delivery man.”

 

“Oh Edith, love!” Ada hurriedly wipes her hands on the red and white gingham tea towel hanging from the rail of the range to rid them of flour. She rushes over and envelops her daughter as she rises from the ladderback chair in an all-encompassing embrace of unbridled delight.

 

“He’s took me to see Wanetta Ward’s new moving picture, ‘After the Ball is Over’, at the Premier in East Ham***** last Sunday, and we agreed to go out again this Sunday. He’s taking me to Regent’s Park.”

 

“Oh, my darling girl, that’s such exciting news! What a wonderful wriggling, tickling tummy fish! No wonder you wanted to get it out! Now, go grab us some cups and bring over the biscuit tin. Your Dad will be home for lunch soon. He’ll be just as glad to hear this news as I am.” Ada sighs with delight, pleased to know the cause of the change in her daughter. “Now let me fill Brown Betty****** and then you must tell me everything: every little detail mind! Don’t leave anything out!”

 

*Petticoat Lane Market is a fashion and clothing market in Spitalfields, London. It consists of two adjacent street markets. Wentworth Street Market and Middlesex Street Market. Originally populated by Huguenots fleeing persecution in France, Spitalfields became a center for weaving, embroidery and dying. From 1882, a wave of Jewish immigrants fleeing persecution in eastern Europe settled in the area and Spitalfields then became the true heart of the clothing manufacturing district of London. 'The Lane' was always renowned for the 'patter' and showmanship of the market traders. It was also known for being a haven for the unsavoury characters of London’s underworld and was rife with prostitutes during the late Victorian era. Unpopular with the authorities, as it was largely unregulated and in some sense illegal, as recently as the 1930s, police cars and fire engines were driven down ‘The Lane’, with alarm bells ringing, to disrupt the market.

 

**Fashion for All was one of the many women’s magazines that were published in the exuberant inter-war years which were aimed at young girls who were looking to better their chances of finding a husband through beauty and fashion. As most working-class girls could only imagine buying fashionable frocks from high street shops, there was a great appetite for dressmaking patterns so they could dress fashionably at a fraction of the cost, by making their own dresses using skills they learned at home.

 

***In cooking, proofing (also called proving) is a step in the preparation of yeast bread and other baked goods in which the dough is allowed to rest and rise a final time before baking. During this rest period, yeast ferments the dough and produces gases, thereby leavening the dough.

 

****Mary, Princess Royal and Countess of Harewood (1897 – 1965), was the only daughter of King George V and Queen Mary. She was the sister of Kings Edward VIII and George VI, and aunt of Queen Elizabeth II. She married Viscount Lascelles on the 28th of February 1922 in a ceremony held at Westminster Abbey. The bride was only 24 years old, whilst the groom was 39. There is much conjecture that the marriage was an unhappy one, but their children dispute this and say it was a very happy marriage based upon mutual respect. The wedding was filmed by Pathé News and was the first royal wedding to be featured in fashion magazines, including Vogue.

 

*****The Premier Super Cinema in East Ham was opened on the 12th of March, 1921, replacing the 800 seat capacity 1912 Premier Electric Theatre. The new cinema could seat 2,408 patrons. The Premier Super Cinema was taken over by Provincial Cinematograph Theatres who were taken over by Gaumont British in February 1929. It was renamed the Gaumont from 21st April 1952. The Gaumont was closed by the Rank Organisation on 6th April 1963. After that it became a bingo hall and remained so until 2005. Despite attempts to have it listed as a historic building due to its relatively intact 1921 interior, the Gaumont was demolished in 2009.

 

******A Brown Betty is a type of teapot, round and with a manganese brown glaze known as Rockingham glaze. In the Victorian era, when tea was at its peak of popularity, tea brewed in the Brown Betty was considered excellent. This was attributed to the design of the pot which allowed the tea leaves more freedom to swirl around as the water was poured into the pot, releasing more flavour with less bitterness.

 

This cluttered, yet cheerful domestic scene of baking is not all it seems to be at first glance, for it is made up of part of my 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures collection. Some pieces come from my own childhood. 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:

 

The freeform loaf on the kitchen table, the white porcelain proofing bowl complete with rising dough, the butter wrapped in silver foil and the rolling pin – which is even half coated in flour – have 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. The rather worn and beaten looking enamelled flour cannister in the typical domestic Art Deco design and kitchen colours of the 1920s, cream and green, has been aged on purpose. An artisan piece, it comes from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop in the United Kingdom, as does the glass jar of salt which is filled with real salt granules and stoppered with a real cork lid. The metal sieve comes from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniature Shop in the United Kingdom. The other crockery on the table comes from various online stockists of miniatures.

 

In the background you can see Ada’s dark Welsh dresser cluttered with household items. Like Ada’s table, the Windsor chair and the ladderback chair to the left of the photo, I have had the dresser since I was a child. The shelves of the dresser have different patterned crockery and silver pots on them which have come from different miniature stockists both in Australia and the United Kingdom. There are also some rather worn and beaten looking enamelled cannisters and a bread tin which are part of the set from which the flour cannister is from. There are also tins of various foods which would have been household staples in the 1920s when canning and preservation revolutionised domestic cookery. Amongst other foods on the dresser are a tin of Macfie’s Finest Black Treacle, two jars of P.C. Flett and Company jam, a tin of Heinz marinated apricots, and a jar of Marmite. All these items are 1:12 size artisan miniatures made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire, with great attention to detail paid to their labels and the shapes of their jars and cans.

 

Robert Andrew Macfie sugar refiner was the first person to use the term Golden Syrup in 1840, a product made by his factory, the Macfie sugar refinery, in Liverpool. He also produced black treacle.

 

P.C. Flett and Company was established in Kirkwall in the Orkney Islands by Peter Copeland Flett. He had inherited a small family owned ironmongers in Albert Street Kirkwall, which he inherited from his maternal family. He had a shed in the back of the shop where he made ginger ale, lemonade, jams and preserves from local produce. By the 1920s they had an office in Liverpool, and travelling representatives selling jams and preserves around Great Britain. I am not sure when the business ceased trading.

 

The American based Heinz food processing company, famous for its Baked Beans, 57 varieties of soups and tinned spaghetti opened a factory in Harlesden in 1919, providing a great deal of employment for the locals who were not already employed at McVitie and Price.

 

Marmite is a food spread made from yeast extract which although considered remarkably English, was in fact invented by German scientist Justus von Liebig although it was originally made in the United Kingdom. It is a by-product of beer brewing and is currently produced by British company Unilever. The product is notable as a vegan source of B vitamins, including supplemental vitamin B. Marmite is a sticky, dark brown paste with a distinctive, salty, powerful flavour. This distinctive taste is represented in the marketing slogan: "Love it or hate it." Such is its prominence in British popular culture that the product's name is often used as a metaphor for something that is an acquired taste or tends to polarise opinion.

 

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).

Paid Cover Up.

Sumptus est, extendens arma, pecuniam, itemque ostentationem fugere est,

magnificence conjecturer propositions hypocrites qui influencent autorité motions,

φήμη απόκρυψη μεγάλη καταδίκασε απόκρυψη του,

Ruf fleißig zahlreiche Gewinne montiert Vermögen Gold,

Ядро эффективной сети ненависти убить жертвы,

tattiche dilatorie intermediari infuriati monopoli dichiara negoziati ingerenza,

tystiolaeth gorthrymder gwrthdaro lletchwith cyhuddo tystiolaethau swyddogion,

conjugate matematicieni substanțe înec scopuri consonante,

incidentele grammaticus rationele definities vragen werkoorzaken verdeeld,

foirmeacha bac sonrach a ghintear go huimhriúil gcrích imperfectly scríofa,

meticulosa observatione duplex principium communis reipublicae administratio pertinet Leges tulisse,

straks lover meklere inkluderer tvil talende inndelt mendicant fakultetet mener,

atos externos estruturam discursivamente intelectos princípios de aprendizagem começa,

テーブルの下に悪施錠されたドアのロックが解除悪の心を満たされた目に見えるポケットを明らかに!

Steve.D.Hammond.

Evolutionists are always searching for that elusive "missing link" to prove their belief/theory.

 

Interestingly, Evolutionists are yet to discover that link.

 

Is this, perhaps, the "missing link" that proves fungi evolved from coral.

 

It was discovered at the seaside in Noosa Heads National Park, Queensland.

The falcon returned to the perch after a hunting foray clutching two Emperor dragonflies, presumably a mating pair as dragonflies mate in flight. In this sequence of 5 shots the male detached itself from the female and made a bid for freedom. The final fate of the male is not known, the last shot showing it tumbling from the perch, legs upwards. Females are known to feign death to avoid the attentions of males. The conjecture is was the male feigning death to avoid the attentions of the falcon?

Many thanks to all who visit, view and comment upon, my efforts

The Colosseum is an oval amphitheatre in the centre of the city of Rome, Italy, just east of the Roman Forum. It is the largest ancient amphitheatre ever built, and is still the largest standing amphitheatre in the world today, despite its age. Construction began under the emperor Vespasian (r. 69–79 AD) in 72 and was completed in 80 AD under his successor and heir, Titus (r. 79–81). Further modifications were made during the reign of Domitian (r. 81–96). The three emperors that were patrons of the work are known as the Flavian dynasty, and the amphitheatre was named the Flavian Amphitheatre (Latin: Amphitheatrum Flavium; Italian: Anfiteatro Flavio [aɱfiteˈaːtro ˈflaːvjo]) by later classicists and archaeologists for its association with their family name (Flavius).[citation needed]

The Colosseum is built of travertine limestone, tuff (volcanic rock), and brick-faced concrete. The Colosseum could hold an estimated 50,000 to 80,000 spectators at various points in its history having an average audience of some 65,000; it was used for gladiatorial contests and public spectacles including animal hunts, executions, re-enactments of famous battles, and dramas based on Roman mythology, and briefly mock sea battles. The building ceased to be used for entertainment in the early medieval era. It was later reused for such purposes as housing, workshops, quarters for a religious order, a fortress, a quarry, and a Christian shrine.

Although substantially ruined because of earthquakes and stone-robbers (for spolia), the Colosseum is still an iconic symbol of Imperial Rome and was listed as one of the New7Wonders of the World. It is one of Rome's most popular tourist attractions and also has links to the Roman Catholic Church, as each Good Friday the Pope leads a torchlit "Way of the Cross" procession that starts in the area around the Colosseum.

The Colosseum is also depicted on the Italian version of the five-cent euro coin.The site chosen was a flat area on the floor of a low valley between the Caelian, Esquiline and Palatine Hills, through which a canalised stream ran as well as an artificial lake/marsh. By the 2nd century BC the area was densely inhabited. It was devastated by the Great Fire of Rome in 64 AD, following which Nero seized much of the area to add to his personal domain. He built the grandiose Domus Aurea on the site, in front of which he created an artificial lake surrounded by pavilions, gardens and porticoes. The existing Aqua Claudia aqueduct was extended to supply water to the area and the gigantic bronze Colossus of Nero was set up nearby at the entrance to the Domus Aurea.

Cross-section from the Lexikon der gesamten Technik (1904)

Although the Colossus was preserved, much of the Domus Aurea was torn down. The lake was filled in and the land reused as the location for the new Flavian Amphitheatre. Gladiatorial schools and other support buildings were constructed nearby within the former grounds of the Domus Aurea. Vespasian's decision to build the Colosseum on the site of Nero's lake can be seen as a populist gesture of returning to the people an area of the city which Nero had appropriated for his own use. In contrast to many other amphitheatres, which were on the outskirts of a city, the Colosseum was constructed in the city centre, in effect, placing it both symbolically and precisely at the heart of Rome.

Construction was funded by the opulent spoils taken from the Jewish Temple after the First Jewish–Roman War in 70 CE led to the Siege of Jerusalem. According to a reconstructed inscription found on the site, "the emperor Vespasian ordered this new amphitheatre to be erected from his general's share of the booty." It is often assumed that Jewish prisoners of war were brought back to Rome and contributed to the massive workforce needed for the construction of the amphitheatre, but there is no ancient evidence for that; it would, nonetheless, be commensurate with Roman practice to add humiliation to the defeated population. Along with this free source of unskilled labor, teams of professional Roman builders, engineers, artists, painters and decorators undertook the more specialized tasks necessary for building the Colosseum. The Colosseum was constructed with several different materials: wood, limestone, tuff, tiles, cement, and mortar.

Construction of the Colosseum began under the rule of Vespasian in around 70–72 AD (73–75 AD according to some sources). The Colosseum had been completed up to the third story by the time of Vespasian's death in 79. The top level was finished by his son, Titus, in 80, and the inaugural games were held in 80 or 81 AD. Dio Cassius recounts that over 9,000 wild animals were killed during the inaugural games of the amphitheatre. Commemorative coinage was issued celebrating the inauguration. The building was remodelled further under Vespasian's younger son, the newly designated Emperor Domitian, who constructed the hypogeum, a series of tunnels used to house animals and slaves. He also added a gallery to the top of the Colosseum to increase its seating capacity.

In 217, the Colosseum was badly damaged by a major fire (caused by lightning, according to Dio Cassius) which destroyed the wooden upper levels of the amphitheatre's interior. It was not fully repaired until about 240 and underwent further repairs in 250 or 252 and again in 320. Honorius banned the practice of gladiator fights in 399 and again in 404. Gladiatorial fights are last mentioned around 435.[citation needed] An inscription records the restoration of various parts of the Colosseum under Theodosius II and Valentinian III (reigned 425–455), possibly to repair damage caused by a major earthquake in 443; more work followed in 484 and 508. The arena continued to be used for contests well into the 6th century. Animal hunts continued until at least 523, when Anicius Maximus celebrated his consulship with some venationes, criticised by King Theodoric the Great for their high cost.

The Colosseum underwent several radical changes of use. By the late 6th century a small chapel had been built into the structure of the amphitheater, though this apparently did not confer any particular religious significance on the building as a whole. The arena was converted into a cemetery. The numerous vaulted spaces in the arcades under the seating were converted into housing and workshops, and are recorded as still being rented out as late as the 12th century. Around 1200 the Frangipani family took over the Colosseum and fortified it, apparently using it as a castle.

Severe damage was inflicted on the Colosseum by the great earthquake in 1349, causing the outer south side, lying on a less stable alluvial terrain, to collapse. Much of the tumbled stone was reused to build palaces, churches, hospitals and other buildings elsewhere in Rome. A religious order moved into the northern third of the Colosseum in the mid-14th century and continued to inhabit it until as late as the early 19th century. The interior of the amphitheater was extensively stripped of stone, which was reused elsewhere, or (in the case of the marble façade) was burned to make quicklime. The iron clamps which held the stonework together were pried or hacked out of the walls, leaving numerous pockmarks which still scar the building today.

During the 16th and 17th century, Church officials sought a productive role for the Colosseum. Pope Sixtus V (1585–1590) planned to turn the building into a wool factory to provide employment for Rome's prostitutes, though this proposal fell through with his premature death. In 1671 Cardinal Altieri authorized its use for bullfights; a public outcry caused the idea to be hastily abandoned.

Allied troops consult a guidebook outside the Colosseum after liberation in 1944

In 1749, Pope Benedict XIV endorsed the view that the Colosseum was a sacred site where early Christians had been martyred. He forbade the use of the Colosseum as a quarry and consecrated the building to the Passion of Christ and installed Stations of the Cross, declaring it sanctified by the blood of the Christian martyrs who perished there (see Significance in Christianity). However, there is no historical evidence to support Benedict's claim, nor is there even any evidence that anyone before the 16th century suggested this might be the case; the Catholic Encyclopedia concludes that there are no historical grounds for the supposition, other than the reasonably plausible conjecture that some of the many martyrs may well have been.

Later popes initiated various stabilization and restoration projects, removing the extensive vegetation which had overgrown the structure and threatened to damage it further. The façade was reinforced with triangular brick wedges in 1807 and 1827, and the interior was repaired in 1831, 1846 and in the 1930s. The arena substructure was partly excavated in 1810–1814 and 1874 and was fully exposed under Benito Mussolini in the 1930s.

The Colosseum is today one of Rome's most popular tourist attractions, receiving millions of visitors annually. The effects of pollution and general deterioration over time prompted a major restoration programme carried out between 1993 and 2000, at a cost of 40 billion Italian lire.

In recent years, the Colosseum has become a symbol of the international campaign against capital punishment, which was abolished in Italy in 1948. Several anti–death penalty demonstrations took place in front of the Colosseum in 2000. Since that time, as a gesture against the death penalty, the local authorities of Rome change the color of the Colosseum's night time illumination from white to gold whenever a person condemned to the death penalty anywhere in the world gets their sentence commuted or is released, or if a jurisdiction abolishes the death penalty. Most recently, the Colosseum was illuminated in gold in November 2012 following the abolishment of capital punishment in the American state of Connecticut in April 2012.

Because of the ruined state of the interior, it is impractical to use the Colosseum to host large events; only a few hundred spectators can be accommodated in temporary seating. However, much larger concerts have been held just outside, using the Colosseum as a backdrop. Performers who have played at the Colosseum in recent years have included Ray Charles (May 2002), Paul McCartney (May 2003), Elton John (September 2005), and Billy Joel (July 2006).

Pipos said about the release of PO-11 --

"They will be 'freely' available for a month. (from 21st May.)" !!

My conjecture was wrong...

Perhaps, quantity of PO-11 is not limited and it may be available for one month!

I must worry for one month...

I like alice so much. but I don't know whether to get alice...

 

Well, I adjusted a picture of pipos a little.

I thought that was overexposure(?).

The whole was made a little dark and color of eye was also changed.