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.

 

Tonight 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, the heir, their eldest son Leslie, and his wife Arabella. Lettice, her fiancée, Sir John Nettleford-Hughes, and his recently widowed sister returned from France, Clemance Pontefract, are visiting the Chetwynd family for Christmas and have stayed on to celebrate New Year’s Eve with them as well before heading off in a few days’ time to Rippon Court, Sir John’s vast ancestral estate in Bedfordshire, where he, Clemance and Lettice all have business.

 

Old enough to be Lettice’s father, wealthy Sir John was until recently still a bachelor, and according to London society gossip intended to remain so, so that he might continue to enjoy his dalliances with a string of pretty chorus girls of Lettice’s age and younger. After an abrupt ending to her understanding with Selwyn Spencely, son and heir to the title Duke of Walmsford, Lettice in a moment of both weakness and resolve, agreed to the proposal of marriage proffered to her by Sir John. More like a business arrangement than a marriage proposal, Sir John offered Lettice the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of his large fortune, be chatelain of all his estates and continue to have her interior design business, under the conditions that she agree to provide him with an heir, and that he be allowed to discreetly carry on his affairs in spite of their marriage vows. He even suggested that Lettice might be afforded the opportunity to have her own extra marital liaisons if she were discreet about them.

 

Christmas has been and gone, and with it, Lettice’s elder sister Lalage (known to everyone in the family by the diminutive Lally), her husband Charles and their children and Lettice’s Aunt Eglantine, leaving the house emptier and significantly quieter, especially in the absence of the children. It is New Year’s Eve 1925, and nearly midnight as we find ourselves in the very grand and elegant drawing room of Glynes with its gilt Louis and Palladian style furnishings where Lettice has gathered with her fiancée and future sister-in-law, her father, mother, Leslie, Arabella and the parents of her oldest childhood chum, Gerald Bruton, Lord and Lady Bruton. An eight course New Year’s Eve dinner prepared by the Chetwynd’s cook, Mrs. Casterton, and the Glynes kitchen staff, has been consumed, and the party have repaired to the drawing room to enjoy champagne, wine and for the more daring, cocktails. The gilded chinoiserie rococo galleried table has been moved to in the midst of the sumptuous drawing room by Bramley, the Chetwynd’s beloved butler, and he has covered it in glasses and bottles of alcohol, ice and soda syphons for his master, mistress and guests. A bottle of champagne from the Glynes’ well stocked cellar which has been chilling in a silver coolers is almost empty as the New Year looms.

 

“Oh, I am sorry to hear you won’t be staying in the county for Twelfth Night* celebrations, Sir John.” Lady Gwenyth remarks sadly. “Such a pity! Mrs. Maingot’s Glynes Village Players are really rather excited about their Twelfth Night performance this year.”

 

“Even though I am a relative newcomer to the district, Lady Gwenyth, having only acquired Fonengil Park last century,” Sir John replies with his nose crumpling in distaste as he gesticulates with his highball glass of hock and seltzer in his right hand. “One thing I do know from my experience of the Glynes Village Players, is that the more excited they are about their performance, the ghastlier it is sure to be!” He pulls an overexaggerated face of mock horror. “I shall be only too glad to be far away from Mrs. Maingot and her amateur dramatics.”

 

“Oh,” Lady Gwenyth replies with both a sad and startled face in response to Sir John’s harsh remarks. “I rather enjoy their performances each year, Sir John.”

 

“Well, I’d hardly compare their amateur dramatics to the plays produced in London’s West End, Lady Gwenyth.” Sir John retorts smugly, before sipping from his glass.

 

“Yes… well,” Lady Gwyneth says with distain as she takes a sip of her own champagne, peering with repugnance over the top of her glass with beady eyes at Sir John in his smart Jermyn Street** tailored set of tails, white dinner vest and bow tie, a large Glynes hot house red rose in full bloom serving as a rather overly garish boutonnière*** in his lapel. “I’ll have to acquiesce to your greater experience in these matters, Sir John. I haven’t been to the capital since the Jersey Lily**** made her debut on the London stage in ‘She Stoops to Conquor’.

 

“Indeed.” Sir John murmurs as he looks Lady Gwenyth up and down critically, eyeing her elegant, if somewhat old fashioned Edwardian beaded evening gown in pastel pink crêpe de chiné.

 

“Still, it will be a pity too, that the Glynes villagers will not have the opportunity to wassail***** you and dear Lettice,” Lady Gwenyth goes on, either ignoring Sir John’s rudeness politely, or simply not noticing it. “Especially now that you two are officially engaged.”

 

“Oh,” Sir John heaves a rather heavy sigh and waves his hand about, as though shooing an irritating insect away. “There were a great many wassails and good wishes to us both from the villagers over the festive period since Lettice and I motored down from London to spend Christmas here at Glynes.”

 

“Oh that must be rather nice for you and dear Lettice, Sir John.” Lady Gwenyth remarks. “I still remember all the good wishes I received from the villagers when Algernon brought me to Bruton Hall all those years ago as a new bride. It was lovely, and endeared me to them.”

 

“Endeared you to them? Indeed Lady Gwenyth?”

 

“Yes. It really was wonderful. As part of local gentry, you really should spend more time down in the village when you are at Fontengil Park, Sir John. You spend far too much time in London.”

 

“Ahh, but that is where my business requires me, Lady Gwenyth, not enfolded in the soporific bucolic bosom of the Wiltshire countryside.”

 

“Thinking of the countryside,” Lady Gwenyth remarks, coughing a little awkwardly at Sir John’s lightly veiled implication that she, her family the families of the other landed gentry live sleepy and dull lives. “I was a little surprised that you’re not spending New Year’s Eve with my son at Miss Fordyce’s country retreat. It sounds far more smart and select for an exciting man about London like yourself, than our dull, bucolic parties.” Lady Gwenyth cannot help herself as she adds an acerbic taint to her comment. “Gerald was rather thrilled by Miss Fordyce’s invitation to her private party in Essex, especially after the last one, which he said was frightfully enjoyable. You were there too, as well as Lettice, I believe, Sir John.”

 

“I was. My sister Clemance and I are very good friends of Sylvia’s.”

 

“Yes, Lettice told me that. She led me to believe that Mrs. Pontefract and Miss Fordyce went to finishing school together, or something like that.”

 

“We were hosted by the same German family, Lady Gwenyth,” Clemance utters clearly, correcting the Chetwynd’s neighbour politely as she steps up to join the conversation. “So, I’ve known Sylvia since we were fifteen years old.

 

“Clemmie, Lettice and I all received invitations from Sylvia for tonight’s bash, as it happens, Lady Gwenyth,” Sir John explains. “However, since we will be leaving in a day or two to go to Bedfordshire, and knowing Lettice enjoys the tradition of spending time with her family during Christmas, we erred on the side of coming down here to Glynes, rather than going to Sylvia’s.”

 

“I think I’m enjoying this party far more than I would have Sylvia’s anyway, Lady Gwenyth.” Clemance remarks. “Sylvia has always surrounded herself with all these rather passionate and loud performers and artists. There are bound to be high spirits and hijinks this evening – a spirited scavenger hunt about Belchamp St Paul****** no doubt.”

 

“Oh indeed.” chuckles Lady Gwenyth.

 

“No. This is a much more agreeable. I must also say that it was very good of Cosmo and Sadie to put Nettie and I up for Christmas and New Year.” Clemance adds gratefully.

 

“Yes. It saved me the fuss and bother of having to open up Fontengil Park just for a few days.” Sir John adds.

 

“Oh,” Lady Gwenyth responds, shuddering as she ignores Sir John’s rather tactless remark and focusses upon Clemance instead. “Cosmo and Sadie are always such gracious hosts at any time of the year, Mrs. Pontefract, especially at Christmas time. I’m sure they were only too delighted to welcome you, Mrs. Pontefract.” She allows herself to give Sir John a momentary hard stare. “However, I was just remarking to Sir John that it is a pity you have to leave before the Twelfth Night festivities.”

 

“Oh I know. It is a great pity. However, a Royal command is not one my brother can readily ignore, Lady Gwenyth,” Clemance answers. “Or refuse. And since the Prince of Wales has specifically expressed his wish to meet Lettice again as John’s fiancée, I am going simply as chaperone.”

 

“I am surprised that His Royal Highness would want to leave Sandringham*******,” Lady Gwenyth opines. “I would have thought he would have stayed on the Sandringham Estate with Their Majesties for the duration of the festive season.”

 

“Somehow, I think Rippon Court offers more entertaining pursuits for His Royal Highness than watching his father play with his postage stamp collection******** or his mother fuss over her Fabergé eggs*********.” Sir John says in a superior fashion.

 

“Our father was a fine rider, a mad keen steeplechaser********** and a bloodthirsty hunter.” Clemance explains with a shudder. “Mother was too. Between them, they established the Rippon Hunt.”

 

“Being a keen steeplechaser and foxhunter himself, His Royal Highness has expressed his wish to ride in the Rippon Hunt***********, so however reluctantly, I am taking up my official duties as host of the hunt.”

 

“Not Master of the Hounds************, Sir John?” Lady Gwyneth queries politely.

 

“Our parents were the Nettleford-Hughes with hunting in their veins, Lady Gwenyth.” Clemance explains kindly. “They couldn’t understand why Nettie didn’t enjoy, nor have the aptitude for, the outdoor sports they embraced with such gusto.”

 

“We’re a little more cerebral in our pursuits, rather than Neanderthal*************” Sir John adds. “No, I’m far better placed to entertain His Royal Highness and his coterie after their hunting pursuits in the comfort of Rippon Court, and Lettice as my intended will be offering the winners’ trophies.”

 

Across the room by the white marble fireplace in which a fire roars, keeping the cold of the Wiltshire winter at bay, the Viscount, Lady Sadie and their eldest son and heir chat together, with Lady Sadie in her usual seat in a gilt Louis Seize armchair, her husband on the high backed gilt salon chair embroidered with delicate petit-point by his mother, and their son standing next to his father, warming his backside as he faces out to the room. Across from Lady Sadie in a matching armchair, Lord Bruton snores deeply.

 

“Looks like Lord Bruton’s had a bit too much of your firewater**************, Pappa.” Leslie opines, nodding at their neighbour slumped in his seat with his head lolling to his left heavily, his mouth hanging slightly open. “I’d best go wake him.”

 

Lady Sadie glances up at the dainty ornamental rococo clock on the mantelpiece. “No, no, Leslie.” she fusses. “Let poor Algernon sleep. It’s only a quarter to midnight. Your father or Gwenyth can wake him just before midnight, not that I think he’s care too much if he missed the start to 1926, judging by how tired he looked tonight.”

 

“Too many unpaid bills keeping him awake at night I’d say.” Leslie remarks.

 

“Still?” Lady Sadie asks. “I thought all that was behind them now with that last sale of pockets of land to that London man.”

 

“I think it will take more than that to solve the Bruton’s cash flow problems.” Leslie remarks. “Wouldn’t you agree, Pappa?”

 

The Viscount doesn’t reply.

 

“Father?” he asks again.

 

“Cosmo?” Sadie asks her husband, as she gently reaches out and places a bejewelled hand upon her husband’s left knee.

 

“Eh? What?” the Viscount blusters.

 

“You’re miles away, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie says with disappointment, shrinking back into her seat and picking up her nearly empty champagne flute. “You aren’t listening to Leslie or I at all, are you?” She pouts petulantly as she lifts the glass to her lips. “You could at last pretend to be listening to me.”

 

“Just listen to him, that superior sounding old lecher.” the Viscount seethes, seemingly unaware of his wife’s statement as he nods towards Sir John who stands in his cluster with Lady Gwyneth and Clemance near Lady Sadie’s Eighteenth Century painted drawers, his back turned to the Viscount.

 

“Cosmo!” Lady Sadie hisses. “Quiet! He’ll hear you.” She looks aghast at her husband. “Like him or not, he’s our guest.”

 

“He won’t hear me,” mutters the Viscount in a comfortably assured reply. “Not over the sound of his own deafening pomposity.”

 

Leslie and Lady Sadie exchange knowing glances over the top of the Viscount, Lady Sadie cocking an eyebrow and Leslie rolling his eyes, both silently acknowledging that the Viscount is the pot calling the kettle black***************.

 

“Oh, His Royal Highness is a fine hunter and steeplechaser,” the Viscount mimics Sir John’s statement in a mewling voice. “As if we didn’t all know it’s more about like being drawn to like, with our wastrel future King seeking a sympathetic audience and place to sleep with his mistress, that damnable trollop Freda Dudley Ward****************, rather than doing his duty and staying at Sandringham with his family.”

 

“Ahh, the worst kept secret in England*****************.” Leslie ventures.

 

“The poor King and Queen.” Lady Sadie opines with a sigh. “I pity them.”

 

“I pity us!” the Viscount retorts. “Having to tolerate that damn philanderer under our roof, as long as Lettice insists on being churlish and keeping up the pretence that this ill-fated marriage will be anything other than a disaster, the magnitude of which we have never seen the likes of in the Chetwynd family before.”

 

“Pappa!” Leslie exclaims, looking over to Lettice, who luckily for the Viscount, is involved in an animated conversation with Leslie’s wife Arabella on the sofa nearby.

 

“Stop being so melodramatic, Cosmo,” Lady Sadie chides. “It doesn’t become you, as head of the household. And I say again, keep your voice down, for goodness’ sake. Sir John may be completely hedonistic and self-absorbed, but our youngest child is not.”

 

“I’ve a mind to go over there, punch the cad in his snooty nose, and fling him out of the house by the ear.”

 

“Oh no you won’t, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie disagrees calmly and matter-of-factly, slapping him on his knee this time. “It would be the wrong thing to do, and even in the pique of a fit of rage, you know it. It would be too, too embarrassing to conduct such a scene before a houseful of guests, even if most of them present are family: for Sir John, Leslie, Arabella, me, you,” She lowers her voice and adds sadly. “For your favourite, Lettice.”

 

“It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to.” the Viscount mumbles under his breath between gritted teeth.

 

“You aren’t alone in that, Pappa. We’d all like to.” Leslie says, looking down to his father. “But he is Lettice’s fiancée, and it is New Year’s Eve after all.”

 

“What the devil has that to do with anything, Leslie?” the Viscount barks.

 

“Well, you know, Pappa, the season of peace, good will to all men and that all that.” Leslie elucidates with animated gesticulations directed towards the Christmas tree, its golden glass baubles, ribbons and tinsel****************** sparkling and glowing in the drawing room light.

 

“Good will to all men be damned!” the Viscount retorts in a fiery fashion.

 

“Language, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie scolds her husband.

 

“I fail to understand how a man as odious, hedonistic and self-obsessed as Sir John, can have such a lovely and selfless sister like Clemance.” Leslie remarks. “She is kind, considerate, generous of her time, and utterly charming.”

 

“Perhaps she is compensating for her brother’s character flaws,” Lady Sadie suggests. “I determined that I was going to despise her when I met her up in London, but try as I might, I can’t help but like her.”

 

“Why can’t Lettice see what a vile old lecher Sir John is?” the Viscount ponders in exasperated disbelief. “I mean, she’s not dim, is she? She’s got the brains and the nous to establish her own very successful business, in spite of everyone, including us, suggesting it was folly, and that she’d fail. How can she be so blind? Has she lost the use of her eyes, or worse yet, her senses?”

 

“I don’t think Lettice has lost either, my dear Cosmo,” Lady Sadie soothes purringly. “And furthermore,” she adds with a satisfied smile. “I do believe the sheen is starting to rub off this quixotic******************* engagement to Sir John.”

 

Both the Viscount and Leslie turn and look at Lady Sadie, her son smiling knowingly, and her husband gazing at her in disbelief.

 

“Alright Sadie.” the older man says. “You have my full and uninterrupted attention.” He heaves a sigh. “Go on. What do you know that I don’t?”

 

“I told you the day she announced her engagement to Sir John to us almost twelve months ago, that we were going to have to play the long game with Lettice.” Lady Sadie explains.

 

“You did.” the Viscount buts in. “And we have. What of it?”

 

“Well, it’s finally starting to pay dividends without our intervention in the matter, thus preventing Lettice from being driven further into Sir John’s arms because of our perceived interference and bias against the match. I can see by your response, Leslie darling, that being the perceptive young man you are, like me, you too have noticed a change come over Lettice and her attitudes to Sir John.”

 

“I have Mamma.” Leslie admits. “A definite cooling”

 

“What the devil do you mean, Sadie?” the Viscount splutters in exasperation. “What’s all this about Lettice’s attitudes towards that ghastly old lecher? Stop being so damn cryptic, woman!”

 

“I’m not quite sure when exactly, but it seems that at least since her return from that decorative arts exhibition in Paris, Lettice has taken a cooler attitude towards her fiancée, Cosmo. When they arrived to stay, I asked Lettice whether she and Sir John have settled on a date for the wedding yet, and she fobbed me off with some fanciful story that they haven’t had time to settle on one yet. It’s all nonsense of course.” Lady Sadie scoffs. “A happily engaged couple would have settled on one by now, no matter how busy they were. You mark my words.” She holds up a wagging bejewelled finger. “She’s stalling, and I am quite sure she is reconsidering her engagement. Furthermore,” she adds. “If you think about how she was when their engagement first became public, Lettice hung off Sir John, and his every word. Not a cross word was had between them.” Lady Sadie nods, steeling her jaw as she speaks. “Yet now look at her. She’s sitting with Arabella.”

 

“Tice hasn’t stood next to him all this evening.” Leslie adds. “Haven’t you noticed, Pappa?”

 

The Viscount sits up more straightly in his seat as he glances between Sir John and Lettice, who sits on the sofa with Arabella, her back clearly turned to her fiancée. “No,” he says, a brightness lightening his gruff tones, his glower lifting a little. “I can’t say I have.”

 

“And she’s given him critical, or even openly hostile glances when he’s said things she doesn’t like or agree with since they both motored down from London to stay.” Lady Sadie adds. “It’s not the look a happily engaged woman gives her fiancée, Cosmo.”

 

“Bella even told me last night before bed that Tice confided in her the other day that she and Sir John had the fiercest argument up in London over the Prince of Wales’ visit and their need to leave here just after New Year. Apparently, she told Sir John he could jolly well go on his own, Royal Highness or not, as she was staying here until after Twelfth Night like usual. It was only because of Clemance’s imploring that she recanted and agreed to go with them to Rippon Court the day after tomorrow.”

 

“Really?” Sir John asks, whilst Lady Sadie gasps and smiles at their son’s revelation.

 

“According to Bella, and she’s less of a Sir John despiser than we are, so I can’t imagine her fabricating or gilding such a tale.”

 

Just at that moment, Arabella scuttles past her husband and in-laws, vacating her seat as she goes to the side of the fireplace and rings the servants’ call bell by turning the metal and porcelain handle discreetly built in under the mantle. “We must call for Bramley!” she exclaims excitedly. “We need fresh champagne. It’s nearly midnight!”

 

Seeing an ample opportunity to talk to Lettice, Leslie leaves his parents’ side and moves over to talk to her.

 

“To your health, little sister.” Leslie says, slipping down onto the seat vacated by his wife on the Louis Quinze sofa, raising his champagne flute to Lettice’s.

 

“To your health, dear Leslie.” Lettice parrots, raising her own glass so that it clinks merrily against his.

 

Leslie settles back against the soft embroidered gold satin upholstery back of the sofa and appraises Lettice as she sits opposite him, arrayed in a simple sleeveless tube frock of madder coloured satin with a drop waist and an asymmetrical hemline designed for her by Gerald. The colours warms her pale complexion and accentuates the golden tones of her marcelled waves******************** Her elbow length white kid evening gloves make for a nice contrast to the bright colour of the frock’s fabric. A diamond bracelet, a gift from Sir John to Lettice, winks and sparkles expensively under the illumination of the Glynes electrified drawing room chandeliers above.

 

“What?” Lettice asks her brother.

 

Leslie doesn’t answer straight away, which causes Lettice to blush and glance down to see if she has inadvertently spilt something from New Year’s Eve 1925’s dinner onto her gown, where it has remained unnoticed by her.

 

“What is it, Leslie?”

 

“You’re up to something.” he replies matter-of-factly after a moment of deliberation.

 

Lettice laughs in startled surprise at Leslie’s effrontery. “No I’m not, Leslie!”

 

“Yes you are, Tice.” Leslie retorts before taking a sip of gin and tonic. “Do you remember when you were six and I was sixteen, and I caught you coming out of the barn on the home farm********************* with that pail********************** of molasses for the cows***********************, which you intended to pour into Lionel’s bed?”

 

“He deserved a taste of his own medicine, after he deliberately poured water on my mattress, making it look like I’d wet the bed.” Lettice defends herself. Nanny Tess was fit to be tied, and I received such a dressing down and a punishment of no nursery tea for a week.” She scoffs and rolls her blue eyes. “You stopped me doing it.”

 

“I wouldn’t have stopped you, if you hadn’t been so Janus-faced************************ when I asked you whether you were going to try and reciprocate punishment on Lionel, and you said you wouldn’t. I immediately suspected foul play, so I followed you, and as it turns out, I was right.”

 

“You stalked me, Leslie.” Lettice takes a sip of her own champagne, the bracelet of gemstones sliding down her raised forearm until it comes to a gentle halt where its circumference and that of her arm match.

 

“I saved you from your own impetuousness, Tice.”

 

“Says you.” Lettice laughs. “We’ll never know now. I was so guilty being caught red handed as it were by my own big brother, whom I worshipped and adored, that I did as you told me and suffered my punishment in silence without retribution upon Lionel.”

 

“He would have done something even worse to you, Tice. You know he would.”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

“Lionel’s depths of depravity and evil were evident long before he was seven, Tice my dear.”

 

“True.” Lettice admits begrudgingly.

 

“Anyway, you are being Janus-faced now. Mamma noticed it, and so did I.” Leslie remarks. “So, what is going on between you and sleazy old Sir John? You’re saying all the right things, but Mamma and I both sense a shift in you, ever since you came home from Paris.” Leslie looks his sister directly in the eyes. “Is the sheen of your ill-considered engagement to Sir John finally wearing off?”

 

Lettice laughs again at Leslie’s impudence. “Why don’t you say what you really think, Leslie darling.”

 

“Is it?” Leslie persists.

 

“I’m not six any more, Leslie. I don’t need rescuing.” Lettice assures her sibling, reaching out her empty glove clad left hand and patting him on the knee consolingly. “I’m twenty-five, and I can manage this situation myself, and I am, in my own way.”

 

The concern painted on Leslie’s handsome face give away his misgivings. “I just hope, whatever you are up to, you’re doing the right thing.”

 

“I appreciate you wanting to come to my aid, Leslie darling, but I don’t need my knight in shining brotherly armour this time.”

 

Leslie sighs in tired exasperation. “You always were the most independent of all the Chetwynd children, forging your own destiny: not like Lally, who married well as Mamma intended, or me who as the heir apparent has grown up with his future mapped out for him.”

 

“Lionel, for all his faults, is independent too.” Lettice suggests.

 

“Yes, but stupid too with all his hedonistic actions to end up having his fate chosen for him against his will, shrouded in scandal, by being banished to British East Africa************************* by Pappa.”

 

“Please trust me on this, Leslie darling. I know what I’m doing this time.” Lettice promises Leslie. “Whether the outcomes are good, bad or a mixture of both. I’m prepared. I’ll be fine.”

 

“What are you two talking about over there?” the Viscount calls over to Lettice and Leslie from the drinks table, holding aloft one of two chilled bottles of champagne supplied by Bramley. “Come! It’s almost midnight. Time to toast to 1926.”

 

“Yes, Pappa.” the siblings say, arising from the sofa and walking over to the table where they join all the other guests and their hosts.

 

The Viscount hands them both fresh glasses of cool, sparkling French champagne.

 

The clock on the mantle chimes midnight prettily, in the distance the Glynes Church of England bell rings out across the quiet night and the muffled sound of cheers drift up from the servant’s quarters.

 

“Happy New Year!” Viscount Wrexham cheers. “Happy nineteen twenty-six!”

 

“Happy nineteen twenty-six!” everyone echoes as they raise their glasses and clink them together happily.

 

*Dating back to the fourth century, many Christians have observed the Twelfth Night — the evening before the Epiphany — as the ideal time to take down the Christmas tree and festive decorations. Traditionally, the Twelfth Night marks the end of the Christmas season, but there's reportedly some debate among Christian groups about which date is correct. By custom, the Twelfth Night falls on either January 5 or January 6, depending on whether you count Christmas Day as the first day. The Epiphany, also known as Three Kings' Day, commemorates the visit of the three wise men to baby Jesus in Bethlehem.

 

**Jermyn Street is a one-way street in the St James's area of the City of Westminster in London. It is to the south of, parallel, and adjacent to Piccadilly. Jermyn Street is known as a street for high end gentlemen's clothing retailers and bespoke tailors in the West End.

 

***A boutonnière or buttonhole is a floral decoration, typically a single flower or bud, worn on the lapel of a tuxedo or suit jacket. While worn frequently in the past, boutonnières are now usually reserved for special occasions for which formal wear is standard, such as at proms and weddings.

 

****Emilie Charlotte, Lady de Bathe, known as Lillie Langtry and nicknamed "The Jersey Lily", was a British socialite, stage actress and producer. Born and raised on the island of Jersey, she moved to London in 1876, two years after marrying. Her looks and personality attracted interest, commentary, and invitations from artists and society hostesses, and she was celebrated as a young woman of great beauty and charm. During the aesthetic movement in England, she was painted by aesthete artists. In 1882, she became the poster-girl for Pears soap, and thus the first celebrity to endorse a commercial product. In 1881, Langtry became an actress and made her West End debut in the comedy She Stoops to Conquer, causing a sensation in London by becoming the first socialite to appear on stage. One of the most glamorous British women of her era, Langtry was the subject of widespread public and media interest. Her acquaintances in London included Oscar Wilde, who encouraged Langtry to pursue acting. She was known for her relationships with royal figures and noblemen, including Albert Edward, Prince of Wales (the future King Edward VII), Lord Shrewsbury, and Prince Louis of Battenberg.

 

*****Wassail refers to a hot, mulled holiday punch, traditionally made with spiced cider or ale, and also to a winter solstice custom of visiting orchards to bless the trees for a good harvest. The word "wassail" comes from an Old Norse phrase meaning "be in good health" and is a salute to good health.

 

******Belchamp St Paul is a village and civil parish in the Braintree district of Essex, England. The village is five miles west of Sudbury, Suffolk, and 23 miles northeast of the county town, Chelmsford.

 

*******The Prince of Wales, later Edward VIII and Duke of Windsor, celebrated Christmas 1925 at Sandringham House in Norfolk, which was, and remains, the traditional Royal Family location for the festive season. His father, King George V, was the reigning monarch at the time, and the family gathered at their country estate for the festivities.

 

********King George V was a very enthusiastic and obsessive stamp collector who amassed a world-class collection. He began collecting stamps as the Duke of York in the late 1800s and continued obsessively throughout his life. He was so passionate about it that he declared, "I wish to have the best collection and not one of the best collections in England". He made high-value purchases to build his collection, including setting a world record at the time by paying £1,450.00 for a Mauritius two pence blue stamp in 1904. He famously acknowledged that he was the "damned fool" who paid such a high price. He had his collection housed in 328 albums, and it was focused on British Empire stamps. His private collection formed the foundation of the Royal Philatelic Collection, which is now considered one of the most valuable stamp collections in the world.

 

*********Queen Mary collected a wide variety of objects, including Eighteenth Century furniture, lacquerware, gold boxes, and jewellery. She also collected miniatures, enamelwork, and Fabergé eggs, and was particularly interested in restoring and acquiring pieces that had previously been part of the Royal Collection. Her collection was eclectic and also featured items like the famous Queen Mary's Dolls' House and a significant number of photo albums documenting her life and travels.

 

**********A steeplechase is a long-distance race involving both galloping and jumping over obstacles, primarily fences and water jumps. In horse racing, steeplechases involve horses jumping over various obstacles like fences and ditches.

 

***********During the 1920s the Prince of Wales, later Edward VIII and Duke of Windsor, was ranked among the most daring horsemen in England. Having forged an impressive reputation in the hunting field for courage, determination and skill, he moved on to steeplechasing furthering the indignation of George V and Queen Mary who urged their son to abandon the dangerous sport. Unheeded Edward broke his collar bone, blacked his eyes and suffered concussion with what seemed to be alarming regularity. The Prince’s addiction to his hazardous hobby even caused the Prime Minister Ramsay Macdonald to request discontinuance. The prince stubbornly refused. Only after the near fatal illness of the King in 1928, did the he finally renounce the sport and order the sale of his entire stud.

 

************The Master of the Hounds was in charge of the hunt and supervised the field, hounds, and staff. The huntsman, who had bred the hounds and worked with them, would be in charge of the pack during the hunt. Once the group was assembled, the huntsman would lead the pack of hounds and field to where a fox might be hiding.

 

*************The term "Neanderthal" was first used in 1864 when Irish geologist William King proposed the species name Homo neanderthalensis for the fossils found in Germany's Neander Valley. However, the first known use of "Neanderthal" to describe the fossil itself dates to 1874 in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary.

 

**************Referring to a strong alcoholic drink like whisky or gin, the origins of the use of the word “firewater” came from two sources: one started with the adulteration of alcohol with tobacco juice, hot peppers or opium, and the other began with the custom of testing the proof of alcohol by throwing it in the fire, if flammable alcohol would be acceptable for purchase.

 

***************Referring to hypocrisy, highlighting a situation where someone criticises another person for a fault that they themselves share, the idiom originated in the early 1600s from the Spanish novel “Don Quixote”, which was translated into English by Thomas Shelton in 1620.

 

****************Winifred May Mones, Marquesa de Casa Maury, commonly known by her first married name as Freda Dudley Ward, was an English socialite. She was best known for being a married paramour of Edward, Prince of Wales, who later became Edward VIII. She was twice married and divorced. Her first marriage was on 9 July 1913 to William Dudley Ward, the Liberal MP for Southampton. Her first husband's family surname was Ward, but 'Dudley Ward' became their surname through common usage. They divorced on the ground of adultery in 1931 and were the parents of two daughters. Although married in 1913 to William Dudley Ward, Freda was also in a relationship with Edward, Prince of Wales from 1918, until she was supplanted by American Thelma Furness from 1929 to 1934 before he then took up with Wallis Simpson, whom he eventually married and abdicated for.

 

*****************Freda Dudley Ward was the Prince of Wales's paramour for many years, with their affair beginning in the early 1920s. Their relationship was not a secret; it was openly acknowledged by their social circles, families, and the public. His parents the King George V and Queen Mary were concerned about the Prince of Wales's affair with Freda Dudley Ward, as it was a public relationship that threatened to cause scandal and damage his reputation, especially given the expectation that he would marry a foreign royal. They disapproved of the affair, viewing it as a public scandal and hoping the situation could be managed and kept out of the papers to protect the monarchy and the future king. It was a source of considerable tension between father and son. The constant disapproval from his father contributed to Edward's already existing resentment and hatred for his royal role and the constraints it placed upon him.

 

******************One of the most famous Christmas decorations that people love to use at Christmas is tinsel. You might think that using it is an old tradition and that people in Britain have been adorning their houses with tinsel for a very long time. However that is not actually true. Tinsel is in fact believed to be quite a modern tradition. Whilst the idea of tinsel dates back to Germany in 1610 when wealthy people used real strands of silver to adorn their Christmas trees (also a German invention). Silver was very expensive though, so being able to do this was a sign that you were wealthy. Even though silver looked beautiful and sparkly to begin with, it tarnished quite quickly, meaning it would lose its lovely, bright appearance. Therefore it was swapped for other materials like copper and tin. These metals were also cheaper, so it meant that more people could use them. However, when the Great War started in 1914, metals like copper were needed for the war. Because of this, they couldn't be used for Christmas decorations as much, so a substitute was needed. It was swapped for aluminium, but this was a fire hazard, so it was switched for lead, but that turned out to be poisonous.

 

*******************Taken from the name of the hero in Miguel de Cervantes 1605 novel, “Don Quixote”, to be quixotic means to be extremely idealistic, unrealistic and impractical, typically marked by rash and lofty romanticism.

 

********************Marcelling is a hair styling technique in which hot curling tongs are used to induce a curl into the hair. Its appearance was similar to that of a finger wave but it is created using a different method. Marcelled hair was a popular style for women's hair in the 1920s, often in conjunction with a bob cut. For those women who had longer hair, it was common to tie the hair at the nape of the neck and pin it above the ear with a stylish hair pin or flower. One famous wearer was American entertainer, Josephine Baker.

 

*********************A "home farm" is typically a farm that is part of a large country estate and provides food for the main house. In a British context, it was historically the land farmed directly by the landowner or an employed manager, often while the rest of the estate was rented out to tenant farmers.

 

**********************Although often assumed to be American, the word “pail” is actually an English word that originated in the Middle English period (1150 – 1500) and is used in both American and British English, though it is considered more common in American English today, where it is often synonymous with "bucket". While "bucket" is the more dominant term in British English, "pail" is still understood and can be considered a more old-fashioned or regional variant.

 

***********************In farming, molasses provides an energy-rich supplement for livestock, helps them to better digest fibre in their feed.

 

************************Arising in the late Seventeenth Century, referring to the Roman deity of beginnings and endings often depicted with two faces, “Janus-faced” refers to deliberate deceptiveness especially by pretending one set of feelings and acting under the influence of another.

 

*************************The Colony and Protectorate of Kenya, commonly known as British Kenya or British East Africa, was part of the British Empire in Africa. It was established when the former East Africa Protectorate was transformed into a British Crown colony in 1920. Technically, the "Colony of Kenya" referred to the interior lands, while a 16 km (10 mi) coastal strip, nominally on lease from the Sultan of Zanzibar, was the "Protectorate of Kenya", but the two were controlled as a single administrative unit. The colony came to an end in 1963 when an ethnic Kenyan majority government was elected for the first time and eventually declared independence as the Republic of Kenya.

 

This festive upper-class scene is not all that it may appear to be, for it is made up entirely of pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The champagne glasses are 1:12 artisan miniatures. Made of glass, they have been blown individually by hand by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering and are so fragile and delicate that even I with my dainty fingers have broken the stem of one. They stand on an ornate Eighteenth Century style silver tray made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The wine cooler is also made by Warwick Miniatures. The Deutz and Geldermann champagne bottle is also an artisan miniature and made of glass with a miniature copy of a real Deutz and Geldermann label and some real foil wrapped around their necks. It was made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The clear glass soda syphon and porcelain ice bucket and tongs was made by M.W. Reutter Porzellanfabrik in Germany, who specialise in making high quality porcelain miniatures. The cranberry glass soda syphon was made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures. The remaini g bottles of alcohol were made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures. The gilt tea table in the foreground of the photo on which they all stand is made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.

 

The Chetwynd Christmas tree, beautifully decorated by Lettice, Harold and Arabella with garlands, tinsel, bows golden baubles and topped by a sparking gold star is a 1:12 artisan piece. It was hand made by husband and wife artistic team Margie and Mike Balough who own Serendipity Miniatures in Newcomerstown, Ohio.

 

The Palladian console table behind the Christmas tree, with its two golden caryatids and marble top, is one of a pair that were commissioned by me from American miniature artisan Peter Cluff. Peter specialises in making authentic and very realistic high quality 1:12 miniatures that reflect his interest in Georgian interior design. His work is highly sought after by miniature collectors worldwide. This pair of tables are one-of-a-kind and very special to me.

 

The gilt chair to the right of the photo is made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq, but what is particularly special about it is that it has been covered in antique Austrian floral micro petite point by V.H. Miniatures in the United Kingdom, which also makes this a one-of-a-kind piece. The artisan who made this says that as one of her hobbies, she enjoys visiting old National Trust Houses in the hope of getting some inspiration to help her create new and exciting miniatures. She saw some beautiful petit point chairs a few years ago in one of the big houses in Derbyshire and then found exquisitely detailed petit point that was fine enough for 1:12 scale projects.

 

The elegant ornaments that decorate the surfaces of the Chetwynd’s palatial drawing room very much reflect the Eighteenth Century spirit of the room.

 

On the console table made by Peter Cluff stands a porcelain pot of yellow and lilac petunias which has been hand made and painted by 1:12 miniature ceramicist Ann Dalton. It is flanked by two mid Victorian (circa 1850) hand painted child’s tea set pieces. The sugar bowl and milk jug have been painted to imitate Sèvres porcelain.

 

On the bombe chest behind the Louis settee stand a selection of 1950s Limoges miniature tea set pieces which I have had since I was a teenager. Each piece is individually stamped on its base with a green Limoges stamp. In the centre of these pieces stands a sterling silver three prong candelabra made by an unknown artisan. They have actually fashioned a putti (cherub) holding the stem of the candelabra. The candles that came with it are also 1:12 artisan pieces and are actually made of wax.

 

The sofa, which is part of a three piece Louis XV suite of the settee and two armchairs was made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, JBM.

 

The Hepplewhite chair with the lemon satin upholstery you can just see behind the Christmas tree was made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.

 

All the paintings around the Glynes drawing room in their gilded frames are 1:12 artisan pieces made by Amber’s Miniatures in the United States and V.H. Miniatures in the United Kingdom, and the wallpaper is an authentic copy of hand-painted Georgian wallpaper of Chinese lanterns from the 1770s.

At the beginning of an ill fated chase, SIRI crosses the bridge over the WNYP as they head south through Carrollton, New York.

Nexorenity x Limp Bizkit - Behind Blue Eyes

 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=leGfXRVSgJ0

 

No one knows what it's like

To be the bad man

To be the sad man

Behind blue eyes

 

No one knows what it's like

To be hated

To be fated

To telling only lies

 

But my dreams

They aren't as empty

As my conscience seems to be

 

I have hours, only lonely

My love is vengeance

That's never free

 

No one knows what it's like

To feel these feelings

Like I do

And I blame you

 

No one bites back as hard

On their anger

None of my pain and woe

Can show through

 

But my dreams

They aren't as empty

As my conscience seems to be

 

I have hours, only lonely

My love is vengeance

That's never free

 

When my fist clenches, crack it open

Before I use it and lose my cool

When I smile, tell me some bad news

Before I laugh and act like a fool

 

And if I swallow anything evil

Put your finger down my throat

And if I shiver, please give me a blanket

Keep me warm, let me wear your coat

 

No one knows what it's like

To be the bad man

To be the sad man

Behind blue eyes

The Scott Monument in Roath Park Lake, Cardiff, 31 October 2021. The monument was repainted and 'spring cleaned' in 2020 after a donation to the Council was made by a local man who had lost both his wife and his mother in 2019. Andy Temple and his wife frequently walked round the lake, as did his mother right up to the age of 97.

 

On 15 June 1910, Scott and the crew of the Terra Nova set sail from Cardiff bound for the Antarctic, where they arrived in October on their ill-fated mission. The ship depicted on the weathervane on top of the tower is of Scott's earlier vessel, The Discovery.

Watching every motion in my foolish lover's game

On this endless ocean, finally lovers know no shame

Turning and returning to some secret place inside

Watching in slow motion as you turn around and say

 

Take my breath away

Take my breath away

 

Watching, I keep waiting, still anticipating love

Never hesitating to become the fated ones

Turning and returning to some secret place to hide

Watching in slow motion as you turn to me and say

 

My love

Take my breath away

 

Through the hourglass, I saw you

Each time you slipped away

When the mirror crashed, I called you

And turned to hear you say

If only for today, I am unafraid

 

Take my breath away

Take my breath away

 

Watching every motion in this foolish lover's game

Haunted by the notion somewhere there's a love in flames

Turning and returning to some secret place inside

Watching in slow motion as you turn my way and say

 

Take my breath away

My love, take my breath away

My love, take my breath away

My love, take my breath away

 

-Berlin

Made famous in "Top Gun"

CP 421 makes it's normal afternoon appearance on the North Toronto, ripping into the curve at Mount Pleasant with heritage SD70 no.7015 on point. With some basic knowledge of impending cutovers, this spot was near the top of my list for snagging a heritage leader at before it was too late, and I'm glad I did.

 

To add a little drama to the day, this ill-fated train only made it as far as Bolton where the 7015 suffered an engine failure, alledgedly launching multiple pistons out of it's prime mover and catching a small fire. As of 2025, the locomotive has since been repaired and returned to service after taking a trip to a Progress Rail shop stateside.

Psalm 143:4: “Therefore is my spirit overwhelmed within me; my heart within me is desolate.”

She said:

I sing to you a sad song

Of a life that is no more

Too young alas too young to die

No tender touch nor love knew I

My every breath is but a sigh

For the life that is no more

 

He said:

This love is too young to wither and die

Surely this loss is much exaggerated

It can't be real, can't be fated

Oh, tell me this sad tale is simply untrue

Imprinted always on my heart, Google Street View

 

😿😢 I miss the idea of you

~Think Exist

Mittimatalik, known in English as Pond Inlet, is located on the northerly tip of Baffin Island in the Lancaster Sound region on the east side of Eclipse Sound.

 

The region has one of Canada's most inhospitable climates—with long, dark winters and temperatures averaging −30.8 °C (−23.4 °F) (December to February, meteorological reckoning). By 2021, Pond Inlet with a population of 1,555, along with Clyde River with 1,181 and Qikiqtarjuaq with 593, comprised the population of the Arctic Cordillera—about 3,300 people. Most of the people who live in the region survive by hunting, fishing, and trapping.

 

It is at this location, it is believed, was the last sighting of HMS Terror and HMS Erebus in 1845, of the ill fated Franklin expedition, by a party of Inuit whalers. The ships were observed transiting Eclipse Sound, shown above, into Navy Board Inlet on their search for the Northwest Passage.

Behind Blue Eyes

 

No one knows what it's like

To be the bad girl

To be the sad girl

Behind blue eyes

And no one knows what it's like

To be hated

To be fated

To telling only lies

 

But my dreams, they aren't as empty

As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely

My love is vengeance

That's never free

 

No one knows what it's like

To feel these feelings

Like I do

And I blame you

 

No one bites back as hard

On their anger

None of my pain and woe

Can show through

 

But my dreams, they aren't as empty

As my conscience seems to be

And I have hours, only lonely

My love is vengeance

That's never free

 

No one knows what it's like

To be mistreated

To be defeated

Behind blue eyes

 

And no one knows how to say

That they're sorry

And don't worry

I'm not tellin' lies

 

But my dreams, they aren't as empty

As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely

My love is vengeance

That's never free

 

No one knows what it's like

To be the bad girl

To be the sad girl

Behind blue eyes

TELE VIEW: St. Louis Southwestern (SSW) GP60-9708, Southern Pacific SD40T-2-5388, SD40T-2-5401 in Rio Grande paint & SP SD45T-2-9351 in the ill-fated Kodachrome scheme, are leading a W/B freight on SP's Green River Sub. 5:57PM on 6-19-96 in East Brendel, UT.

A Century Saturday offering from way back, picture number 114 in my chronology. Conrail C636 No. 6792 was the second Big Alco I ever encountered, parked out behind DeWitt Shop on a grey

16 December 1979 (see my posting 'Stranger Than Fiction' for the first one, C630 No. 6761). Like that other well fated unit, little did I know that this monster would be a historic survivor, one of only a few big six-axle Centuries from the Conrail fleet to escape the scrapper's torch. Fortunate 6792 was sold to Delta Bulk Terminal in California, and was repatriated to the Northeast when GVT acquired it for their Delaware-Lackawanna operation. Almost 42 years after this picture was taken, the 3600 hp brute still hauls tonnage, roaming the Poconos.

  

Another coloured sunset this evening setting behind The Blackhead Lighthouse. This lighthouse was built on the north shore of the entrance to Belfast Lough in 1901, opposite its twin across the Lough at Mew Island. These two were important in protecting commercial shipping when steam replaced sail in the mid 19th Century, and would have guided all of the great ships of Belfast's shipbuilding glory days, including the ill fated Titanic.

thank you for your likes and comments!

Part of Titanic Studios in Belfast - located on the site of the shipyard where the ill-fated passenger liner was built.

 

(This is not a 'selectic colour' black & white edit.)

___________________

 

Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.

(Acts 16:31)

The land for Roath Park was donated to the city in 1887, primarily by the Marquis of Bute.. The park was officially opened to the public in 1894. Work initially focused on creating the lake from an area of marshland. In 1915 a lighthouse was constructed in the lake containing a scale model of the 'Terra Nova' ship to commemorate Captain Scott's ill-fated voyage to the Antarctic from Cardiff in 1910. The park's atmosphere today still retains the Victorian elegance and its status as a Conservation Area ensures these qualities will be conserved.

At 3:30 p.m. on the afternoon of August 20, 1988, a westbound Santa Fe freight climbs Edelstein Hill around Houlihan’s Curve west of Chillicothe, Illinois. The lead locomotive is an EMD FP45 that was built in December 1967 and originally numbered 100, hauling Santa Fe’s crack passenger trains. After a rebuilding by Santa Fe in 1982 into a model the railroad called a SDFP45, the locomotive was renumbered 5990. The big cowl was eventually painted in the “Kodachrome” colors of the ill-fated SPSF merger in 1986 as seen as seen in this view.

The Town of Ramsgate public house is located at the centre of the ancient hamlet of Wapping in the London Borough of Tower Hamlets. It features in several books about London inns where it is rated as "a notable specimen of a waterman's tavern."

 

Although the present building dates back to 1758, the National Monuments Record have stated that it was constructed on earlier foundations.

 

The notorious Judge Jeffreys was caught outside the ale house as he tried to escape disguised as a sailor on a collier bound for Hamburg after the Glorious Revolution, in the same year, which overthrew King James II. Presiding over the Bloody Assizes after Monmouth’s unsuccessful rebellion against James II, Judge Jeffreys had taken great pleasure in sending hundreds to their execution, and in abusing their attorney’s, which was a costly mistake as one of them recognised him resulting in his capture!

 

Ramsgate harbour of 1850 features in the pub sign and is also etched on the mirror near the entrance to the pub.

As for the Wapping Old Stairs next door, they also have a bloody history. If you visit during low tide, you can still see the post to which condemned pirates were chained to drown as the tide rose. The Stairs were made famous in Rawlinson’s cartoon and Dibden’s poems. John Banks came here, with Captain Bligh to inspect the Bounty before purchasing it for the ill-fated voyage to Tahiti.

 

Sources:

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Town_of_Ramsgate

townoframsgate.pub/our-story/

------------------------------------------------------------------

 

100x: The 2024 Edition

 

47/100 London landmarks by night

 

The second of the stylish but ill fated Met-Cam units, 151002 in happier times as it works a Matlock to Derby service under the many over bridges in Belper on March 19th 1986.

This is part of the Boston transit system that runs both under and overground.

Some of you may be familiar with the song about it, Charlie on the MTA.

What's interesting is the back story.

If curious:

 

In 1949 a progressive mayoral candidate couldn't fund radio ads so he recruited some local folk musicians to write campaign songs and sing them thru a loudspeaker on a traveling truck.

For which they were fined.

One of his protests was the recent "exit fare" increase of a nickel if you rode past a certain distance, so fictional Charlie was born. The candidate lost and was later labeled a communist.

 

In 1959 a popular group called the Kingston Trio revived the song, changed the candidate's name and some of the lyrics, in fear that they too might be declared communist in the time of the McCarthy era.

So, we all came to know Charlie who didn't have "one more nickel" and was fated to ride the rails forever, and his wife to pass him a sandwich thru the open window. It swept not only Boston but the entire nation as far as Hawaii, and the transit authority was swamped with envelopes containing packaged sandwiches and nickels addressed to Charlie on the MTA. (hahaha...)

 

In 2004 the token system was replaced with an electronic card system and the current KT was invited to perform the song at the dedication ceremony, with attendees, including then Gov. Mitt Romney, singing the lyrics right along with them.

They had to come up with a name for the card, and so they did.

It's the CharlieCard.

(image in first comment box).

 

But his fate is still unknown.

 

If inclined, here's the original Kingston Trio singing the song.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=_oaVU0I_oCA

 

Have a nice weekend.

Put an extra nickel in your pocket.

   

WIDE VIEW: St. Louis Southwestern (SSW) GP60-9708, Southern Pacific SD40T-2-5388, SD40T-2-5401 in Rio Grande paint & SP SD45T-2-9351 in the ill-fated Kodachrome scheme, are leading a W/B freight on SP's Green River Sub. 5:12PM on 6-19-96 in Sagers, UT.

“The Crow Stones,” replied Dave without hesitation. “Crow Stones,” nodded Lee in agreement. Decision made then.

 

This afternoon’s outing was going to be a bit of a mission. Not only would we have to drive for an hour to get to the parking place, but the hike ahead of us looked positively vertical on the map. Still, we all agreed that given the choice between the two, we’d head for the Crow Stones. The Salt Cellar was a strong candidate, but it would have to wait for another time. Much as we’d have liked to, we couldn’t do them all. I’d added forty odd locations to the map and we only had four days here. We wouldn’t even manage a quarter of them. And despite one or two small misgivings about leaving the many paths of Kinder Scout untrodden and the menu at the Nag’s Head in Edale untested, I think the final shortlist was well made. Balanced and eclectic - a bit like the all day brekkie at Morrisons in Buxton.

 

We’d already had a stiff walk first thing in the morning, rising at four and making for Mam Tor and the famous ridge. By the time we rolled back into Buxton, the step counter was already into five figures. After a few hours of rest and lunch at our favourite supermarket café, we’d retrace our route and head towards the reservoirs of the Derwent Valley, above which lay the lonely Crow Stones. Exactly where remained uncertain - only that they were up there somewhere. I photographed the page from the guidebook and made sure the phone and head torch were fully charged. The online research confirmed the vagueness of the route. Two and a half miles in either direction, much of it an oxygen sapping slog along the merest hint of sheep track through thick layers of bracken and heather. Maybe we’d find it, maybe not. Still, the book promised much to point our cameras at along the way. And while the sky remained steadfastly grey, there was no sign of rain in the forecast. Up in the wide open spaces there’d be nowhere to shelter if the weather took a turn for the worse. We made a mental note to be off the high ground before dark.

 

Nobody else had parked at the lonely King’s Oak by the head of the Howden Reservoir, northernmost of the three huge basins that supply water to the towns and cities in and around the edges of the Peak District. And while we saw a couple of anglers from a distance by the river, the world here would be ours alone until we returned to the car some hours later. The route described in the guidebook began clearly enough, but would it continue to be so easy to follow as we made it onto higher ground? Would we still have half an idea where we were heading once the “broad rutted path petered out" and we’d need to turn left and follow “an indistinct trod,” to a crash site we might easily miss? "An indistinct trod?" Finding our subject was going to need a degree of resolve, a peppering of luck and a stubborn refusal to give in.

 

Crucially, we didn’t take the first path that veered off to the right. Goodness knows where we’d have ended up if we did - the Salt Cellar probably - but we pushed on and trusted our instincts, soon finding an unusually green track that branched away from the main trail through the valley and began to gain altitude. Ten minutes later we were faced with any number of “indistinct trods” spreading in all directions as the gradient gathered pace and slowed ours to a breathless trudge. Onwards we staggered, unable to see the Crow Stones. But if we could get up onto the plateau above and find the highest ground, surely they’d reveal themselves? At least the ground was soft and springy, and when the curve finally did level itself out, walking became easy. As long as you were in a “trod.” By this point I’m fairly sure we’d strayed from Derbyshire into South Yorkshire.

 

After a period of marching across the high ground, we found the trig point, where we stopped to take in the three hundred and sixty degree panorama of at least four counties that were lying beneath our lofty viewpoint. “I think that’s Huddersfield!” I exclaimed, pointing at a tall mast to the north. “Harold Wilson came from there.” For some reason, very possibly the result of oxygen deprivation, Lee became intoxicated with this information, inexplicably excited at the thought of Huddersfield lying somewhere down there in the hinterland. He seemed quite disappointed when I backtracked, remembering that while Huddersfield did have a big pointy thing on a hill that overlooked the city, but this wasn’t it. I’d been thinking of Castle Hill, which I’d been to on my one visit nearly forty years earlier. Later I discovered we’d been looking at the Emley Moor Mast, taller than the Eiffel Tower, considerably more famous than Castle Hill, and just a few miles east of, you’ve guessed it, Huddersfield.

 

Another thing we could now see from the trig point was what we’d come here for. Below us to the west sat the stones, swathed in lonely moorland, seemingly untouched and unloved. It was clear that only a few deluded souls ever made it this far. There was no obvious “trod” towards them though, and you can’t just go tramping about over the ground disturbing nesting sites at this time of year, so we doubled back, eventually finding another narrow track down from the highest ground and around towards the stones. A few minutes later we stumbled upon the crash site, where more than seventy years ago the crew of three from an ill fated Icelandic Airlines flight lost their lives. A cross marked their names, and for a moment we stood by the rusting remains, not speaking, trying to imagine what must have been going through their minds in those final minutes. Ironic that so many of us have been to photograph a plane wreck in Iceland - but then again everyone survived that one intact. This wasn’t a place for photographs though. We moved on.

 

And then we were here, at the lonely moorland stones above the deep valley, trying to work out how to shoot them with so little time available. Below us to the south we could see the distant reservoirs and the forest where the car sat waiting for us. We allowed ourselves a maximum of forty minutes, but then spent well over an hour here. The journey back down was fast, easy and uneventful. Whether we got a shot or not, I’ll let you decide, but it was surely an adventure we’ll remember for a long time. By the time I was back at the car, my watch had counted more than thirty-three thousand steps today.

 

At the top, I sent Ali a humble phone snap of the Crow Stones, so she could see what we’d been up to. “Carn Brea,” came the short reply. And for those of you who don’t know, Carn Brea is a hill with a monument at the summit that stands over the old mining area of West Cornwall, just three or four miles from where I live. You can see it from much of West Cornwall, and in the local area it dominates the landscape like a colossus. I’ve been playing football at the leisure centre that bears its name every Friday for more than twenty years. It seems she thought that I could have avoided all this effort and expense, jumped in the car for about ten minutes and then trotted about fifty yards along the path to a similar viewpoint. Sometimes love hurts you know.

A photo from my ill fated attempt up Binnen Mor a while back. It was blowing a hoolie to say the least and I was physically blown off my feet before deciding to head back down. This was taken looking towards Binnein Beag a wee bit after Sgorr Eilde Beag. It was wild that day and the gusts were a tad stronger than the forecasted weather I'd say lol.

“Once, very long ago, Time fell in love with Fate. This, as you might imagine, proved problematic. Their romance disrupted the flow of time. It tangled the strings of fortune into knots. The stars watched from the heavens nervously, worrying what might occur. What might happen to the days and nights were time to suffer a broken heart? What catastrophes might result if the same fate awaited Fate itself? The stars conspired and separated the two. For a while they breathed easier in the heavens. Time continued to flow as it always had, or perhaps imperceptibly slower. Fate weaved together the paths that were meant to intertwine, though perhaps a string was missed here and there. But eventually, Fate and Time found each other again. In the heavens, the stars sighed, twinkling and fretting. They asked the Moon her advice. The Moon in turn called upon the parliament of owls to decide how best to proceed. The parliament of owls convened to discuss the matter amongst themselves night after night. They argued and debated while the world slept around them, and the world continued to turn, unaware that such important matters were under discussion while it slumbered. The parliament of owls came to the logical conclusion that if the problem was in the combination, one of the elements should be removed. They chose to keep the one they felt more important. The parliament of owls told their decision to the stars and the stars agreed. The Moon did not, but on this night she was dark and could not offer her opinion. So it was decided, and Fate was pulled apart. Ripped into pieces by beaks and claws. Fate’s screams echoed through the deepest corners and the highest heavens but no one dared to intervene save for a small brave mouse who snuck into the fray, creeping unnoticed through the blood and bone and feathers, and took Fate’s heart and kept it safe. When the furore died down there was nothing else left of Fate. The owl who consumed Fate’s eyes gained great sight, greater sight then any that had been granted to a mortal creature before. The Parliament crowned him the Owl King. In the heavens the stars sparkled with relief but the moon was full of sorrow. And so time goes as it should and events that were once fated to happen are left instead to chance, and Chance never falls in love with anything for long. But the world is strange and endings are not truly endings no matter how the stars might wish it so. Occasionally Fate can pull itself together again. And Time is always waiting.”

Sego, Utah

 

The ill fated town of Sego, Utah never did make a go of it. Their mining export was coal, but in such a remote location, the cost of freight made it impossible to realize profit. Today, little remains of Sego, a few railroad trestles and bridges, the stone bank building to the right rear, a few miners dugouts and a couple of 30's era bullet riddled auto remnants. The first time I visited, there was also a 2 story frame roadhouse in tatters, but time has compressed that into a flattened pile of timber.

 

The era of Illinois Central SD70's on the Bessemer has come to a close, just as other periods of various power have on this ill-fated road. Now all that remains are a few straggling B&LE painted units, relegated to local service a few times a week and CN SD70M-2's for the once a day ore turn. A trio of IC SD70's lead a southbound U702 from the docks towards a recrew at Osgood and eventually the URR in Pittsburgh. The runs north of Greenville are now mostly done overnight and the southbound departs Greenville for Pittsburgh well before sunrise most days.

These soaring Gothic arches designed by Seattle's own Minoru Yamasaki were built for the 'Century 21 Worlds Fair' in Seattle in 1961. Standing 109 feet tall they cap the 'Cathedral Of Science' officially named the Pacific Science Center, a hub in downtown Seattle and a must see op if you are ever in the area.

 

Minoru went on to design the IBM building and the Rainier Tower in Seattle, but is best known for the ill fated Twin Towers in New York

How can it be a sin, when it feels so right。。。

These fated men meet, their eyes wonder, their hands touch, their mouths align, and hearts entwine。。。

   

Nothing can be more right than true love。。。

   

Big thank you to Okinawa Panic of Pumpkin for my first round of blogging this event! I was very inspired by :::Last Ride:::'s Priest outfit!

   

I would also like to thank CCB's Matsuri event - L+R & Dura creator for providing finishing touches to this overall message!

   

For details about the items I am wearing as well as landmarks, please click my blog credits: 🌸🌸🌸ブログクレジット🌸🌸🌸

In Norse mythology, Njörðr is a god among the Vanir. Njörðr, father of the deities Freyr and Freyja by his unnamed sister, was in an ill-fated marriage with the goddess Skaði, lives in Nóatún and is associated with the sea, seafaring, wind, fishing, wealth, and crop fertility.

Njörðr is attested in the Poetic Edda, compiled in the 13th century from earlier traditional sources, the Prose Edda, written in the 13th century by Snorri Sturluson, in euhemerized form as a beloved mythological early king of Sweden in Heimskringla, also written by Snorri Sturluson in the 13th century, as one of three gods invoked in the 14th century Hauksbók ring oath, and in numerous Scandinavian place names. Veneration of Njörðr survived into the 18th or 19th century Norwegian folk practice, where the god is recorded as Njor and thanked for a bountiful catch of fish.

Njörðr has been the subject of an amount of scholarly discourse and theory, often connecting him with the figure of the much earlier attested Germanic goddess Nerthus, the hero Hadingus, and theorizing on his formerly more prominent place in Norse paganism due to the appearance of his name in numerous place names. Njörðr is sometimes modernly anglicized as Njord, Njoerd, or Njorth.

 

Titanic Belfast is a visitor attraction opened in 2012, a monument to Belfast's maritime heritage on the site of the former Harland & Wolff shipyard in the city's Titanic Quarter where the RMS Titanic was built.

 

It tells the stories of the ill-fated Titanic, which hit an iceberg and sank during her maiden voyage in 1912, and her sister ships RMS Olympic and HMHS Britannic. The building contains more than 12,000 square metres (130,000 sq ft) of floor space, most of which is occupied by a series of galleries, private function rooms and community facilities, plus the addition of Hickson’s Point destination bar in March 2018.

When generations collide ... the last incarnation of the "real" Cord was in 1937. It was the victim of many mergers and ill-fated marketing attempts.

Some say that the ghosts of Vlad the Impaler and his wife can still be seen

 

Wearing:

Azoury - Faithless Crown

PFC Pauldrons

LPD Theater Eye Make-up (Stronger)

Slink Mesh Body

AlaskaMetro Earth Make-up

Boon Hairbase

Redgrave Cruz Eyes

I never thought I'd call second generation EMDs classic, but in 2020 they do start to fit that descriptor. Now for a real classic, we have the 1952-built Great Lakes ore boat (laker) Arthur M. Anderson, unloading limestone at CN-Hallett Dock 5. The train, laker and dock are all property of CN. The Anderson is best known for being the boat following the ill-fated Edmund Fitzgerald on November 10, 1975.

SPONSORED:

 

---Skin with Eyebrows and Lipstick (Worn on Lelutka Zo Head – Tone Velour Dracula): ENVYOU – Lyra Skin – Find it @ Wasteland Event

 

---BOM Eyes: ETERNIA – Fated Gaze – Find it @ Wasteland Event

 

---Top & Shorts: GALAGHER – Emery Set – Find it @ Wasteland Event

 

OTHER CREDITS:

---FACESHOP

 

Come visit Fab Free, your home for all the best freebies, gifts and bargains on the grid! You might already use our spreadsheets, why not subscribe and read our daily posts too? ;)

 

Fab Free: fabfree.wordpress.com/2024/12/23/catching-snowflakes-2/

  

"Catching Snowflakes" by Pixie Lott

 

But our love was like catching a snowflake

As it reached our hands

It was already gone

This love was not ours to take

It was fated to break

Though it was beautiful

Perched high above the Pöllat, Thundering Creek, in Hohenschwangau is famed Neuschwanstein Castle. It was built from 1869 on the commission of Ludwig II (1845-1886), King of Bavaria, who ill-fatedly drowned in the Starnbergersee near Munich.

I climbed up from the valley to visit it - with myriad others - and there was already a foreboding of darkness. The road is mostly overhung by alpine trees and has a gloomy atmosphere. The interior of the castle is also gloomy, and it fits in well with the psychology of a king who could not bear daylight and would see visitors only at night. In fact, the rooms with their depictions of the German mystico-mythical world of the likes of Siegfried and the Götterdämmerung strengthened in me an uncanny gloominess.

From afar, though, the Castle glitters brightly in the sunlight, but it was eerily gray in the rain when I first saw it.

Wandering down again to catch my trip back to Munich, I was surprised in a sunny field by happily colorful Euphrasia officinalis, Eye-Bright (see inset). Cheerfulness and joy returned.

🎶 MARINA - KARMA

 

"Heartbreaker, real faker

Getting off on bad behaviour

I know you inside and out, out, out

You're losing your temper

Do you think they won't remember

You're only sorry when you're coming down

 

Real hearts don't lie

Take it from me

You'll see in time

Take it from me

 

It's funny how it all goes down

Don't be sorry when it comes around

I'm like "Oh my god, I think it's karma"

Ain't it funny how it all adds up

When you're always trying to push your luck?

I'm like "Oh my god, I think it's karma"

"Oh my god, I..."

"Oh my god, I think it's karma"

 

“Even chance meetings are the result of karma… Things in life are fated by our previous lives. That even in the smallest events there’s no such thing as coincidence.”

― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

  

Picture made with Leonardo in my nightmares of getting lost in a strange place

 

▶Featured:

@Gacha Guild Ends March 31st)

 

Positive Wavelength gacha have both mounts and avatars. 35 avatars mounts each in total 8 commons, 9 uncommons, 9 rares, & 6 epics. 100L per play (trans only)

 

[not a peep] has 2 gachas to play from Fated eyes & Captian's fate. Fated eyes has 13 eyes in total, 6 commons, 4 uncommons, 2 rares, & 1 secret rare. Each comes in 2 versions of black & white scleras. Captian's fate has 23 items in total 2 being rares & 21 commons.

 

Ryoku has a total of 21 items 3 rares, 12 commons, & 7 uncommons (tattoos are bom only) (mod/trans)

 

▶Avatar

[Head] LeLUTKA Lilly

[Body] Legacy

[Shape] Self-made Shape

  

▶Cosmetics/Mods

[Skin] . MILA . Jhene Skin [Choco] LEL EVOLUTION

[Hair] [Yomi] Lili Hair

[Tattoos] . MILA . Scars Of Battle (Catwa/Genus/Omega)

[Eyes] [n.a.p] Fated Eyes Controlled (common 04) @Gacha Guild

 

▶Accessories

[FORMANAILS] Nails for Legacy-Party

- Ryoku - Sky Dragon (Blue Sapphire Horns V2 + Scales(tattoo)) @Gacha Guild

 

▶pose&backdrops

Synnergy-Distruction Backdrop

 

FOXCITY- Melancholy Bento Pose Set (pose 4 used)

 

▶Pets

Alchemy - Dragonette - AIR RARE

 

Dragon Mount Uncommon-19 by PositiveWavelength @Gacha Guild

Santa Fe’s Q train out of Big Lift (Denver) utilizing Colorado’s Joint Line is about to cross the small trestle at mile 698.6 between Tomah and Larkspur, Colorado, on July 10, 1989. Santa Fe EMD F45 No. 5989 leads the train, and is painted in the “Kodachrome” scheme for a proposed merger that never happened between Southern Pacific and Santa Fe. Some say that the ill-fated SPSF stood for “Shouldn’t Paint So Fast” since many locomotives, mostly Santa Fe, were repainted before the merger was approved.

gabbyjaws.blogspot.com/2022/10/spooky-thingsinova-event-e...

Auf einem Bergrücken der sich südlich der Stadt Consuegra befindet, stehen 12 Windmühlen und das Castillo de Consuegra, welches im Hintergrund zu sehen ist.

Die spanischen Windmühlen stehen auch eng in Verbindung mit Don Quijote von der Mancha. Don Quijote ist die allgemeinsprachliche Bezeichnung für den spanischsprachigen Roman "El ingenioso hidalgo Don Quixote de la Mancha" von Miguel de Cervantes und gleichzeitig der Name des Protagonisten. Der erste Teil wurde 1605 veröffentlicht, der zweite 1615 unter dem Titel "Segunda parte del ingenioso caballero don Quixote de la Mancha".

Don Quijote ist ein seinen Ritterromanen verfallener Leser, der unfähig erscheint, zwischen Dichtung und Wahrheit zu unterscheiden. Er hält sich für einen stolzen Ritter, dem vermeintlich das Schicksal ein kühnes Abenteuer nach dem nächsten zu bestreiten auferlegt. Er steigt auf sein klappriges Pferd Rosinante und kämpft unter anderem gegen Windmühlen. Treu an seiner Seite reitet der nur scheinbar naive Schildknappe Sancho Panza und versucht seinen Herrn vor schlimmerem Unheil zu bewahren. Meist enden die Episoden damit, dass Don Quijote verprügelt wird und wenig ruhmreich als „Ritter von der traurigen Gestalt“ auftritt. Im 1615 vorgelegten zweiten Teil ist der – immer noch verarmte – Landadelige Don Quijote eine literarische Berühmtheit geworden.

 

On a ridge south of the town of Consuegra are 12 windmills and the Castillo de Consuegra can be seen in the background.

The Spanish windmills are also closely associated with Don Quixote of the Mancha. Don Quixote is the general term for the Spanish-language novel "El ingenioso hidalgo Don Quixote de la Mancha" by Miguel de Cervantes and at the same time the name of the protagonist. The first part was published in 1605, the second in 1615 under the title "Segunda parte del ingenioso caballero don Quixote de la Mancha".

Don Quixote is a reader addicted to his chivalric novels, who seems unable to distinguish between fiction and truth. He considers himself a proud knight who is supposedly fated to face one daring adventure after the next. He gets on his rickety horse Rosinante and fights against windmills, among other things. The apparently naive squire Sancho Panza rides faithfully at his side and tries to protect his master from worse calamities. Most of the episodes end with Don Quixote being beaten up and appearing with little glory as the “knight of the sad figure”. In the second part, presented in 1615, the - still impoverished - country nobleman Don Quixote became a literary celebrity.

  

Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved

 

NO GROUP INVITES

¡No hay invitaciones de grupo!

My River of Rivers (with thanks to Wallace Stevens) 12-31-2017

by John R. Williams

 

My smallest of rivers is river enough.

The Styx’s Gothic cascades

And weird twisted trees be damned.

 

Long, long ways from Stygia.

Little spring-fed river spawning

Countless fecund ponds great and small.

 

No shades slink here. Fateful not ill-fated.

A grave ferryman would be supererogatory

Where gravel roads and culverts suffice.

 

So little to meet the eye

This subtle river without appearance

Barely marked by some stunted trees

 

It is as common as light and air.

Locally just a river of exposition.

It’s vigor and curriculum undetected

 

Save in my myth: Springs from nowhere,

Makes magic broth, rises up on wings,

Flows down to dust plumes in a dead sea.

Titanic Belfast is a visitor attraction opened in 2012, a monument to Belfast's maritime heritage on the site of the former Harland & Wolff shipyard in the city's Titanic Quarter where the RMS Titanic was built.

 

It tells the stories of the ill-fated Titanic, which hit an iceberg and sank during her maiden voyage in 1912, and her sister ships RMS Olympic and HMHS Britannic. The building contains more than 12,000 square metres (130,000 sq ft) of floor space, most of which is occupied by a series of galleries, private function rooms and community facilities, plus the addition of Hickson’s Point destination bar in March 2018.

What’s The Spiritual Meaning of the Flower Moon?

According to the Farmer’s Almanac, the Flower Moon gets its name from the beautiful blossoming flowers that spring is so well known for. The flora-inspired name is attributed to the Algonquin people, though the lunar event may also be referred to as the Budding Moon or Planting Moon.

 

As for how this lunation will affect the eclipse, Samay shares: “When a lunar eclipse occurs in Scorpio, it can bring about an intense karmic shift towards our psyche, finances, sexuality, and willpower. This means full disclosure and exposure will take place in ‘errors’ of the past.”

 

Some areas of your life that will likely need reevaluating during this time include finances, power dynamics, and even hygiene, per the astrologer. “Expect to see discussions on political power struggles, or hidden agendas in the collective consciousness,” Samay shares. But don’t expect the days leading up to May 5 to be packed with life-changing events, because according to Samay, the effects of an eclipse can be seen “two weeks to two months before and after the fated date.” In other words: get ready for miracles and unexpected shake-ups all throughout May.

How To Work With The Full Flower Moon’s Energy

As you can probably tell, there’s going to be a lot of energy surrounding this full Flower Moon. Samay shares three tips on how to work with la luna’s power that will not only help keep you grounded but will prepare you for what’s to come, too.

 

The first thing the astrologer suggests for this eclipse is to make a full moon offering. “Choose an object or symbol that represents your spiritual goals or intentions, such as a crystal or a piece of jewelry,” explains Samay. “Place the object outside under the moonlight as an offering to the divine. This act of surrendering something of value can help you let go of attachment and open yourself up to the transformative power of the full moon.”

 

Because water is a “powerful element that is associated with emotions and intuition,” another way to build your spiritual connection with la luna is by taking a full moon bath, according to Samay. To do this, visualize the moon's energy washing over you while soaking in the moonlight as a way of cleansing any negative energy or emotions. “Use this time to set intentions for your spiritual growth and transformation,” says Samay.

 

Lastly, try not to shy away from the full moon’s energy, and instead embrace it. To do this, Samay recommends taking a moment to dance in the moonlight. “Play music that resonates with you and dance under the moonlight,” the astrologer suggests. “Allow yourself to move freely and express any emotions that come up. Through the evoking movement of dance, you can connect with the lunar symphonies to transmute any stagnant or stale energy into something beautiful and transformative.”

 

The most important thing to remember this lunation is to welcome every shift and emotional response you may encounter. Again, that’s easier said than done, but hopefully these tips will make the impending celestial event much more manageable.

www.bustle.com/life/may-full-flower-moon-spiritual-meaning

 

A beautiful Gift from a friend.

youtu.be/EZf00ad3G6o

Coniston Water, Lake District.

Also the location of Donald Campbell's ill-fated attempt to extend his world water speed record in 1966. His boat somersaulted and he was killed instantly. The wreckage of the Bluebird was not recovered until 2001. Donald's body was only recovered the year after that.

On 16 October 1983, the CNY Chapter NRHS sponsored a trip on the relatively new Susquehanna Northern Division that covered large portions of both the Syracuse and Utica branches, running between Jamesville and Norwich.

 

At Chenango Forks, junction of the two lines, NYSW GP18 No. 1800 and C430 No. 3004 (one of two Alcos fated to be lost in grade crossing mishaps) perform a smoky photo runby beneath the Route 12 bridge, which itself would fall to the grade crossing fate.

 

Titanic Belfast is a visitor attraction opened in 2012, a monument to Belfast's maritime heritage on the site of the former Harland & Wolff shipyard in the city's Titanic Quarter where the RMS Titanic was built.

 

It tells the stories of the ill-fated Titanic, which hit an iceberg and sank during her maiden voyage in 1912, and her sister ships RMS Olympic and HMHS Britannic. The building contains more than 12,000 square metres (130,000 sq ft) of floor space, most of which is occupied by a series of galleries, private function rooms and community facilities, plus the addition of Hickson’s Point destination bar in March 2018.

Southern Pacific's version of the ill-fated SPSF paint scheme is displayed on SDP45 3201 at Sacramento, California, on April 22, 1987. The passenger unit and locomotives from Santa Fe, Union Pacific, Caltrans, and Amtrak are on a California Operation Lifesaver special running from San Francisco to San Diego.