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Nowhere to hide,
Nothin doin,
When it's the world,
That's coming to ruin.
There's no shelter under,
It's a citywide cave-in,
As Kaiju thunder,
Through Paprihaven.
It's 13 Daze of Halloween,
On the largest scale we've ever seen,
So struggle and strive to stay alive,
We'll see you on the other side, if you survive.
At 120 meters (394 feet) and 15,000 tons, 'Larvae' seems a misnomer. But this beast causes far more travel destruction than most other kaiju.
Rather than structural damage from a footfall, the immense body undulates, leveling every square inch into a flattened path of annihilation.
While far more agreeable towards humanity than the other kaiju, Mothra (In either form.) is all business when getting into a titanic throwdown and there will absolutely be widespread devastation.
At that size and speed, there's no point in running. You can only hope your home is not in the path.
⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅
Welcome to the 2025 edition of Paprihaven's 13 Daze of Halloween! We are featuring the towering titans of terror from Toho films!
Which demands the following mention! For the absolute best Japanese vinyl kaiju photography on Flickr, (Or anywhere in the world!), you must visit John's stream, MyKaiju:
Mothra
Deluxe Mothra Larvae
Battery Operated
1996, Bandai
Here are our past Day 13 Halloween countdowns!
2017
www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/37813874122/
2018
www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/44514841735/
2019
www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/48924296838/
2020
www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/50506059318/
2021
www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/51608253546/
2022
www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/52440325049/
2023
www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/53268863225/
2024
Another Lockdown rediscovery. I had hoped to return the following week when the colours would hopefully have been better after the first frost of the winter but weather and work prevented. Better than previous visits but think there is better to be got.
Halnaker Tree Tunnel (pronounced Ha’naker)
The lane follows an ancient track along the route of Stane Street, the London to Chichester Roman road. Over the years many have walked along this route forming a hollow way, where the path has sunk down, worn away by centuries of footfall.
© All rights reserved Steve Pellatt. Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit written permission.
“Darkness comes. In the middle of it, the future looks blank. The temptation to quit is huge. Don't. You are in good company... You will argue with yourself that there is no way forward. But with God, nothing is impossible. He has more ropes and ladders and tunnels out of pits than you can conceive. Wait. Pray without ceasing. Hope.”
- John Piper
Soundtrack : www.youtube.com/watch?v=CoNtYC_XDC8
ALL THAT YOU HAVE IS YOUR SOUL – TRACY CHAPMAN
I take myself away now for a little while because I am feeling sad again and my heart is elsewhere.
Take care of yourselves and each other. I will return when I am smiling more and the shadows have lifted. Thank you all for your wonderful support and kindness. I love you all <3
THE ARTIST (AGAIN)
I am emptied; devoid of all emotions
motionless; sunk into the softest mattress
cushioned from the world
reclusive and alone
no distractions; I listen to the outward sounds
to quieten my mind and inner voices
I listen to the ticking of the mantel clock
and to the spaces inbetween where heaven is
I listen to the sound of the ocean lapping on the shore
it comforts me and lulls me into a dream-like state
my eyelids feel heavy, but I can't close them both
one of them is bruised and swollen;
the colour and texture of ripened grapes
sweet juice oozing and beading on the surface of the skin
a soft sheen glistening; a loud bang makes me jump
before I settle with a sigh back into the verge of unconsciousness
he's gone; the door slamming was a relief
I listen to the sound of the birds; twilight is approaching
they seem to get excited around this time
like they are saying goodnight to each other
the dawn chorus is the one everyone talks about
but more beautiful than that is the chorus of the golden hour
those precious moments before the sun slides down the globe
and into another land where it begins to rise up to greet the day
I wondered was there a quantum slipstream
of space-time continuum
when the sun was alone in the darkness
was there a pathway between where night meets day
I wondered what that place would be like
what extraordinary powers existed
that could block out the sun
albeit for some brief moments in time
or what if time did not exist in this imaginary place
perhaps this is the place where all things mislaid go
all those odd socks; keys and other little mundane things
which bring a little comfort to our everyday lives
I blocked out even these small thoughts
thinking only made me more aware
of the pounding in my skull
my brain felt that it was too big to be contained within
pulsating at the temple on the right side of my head
I could feel the blood pumping to protect me
it felt warm and comforted; a natural defence mechanism
how marvellous the body is at repairing itself
and thank goodness for that; mine was overtaxed
every few weeks or so had narrowed now to every few days
the shouting; the moods; the artistic temperament of the Artist
I didn't yet call myself this; I didn't feel like being labelled
and I didn't recognise anything in me
that would make anyone think I was one
He, on the other hand, The Artist; He was the real deal
tortured and tormented some days
and charming, charismatic on others
I never knew what his moods would be; he was unpredictable
at first this had been exciting; I loved his passion for life
for his art; all this spilled over onto me
and at first it had been exciting; oh yes, I said that already
I am repeating myself; my thoughts need checking
and bringing into line;
I tried to block out all thoughts once more
the headache continued to thump rhythmically
at least my pulse was now steady
and consistent as it pounded away
I listened to the night settling around outside
and watched as the darkness crept into the room
slowly enveloping me in it's claustrophobic cloak
I wasn't afraid; how could I be afraid of the dark
when it was the day that brought most terrors
the birdsong was tailing off now as they roosted
In the darkness I could hear the tide turn
I know; you may think it's too subtle to be heard
but let me assure you it is possible
and I heard it now; the turning of the tide
for the Adriatic and for me
the end of the road; how clichéd I had become
my mind once so desirous of knowledge
that no amount of reading could quench my thirst
now I had become empty-headed
the only thoughts when he was here
were his thoughts; his words;
entering my brain with a loud tangible thud
not much difference between them
and the blows he had landed before he left
I wanted to yawn but I felt my jaw was broken
I could feel the blood that once was warm within me
congealing now; cold upon my cheek
my nose was numb; broken again
tears rolled down my cheeks, but I couldn't feel them
until they fell from my chin
the window was open
and a gentle breeze flowed in from the sea
I followed him here to Venice; to The Lido
I thought it would be exciting and it was
but now the excitement was no longer pleasurable
I heard the door opening downstairs in the hall
I groaned; the sound of an animal but it was me
I heard his footfalls on the stairs
he called my name, but it wasn't him
and at last I was saved ...
- AP – Copyright remains with and is the intellectual property of the author
Copyright © protected image please do not reproduce without permission'
My artwork is a compilation of 4 of my photographs
Winter in London, two thousand and ten
The lights of the city burn bright
Crowds throng along narrow pavements
The old town is now flecked with white
From Tower Bridge to Monument, South Bank to Saint Paul's
Embankment to Parliament Square
They've all taken a measure of Yuletide's call
Bathed in the seasonal glare
People in pubs toast uncertain times
Trepidation tempering smiles
All of us ponder the year's reasons and rhymes
Our triumphs, our losses, our trials
Running through the heart of all, old Father Thames
Forever his tides lead the way
Pacing the footfalls of tired looking men
As they trudge to the end of the day
From the Gallery steps in Trafalgar Square
Watch the Whitehall sky turning to red
On Horse Guards and Mall where the icicles drape
To the Abbey where warm lie the dead
I wander back down to ice-laden Square Mile streets
Pondering each and every turn
The days that brought less light than heat
Old mistakes and lessons hard learned
Soon I will leave here, with millions more
Home to a hundred small towns
Away from the noise, and the banks, and the stores
From the laughter, the smiles and the frowns
The holidays beckon, the stations are full
I'll soon venture home on chilled track
I look forward to leaving, to a festive lull
Yet I look forward tocoming back.
NR December 2010
Copyright Terry Eve Photography 2017.
Please feel free to bowse my Explored photos and pictures:
www.flickr.com/photos/terryeve-draughting-ltd/albums/7215...
Timanfaya Volcanic Lava Field National Park on Lanzarote. View from the bus! (Through glass unfortunately).
Timanfya National Park Lanzarote 5 shot joiner.
The Volcano Park at Timanfaya is Lanzarote's most popular tourist attraction. Every year, close to one million people visited this unique lava scape – home to a sea of colourful dormant volcanoes and spent cones. Following a route originally defined by the island born artist and architect César Manrique.
Manrique is credited with having discerned the optimum route through the park. He also designed the restaurant which sits on top of the Islote de Hilario, where the car park and coach pick up point are. The restaurant El Diablo offers marvellous panoramic views - which are particularly impressive at sunset.
Countless comparisons to a lunar landscape have already been made. But in reality the raw landscapes of Timanfaya allow visitors to imagine what the earth might have looked like when it was first formed.
Firedevil signpostThe three hundred odd years that have passed since the eruptions of 1730-1736 have not allowed much in the way of natural erosion. Even though the wind and sun can take their toll, the lava fields, seas of sand and lapilli (the black fine volcanic pebbles and stones) all retain a pristine look about them. Of course, this is helped by the fact that visitors to Timanfaya are not permitted to walk through the park so there has been little erosion by footfall or off-road vehicle.
Instead the coaches, which pick up visitors from the car park at Timanfaya, wend their way skillfully through the landscape, in some places turning on hairpin bends and assailing the flanks of the highest volcano of Santa Catalina as if it was an ordinary road.
Photo Opportunities
The coach drivers stop their vehicles at numerous points along the route so that visitors can get a proper look at the variety of vistas Timanfaya has to offer. There is also a commentary throughout the tour, provided in English, Spanish and German. During which an eyewitness to the eruptions, Father Curbelo, recorded events in his diary as he watched the eruptions from his parish in Yaiza.
Such was the extent of the eruptions during these years, that although no one died, many villagers who had successfully farmed the area had to flee their homes, leaving the island altogether. So much ash and smoke was hurled into the atmosphere that the sun virtually disappeared for much of this time. Three small villages were swallowed up by the rivers of lava, which flowed across the countryside. Devastating what had been some of the most fertile and productive land on the island.
As a result, many of the inhabitants undertook journeys to the New World in search of work and a new life. The cigar trade in Cuba was helped along by many former Lanzaroteños, as were many banana and sugar plantations in countries such as Venezuela.
Liquid Lava
Vineyards at the edge of TimanfayaThe sight of all this lava, in places looking like melted wax, is pretty awe-inspiring. Although the volcanoes are of the Hawaiian type, which means that the lava is slow moving and there is no pyroclastic flow of ash and suffocating debris, it is still hard to visualise quite how terrifying it must have been to see the earth in its molten liquid form. Especially if you consider that some of the slabs of rock you will see standing perpendicular to the horizon must have flown through the air and landed where they are from the force of the explosions.
The heat just below the earth's crust is still so intense that the restaurant at Timanfaya uses an opening in the ground to grill all the meat and fish they serve to diners. Go into the grill room and experience the heat for yourself.
To view more images of Lower Slaughter, please click
"here" !
Please do not insert images, or group invites; thank you!
Lower Slaughter is a village in the English county of Gloucestershire, located in the Cotswold district, 4 miles (6.4 km) south west of the town of Stow-on-the-Wold. The village is built on both banks of the River Eye, which also flows through Upper Slaughter. At the west end of the village there is a 19th-century water mill with an undershot waterwheel and a chimney for additional steam power. There is a ford where the river widens in the village and several small stone footbridges join the two sides of the community. While the mill is built of red brick most of the 16th and 17th century homes in the village use Cotswold sandstone and are adorned with mullioned windows and often with other embellishments such as projecting gables. Records exist showing that Lower Slaughter has been inhabited for over 1000 years. The Domesday Book entry has the village name as “Sclostre”. It further notes that in 1066 and 1086 that the manor was in the sheriff's hands. Lower Slaughter Manor, a Grade-II listed 17th-century house, was granted to Sir George Whitmore in 1611 and remained in his family until 1964. The 13th century Anglican parish church is dedicated to St. Mary the Virgin. Much of the current structure was built in 1866; however, the spire and peal of six bells was recently restored. In May 2013 it was reported in the national news that the Parish Council were fiercely opposed to the presence of an icebox tricycle selling ice creams for seven days a week, six months of the year, citing that the trading times were excessive, increased footfall would prevent the grass from growing and that children could climb on the trike and fall into the nearby river.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Slaughters Country Inn is privately owned and offers a relaxed ambience, a style that is sympathetically balanced between the original features of a 17th Century building and contemporary design. The blend of old and new creates the perfect retreat in a beautiful country location
I created some cyanotypes from the photographs I took last week in London. Here they are on my bedroom wall. Since my bedroom doesn't get much footfall, I thought I would post a photo here for kudos. 😁
I used Mike Ware's new cyantoype recipe rod coated on Hahnumühle Platinum Rag. I created digital negatives using Pictorico PRO OHP film. Each image exposed for 20 minutes under a UV lamp. I know I'm biased, but I think they look stunning.
I went for a hike in a snowy forest today. It wasn't this snowy forest mind you, remember I work with film and with this medium you get used to using previously made images as proxies for current experiences. But this forest wasn't too dissimilar from what I experienced today, except today's landscape was blanketed under about two feet of additional snow. Perhaps my favorite feature of a snowy forest is how quiet they are. The snow tends to absorb sound, not to mention the colder weather either sends animals into hibernation or encourages them to stay warmly ensconced in their urban homes. Snowy forests encountered on weekdays are even quieter than what I am used to. And today's was quieter yet. It was as if even the wind was busy elsewhere, at least for stretches. There were points where I stopped and hesitated to move again for my crunching steps were the only thing marring both the physical landscape as well as the pristine soundscape that I found myself traversing. It was an ocean of silence found in a snowy forest and it was pretty exquisite. I enjoy silence. Living in the city I fear I don't get enough of it. People are noisy. The world is noisy. It is rare to find yourself somewhere with nary a sound to be heard and so often we pass right through those places without even hearing the silence, filling the void quite effortlessly. As much as I love being in the forest, as much as I love winter and its snowfalls, today it was the silence that held me enraptured and stuck with me the longest on the loud drive home.
Hasselblad 500C
Kodak Portra 160
Part 1 "The Descent"
I had planned this trip since Tuesday. I hesitated in telling anyone because I wasn't really sure I was going to go through with it. A 16 mile hike into the heart of the Grand Canyon. 4800 feet down and 4500 up. (different tralis) A hike to the Colorado River and back in one day. The National Park Service DOES NOT recommend doing it in one day.
My plan was to take the South Kaibab Trail down to the river, then take the River Trail over to where it links with the Bright Angel Trail and take that one up. Yeah, I know, pretty ambitious for someone not in the best shape, but I really thought I could pull it off. Sort of.
I left Cottonwood at about 1:30 AM. I arrived at the Canyon around 4 AM. I put on my new headlamp and headed for the trailhead.
As I was walking to the trailhead from my car the stars were out in force. Up at that altitude (around 7000 feet) the stars are so bright and clear it seems as if you can reach up and touch them. Very cool. I was pretty chilly up at the rim but about 50 yards down it was noticeably warmer. The rim usually has Flagstaff weather and the bottom has Phoenix weather. Usually about a 30 degree difference.
After a moments hesitation, I dropped into the pitch black chasm. I had had doubts about this trip from the get-go. I can hike 16 miles on a level surface, no problem. Dropping 4800 feet and then climbing 4500 feet out of the Grand Canyon is a different story. The average grade on the South Kaibab Trail is 28%. For some perspective, roads are considered 'mountain grade' at about 6%.
There was a thunderhead to the West that was treating me to intermittent lightning and I saw 4 shooting stars.
My light worked great. Nifty little gadget. The dirt on the trail was just like talc from all the mules grinding it over and over. VERY dusty. Each footfall produced an amazing about of dust. By the time I got off the trail I was covered from head to toe with the stuff.
I was on the trail about an hour and a half when the sun rose. Unfortunately, I was blocked from looking West at that point and getting a shot of the early morning light capping the peaks wasn't possible.
I was, I thought, making good time. Then a team of mules caught me. I worried about that at first, but those dudes can haul butt up and down that canyon.
I encountered a whole new 'stupid' this morning, too. I'd heard about them, but never seen one in action. Trail runners. These people were RUNNING down this 28% grade trail like it was the freakin' Boston Marathon or something. Before I reached the bottom, about 50 of them had passed me. So every time one came up behind me, I would move over and let them go. 50 times. That, in itself, hurt my time going down. I was also taking lots of pictures. And I stopped and talked to a little hottie for about 15 minutes.
It took me 4 hours to get to the river. They say plan on twice as much time getting back out.
I didn't think I would be feeling bad when I reached the bottom and I was right. I actually felt good. Like, really good. This might not be so bad after all.
(hahahahahahahahahaahhahaahahhaahhahahahahahahaha)
Boy, was I wrong. Tune in tomorrow for Part 2 "The River".
To view more images of Lower Slaughter, please click "here" !
Please, no group invites; thank you!
From the Achieves, reprocessed, using Photoshop CC 2020.
Lower Slaughter is a village in the English county of Gloucestershire, located in the Cotswold district, 4 miles (6.4 km) south west of the town of Stow-on-the-Wold. The village is built on both banks of the River Eye, which also flows through Upper Slaughter. At the west end of the village there is a 19th-century water mill with an undershot waterwheel and a chimney for additional steam power. There is a ford where the river widens in the village and several small stone footbridges join the two sides of the community. While the mill is built of red brick most of the 16th and 17th century homes in the village use Cotswold sandstone and are adorned with mullioned windows and often with other embellishments such as projecting gables. Records exist showing that Lower Slaughter has been inhabited for over 1000 years. The Domesday Book entry has the village name as “Sclostre”. It further notes that in 1066 and 1086 that the manor was in the sheriff's hands. Lower Slaughter Manor, a Grade-II listed 17th-century house, was granted to Sir George Whitmore in 1611 and remained in his family until 1964. The 13th century Anglican parish church is dedicated to St. Mary the Virgin. Much of the current structure was built in 1866; however, the spire and peal of six bells was recently restored. In May 2013 it was reported in the national news that the Parish Council were fiercely opposed to the presence of an icebox tricycle selling ice creams for seven days a week, six months of the year, citing that the trading times were excessive, increased footfall would prevent the grass from growing and that children could climb on the trike and fall into the nearby river.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
.
My attempt at painting A painting The Slaughters Country Inn, in Lower Slaughter, Gloucestershire, England, using Photoshop!
"Click here" Oil Painting! ............. Your turn to have a go; if you have Photoshop CS3, or later!
To view more images of Lower Slaughter, please click "here" !
Lower Slaughter is a village in the English county of Gloucestershire, located in the Cotswold district, 4 miles (6.4 km) south west of the town of Stow-on-the-Wold. The village is built on both banks of the River Eye, which also flows through Upper Slaughter. At the west end of the village there is a 19th-century water mill with an undershot waterwheel and a chimney for additional steam power. There is a ford where the river widens in the village and several small stone footbridges join the two sides of the community. While the mill is built of red brick most of the 16th and 17th century homes in the village use Cotswold sandstone and are adorned with mullioned windows and often with other embellishments such as projecting gables. Records exist showing that Lower Slaughter has been inhabited for over 1000 years. The Domesday Book entry has the village name as “Sclostre”. It further notes that in 1066 and 1086 that the manor was in the sheriff's hands. Lower Slaughter Manor, a Grade-II listed 17th-century house, was granted to Sir George Whitmore in 1611 and remained in his family until 1964. The 13th century Anglican parish church is dedicated to St. Mary the Virgin. Much of the current structure was built in 1866; however, the spire and peal of six bells was recently restored. In May 2013 it was reported in the national news that the Parish Council were fiercely opposed to the presence of an icebox tricycle selling ice creams for seven days a week, six months of the year, citing that the trading times were excessive, increased footfall would prevent the grass from growing and that children could climb on the trike and fall into the nearby river.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Slaughters Country Inn is privately owned and offers a relaxed ambience, a style that is sympathetically balanced between the original features of a 17th Century building and contemporary design. The blend of old and new creates the perfect retreat in a beautiful country location
Building work is being done on Newark Castle at the moment to restore the original entrance that allowed the public to gain access. It fell into disuse and repair hundreds of years ago and the project is to replace it with an accurate duplicate. It is hopefully going to increase footfall and tourist traffic into the town when completed.
Located in Derby’s once vibrant Sadler Gate - the building of the soulless shopping mall that is the Derbion has decimated the footfall here. I do my best to use these shops…well, mainly the London Camera Exchange…again, I think I may have a problem ;D. Anyways this is the Old Bell Hotel, renovated some years ago and an old haunt of mine back in the 70s.
In my mind I see the cracks left in the ice from the weight of a giant footfall. Or maybe a small mountain fell from the sky and landed here before the incessant winds and slippery ice conspired to slide it off and away. Don't ask why I imagine these things, I just enjoy it.
Zero Image 2000 pinhole
Probably Kodak Ektar 100 initially but ultimately b&w made more sense.
I am just back from a weekend in the North Western Highlands. What a trip and what weather. On the first day we hiked one of the best mountains in Scotland, Ladhar Bheinn (pronounced Larven). It is a remote peak that either requires a very long access hike or a boat needs to be hired to drop you off at Barrisdale Bay which still leaves a very worthwhile outing. We chose the latter and really dropped on with the weather. Rather than climb and descend via the same route we chose to hike the circuit of this massive mountain. Mark is seen here during our ascent at a point on the ridge where we still had around a thousand feet of climbing still to go.
If you get a chance go climb in Knoydart. It is a wonderful and remote region that sees very little footfall. By way of example we only met two other people out on the hills that day and they weren't hikers they were stalkers taking part in the annual deer count for the combined estates in the region.
To view more images of Lower Slaughter, please click
"here" !
Please do not insert images, or group invites; thank you!
Lower Slaughter is a village in the English county of Gloucestershire, located in the Cotswold district, 4 miles (6.4 km) south west of the town of Stow-on-the-Wold. The village is built on both banks of the River Eye, which also flows through Upper Slaughter. At the west end of the village there is a 19th-century water mill with an undershot waterwheel and a chimney for additional steam power. There is a ford where the river widens in the village and several small stone footbridges join the two sides of the community. While the mill is built of red brick most of the 16th and 17th century homes in the village use Cotswold sandstone and are adorned with mullioned windows and often with other embellishments such as projecting gables. Records exist showing that Lower Slaughter has been inhabited for over 1000 years. The Domesday Book entry has the village name as “Sclostre”. It further notes that in 1066 and 1086 that the manor was in the sheriff's hands. Lower Slaughter Manor, a Grade-II listed 17th-century house, was granted to Sir George Whitmore in 1611 and remained in his family until 1964. The 13th century Anglican parish church is dedicated to St. Mary the Virgin. Much of the current structure was built in 1866; however, the spire and peal of six bells was recently restored. In May 2013 it was reported in the national news that the Parish Council were fiercely opposed to the presence of an icebox tricycle selling ice creams for seven days a week, six months of the year, citing that the trading times were excessive, increased footfall would prevent the grass from growing and that children could climb on the trike and fall into the nearby river.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Slaughters Country Inn is privately owned and offers a relaxed ambience, a style that is sympathetically balanced between the original features of a 17th Century building and contemporary design. The blend of old and new creates the perfect retreat in a beautiful country location
Hmmm it's so hot the slabs are exploding in the Grassmarket.
And if you are interested - here's the story...
news.scotsman.com/scotland/Exploding-Grassmarket-slabs-ju...
Exploding Grassmarket slabs just couldn't stand the heat
Date: 11 June 2009
By MARK McLAUGHLIN
IT has taken almost a month of investigation by engineers but the mystery of the exploding Grassmarket pavement has finally been solved – it couldn't stand the heat.
Two slabs newly laid as part of the multi-million-pound revamp of the area cracked last month, with everything from a gas blast to an electrical fault being blamed.
Now experts have ruled that "thermal expansion", in the sweltering May heat of 16
was to blame for the Caithness slabs breaking.
They are confident, however, the problem was caused by a fault in two particular slabs and that the piazza should survive the summer unscathed.
City centre councillor Joanna Mowat said: "My sources tell me that it wasn't a mythological creature or some such thing that caused it. The answer was firmly in the realms of engineering.
"The council got an expert to look at it and he found that it wasn't an explosion underneath, but that it was due to thermal expansion.
"The heat causes the slabs to expand and the reason these two slabs had come up was because they were slightly flawed.
"I did initially find it hard to believe that this expansion could just affect two slabs, but I was assured that they were faulty.
"My immediate concern was that we were going to have stones erupting throughout the Grassmarket, but the project manager who assigned the expert to look at the slabs said it was isolated to these two stones."
A city council spokesman said that no other slabs in the area appeared to be affected.
He said: "(Engineers] did identify that there was something wrong with the thickness of the slabs. As you would expect, these slabs come under the influence of external forces, and as long as all of the slabs are of an even depth and width they can bear it, but if the slab is faulty and can't absorb that level of force it will 'pop'.
"They have identified these particular slabs as the only ones that are faulty.
"The contractors have accepted the liability for this and are making the necessary repairs at no extra cost to the council."
He added: "The contractor is currently on site carrying out the necessary remedial work. The area will reopen on Friday."
The area had been fenced off for the last month, to the annoyance of local traders who hoped that the workmen had gone for good when the £5 million revamp was completed in December.
Susie Christie, manager of Costume Ha Ha, whose shop stands close to where the slabs erupted, said the constant work has affected her trade.
She said: "Our recent footfall figures show that we were 40 per cent down last month, compared to the same period the year before.
"It's not been helped by the fact that there is currently refurbishment working going on in the building above us, and we're obscured by scaffolding.
"The work on the Grassmarket just seems never ending."
Datant de 1561, c'est le plus ancien marché du pays et, avec ses 4 à 5 millions de visiteurs annuels, l'un des plus importants d'Europe.
En activité tous les dimanches, c'est, avec ses 3,6 km d'étals et une superficie totale de vente qui avoisine les 10 000 m2, un des plus grands marchés d'Europe. Avec un chalandage pouvant atteindre, par beau temps, les 100 000 personnes, il est aussi l'un des plus attrayants. Sa réputation, qui s'exerce bien au-delà de la région liégeoise, attire aussi bien une fréquentation internationale d'Aixois et de Maastrichtois que de la région bruxelloise.
Avant l'introduction de l'euro comme monnaie unique, les prix étaient, par ailleurs, le plus souvent affichés en franc belge, en florin néerlandais et en mark allemand et les payements acceptés dans ces trois devises.
Si, au début des années 1990, plus d'un demi-millier de commerces s'y rassemblaient, on dénombre, en 2011, 350 marchands abonnés auxquels s'ajoutent, chaque dimanche, de 50 à 70 vendeurs occasionnels.
La diversité des articles mis en vente est très grande : antiquités, brocante, livres et disques compacts ou disques vinyles neufs et d'occasion, viande, volaille et poissons, vins, fromages, fruits et légumes, bijoux de fantaisie, colifichets, cuirs, bonneterie, vêtements, fleurs et plantes, oiseaux et poissons exotiques, animaux de basse-cour, chiens, chats, chèvres, articles ménagers ainsi que les inventions d'inventeurs amateurs et de nombreuses baracks (« petites boutiques », « échoppes » — entre autres — en wallon liégeois) proposant des spécialités culinaires allant des frites accompagnées de sauce aux mets les plus exotiques.
Bonimenteurs, camelots et autres marchands ambulants, souvent rejoints par des artistes de rue ou des étudiants en arts du spectacle testant leur savoir-faire, font du marché dominical un spectacle vivant ouvert à tous les vents. Par leur tchatch (« loquacité » en wallon liégeois) et leurs boniments, le marché reste ce qu'il a toujours été : une longue fresque colorée et un endroit de mixité sociale privilégié où apprécier la nature humaine. Cette ambiance se prolonge dans les nombreux bistros, tel le typiquement liégeois Café Lequet (dont la spécialité est le boulet à la liégeoise), et les restaurants servant des cuisines issues des quatre coins de la planète qui jalonnent le marché.
Dating from 1561, it is the oldest market in the country and, with its 4 to 5 million annual visitors, one of the largest in Europe.
Active every Sunday, it is, with its 3.6 km of stalls and a total sales area of around 10,000 m2, one of the largest markets in Europe. With a footfall that can reach 100,000 people in good weather, it is also one of the most attractive. Its reputation, which extends well beyond the Liège region, attracts international visitors from Aix and Maastricht as well as from the Brussels region.
Before the introduction of the euro as a single currency, prices were, moreover, most often displayed in Belgian francs, Dutch guilders and German marks and payments accepted in these three currencies.
If, at the beginning of the 1990s, more than half a thousand businesses gathered there, in 2011 there were 350 subscribing merchants to which are added, every Sunday, 50 to 70 occasional sellers.
The diversity of items on sale is very great: antiques, flea markets, books and compact discs or new and used vinyl records, meat, poultry and fish, wines, cheeses, fruits and vegetables, costume jewelry, trinkets, leathers, hosiery, clothing, flowers and plants, exotic birds and fish, farmyard animals, dogs, cats, goats, household items as well as the inventions of amateur inventors and numerous baracks (“small shops”, “stalls” — among others — in Walloon Liège) offering culinary specialties ranging from fries accompanied by sauce to the most exotic dishes.
Barkers, hawkers and other street vendors, often joined by street artists or performing arts students testing their know-how, make the Sunday market a living spectacle open to all winds. Through their chatter (“loquacity” in Walloon Liège) and their sales pitches, the market remains what it has always been: a long colorful fresco and a privileged place of social diversity in which to appreciate human nature. This atmosphere continues in the numerous bistros, such as the typically Liège Café Lequet (whose specialty is boulet à la Liègeoise), and the restaurants serving cuisines from the four corners of the planet which line the market.
Cineworld in Brighton Marina showed its final films last night before closing down for the ‘foreseeable’ future. If only a crystal ball could show us what is ‘foreseeable’. Sadly over half the restaurants in the marina did not reopen after lockdown. Those that have reopened will struggle without the footfall from Cineworld.
Climbing higher, where the eagles dare,
Past craggy rocks and mountain air,
Each footfall steady, each heartbeat strong,
To the summit, I journey, where I belong.
The world beneath a tapestry vast,
A quilt of memories sewn from the past.
Atop the mountain, in silence I stand,
A conqueror embraced by nature’s hand.
The sky stretches wide, endless and true,
A canvas of blue, painted anew.
Here at the edge of my earthly quest,
I find my spirit, at peace and blessed.
A shot I took at Wells Cathedral in Somerset (my fav Cathedrals).
This is the entrance steps to the Chapter House, built in Approx 1286. The stairs leading ups and the Octagonal chapter House itself are beautiful. The steps are well worn from footfall over the centuries.
This took a little getting right, I wanted the steps over exposed to give the shot a feel of heavenly ascension, the other problem was timing with the tourists tramping up and down the steps (how dare they).
More Tales from the Lazy Window
Concept: To sit by an open window with physical viewpoint and line of sight restrictions one floor up on a quite busy London residential street, waiting for
interesting fragments and moments to move through my viewing aperture. The challenge is to keep it interesting as my viewpoint is fixed, but the subjects are
dynamic and moving...
All photos ⓒ Pete Riches
Please do not use my photos without my agreement.
Please do not re-blog my photos without my agreement.
Email: peteriches@gmail.com
The team journeyed on, deeper into the valley's embrace. The air hung thick and heavy, a tapestry woven with the scent of damp earth and the ghostly perfume of unseen blossoms. Towering cliffs, their faces scarred with the chronicles of centuries, clawed at the sky, casting long, dancing shadows that shifted and writhed with every rustle of unseen life. Beneath their feet, the path, a ribbon of grey stone, wound tortuously onward, swallowed by the encroaching wilderness. An unnatural silence, broken only by the whisper of the wind through the craggy peaks, pressed down upon them, a palpable weight that seemed to amplify every footfall, every breath. The very air hummed with an unspoken power, a palpable sense of mystery that both beckoned and warned. Ahead, the valley beckoned, a dark maw promising both wonders and terrors unknown.
Hiding places there are innumerable, escape is only one, but possibilities of escape, again, are as many as hiding places.
Franz Kafka
A crew shot is always a must, so we donned our masks. Mere seconds after this shot was taken we heard footsteps coming from the corridor on the left. Time for a quick exit from this spot, only our escape route was a noisy affair and a dead end. Hiding and holding our breathes we heard footfall in the room we were ensconced...Thankfully our pursuer left us, relieved, we breathed normally once more and later, finally escaped into the outside world.
This is my cover version of Cole Porter's "Every Time We Say Goodbye". This is the first time since my illness that I have been able to play my full-sized guitar!! I still play as badly ; 0)) First time I've written a poem in conjunction with myself singing ... the artwork is a compilation of 5 of my photographs and is called "Goodbye To Autumn."
“It was one of those perfect English Autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life. The rich colours of grass and earth were intensified by the mellow light of a sun almost warm enough for Spring...”
~P.D. James, A Taste for Death
SOLITUDINAL SILENCE
Autumn frees us from the chains of Summer
those moments that pushed us to limits beyond
the boundaries we set for ourselves in Spring
now calmly in sweet solitudinal silence
we stand apart and wait to see what Winter brings
the cooler air whispers keenly and speaks of change
indistinctive rarefied senses aroused so quickly
disappear within a heartbeat of my hearing range
echoes of the night fall softly like footfalls on first snow
dampening out the sounds and cries from deep within my soul
the canopy of the forest shadows me as I try to walk away
when the betrayal came it fell so swiftly
like an axe; sharp and severed my attachment to you
so suddenly and completely that at first I barely noticed
it seemed incomprehensible given the circumstance
a cold numbness crept through my veins
trickling like freezing water ebbing from the first thaw
incomplete paralysis seeped in and I was aware first only
of a tiny prickling of my thumbs
like that old adage when evil this way comes
the sudden onslaught happened as these things do
as though in a slow motion emotionless cinematic experience
vague and careless words and phrases danced before me
my mind's eye honing in carefully trying to make some sense
trying to reduce the magnitude to a small burning ember
something that I could deal with; a tiny seed I would remember
to save and savour;
to satisfy my hunger in the darker nights to come
a remnant of how things used to be;
a warm glowing substance
to substantiate this feeling that I hadn't thrown my love away
that there was good reason why this happened
and if only I could fan the flames so our love could burn again
brighter than before; brighter than the sun that drenched us
and bathed us in it's warm and satisfying glow
and the Summer rain that quenched our thirst
for life; for love and all the romance that gave birth
to lift our souls and hearts above and out of mortal minds
a love incomparable;
a love so sweet; so sensual; so incredibly divine
but here I stand deep within the forest;
hushed tones of the night creep ever closer
lulling me to lay down on the Autumn leaves
and sleep through Winter deeply dreaming
of the new Spring that will no doubt come
and sweep away my golden tears
that stain the foliage on the forest floor
that precious pillow softly knowing all I am and all I was before
an imprint of my slumbered body
lies dormant on this bed of mine
and come the Spring I wake unencumbered
by the loss I felt when Winter held me down
for in the new year; seasons come and go as usual
and I will be renewed; rejuvenated by my sleep
and who knows what this rebirth has in store for me
and who knows all the secrets that the forest keeps.
- AP - Copyright remains with and is the intellectual property of the author
Copyright © protected images please do not reproduce without permission'
Here are some shots that did not make it into the last chapter of Edrelle's tale, glimpses of the tall pines wrapped in a cloak of mist their hue of the deepest green, of the group of friends sharing a few words among the sounds of the waking forest the worries of the night before swept away with the breeze and of a wanderer with bright wings as if made of intricately embroidered silk fluttering near the shore of the lake where Edrelle and Dimitri went for a swim.
Kinematic ENB Extensive
Canary Wharf in London, from a photographer's viewpoint at least, is known mostly for it's modern, sometimes futuristic, architecture. There are high rise glass towers and wonderful train and underground stations to give us plenty to shoot. But scattered around, sometimes in the most unexpected places, are artworks of all kinds. This is a statue of a woman, fully 7 feet tall, whose gaze is not for me but instead it's reserved for a similarly dressed male statue who stares straight back at her. They stand 30 or 40 feet apart and eye each other with a look that says... well, you tell me because I'm still trying put a word to that expression of hers. What I will say is that they are startling when you first come across them because they really are so unexpected. And delightful I should add. They are on a side street, a long way away from where the normal footfall is in Canary Wharf.
Standing Figure (Woman) by Sean Henry (2020)
Painted bronze.
Location: Park Drive, Wood Wharf, London
Leica R6.2 - Leitz Wetzlar Vario-Elmar-R 75-200mm F4.5 - Kodak Portra 400 film
I came across some photos from today's date four years ago. It helps getting into the Christmas spirit when we are lucky to experience snow! (Which is not that usual in our part of the country.) I hope we'll do so soon..
❄♪•**•♪❄♪•**•♪❄♪•**•♪❄♪•**•♪❄♪•**•♪❄♪•**•♪❄♪•**•♪❄♪•**•♪
This title is the title of this beautiful Danish folk song:
There is nought on earth so still as the snow
There is nought on earth so still as the snow!
Shrouding all the world in silent glamour;
Muffling ev'ry sound on the frozen ground,
Hushing ev'ry footfall's noisy clamour.
There is nought on earth as pure as the snow!
Swan's down loosed from winter's pinions spreading,
On the hand a flake doth a teardrop make.
Through the crystal air white thoughts are threading.
Nought so lulling on the earth as the snow!
Sinking light as slumber on the weary
Till the silence so into sound doth grow
Fine as silver bells, a music faerie.
(Helge Rode 1896. English translation: Robert A. Sickert)
In Danish, the original language:
Der er ingenting i verden så stille som sne
Der er ingenting i verden så stille som sne,
når den sagte gjennem luften daler,
dæmper dine skridt, tysser, tysser blidt
på de stemmer, som for højlydt taler
Der er ingenting i verden af en renhed som sne,
svanedun fra himlens hvide vinger
På din hånd et fnug er som tåredug
Hvide tanker tyst i dans sig svinger
Der er ingenting i verden, der kan mildne som sne
Tys, du lytter, til det tavse klinger.
O, så fin en klang, sølverklokkesang
inderst inde i dit hjerte ringer
This song on YouTube:
Sissel Kyrkjebø in Bambi II: www.youtube.com/watch?v=iNf6LCaT1kc
DR Vokalensemblet: www.youtube.com/watch?v=fdiPm0CDQpM
❄♪•**•♪❄♪•**•♪❄♪•**•♪❄♪•**•♪❄♪•**•♪❄♪•**•♪❄♪•**•♪❄♪•**•♪
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This is my best Robin photo ever. It perched about two feet from me. It is also the closest I have ever been to an adult Robin. There is a lot of footfall in this park. Our home and local fields Robins are shy.
A spring outing with the Staffordshire Fungus Group. A lovely trip, the woodland was so pretty.Much of the fungus was too small to see. There were banks of Anemones and Bluebells, Wild Cherries were in full bloom, The trees were rent with birdsong.
Biddulph Staffordshire UK 20th April 2024
\To view more images of Lower Slaughter, please click "here" !
Lower Slaughter is a village in the English county of Gloucestershire, located in the Cotswold district, 4 miles (6.4 km) south west of the town of Stow-on-the-Wold. The village is built on both banks of the River Eye, which also flows through Upper Slaughter. At the west end of the village there is a 19th-century water mill with an undershot waterwheel and a chimney for additional steam power. There is a ford where the river widens in the village and several small stone footbridges join the two sides of the community. While the mill is built of red brick most of the 16th and 17th century homes in the village use Cotswold sandstone and are adorned with mullioned windows and often with other embellishments such as projecting gables. Records exist showing that Lower Slaughter has been inhabited for over 1000 years. The Domesday Book entry has the village name as “Sclostre”. It further notes that in 1066 and 1086 that the manor was in the sheriff's hands. Lower Slaughter Manor, a Grade-II listed 17th-century house, was granted to Sir George Whitmore in 1611 and remained in his family until 1964. The 13th century Anglican parish church is dedicated to St. Mary the Virgin. Much of the current structure was built in 1866; however, the spire and peal of six bells was recently restored. In May 2013 it was reported in the national news that the Parish Council were fiercely opposed to the presence of an icebox tricycle selling ice creams for seven days a week, six months of the year, citing that the trading times were excessive, increased footfall would prevent the grass from growing and that children could climb on the trike and fall into the nearby river.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Slaughters Country Inn is privately owned and offers a relaxed ambience, a style that is sympathetically balanced between the original features of a 17th Century building and contemporary design. The blend of old and new creates the perfect retreat in a beautiful country location
Tales from the Lazy Window
Project parameters: To sit by an open window with physical viewpoint and line of sight restrictions one floor up on a quite busy London residential street, waiting for interesting fragments and moments to move past my narrow viewing aperture. As my viewpoint is fixed the challenge is to keep it as interesting and as dynamic as possible...
All photos ⓒ Pete Riches
Please do not use my photos without my agreement.
Please do not re-blog my photos without my agreement.
Email: peteriches@gmail.com
Oh, hasten not this loving act,
Rapture where self and not-self meet:
My life has been the awaiting you,
Your footfall was my own heart's beat.
~Paul Valéry
To view more images of Lower Slaughter, please click "here" !
Lower Slaughter is a village in the English county of Gloucestershire, located in the Cotswold district, 4 miles (6.4 km) south west of the town of Stow-on-the-Wold. The village is built on both banks of the River Eye, which also flows through Upper Slaughter. At the west end of the village there is a 19th-century water mill with an undershot waterwheel and a chimney for additional steam power. There is a ford where the river widens in the village and several small stone footbridges join the two sides of the community. While the mill is built of red brick most of the 16th and 17th century homes in the village use Cotswold sandstone and are adorned with mullioned windows and often with other embellishments such as projecting gables. Records exist showing that Lower Slaughter has been inhabited for over 1000 years. The Domesday Book entry has the village name as “Sclostre”. It further notes that in 1066 and 1086 that the manor was in the sheriff's hands. Lower Slaughter Manor, a Grade-II listed 17th-century house, was granted to Sir George Whitmore in 1611 and remained in his family until 1964. The 13th century Anglican parish church is dedicated to St. Mary the Virgin. Much of the current structure was built in 1866; however, the spire and peal of six bells was recently restored. In May 2013 it was reported in the national news that the Parish Council were fiercely opposed to the presence of an icebox tricycle selling ice creams for seven days a week, six months of the year, citing that the trading times were excessive, increased footfall would prevent the grass from growing and that children could climb on the trike and fall into the nearby river.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Slaughters Country Inn is privately owned and offers a relaxed ambience, a style that is sympathetically balanced between the original features of a 17th Century building and contemporary design. The blend of old and new creates the perfect retreat in a beautiful country location
Late afternoon is the time for that path,
when the light fails and the iron gates of Greyfriars
eerily brand the shadow with cowled monks.
It's best when the light fails down that path
skirting the meagre cliff top copse,
where in February a brook of snowdrops
bubbles up, and the balm of sea sound
rolls back beneath the bridge with its baby arch.
Inexpressible melancholy drew them,
Thomas, Fitzgerald, Swinburne,
their footfalls weighed , compressed, absorbed
by the thick fir foliage and the slow scrape of birdsong.
Rhododendrons, dark peat paths and sounds
flickering on dead leaves - frail skeletal feet
or the first drop feelers of a downpour?
You proceed due east to the light.
Suddenly the land has had enough,
shrubs long extinct fling themselves out,
strung with cries and madly racing cloud.
You face once more that scythe of slate
lipped by jaundiced surf, the gore of cliffs,
the sluiced shore where horses plod,
heaving the dark barrows of blood
northwards then south.
To view more images of Lower Slaughter, please click "here" !
Lower Slaughter is a village in the English county of Gloucestershire, located in the Cotswold district, 4 miles (6.4 km) south west of the town of Stow-on-the-Wold. The village is built on both banks of the River Eye, which also flows through Upper Slaughter. At the west end of the village there is a 19th-century water mill with an undershot waterwheel and a chimney for additional steam power. There is a ford where the river widens in the village and several small stone footbridges join the two sides of the community. While the mill is built of red brick most of the 16th and 17th century homes in the village use Cotswold sandstone and are adorned with mullioned windows and often with other embellishments such as projecting gables. Records exist showing that Lower Slaughter has been inhabited for over 1000 years. The Domesday Book entry has the village name as “Sclostre”. It further notes that in 1066 and 1086 that the manor was in the sheriff's hands. Lower Slaughter Manor, a Grade-II listed 17th-century house, was granted to Sir George Whitmore in 1611 and remained in his family until 1964. The 13th century Anglican parish church is dedicated to St. Mary the Virgin. Much of the current structure was built in 1866; however, the spire and peal of six bells was recently restored. In May 2013 it was reported in the national news that the Parish Council were fiercely opposed to the presence of an icebox tricycle selling ice creams for seven days a week, six months of the year, citing that the trading times were excessive, increased footfall would prevent the grass from growing and that children could climb on the trike and fall into the nearby river.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Slaughters Country Inn is privately owned and offers a relaxed ambience, a style that is sympathetically balanced between the original features of a 17th Century building and contemporary design. The blend of old and new creates the perfect retreat in a beautiful country location
Very much an image that typifies Venice. I just wonder whether the proposed daily entrance fee will put off any of the hoards that flock to the city 365 days of the year. To be fair to the Vencians, their city really is overrun at times and the fee should help fund flood protection projects as well as perhaps reduce the dialy footfall to more manageable levels.
To view more images of Lower Slaughter, please click
"here" !
I would be most grateful if you would refrain from inserting images, and/or group invites; thank you!
Lower Slaughter is a village in the English county of Gloucestershire, located in the Cotswold district, 4 miles (6.4 km) south west of the town of Stow-on-the-Wold. The village is built on both banks of the River Eye, which also flows through Upper Slaughter. At the west end of the village there is a 19th-century water mill with an undershot waterwheel and a chimney for additional steam power. There is a ford where the river widens in the village and several small stone footbridges join the two sides of the community. While the mill is built of red brick most of the 16th and 17th century homes in the village use Cotswold sandstone and are adorned with mullioned windows and often with other embellishments such as projecting gables. Records exist showing that Lower Slaughter has been inhabited for over 1000 years. The Domesday Book entry has the village name as “Sclostre”. It further notes that in 1066 and 1086 that the manor was in the sheriff's hands. Lower Slaughter Manor, a Grade-II listed 17th-century house, was granted to Sir George Whitmore in 1611 and remained in his family until 1964. The 13th century Anglican parish church is dedicated to St. Mary the Virgin. Much of the current structure was built in 1866; however, the spire and peal of six bells was recently restored. In May 2013 it was reported in the national news that the Parish Council were fiercely opposed to the presence of an icebox tricycle selling ice creams for seven days a week, six months of the year, citing that the trading times were excessive, increased footfall would prevent the grass from growing and that children could climb on the trike and fall into the nearby river.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Slaughters Country Inn is privately owned and offers a relaxed ambience, a style that is sympathetically balanced between the original features of a 17th Century building and contemporary design. The blend of old and new creates the perfect retreat in a beautiful country location
To view more images of Lower Slaughter, please click "here" !
From the Achieves!
Please, no group invites!
Lower Slaughter is a village in the English county of Gloucestershire, located in the Cotswold district, 4 miles (6.4 km) south west of the town of Stow-on-the-Wold. The village is built on both banks of the River Eye, which also flows through Upper Slaughter. At the west end of the village there is a 19th-century water mill with an undershot waterwheel and a chimney for additional steam power. There is a ford where the river widens in the village and several small stone footbridges join the two sides of the community. While the mill is built of red brick most of the 16th and 17th century homes in the village use Cotswold sandstone and are adorned with mullioned windows and often with other embellishments such as projecting gables. Records exist showing that Lower Slaughter has been inhabited for over 1000 years. The Domesday Book entry has the village name as “Sclostre”. It further notes that in 1066 and 1086 that the manor was in the sheriff's hands. Lower Slaughter Manor, a Grade-II listed 17th-century house, was granted to Sir George Whitmore in 1611 and remained in his family until 1964. The 13th century Anglican parish church is dedicated to St. Mary the Virgin. Much of the current structure was built in 1866; however, the spire and peal of six bells was recently restored. In May 2013 it was reported in the national news that the Parish Council were fiercely opposed to the presence of an icebox tricycle selling ice creams for seven days a week, six months of the year, citing that the trading times were excessive, increased footfall would prevent the grass from growing and that children could climb on the trike and fall into the nearby river.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Slaughters Country Inn is privately owned and offers a relaxed ambience, a style that is sympathetically balanced between the original features of a 17th Century building and contemporary design. The blend of old and new creates the perfect retreat in a beautiful country location
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To view more images of Lower Slaughter, please click
"here" !
I would be most grateful if you would refrain from inserting images, and/or group invites; thank you!
Lower Slaughter is a village in the English county of Gloucestershire, located in the Cotswold district, 4 miles (6.4 km) south west of the town of Stow-on-the-Wold. The village is built on both banks of the River Eye, which also flows through Upper Slaughter. At the west end of the village there is a 19th-century water mill with an undershot waterwheel and a chimney for additional steam power. There is a ford where the river widens in the village and several small stone footbridges join the two sides of the community. While the mill is built of red brick most of the 16th and 17th century homes in the village use Cotswold sandstone and are adorned with mullioned windows and often with other embellishments such as projecting gables. Records exist showing that Lower Slaughter has been inhabited for over 1000 years. The Domesday Book entry has the village name as “Sclostre”. It further notes that in 1066 and 1086 that the manor was in the sheriff's hands. Lower Slaughter Manor, a Grade-II listed 17th-century house, was granted to Sir George Whitmore in 1611 and remained in his family until 1964. The 13th century Anglican parish church is dedicated to St. Mary the Virgin. Much of the current structure was built in 1866; however, the spire and peal of six bells was recently restored. In May 2013 it was reported in the national news that the Parish Council were fiercely opposed to the presence of an icebox tricycle selling ice creams for seven days a week, six months of the year, citing that the trading times were excessive, increased footfall would prevent the grass from growing and that children could climb on the trike and fall into the nearby river.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Slaughters Country Inn is privately owned and offers a relaxed ambience, a style that is sympathetically balanced between the original features of a 17th Century building and contemporary design. The blend of old and new creates the perfect retreat in a beautiful country location
"Footfalls echo in the memory/
Down the passage which we did not take/ Towards the door we never opened/ Into the rose-garden. My words echo/
Thus, in your mind.
But to what purpose/
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves/ I do not know."
~T.S. Eliot, Burnt Norton~
Explore #88 - 08.06.2009
The Full Long Nights Moon sets at Sunrise over Pukerua Bay, New Zealand June 8th 2009
Night knows not, neither is it shown to day,
By sunlight nor by starlight is it shown,
Nor to the full moon's eye nor footfall known,
Their world's untrodden and unkindled way.
Nor is the breath nor music of it blown
With sounds of winter or with winds of May.
But here, where light and darkness reconciled
Held earth between them as a weanling child
Between the balanced hands of death and birth,
Even as they held the new-born shape of earth
When first life trembled in her limbs and smiled,
Here hope might think to find what hope were worth.
from In the Bay by Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837 - 1909)
Best Viewed Large On Black - See where this picture was taken. [?]
A sinking city - maybe under the footfall of the thousands of tourists (er, and photographers). Like the people, the water lapping at the boats never stops moving.
To view more images of Lower Slaughter, please click "here" !
Please:- No group invites!
Lower Slaughter is a village in the English county of Gloucestershire, located in the Cotswold district, 4 miles (6.4 km) south west of the town of Stow-on-the-Wold. The village is built on both banks of the River Eye, which also flows through Upper Slaughter. At the west end of the village there is a 19th-century water mill with an undershot waterwheel and a chimney for additional steam power. There is a ford where the river widens in the village and several small stone footbridges join the two sides of the community. While the mill is built of red brick most of the 16th and 17th century homes in the village use Cotswold sandstone and are adorned with mullioned windows and often with other embellishments such as projecting gables. Records exist showing that Lower Slaughter has been inhabited for over 1000 years. The Domesday Book entry has the village name as “Sclostre”. It further notes that in 1066 and 1086 that the manor was in the sheriff's hands. Lower Slaughter Manor, a Grade-II listed 17th-century house, was granted to Sir George Whitmore in 1611 and remained in his family until 1964. The 13th century Anglican parish church is dedicated to St. Mary the Virgin. Much of the current structure was built in 1866; however, the spire and peal of six bells was recently restored. In May 2013 it was reported in the national news that the Parish Council were fiercely opposed to the presence of an icebox tricycle selling ice creams for seven days a week, six months of the year, citing that the trading times were excessive, increased footfall would prevent the grass from growing and that children could climb on the trike and fall into the nearby river.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Slaughters Country Inn is privately owned and offers a relaxed ambience, a style that is sympathetically balanced between the original features of a 17th Century building and contemporary design. The blend of old and new creates the perfect retreat in a beautiful country location