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.

 

It is the day after Lettice’s exclusive buffet supper party for two of her Embassy Club coterie of bright young things who are getting married: Dickie Channon, eldest surviving son of the Marquess of Taunton, and Margot de Virre, only daughter of Lord Charles and Lady Lucie de Virre. The soirée in their honour was a glittering success and will go down as one of the events of the 1921 London Season according to the Tattler’s society pages correspondent who busily scribbled notes about all the great and good of the land who were present and what they were wearing, whilst a photographer from the London magazine captured the guests in all their glittering finery.

 

The day has been spent setting the Mayfair flat back to rights and Lettice’s maid, Edith, with the help of Mrs. Boothby, Lettice’s charwoman* and one of Mrs. Boothby’s friends, Jackie, have swept and polished, scrubbed and cleaned, whilst Gunter and Company’s** men have restored the furnishings to where they were before the drawing room was turned into a ballroom and the dining room into a buffet.

 

It's after midnight in the up-to-date modern kitchen and silence envelops the flat. Outside only the occasional drone of a taxi dropping late night revellers home, or the hiss of two fighting cats somewhere on the moonlight rooftops outside breaks the evening quiet. Edith has washed all the glasses, crockery and silverware from dinner and after such a busy day of work she should be tired and sleeping soundly like Lettice is, but instead she is still full of excitement from the previous evening as she sits at the deal kitchen table and thinks about all the beautiful people to whom she served drinks.

 

Her mistress looked beautiful in a powder blue silk georgette gown designed by her childhood friend Gerald Bruton who has his own dress shop in Grosvenor Street. Margot wore a stunning low waisted gown of silver satin. However, it was another guest at the party, Lady Diana Cooper *** who really caught Edith’s eye. With a neat, short chignon of waves and curls woven around a bandeau of diamonds, she wore a stunning blue gown of layer upon diaphanous layer of handkerchief point Lanvin blue silk taffeta which Edith knows from her mistress’ cast-off fashion magazines to be a ‘robe de style’**** with a full skirt supported by a wire hoop underneath the fabric. Pinned to the waist was a large pink satin rose with a slightly smaller one sewn to the right shoulder.

 

“Oh,” Edith sighs as she picks up a jam fancy biscuit from the Delftware plate in front of her and takes a bite. “How I should love to be reminded of that gown forever.”

 

As she munches on the biscuit and takes a sip of tea from her teacup, Edith suddenly has an idea. One of her pleasures in her spare time is to collect articles on the latest styles of clothes and hair from Lettice’s old magazines and paste them into scrapbooks. Her current scrapbook has a blank first page which she has kept for something special. Now she knows what that something special is.

 

Slipping quietly out into the drawing room of the flat, Edith fossicks carefully through the Chippendale gilded black japanned chinoiserie cabinet next to the fireplace and withdraws her mistress’ box of watercolours which she takes back to the kitchen. Going into her own little bedroom off the kitchen she withdraws a pack of coloured pencils from her chest of drawers and snatches up her scrapbook from its surface where it sits upright behind her sewing box, leaning against the floral papered wall. Returning to the kitchen she sets everything out on the table.

 

“Come on now girl,” Edith mutters encouragingly to herself as she takes up a grey lead pencil. “Let’s put that memory of yours to the test and see if we can’t get it out on paper.”

 

The pencil tip scratches across the paper as Edith’s hand moves deftly over the page. She starts to hum ‘After the Ball is Over’*****. Soon the figure of a woman emerges on the page with a short chignon dancing gaily with one arm out and another crossed over her chest. The room remains silent except for the tick of the clock, Edith’s soft humming and the sound of pencil against paper as the dress quickly takes form, with its cascades of layers billowing out over the model’s legs, the gown daringly showing her calves, just as Viscountess Norwich had when she danced with her handsome husband and other friends at the party.

 

“Not bad,” Edith says as she finishes her sketch. “Not bad at all. Now for some colour.”

 

She goes to the kitchen cupboard where she keeps the old Victorian jugs that Lettice uses for water when she is doing watercolour sketching and withdraws the smallest jug. Filling it with some water she goes back to her seat. She looks guiltily at her mistress’ watercolours resting atop the scrapbook.

 

“Well,” Edith reasons. “My schoolteachers all said I had artistic flair.” She sighs. “And if I were as lucky as Miss Lettice, I’d have had a tutor to teach me art, or maybe even have gone to the Slade School of Fine Art. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind me using her paints just this one time.”

 

She releases a sigh of pleasure as she mixes the vibrant robin’s egg blue shade of the gown and begins to paint her sketched figure. The colour lightens as she reaches the hem, matching the stockings on her model. Adding more colour to the pool of blue she then defines the shoes. Rinsing the brush in the jug she waits until the blue paint is dry before adding the rose madder of the silk rose on the shoulder and sleeve, and blonde hair to match her own shade to her figure. Making notes about Lettice’s party in the margins around the edge of her picture, Edith waits until the watercolour is dry. Taking up her colour pencils she adds detail, highlights of colour and shading to her sketch, totally oblivious of the time as the hands on the kitchen clock pass one o’clock, all the while humming happily away.

 

“There!” Edith remarks at last, satisfied with her creation. “Perhaps I could give Mr. Bruton a run for his money.” She chuckles to herself at the thought. “Now I shall have Lady Cooper’s gown forever.”

 

As she starts to pack up the watercolours, pencils, sketchbook and tea things she continues to hum ‘After the Ball is Over’, her body swaying to the tune as she imagines herself dancing at a party in the beautiful gown she had just created from memory on paper.

 

*A charwoman, chargirl, or char, jokingly charlady, is an old-fashioned occupational term, referring to a paid part-time worker who comes into a house or other building to clean it for a few hours of a day or week, as opposed to a maid, who usually lives as part of the household within the structure of domestic service. In the 1920s, chars usually did all the hard graft work that paid live-in domestics would no longer do as they looked for excuses to leave domestic service for better paying work in offices and factories.

 

**Gunter and Company were London caterers and ball furnishers with shops in Berkley Square, Sloane Street, Lowndes Street and New Bond Street. They began as Gunter’s Tea Shop at 7 and 8 Berley Square 1757 where it remained until 1956 as the business grew and opened different premises. In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries Gunter's became a fashionable light eatery in Mayfair, notable for its ices and sorbets. Gunter's was considered to be the wedding cake makers du jour and in 1889, made the bride cake for the marriage of Queen Victoria’s granddaughter, Princess Louise of Wales. Even after the tea shop finally closed, the catering business carried on until the mid 1970s.

 

***Born Lady Diana Manners, Diana Olivia Winifred Maud Cooper, Viscountess Norwich was an English aristocrat who was a famously glamorous social figure in London and Paris. As a young woman, she moved in a celebrated group of intellectuals known as the Coterie, most of whom were killed in the First World War. She married Duff Cooper in 1919. In her prime, she had the widespread reputation as the most beautiful young woman in England, and appeared in countless profiles, photographs and articles in newspapers and magazines. She was a film actress in the early 1920s and both she and her husband were very good friends with Edward VIII and were guests of his on a 1936 yacht cruise of the Adriatic which famously caused his affair with Wallis Simpson to become public knowledge.

 

****The ‘robe de style’ was introduced by French couturier Jeanne Lanvin around 1915. It consisted of a basque bodice with a broad neckline and an oval bouffant skirt supported by built in wire hoops. Reminiscent of the Spanish infanta-style dresses of the Seventeenth Century and the panniered robe à la française of the Eighteenth Century they were made of fabric in a solid colour, particularly a deep shade of robin’s egg blue which became known as Lanvin blue, and were ornamented with concentrated bursts of embroidery, ribbons or ornamental silk flowers.

 

*****’After the Ball is Over’ was a popular 1891 song written by Charles K. Harris.

 

Believe it or not Edith’s sketch and her scrapbook as well as all the items around them are perhaps not quite as they appear, for all of them are 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures from my miniatures collection.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

Edith’s scrapbook is a 1:12 size miniature made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Most of the books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed, sitting on shelves or closed on desks and table surfaces. Therefore, it is a pleasure to give you a glimpse inside this wonderful scrapbook from the 1920s which contains sketches, photographs and article clippings. Even the paper has been given the appearance of wrinkling as happens when glue is applied to cheap pulp paper. To give you an idea of the work that has gone into this scrapbook, it contains twelve double sided pages of scrapbook articles, pictures, sketches and photographs and measures forty millimetres in height and thirty millimetres in width and is only three millimetres thick. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s opening books are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make this a miniature artisan piece. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter. I hope that you enjoy this peek at just one of hundreds of his books that I own, and that it makes you smile with its sheer whimsy!

 

The watercolour paint set, brushes, and Limoges style jugs (two of a set of three) come from Melody Jane Dolls’ House. So too do the pencils, which are one millimetre wide and two centimetres long.

 

The Huntley and Palmer’s Family Circle Biscuits tin containing a replica selection of biscuits is also a 1:12 artisan piece. Huntley and Palmers is a British firm of biscuit makers originally based in Reading, Berkshire. The company created one of the world’s first global brands and ran what was once the world’s largest biscuit factory. Over the years, the company was also known as J. Huntley and Son and Huntley and Palmer. Huntley and Palmer were renown for their ‘superior reading biscuits’ which they promoted in different varieties for different occasions, including at breakfast time. The design on the tin originates from the 1920s, but continued much later due to its popularity. The biscuits on the plate are 1:12 scale artisan pieces. The jam fancy is made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering, whilst the chocolate chip biscuit has been made in England by hand from clay by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination.

 

The tea cosy, which fits snugly over a white porcelain teapot, has been hand knitted in fine lemon, blue and violet wool. It comes easily off and off and can be as easily put back on as a real tea cosy on a real teapot. It comes from a specialist miniatures stockist in England.

 

The Deftware cup, saucer and milk jug are part of a 1:12 size miniature porcelain dinner set which I acquired from a private collection of 1:12 miniatures in Holland.

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.

 

After a busy morning working at her desk, painting some interior designs for the Duchess of Whitby, Lettice prepares to curl up in one of her armchairs and enjoy her latest library book from Boots, a thrilling mystery, when the telephone rings noisily on the occasional table beside her.

 

“Oh blast!” Lettice cries. “And just as I was getting comfortable.”

 

The silver and Bakelite telephone continues to trill loudly as Lettice brushes herself down and picks up the receiver.

 

“Mayfair 432,” she answers without the slightest trace of irritation in her very best telephone voice. A distant female voice speaks down the line. “Oh Mrs. Hatchett, how do you do. Yes, this is Miss Chetwynd speaking.” She listens. “You’d like me to visit your home in Sussex? Next Thursday? Well Mrs Hatchett, I am rather in demand at the moment, and it is after all, the Season, which makes it doubly difficult.” She listens to more simpering words coming down the line. “Let me just check my diary.”

 

Lettice deposits the receiver next to the telephone. She reaches across to the low table before her and helps herself to a sip of tea and a nibble of one of the biscuits Edith has brought her. She then flicks a few pages in her new novel. Finally, when she thinks enough time has passed, she reaches across past the telephone and picks up her leather-bound diary which is fastened with an ornate silver clip. Taking up her silver pen, she flicks to next Thursday, knowing full well that it is free. She puts a star next to the Friday to Monday country party inked in for the following day. She will have plenty of time to get down to Sussex by train to visit Mrs Hatchett’s parochial manor house and back again to London to then travel the next day to Worcestershire for the weekend party.

 

Picking up the receiver she says, “You’re lucky Mrs. Hatchett. Thursday is the only day I have free in my diary for next week.”

 

She smiles like a Cheshire cat as she listens to Mrs. Hatchett’s enthusiastic response.

 

“Now, if you’d just remind me of your address is Sussex please, Mrs. Hatchett.” She jots it in her diary. “And you will ensure your driver picks me up from Rotherfield and Mark Cross*?” She listens to Mrs. Hatchett’s reassurances. “Splendid! Shall we say one o’clock then?” She listens. “Yes? Very good. Yes… yes, I shall see you then. Good morning Mrs. Hatchett.”

 

Lettice hangs up the receiver and squeals with delight.

 

“Edith! Edith!” she calls.

 

Her maid scurries in, frustrated that her mistress insists of screaming through the flat rather than pressing the servants’ bell next to the fireplace. “Can I help you, Miss?”

 

“Oh Edith!” Lettice gasps, leaping up from her seat and clasping her hands in delight. “Such good news!”

 

“Yes Miss?” Edith asks, waiting to hear more.

 

“Your cake did the trick!”

 

“My cake, Miss?” Edith does not understand.

 

“Yes, yes! Your mother’s chocolate cake recipe, for Mrs. Hatchett. Remember?”

 

“Oh that cake!” Edith thinks to herself how many cakes she has made since the rather loud and somewhat gauche Mrs. Hatchett, wife of a banker, sat in Lettice’s drawing room, enthusing over her host’s taste and style. “Very good, Miss.”

 

“It’s splendid Edith. Mrs. Hatchett wants me to visit her next Thursday to look about her home to then propose some interior design ideas!” She throws her arms around Edith’s neck, much to the other woman’s consternation as she stiffens awkwardly at the overfamiliarity.

 

“I best fetch you the Bluebell timetable then, Miss.” Edith mutters, slipping from her mistress’ grasp.

 

“Edith,” Lettice called after her.

 

“Yes, Miss?”

 

“You’re such a brick!”

 

“Yes, Miss!”

 

Lettice sinks back down into her round tub armchair, picks up her book and sighs happily.

 

*The village of Rotherfield in East Sussex had a railway station open there on September 1st 1880. It was renamed Rotherfield and Mark Cross on November 11th 1901. It was never a busy railway station with only light traffic boarding to London, partly due to an inconvenient location. The station was finally closed on June 14th 1965.

 

This year the FFF+ Group have decided to have a weekly challenge called “Snap Happy”. A different theme chosen by a member of the group each week, and the image is to be posted on the Monday of the week.

 

This week the theme, “connections/connected” was chosen by David, DaveSPN.

 

I have taken a slightly different perspective on the theme, but I hope that this telephone, which kept people connected in the 1920s and keep them equally connected today. This upper-class domestic scene is different to what you may think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:

 

The black Bakelite and silver telephone is a 1:12 miniature of a model introduced around 1919.

 

The vase of red roses on the Art Deco occasional table and the glass vase of pink roses on the right-hand side of the mantlepiece are beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium.

 

Lettice’s tea set is a beautiful artisan set featuring a rather avant-garde Art Deco Royal Doulton design from the Edwardian era. The biscuits are also artisan miniatures from a specialist stockist of food stuffs. He has a dizzying array of meals which is always growing, and all are made entirely or put together by hand.

 

Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The Art Deco tub chairs are of black japanned wood and have removable cushions, just like their life sized examples. To the left of the fireplace is a Hepplewhite drop-drawer bureau and chair of black japanned wood which has been hand painted with chinoiserie designs, even down the legs and inside the bureau. The chair set has a rattan seat, which has also been hand woven. To the right of the fireplace is a Chippendale cabinet which has also been decorated with chinoiserie designs. It also features very ornate metalwork hinges and locks.

 

On the top of the Hepplewhite bureau stand three real miniature photos in frames including an Edwardian silver frame, a Victorian brass frame and an Art Deco blue Bakelite and glass frame.

 

The fireplace is a 1:12 miniature resin Art Deco fireplace which is flanked by brass accessories including an ash brush with real bristles.

 

On the left hand side of the mantle is an Art Deco metal clock hand painted with wonderful detail by British miniature artisan Victoria Fasken.

 

In the middle of the mantle is a miniature artisan hand painted Art Deco statue on a “marble” plinth. Made by Warwick Miniatures in England, it is a 1:12 copy of the “Theban Dancer” sculpture created by Claire-Jeanne-Roberte Colinet in 1925.

 

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

 

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.

 

It's a quarter past eight and Lettice is still happy asleep in her bed, buried beneath a thick and soft counterpane of embroidered oriental satin brocade, whilst the rest of Mayfair is slowly awakening in the houses and flats around her. Her peaceful slumbers are rudely interrupted by a peremptory knock on her boudoir door.

 

“Morning Miss.” Edith, Lettice’s maid, says brightly as she pops her head around the white painted panelled door as she opens it.

 

Lettice grunts – a most unladylike reaction – as she starts to wake up, disorientated, wondering for just a moment where she is before realising that she is in her own bed in Cavendish Mews. Sitting up in bed she winces as Edith draws the curtains back along their railing, flooding the room with a light, which whilst anaemic, is still painful to her eyes as the adjust.

 

“It looks like it’s going to be a showery and overcast day today, Miss.” Edith says with seriousness as she looks out of the window onto the street below. “None too good for that charity event you are going to today.”

 

“Charity event?” Lettice queries, rubbing the sleep from her sore eyes and exhaling through her nose. “What,” She yawns, not bothering to stifle it and stretches her arms. “What charity event, Edith?”

 

“That theatrical one you are going to with Mr. Bruton in Regent’s Park, Miss.” Edith replies, walking across the floor of her mistress’ bedroom, snatching discarded lingerie and stockings from the floor as she goes as she opens the door to the adjoining bathroom.

 

“Oh that!” Lettice answers. “The Theatrical Garden Party isn’t until next week, Edith.”

 

“Oh, I thought it was today, Miss.” The maid lifts the upholstered lid on a wicker laundry basket just inside the bathroom door and deposits Lettice’s lacy undergarments and stockings into it. “I must have my weeks confused.” She emerges and goes to one of Lettice’s polished wardrobes where she withdraws a pale pink bed jacket trimmed in marabou feathers from its wooden hanger.

 

“No, the Actors’ Orphanage Garden Party* is definitely next week, Edith,” Lettice says aloud to assure herself as much as her maid as she allows Edith to drape the bed jacket around her shoulders. She sighs and looks out at the grey day that peeps through the window. “Thank goodness. We’d hate for it to be a wash-out. Last year drew such crowds.”

 

Edith goes back to the open bedroom door and disappears momentarily into the hallway before returning with Lettice’s breakfast tray.

 

Punching and fluffing her pillows behind her to her satisfaction, Lettice nestles into her nest as she sits up properly in bed and allows her maid to place the tray across her lap. She looks down approvingly at the slice of golden toast in the middle of the pretty floral plate, the egg in the matching egg cup and the pot of tea with steam rising from the spout. She goes to lift the lid of the silver preserve pot.

 

“Marmalade, Miss.” Edith elucidates.

 

“Very good, Edith.”

 

“You… err… finished the last of the Glynes plum and raspberry conserve yesterday, Miss.”

 

“Did I?” Lettice remarks, withdrawing her napkin from underneath the plate and draping it across her front. “Oh well, all good things must come to an end, mustn’t they, Edith?”

 

“I couldn’t say, Miss.” Edith replies, her mouth forming into a slim line on her face as she keeps quiet about what she considers to be an extravagant amount of jam that Lettice applies to her toast every morning. In her opinion her mistress may as well forgo the toast altogether and eat the jam directly from the pot with a spoon. “The marmalade is shop bought, Miss.”

 

“Is it? Oh well, never mind.” Lettice answers as she takes up a spoon and begins to dollop the rich gelatinous golden orange marmalade onto her slice of toast. “I’ll fetch some more conserve from Mater and Pater next time I’m back in Wiltshire.” She takes the knife and spreads the thick layer across the toast before cutting the slice in half with crunching strokes. “Any post yet, Edith?”

 

“Some tradesmen’s correspondence and a larger envelope without a return address on it, Miss.”

 

“That will be a begging letter,” Lettice points the knife at her maid, slicing the air with it. “Put them on my desk will you. I’ll see to them when I get up.”

 

“Yes Miss.” Edith bobs a curtsey and goes to withdraw, yet just as she is about to close the bedroom door she glances at something on the console table outside. “Oh, and there is this, Miss, which I should think you’ll want to see.”

 

Lettice looks down the length of the room to where Edith holds up a copy of Country Life** in the doorway. She gasps. “Oh hoorah! Bring it here this instant, Edith!” She holds out her arms, twiddling her fingers anxiously.

 

“Yes Miss.” Edith bobs a curtsey and brings the crisp magazine to her mistress’ bedside.

 

“What page is it on, Edith?” Lettice asks, grasping the folded pages from her maid and opening it before her, over the top of her breakfast tray.

 

“I couldn’t say, Miss.” Edith replies, her intonation reflecting the mild outrage she feels at being asked such a question. “As if I would go through your personal mail, Miss.” Even though she has done just as Lettice has suggested and found and skimmed the article on Lettice’s redecoration of ‘Chi an Treth’, there is no need for her to know.

 

“Oh of course you haven’t, Edith. I’m sorry” Lettice apologises, lowering the magazine and looking up at her maid with remorse in her blue eyes. “Forgive me?”

 

“Of course, Miss.”

 

“I’m so grateful to have a maid who doesn’t pry.”

 

“Yes Miss.” Edith answers with a smug smile. “Will that be all, Miss.”

 

“Yes, yes, Edith!” Lettice answers with a dismissive flip of her right hand as she lets go of half the copy of Country Life which drapes across her breakfast, narrowly avoiding being smeared with marmalade. “I should be finished in about a half hour and then you can clean up.”

 

“Very good, Miss.”

 

Once Edith has retreated and closed the door behind her, Lettice foists the breakfast tray from her lap onto the empty left half of the bed, the crockery and cutlery protesting noisily at being thrust so forcefully from her. Drawing her knees up, she rests the latest edition of Country Life on her thighs and turns to the contents page, scanning the list of articles and editorials. “Aha!” she gasps triumphantly upon finding it.

 

Flipping through the pages past other houses of note quicky, the paper rustles beneath her fingers until she reaches the editorial she wants. Taking a deep breath she begins to read quietly aloud to herself, “Country homes and gardens old and new. ‘Chi an Treth’, Cornwall, the seat of Mr. R. Channon.” She skims the first section of the editorial which explains how Dickie and Margot were gifted their country house, but pauses at the first two photographs beneath it. She smiles with satisfaction at the first one which shows the top of the demi-lune table that she painted by hand and then worried wasn’t going to meet Margot’s approval. The image beside it shows the stylish mirror topped Art Deco console table she installed beneath the portrait of the beautiful and tragic Miss Rosevear, flanked by two statues she acquired from Mr. Chilvers at the Portland Gallery. “A perfect balance of old and new.” she reads aloud from the caption below the photograph before allowing herself to release the pent-up breath she has been holding in her chest. Those few words consisting of twenty-six characters is enough to tell her that anything else she reads in Henry Tipping’s*** article will be sure to be favourable about her interior designs for the Channon’s Regency country house.

 

Looking across the gutter between the left-hand page and the right she reads, “in the capable hands of Miss Lettice Chetwynd, who has applied her tasteful Modern Classical Revival style.”

 

Lettice’s eyes stray to the large photograph of Dickie and Margot’s redecorated drawing room. She chuckles to herself, the action causing the corners of her mouth to curl up in a smile as she remembers her conversation with Margot in the week following the Country Life photo shoot at ‘Chi an Treth’. Margot complained bitterly about having to tidy the place up for Mr. Tipping and his crew, even though it was her housekeeper, Mrs. Trevethan, who really did the tidying up. Margot moaned about having to hide her novels like skeletons in the closet, and how Mr. Tipping tinkered around the rooms, moving small things like clocks and photos, whilst removing others for what he called photographic effect. Margot said that when it came to shifting Dickie’s pile of newspapers from the pouffe by the fireplace, his friendship with Mr. Tipping nearly came to an end. Gifted with a sense of drama, Lettice knew that Margot was over exaggerating this point, but she could imagine that having a photography crew traipsing through your newly decorated rooms would be somewhat of an inconvenience and more than a little irritating. Margot did however concede that the Country Life crew brought a magnificent array of flowers which they filled every conceivable space with when photographing, and then left behind for her pleasure upon their decampment.

 

“Miss Chetwynd’s treatment of the drawing room exemplifies a comfortable mixture of old and new furnishings to create a welcoming and contemporary room that is sympathetic to the original features.” Lettice reads. Dropping the pages onto her thighs, she smiles with unbridled delight at the complimentary way with which Mr. Tipping describes her interiors.

 

“Wait until Mater reads this,” she thinks smugly, remembering her request of the Country Life office to supply an advanced copy of the magazine to her parent’s home as well as her own once it was published. “Now she will have to take my interior decorating business seriously.”

 

As if on cue, the black and silver Bakelite telephone by her bedside begins to trill noisily. She looks at it, her eyes alive with excitement. Usually, it is Edith’s job to answer the telephone, one of her most hated duties in her position as Lettice’s maid. Lettice is amused by her hatred of ‘that infernal contraption’. However, today after reading what she has in the Country Life article about ‘Chi an Treth’ she feels magnanimous and picks up the receiver on the third shrill ring.

 

“Mayfair 432,” she answers with a happy lilt in her voice. A distant deep male voice speaks down the line. “Pappa! What an unexpected pleasure at this time of the morning. I would have thought you’d be out on estate business with Leslie at this time.” She smiles to herself and bites the inside of her lower lip in excitement and anticipation. “I do hope nothing is wrong, Pappa.” she adds cheekily. She listens. “Oh really? Did she? Whatever was the matter for Mamma to call you to her boudoir like that?” She listens again, her eyes crinkling at the corners in sheer delight as she listens, luxuriating in her moment of triumph. “Oh that!” She laughs feigning nonchalance as she curls the spiral cord of the telephone receiver around her left index finger. “You know Pappa, with all the excitement of preparing for Elizabeth’s**** up and coming wedding to the Duke of York and decorating Charles and Minnie Palmerston’s dining room, you know I had quite forgotten all about it.” She listens again. “Yes, yes, I had. I mean, it was so long ago when I decorated Dickie and Margot’s. You and Mamma did approve of me doing it considering that Dickie is the Marquess of Taunton’s son, didn’t you?” she asks teasingly. Her father’s voice, disembodied somewhere between London and Wiltshire booms bombastically down the line. “Well yes I can, Pappa. I’ll have to check my diary, but I think I could arrange to come down to Glynes at short notice,” She pauses. “Only that suits you, of course.” She listens again. “Yes, yes very well. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve booked a ticket which train I’ll be on.” There is more male burbling along the line. “Alright. Goodbye Pappa. I’ll see you soon.” She hangs up the phone.

 

There is a quiet knock at the bedroom door.

 

“Is everything alright, Miss?” Edith opens it and pops her head around.

 

“So much for a maid who doesn’t pry.” Lettice says with arched eyebrows, making Edith blush at the remark. “Yes, everything is fine, but,” She throws the comforter back and swivels herself around on the mattress, revealing her white lace brassier beneath her open bed jacket and her silk crepe de chine step ins as she stretches her legs out of the bed. “There has been a change of plans. I shall have to forego breakfast this morning. I need you to pack me an overnight valise, Edith. I’m off to Glynes for an evening stay. I just need to ring the Victoria Station booking office and arrange a ticket.”

 

“To Glynes, Miss!” Edith gasps. “Whatever for?”

 

Holding up the copy of Country Life, Lettice says, still with arched eyebrows, and a knowing, but not unfriendly smile. “I think you know only too well, Edith.”

 

*The Actors' Orphanage was started in 1896 and established as the Actors' Orphanage Fund in 1912. The fund continues but the orphanage closed in 1958. The charity was started in 1896 by "Kittie" Carson and Mrs Clement Scott. The first building was in Croydon. It was established as the Actors' Orphanage Fund in 1912. In 1915 the Orphanage moved to Langley Hall at Langley (was in Buckinghamshire - now in Berkshire). The orphanage was both a home and a school to approximately sixty children. At ages fifteen to seventeen pupils sat the School Leaving Certificate of Cambridge University and if ten subjects were taken, to Matriculation. Over the years many from the theatrical profession gave time and money to the running of the Orphanage. They also threw large garden parties in Regents Park with rides and entertainment from famous people in the theatrical profession to help raise funds. These events were highly patronised, drawing the biggest crowds between 1920 and 1925. Past presidents of the Orphanage included Sir Gerald du Maurier, Noël Coward, Laurence Olivier and Richard Attenborough.

 

**Country Life is a British weekly perfect-bound glossy magazine that is a quintessential English magazine founded in 1897, providing readers with a weekly dose of architecture, gardens and interiors. It was based in London at 110 Southwark Street until March 2016, when it became based in Farnborough, Hampshire. The frontispiece of each issue usually features a portrait photograph of a young woman of society, or, on occasion, a man of society.

 

***Henry Tipping (1855 – 1933) was a French-born British writer on country houses and gardens, garden designer in his own right, and Architectural Editor of the British periodical Country Life for seventeen years between 1907 and 1910 and 1916 and 1933. After his appointment to that position in 1907, he became recognised as one of the leading authorities on the history, architecture, furnishings and gardens of country houses in Britain. In 1927, he became a member of the first committee of the Gardens of England and Wales Scheme, later known as the National Gardens Scheme.

 

****Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, as she was known at the beginning of 1923 when this story is set, went on to become Queen of the United Kingdom and the Dominions from 1936 to 1952 as the wife of King George VI. Whilst still Duke of York, Prince Albert initially proposed to Elizabeth in 1921, but she turned him down, being "afraid never, never again to be free to think, speak and act as I feel I really ought to". He proposed again in 1922 after Elizabeth was part of his sister, Mary the Princess Royal’s, wedding party, but she refused him again. On Saturday, January 13th, 1923, Prince Albert went for a walk with Elizabeth at the Bowes-Lyon home at St Paul’s, Walden Bury and proposed for a third and final time. This time she said yes. The wedding took place on April 26, 1923 at Westminster Abbey.

 

This editorial from the pages of country life complete with photographs may look real to you, but if you look carefully at the elegantly appointed drawing room with its modish Art Deco furnishings you will find that they are made up with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection.

 

Fun things to look for in the photographs in this article include:

 

On the coffee table sits a rounded bowl made from hand spun glass, which has been made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The ornamental glass bon-bon dish and other glass vases are also made from hand spun glass and were made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures, as are all the roses in the photographs.

 

The Statue of the nude Art Nouveau woman on the right-hand pedestal to the right at the back is based on a real statue and is made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. It has been hand painted by me.

 

The glass topped demilune table in the background is a hand made miniature artisan piece, which sadly is unsigned. On its surface, made of real glass are decanters of whiskey and port and a cranberry glass soda syphon made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering in England. The silver Regency tea caddy is made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland.

 

The wedding photo in the silver frame on the mantlepiece and the photos in frames on the demilune table behind the armchair are real photos, produced to high standards in 1:12 size on photographic paper by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The frame comes from Melody Jane’s Doll House Suppliers.

 

The Georgian style demilune table behind and to the right of the armchair is an artisan miniature from Lady Mile Miniatures in the United Kingdom. Painted white and then aged, it has been hand painted with a Georgian style design on its surface.

 

The copy of Country Life on the pouffe was made by me.

 

The eau-de-nil suite consisting of armchairs, sofa and pouffe are all made of excellent quality fabric, and are very well made, as is the coffee table with its small drawer beneath the tabletop. All these pieces were made as a set by high-end miniatures manufacturer Jiayi Miniatures.

 

The Regency gilt swan pedestals and round tables are made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.

 

The fireplace is made of plaster, and comes from Kathleen Knight’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom.

 

The stylised Art Deco fire screen is made using thinly laser cut wood, made by Pat’s Miniatures in England.

 

The paintings around the ‘Chi an Treth’ drawing room in their gilded frames are 1:12 artisan pieces made by V.H. Miniatures and Marie Makes Miniatures in the United Kingdom and geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series. The Geometrically patterned Art Deco carpet on the floor comes from a miniatures specialist store on E-Bay.

Disclaimer: The contents of this chapter include very sensitive subject matter involving of death of family and the PTSD that comes with it and may be triggering to some individuals.

 

...

 

Vincent lifted his gaze from the picture and leaned his head back against the pillow propped up behind him and closed his eyes. Right now, he was very grateful to his cousin and her bhang concoctions. If not for that, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to get through this today. Honestly he was still uncertain if he still actually could do this.

But as Vincent settled in, a slight smile drew upon his lips as he began to speak as he let him go back four years ago. And as he did, Aiden relaxed more beside him and listened to his story.

"I suppose this story began with my promotion to Captaincy. My uncle is very much a generous man as much as he is proud. He threw a ball to celebrate me. After all, I was the son he never had and it was expected of us. I was to greet and receive endless congratulations by many Captains and their wives, several Lords and Ladies and the worst ones of all." There was a dramatic pause. "Marriage-minded mothers and their daughters."

Vincent actually shuddered which made Aiden laugh softly. But at the same time, it put Vincent in a somewhat new perspective for him: Vincent was not just any ship's captain. He came from a wealthy family; perhaps even possibly related to a Lord or Lady! He supposed he should have realized that last week when Vincent mentioned being required to attend a huge event such as the coming masquerade ball.

"So a couple of hours into my endless parade of greetings and congratulations I happened upon a conversation of a small group discussing horror novels."

"Sounds like something you could get into."

"Indeed. Shh."

"Sorry."

"As I approached, the main speaker turned out to be a woman elaborating about a book she'd read. It turned out to be by the same author who wrote the book you gave me. Her audience had been quite shocked as she spun the summarized tale of how a scorned witch took bloody revenge on all those who'd wronged her. And trust me, it was absolutely tame compared to the novel itself. No one seemed to know what to say. And so when I announced that I knew the novel she was speaking of and that I'd enjoyed it, myself, she'd turned in excitement with such a brilliant smile. She promptly took my arm and, I quote, 'Now HERE'S someone worth talking to! Hello, good Sir, my name is Miss Emily Fenton. It's a pleasure to meet you. Shall we grab some lemonade together?' And as I escorted her away she mentioned the party had been dull until I arrived and that I was right on time."

Both men chuckled softly and Aiden thought to himself that Vincent's wife must have been a very interesting woman. He was very amused that Vincent imitated an enthusiastic young woman's voice quite well.

"She really turned my world upside down. I remember thinking to myself, how did I not notice her before? As it turned out, she was a visiting cousin of an acquaintance of the family. I remember the details of her eyes, those little flecks of green that encircled her iris. How she smelled of lilies which happened to be her favorite flower. She had this sly smile which was so full of mischief and had the most twisted sense of humor which I adored. But you'd never know the depth of her by looking at her. Oh, she would smile and act as a lady should be in public. Well....mostly. She was sharp, witty, and very well-read. She was a scholar and loved to delve into book after book. But her mind and the things that would come out of her mouth! And she'd do it with a straight face too! And you'd never see it coming!"

And Vincent was laughing! Aiden grinned and he listened, painting this picture in his head of the eventual Mrs. Emily Dubois. She seemed quite the character! She sounded like someone Vincent could easily get along with and clearly did.

Vincent's laughter quickly settled and he licked his lips before reaching for the cup of bhang tea beside him and drained the rest of it. He knew by the end of this, he was going to need it in his system. It had been a couple of years since he'd really talked about any of this. The last time had been to Damien and it hadn't given him as much closure as he'd have liked. Of course, Damien had been there to witness the majority of it all and hadn't needed explanations. He'd simply been there as a shoulder for Vincent to lean on. Sure, talking to Damien HAD helped and eventually he was able to get through each day again but...something about this time was different. He was able to let it flow differently this time as he got to tell the actual whole story to someone for the first time. It felt good to finally talk about it.

"You have to know something about me. Well, about who I was. I was married to my career. I loved everything about my life in the sky and had everything I wanted. I had no need for marriage at the time. I was young; only twenty-three. I wasn't expected to look for a wife for several years and even so I didn't have to. I was a captain! I could live my life completely in the air if I wanted to! And it was what I did want. My thirst for knowledge paired beautifully with my love of travel and I could chart any course and go anywhere and learn anything I wanted when I wanted. I knew what my life would be. That was until I met Emily.

"I hadn't realized how much sharing the joys of sharing one's life with another person could be until I found myself in her presence nearly every day. She was a fascinating woman and very knowledgeable and well read. She was always happy to hear about places and things I've seen. In turn, I was happy to listen to her talk about her novels and things she'd learned in her studies and we shared deep, intellectual conversations. We became fast friends, but I knew it was more than that. I found myself waking every day with her in my thoughts. She had quickly become someone I had to keep in my life and she seemed to fit perfectly somehow. I felt alive in a new, different way.

"Of course it was perfectly possible for me to have a wife and live my life too. After all, I had grown up watching the love between my uncle and aunt and they had married young as well. My uncle was gone most of the time; home during Summers and occasionally throughout the year for important holidays and still does it to this day. And every time they are together, you can see the love and happiness they share together. It's as clear as day. And they are more in love than the day they married. And even then, I knew it. So I knew I could make it work with Emily if she were willing. Of course, fate would have it that I found out that Emily was due to return home and would be leaving the capitol the following week. It would be a long time before we would see each other in person. After all, she didn't live in a major port and I was due to start my first trip as captain soon. I was expecting to subject myself to written correspondence with her. But when I saw that forlorn look in her eyes and how she admitted that she'd miss seeing my face? Well, what else could I do but ask her to marry me?"

Vincent blinked and tears slid down his cheeks in memory of Emily as he saw her in her bridal gown and how she'd glowed that day. "We were happy. I knew my life would be perfect. Emily understood me and the expectations of my life. No, we wouldn't be together every day but we'd see each other more often than if she was going back to her hometown. She was happy and eager to get our lives started together. She'd made friends with my cousins and had her own cousin in town as well. She'd have a happy life here and once we had children, her days would be more joyful. She was looking forward to becoming a mother one day."

How wonderful Vincent made it seem! Of course, Aiden knew how this story would end. But it was important, he realized, for Vincent to talk about this...about her and their life. Something told him he'd not told this story before. Not like this. Aiden felt his heart go out to Vincent and he continued to listen to Vincent's story.

"As you can imagine, it was a very short engagement and a small wedding. I'd gotten us a place big enough for us and a little one for when we were ready. With all the excitement of a ball held in my honor, wooing my lady, and becoming a husband, I'd taken time off from work for quite some time. But it was time for me to get back into the swing of life and provide for my wife and our home together. So the day finally came where Damien and I were to set off for our first cargo trip on Leon's Claw. And that's when she gave me this."

Vincent leaned over and reached for the compass and brought it to his lap and opened it up. He held it along with the picture frame and just stared for a long moment. Aiden gazed at the compass over Vincent's shoulder with new appreciation. He'd noticed the slight smoothness of the spots where Vincent's fingers had rubbed it when he'd repaired it a few months ago. It was a well loved piece to have so much wear in such a short amount of time. And he'd certainly not forgotten Vincent's distraught expression when it had broken.

"'Though pleas`d to see the dolphins play, I mind my compass and my way,'" * Vincent recited the inscription inside the compass. "She said that it was to help me remember to stay my course; to seek to enjoy life and all it has to offer and to always help me find my way home. She was worried I'd find it silly and corny but I loved her for it."

"It was a thoughtful gift."

"It really is. I was touched."

Vincent closed the compass and held it tight in his hand for a long moment. He licked his lips and then glanced up at Aiden who gave him a small encouraging smile. But Vincent saw that something was off about Aiden and how he was smiling. A small part of him wanted to turn and reassure Aiden...but what was there to reassure him about? He wasn't sure what was wrong but he just seemed a little...despondent. Perhaps it was because he knew it was a sad story? Or was there something else bothering him?

"So what happened next?" Aiden inquired softly, not realizing that Vincent was reading him so well. Vincent gazed at him for another long moment, blinking a couple of times as he allowed himself to tuck this mental inquiry about Aiden away to think about later.

"What happened next? Well, I started my new life as Captain. I felt like I was living my best life! I was having a grand time with one of my best friends and got to live my dream every day. It was everything I hoped it would be. Though, I admit that for somewhat selfish reasons, we didn't stray too far from home." Vincent chuckled slightly to himself which drew a small smirk from Aiden. "Damien was pretty annoyed with me, I think. I had made him wait and wait while I courted my wife and then we were only gone not even a full two months before we came home again. And that's when I found out that I was to become a father." Aiden could see the joy through the sadness and tears that were forming in Vincent's eyes.

"Six months or so later my daughter was born: Lily. She...she had my eyes and hair and her mother's nose and mouth. Lily was so small but she was healthy and perfect. She was my pride and joy." The tears spilled down Vincent's face as he let out a soft sob and yet he still managed a bittersweet smile as he gazed up at Aiden. "I wish I could show you...she was so beautiful and sweet. She never cried and loved being held. I never realized that I could be that happy. And then...then much too soon it was time for me to go."

And here Vincent's smile faded and he drew his knees up a little and his shoulders sunk. His gaze returned to the photograph. Aiden knew what was going to happen next. This was where Vincent's world would be ripped from him.

"There had been talk of illness in neighboring countries with major air and sea ports. In my line of work, I was at risk but it wasn't like I could stop with a family to provide for. And we lived in a city of massive commerce. She was scared of never seeing me again but I still chose to go."

Beside him, Aiden felt his heart suddenly clench even worse. He remembered all too well when that happened just over three years ago. There had been rumors and people were scared. But it never seemed to come and people began to wonder if maybe it was just a hoax. Then suddenly it hit with ferocity everywhere that had air and sea ports, rumored to have come thanks to commerce and the critters that resided on the ships. Aiden's hometown was a city of commerce and sure enough it had claimed many lives there including that of his own mother who was prone to illness more easily than others.

"It was the hardest farewell I'd ever had to make," Vincent continued painfully. "I kissed my wife and baby and went on my way." Vincent inhaled deeply and let it out sharply before swallowing hard and gave a small nod. Aiden had a feeling he was having to push himself to keep talking at this point.

"Then 'this,'" Vincent grumbled and gestured aggressively towards his blind and damaged eye, "happened." He inhaled slowly and deeply through his nostrils as fresh tears began to pool in his eyes. "While Damien and I were recovering, news came that the capitol had been ravaged by the illness; especially in the poorer parts of town. I prayed that my family would be safe, all of them. But then that's when I got the letter from Emily. Our little Lily was sick, but it had been dated a couple of weeks earlier! I wanted to get home right away but no one was flying or sailing out; especially to the capitol. And, of course, mail was not getting out nearly as quickly anymore.

"We weren't far from here but it wasn't close at all if you traveled on land. And, of course, Leon's Claw needed repairs and Damien had suffered a severe trauma with losing his arm saving me. I was stuck! It took a week to get the proper repairs done so I could fly home myself. Thankfully Damien was fitted for his arm and I could get home to my wife and daughter! I prayed to whatever powers may be that Lily would be okay. I STILL hadn't heard from anyone even though I'd sent letters! Not Emily, my cousins, nor my aunt. Nothing. All I knew was my baby was sick! And when we arrived at the capitol, my cousin Abigail was waiting for me. I knew it the moment I saw it was her waiting there for me; not Emily. I was too late!"

At this point, Vincent was just letting it all out. Now that he was talking and crying, he just couldn't seem to stop! Aiden felt like he couldn't breathe as his heart kept breaking more and more for Vincent.

"It wasn't only my little Lily that I'd lost! I'd lost Emily, too! Emily died the day before I arrived home and Lily three days before! It's not fair! I lost them BOTH!!! Lily and Emily died ALONE while I was stuck two cities away! I wasn't there with them! She asked me to stay but I didn't! What kind of a man am I?! I should have stayed!"

Aiden cried silently beside Vincent as he gazed at the distraught man. What could he say? What could he do? What could possibly console Vincent with something as heartbreaking as this?

So this was why Vincent had spoken to him the way he had when they had met, Aiden realized. He was remembering as he repaired the compass Vincent had spoken to him about Aiden's convictions and determination to leave home. Vincent had tried to convince him that it would be better to stay home with his family. But Aiden had been determined that he wanted this. The feelings and reasonings that Aiden had come back with that had apparently convinced Vincent to hire him seemed like they would be something the late Emily would have encouraged. And quite possibly, it seemed, Vincent had seen a bit of himself in Aiden at the time.

Aiden swallowed hard as the realizations hit him. It took him a minute but he finally got his thoughts together before he spoke softly.

"But at least you have that final memory of them. Of kissing them goodbye and-"

"NO! I DON'T! Just...don't even! You have NO idea!"

Aiden had jumped at Vincent's strangled, sudden outburst! Then Vincent suddenly gave a wrenched sob as he pressed his hands to his face and sobbed even harsher than Aiden had heard thus far. Seconds later, he wrapped his arms around his knees and pulled them quite painfully towards his chest. In his agonized state of being, as well as the intoxication from the bhang, Vincent didn't care about the physical pain flaring to life in his abdomen! Aiden wanted to stop him but right now he didn't dare say or do anything as he stared wide eyed at Vincent.

"You just don't know, Aiden!" Lifting his gaze, he stared up into Aiden's eyes desperately. Aiden had the impression that Vincent was almost pleading with him to understand.

"I wanted to remember them forever like that. Of my wife's smile and my daughter looking so perfect in her arms as I kissed them farewell. I would have that memory and all our happy memories to sustain me. I felt like I was in a daze as I made my way home. Then that's...that's when..."

Vincent closed his eyes and tears slid down his cheeks as the memory came back so painful and fresh as if it happened just yesterday. When he opened them, he was gazing back at Aiden and continued, this time his voice more calm but every bit as heart-wrenching as he said in a near whisper, "I came home as their bodies were being carried out of the building and tossed onto the cart with the other corpses. And the workers they...they just were talking so casually about them and the way they tossed their bodies onto the pile I- I just-"

And he cut himself off and buried his face in his knees and sobbed. He found that he just couldn't stop. Beside him, Aiden sat in shock as all this unfolded. Vincent was inconsolable, but he needed this. Who knew how long he'd kept this torment inside? Surely, he'd never broken down like this before! This seemed too fresh. Aiden wasn't sure what to say to any of that. What could someone say to that?

"And every time I sleep, the dreams always end the same way! I kiss them goodbye and then I see their corpses like that! EVERY! TIME! And I know how alone she was! How miserable and scared she must have been! I should have been there with them! What did I do to deserve this?! I don't want to do this anymore, Aiden! I should have died with them! I don't want to be here anymore! I want to die but I'm too much of a coward to end it all myself!"

And suddenly Vincent was wrapped in the warmth of Aiden's strong embrace before he was gently but firmly held close.

"Shh...shh..."

"Let go!"

At first Vincent started to push him off, but as he felt Aiden's hand come to cup the back of his head, he felt all his walls break down as he allowed himself to lean against Aiden's chest and actually clung to his shirt. The sobs came all over again, but this time they just did not stop coming. Aiden simply held him and pressed his nose and lips to the top of Vincent's head and closed his eyes. He didn't know what else to do but let him get it all out.

Some time had passed. Neither man had paid attention to the time, but eventually Vincent's sobs quieted and he hiccupped as he just leaned against Aiden in a quiet daze as he came down from all that. Aiden gently slid his hand down and rubbed Vincent's back. He wasn't in a hurry to let Vincent out of his arms right now. Once Vincent's breathing was back to normal, Aiden lifted his head and pressed his chin gently atop his head.

"I'm glad you're here, Vincent," he told him softly. "I'd miss you terribly if you were gone."

"Bet you wouldn't miss days like this."

"I'd not be anywhere else."

"You can't really mean that."

"Look at me."

And Vincent did. He sniffed and lifted his head from Aiden's chest and gazed up into his eyes. In a slightly bold move, Aiden reached up and gently brushed away Vincent's tears before stating calmly, "I'd not be anywhere else but here. I will always be here no matter what; whether that be a shoulder to lean on or-... or if you need a poking to lighten up and laugh once in a while. You are important to me, Vincent. You're my best friend."

Vincent's eyes widened and he felt his stomach flutter to life with butterflies. Aiden must truly feel strongly about their bond! Of course, Vincent knew of friendships like this. He had a small group of people he trusted and he was so thankful that Aiden was part of that circle now. And he had to admit that he loved that Aiden could speak his thoughts so freely with him and threw caution and vulnerability to the wind. And Vincent felt like he could as well and it felt liberating each and every time. He felt more free to do so around Aiden than...well, he couldn't even remember!

"You're one of my closest friends too. I'm lucky to have you in my corner, Aiden. I don't know what I did to deserve you. but thank you."

"Of course. I'll always have your back. Always."

Aiden wanted to tell Vincent the truth of his romantic feelings. He truly did. However, he knew that right now was not the time for it; especially not after Vincent's awful breakdown over his dearly missed wife. And as for Aiden, when he'd asked Vincent to talk about Emily, he hadn't expected to compare himself to her the way he unintentionally had. It was hard not to feel a touch of doubt considering he wanted to win Vincent's heart, himself. Aiden and Emily were quite different people. Would Vincent even want him, a man? Would he be open to finding love again to begin with?

Aiden still had every intention of wooing Vincent and telling him the truth one day. He just needed to go about things differently now that he understood how deeply Vincent was hurting.

However, Vincent still needed him as his friend, so romance was not an option right now, but perhaps one day, Aiden thought. He'd just have to be part of his life and hopefully one day things would work out so that Vincent would come to feel he needed Aiden the same way that Aiden needed him.

A very short time later once Vincent was more settled, Aiden released him from his arms and they moved back into the positions they had been in before Bernadette's departure. Vincent was grateful for Aiden's help shifting around before the young man settled in, himself. Vincent had wrenched his body around during his breakdown and now his ribs ached badly. Though thankfully soon after, he wasn't even paying attention to anything else but his new book as his body settled down from all the excitement and the pain became more bearable again.

When Bernadette returned from her errands, she found the men where she'd left them: content and happy beside each other with Vincent nose-deep into his book and Aiden scribbling in his notebook. And she thought silently to herself with a smile, 'Is it just me or are they sitting closer than before?'

At one point very soon after, Vincent needed a moment of privacy to use the bedpan. But as soon as he was done and the bedpan cleaned? Well Aiden was back on the bed beside his best friend and enjoying his company. But what really gave Aiden a reason to smile was when Vincent actually refrained from opening his book and turned to ask Aiden what he was doing in his notebook.

"I'm designing upgrades for Pete!"

"Pete?"

"Pete the Spider Lantern! You met him already."

"Wait. Are you talking about that lantern that came with you to find me?"

"That's the one!"

And that was when Aiden launched into an explanation about Pete and showed him the sketches he'd made of Pete with little added parts to enhance him. Vincent had almost forgotten about the lantern that had come to the tower with Aiden. He remembered now that Aiden had come back from one of his shopping trips a while back with the lantern and declared that he had a project he wanted to work on with it. That was the last Vincent had seen or heard of it until last week when Aiden came to rescue him with it as at his side.

A couple of minutes later there was a knock at the front door to which Bernadette went to answer it. She wasn't expecting anyone else today so who could it be? Surely, not Damien. It was Aiden's turn this evening to babysit Vincent with her tonight. However, it DID turn out to be Damien after all and in his arms were two bags of groceries!

"Damien! We weren't expecting you but thank you! You're spoiling us." She grinned up at him and closed the door behind him.

"You're welcome. And what do you mean? I'm helping out with dressings tonight, remember?"

"Oh!" She paused as she reached to help with the groceries as she thought about it, arms outstretched. "Wait...are you sure?"

At that second, there was a burst of laughter from the other room that belonged to Aiden. Damien glanced towards the room then looked back at Bernadette with a slight smirk and handed her both bags and replied, "Of course I am! You must be tired. Don't worry, Bernie. I'm sure you'll be able to catch up on rest soon." Damien patted her on the shoulder and turned to head towards the bedroom to see what was going on in there.

Bernadette blinked and stood there with the bags of groceries as she stared at his departing backside. She opened her mouth then closed it before looking at the weighty bags in her arms. Feeling a bit confused and a touch irritated, she turned and made her way towards the kitchen and grumbled, "Asshole."

Then a moment later...

"What do you think you're doing?!"

Aiden jumped and blinked as he looked up and around to see who shouted. It was Damien at the door and he looked pretty upset! Why was Damien here anyway? Today was his day off, wasn't it? Aiden opened his mouth but beside him, Vincent was faster to respond with a slightly stern tone, "What's the problem?"

Damien kept his eyes on Aiden and elaborated, "You shouldn't be on the bed! What if Vincent gets hurt worse because of your jostling!"

"Damien, I'm fine!" Vincent cut in before Aiden could even respond and rolled his eyes with a chuckle. "Relax! Here, have some bhang tea."

"I don't want tea!"

Damien scowled and folded his arms over his chest as he glared at the two of them. Vincent narrowed his eyes at Damien and sat up a bit straighter and gave him an even stare. Beside him, Aiden shrank where he sat. He wasn't going to get in the middle of this.

"What's really the problem?"

"I already told you!"

"No, you didn't but fine. Do you trust me?"

"Vincent-"

"Do. You. Trust. Me?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then trust me when I say I am fine! I'm not fragile! And in case you haven't noticed, Damien, I can handle a little bit of jostling." Vincent sarcastically gestured towards his beaten body. Then after a moment his gaze softened and he smiled a bit as he gestured towards Aiden's notebook. "Besides, Aiden is showing me his sketches! And he brought me a present! See?"

Instead of looking at whatever Vincent was holding up, Damien's gaze shifted towards Aiden who went a deep shade of red and brought his hand up to run through his hair with a shy chuckle and smile. Damien stared at him for a long moment before turning to look at what Vincent was holding out to him impatiently. Upon seeing what it was, Damien scoffed and chuckled, "Another book. Heh. Well, isn't that nice of him?"

Aiden blinked and made a slight face as he was feeling a little offended. And honestly? A little surprised. 'Another book?' he wanted to ask. Did he not know his own supposed best friend enough to know how much he loved and valued books? Surely, he had to! But even Aiden (who didn't enjoy novels the way Vincent did either) understood and appreciated what it meant to the man. And thankfully, it seemed, Vincent was of the same mind and jumped in his defense!

"It is, in fact! Look at it! Look! See who it's by?!" Vincent exclaimed eagerly with a grin. "It just released today!" In his excitement, Vincent had already brushed aside the intensity of Damien's arrival. He was used to Damien's worrywart personality by now and wanted to show off his present!

Aiden however, hadn't brushed it off yet. He knew he'd get over it, but right now he was still feeling a little sour towards Damien. 'What's with this guy?' he wondered silently as he watched Damien approach and ruin their alone time.

Damien finally took a seat on the chair beside Vincent. Even though he was looking at Vincent and listening to what he was saying, his mind was processing what he'd happened upon and the realizations that came with it.

So, Vincent had a brand new book and he hadn't shoved Aiden out the door? Not only that, he wasn't nose deep into it like Damien was used to him doing. His experiences had always taught him that Vincent liked to be left alone while reading, especially with a new book. So, why the Hell was Aiden allowed to be here? Damien certainly wasn't allowed to be! And wasn't this the second time Aiden had brought him a gift?

...was there something else going on between them that he didn't know about?

  

* "Though pleas`d to see the dolphins play, I mind my compass and my way." - Matthew Green

 

Inscription on the 'Madpea Compass' by MadPea which you can find on Marketplace!

 

---

 

Shout out to Stephen King and his book 'Carrie' for inspiring the book that Emily and Vincent were discussing during their meet-cute!

 

...

NEXT PART:

www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/52441785152/in/datepo...

 

To start from the beginning or to read another chapter, here's the album link:

www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/albums/72157717075565127

 

***Please note this is a BOY LOVE (BL/yaoi/gay) series. It is a slow burn and rated PG13!***

 

***

Special thank you to Vin Aydin Raven-Mysterious for collaborating with me on this series and co-starring as The Captain!

And a special thank you to our guest star: Khetas Nova as our spunky Emily Dubois!

  

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***NEW!!!!***

 

The Captain and the Engineer now has a FACEBOOK PAGE! Please come Like, Follow, and join the crew! Thank you so much for all your support!

FACEBOOK PAGE:

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Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.

 

Today however, being a Sunday we are not at Cavendish Mews. We have travelled east across London, through Bloomsbury, past the Smithfield Meat Markets, beyond the Petticoat Lane Markets* frequented by Lettice’s maid, Edith, through the East End boroughs of Bethnal Green and Bow, and through the 1880s housing development of Upton Park, to East Ham. It is here that we have followed Edith and her fiancée, grocery delivery boy Frank, on their Sunday off, to the Premier Super Cinema**, where Edith and Frank have just finished seeing a midday showing of ‘A Girl of London’***.

 

As they join the throng of theatre patrons leaving the cinema and step out through the double glass doors set in wooden frames of Brunswick Green**** and stand under the brightly illuminated portico which advertises this week’s showings in colourful red lettering, they both shiver against the December cold, which is at odds to the warmth of the cinema’s cosy interior. Along High Street, people wrapped up in thick coats hurry through the gloom of the afternoon. Only dull light manages to filter through the dark clouds hanging heavily overhead.

 

“Looks like rain.” Frank remarks glumly as he looks to the sky beyond the Premier’s portico. He bundles the russet and cream wool scarf knitted in a stockinette stitch***** by his Scottish grandmother, Mrs. McTavish a little more tightly around his throat.

 

“Well, the forecast in this morning’s papers****** said that there were rain showers due to arrive from mid-afternoon.” Edith adds, pulling the brim of her black dyed straw cloche decorated with purple satin roses and black feathers low over ears as the cold breeze blowing up High Street teases them uncomfortably. “Which is why I brought this!” She hoists up her old black brolly and smiles at Frank.

 

“I really need to get you a new one of them.” Frank says. “It’s a bit battered and shabby.”

 

“Oh, it does its job well enough.” Edith defends her slightly beaten and battered black hook handled umbrella as she looks down upon it and rubs it tenderly.

 

“It’s not anywhere near good enough or smart enough for my best girl.” Frank insists

 

Come on.” she adds brightly with a chuckle. “Let’s do a bit of window shopping before we have to go home.”

 

The pair look both ways before crossing over High Street, a noisy and busy thoroughfare, even on a Sunday, chocked with a mixture of chugging private motor cars, lorries and the occasional horse and cart. Edith looks across the road as they wait by the kerb to the ramshackle collection of two and three storey buildings constructed over two centuries opposite. Their canvas awnings fluttering in the breeze help to advertise an ironmonger*******, a barber, a haberdasher, a lamp shop, a chemist, a boot repairer, a grocer and a little further up the street, the large double fronted Woolworths******* display their wares. Christmas is not far away now, with only a few weeks until Christmas Day, and signs of festive cheer abound with bright and gaudy tinsel********* garlands and stars cut from metallic paper hanging in shop windows on either side of the busy thoroughfare.

 

“I did enjoy Genevieve Townsend********** as Lil in today’s picture, Frank.” Edith remarks as they cross the street after taking advantage of a lull in traffic.

 

“Hhhmmm…” murmurs Frank in reply.

 

“She is so glamourous, and such a dramatic actress.” Edith goes on. “She reminds me a bit of Wanetta Ward. Remember Miss Lettice’s client the American actress that ended up working here for Islington Studios***********?”

 

“Hhhmmm…” is all Frank says in reply.

 

“Miss Lettice received a Christmas card from here a few days ago, all the way from California! And she even remembered to include me in her Christmas wish!” Edith gushes. “Miss Lettice says I can keep the card for myself after Christmas is over.”

 

“Hhhmmm…” Frank murmurs again as they reach the opposite side of the road and begin to slowly meander the pavement as they wend their way back up the hill towards East Ham Tube Station************.

 

“I was reading in Photoplay************* that Miss Towsend grew up in in Freeport, Illinois and attended Mount Holyoke College, where she majored in English and English Literature. No wonder she acts with such conviction, if she studied the classics. Don’t you think so, Frank?”

 

“Hhhmmm…” Frank utters again.

 

“Frank, are you listening to me?” Edith queries as she stops in her tracks.

 

Broken from his own distracted thoughts by their sudden cessation of movement, Frank turns towards Edith and says, “Oh yes. Yes. Very interesting.” But his voice sounds hollow.

 

“No, you haven’t, Frank.” replies Edith a little disappointedly.

 

“Haven’t what, Edith?”

 

“Exactly!” Edith says with conviction, nodding her head as she withdraws her arm from where it is interlocked with Frank’s and folds her arms akimbo in front of her. “Listening to me, Frank! You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry Edith. I guess I’m just a bit distracted is all. That’s why I wanted to come to the pictures today – to get my mind off things you know?”

 

“What things, Frank?” Edith ask in concern, re-linking her arm with Frank’s as they slowly begin to walk again, passing by the brightly illuminated lamp shop where stars made from metallic cardboard, strung on pieces of bright red cotton hyang above the latest range of fashionable electric lamps with a mixture of modern geometric Art Deco shades and more traditional Victorian and Edwardian styles.

 

“Well, I just can’t help thinking about Gran.” Frank admits a little guiltily.

 

“What’s wrong with her?” Edith asks in concern.

 

“Oh, I didn’t want to worry you, Edith. Not on our day off.” Frank begins. “But…”

 

“What is it, Frank. What’s happened?”

 

“Well, I’m sorry to say this, but she’s sick, Edith.” Frank sighs heavily, releasing a pent-up breath. “She must have caught a chill the other week when I walked her home from our celebratory engagement tea at Lyon’s Corner House************** up Tottenham Court Road.”

 

“Oh I’m sorry Mrs. McT… err, I mean, Gran, isn’t feeling well.” Edith says with concern to Frank. She then utters a snorting half chuckle. “I still can’t get used to calling your grandmother, Gran, Frank.” She shakes her head

 

Frank joins her laughter and smiles - a moment of happiness amidst the worry. “No more than I can get used to calling your parents George and Ada, rather than Mr. and Mrs. Watsford.”

 

“I guess we’ll get used to it in time.” Edith says comfortingly. “It’s early days yet. We haven’t been engaged for all that long, after all.”

 

Edith wraps her arm a little more tightly through Frank’s as they wander further up the street, their soles clicking on the wet concrete beneath their feet.

 

“It was cold that afternoon, going home.” Edith adds.

 

“I’m worried that it might have gone to her chest.” Frank confides with a furrowed brow. “She had the Spanish Influenza as well as my parents, you know.”

 

“No, I didn’t know.” Edith falters.

 

“Oh yes! She nursed Mum first and then Dad, even though she herself was sick, but Gran is as tough as old boots***************, and she survived.”

 

Edith reaches up and squeezes Frank’s upper arm soothingly as she senses him flinch. “I’m sorry that your Mum and Dad wouldn’t be there to see us get wed, Frank, but I promise that my Mum and Dad will make up for their absence. They love you, Frank.”

 

“I know they do, and I know they will, Edith.” Franks says, looking down on his fiancée with a grateful smile. “Your Dad was generous to shout us all to that celebratory slap up tea at Lyon’s Corner House. What more can I ask in a father-in-law than one who cares so much and is so happy to see us get married?”

 

“It’s what you deserve, Frank!”

 

“I just hope Gran survives. Her chest was never the same after the Spanish Influenza, and a chill usually goes straight there when she catches one. That’s what’s got me worried this time. I’ve got Mrs. Claxton from upstairs keeping an eye on her, and she’ll go to the telephone box down the street on the corner to telephone for the doctor if needs be, or to telephone Mrs. Chapman’s boarding house if she needs to reach me. But I’ll feel better after I’ve stopped in myself to see her today, and see how she is.”

 

“Do you want me to come too, Frank? I’d love to see her and support you.”

 

“It’s lovely of you to offer, Edith, but best not, just today. The less chance Gran has to be exposed to any other coughs or sneezes, the better.”

 

“But I’m not sick, Frank.” Edith says, trying hard not to take offence from Frank’s off the cuff remark.

 

“Not yet, but you could be and just not know it yet. There are lots of coughs and sneezes going around.”

 

“Well, if that’s the case, then it means that you could be sick too, Frank.”

 

“I know, Edith, but I’ll cover my face with my scarf whilst I’m there.” Frank assures her. “I know you just want to be helpful, Edith.”

 

“Of course I do Frank!” Edith says, unable to keep the hurt out of her voice any longer.

 

“But if you do, the best thing you can do is stay on the Tube**************** and go on home to Cavendish Mews whilst I visit Gran. I’ve had to do this more than a few times since my parents died.” He adds soothingly. “I know what I’m doing.”

 

“Oh, of course you do, Frank.” Edith acquiesces. “You know what’s best.”

 

The pair stop in front of one of the rounded plate glass bay windows of the East Ham High Street Woolworths****************. The window is flooded with warm light which falls down upon a cornucopia of wonderful festive things for Christmas. Beneath a red ribbon garlanded and gold bauble studded Christmas tree a range of goods are artfully placed for maximum exposure to the passers-by on the footpath as they meandered before the window. Boxes of gaily coloured baubles in bright packaging smile out in metallic golds and greens, whilst other glass baubles sporting bright blue stripes or coats of the most festive red are placed on top of parcels wrapped in pretty papered and tied with satin ribbon. Boxes of Christmas Crackers****************** ready to grace any festive table with a splash of colour spill forth in yellow, blue, orange, red and pink crêpe paper, their paper hats, riddle, charade and small token sweet gifts inside waiting to burst forth when pulled with a snap. Both Frank and Edith stare at the colourful display in silence, momentarily lost in their own separate deep thoughts.

 

Finally, Frank breaks the quiet between them. “I’m even worried, so close to Christmas, that Gran and I might not be able to come you yours on Christmas Day.”

 

“What?” Edith gasps, her eyes widening. “Not come? Oh, Mum’s been planning Christmas Day for months now! She’ll be so disappointed! And this will be our first Christmas together affianced, Frank.”

 

“And that will disappoint you, Edith.”

 

“It will.” Edith mutters begrudgingly as her shoulders slump.

 

“I just don’t think she’ll be well enough to travel all the way to Harlesden on the Tube and then walk, Edith. I just don’t. I don’t want to spoil Christmas Day, but I don’t want her getting any sicker, and I won’t leave Gran alone on Christmas.”

 

“Oh, I’d never suggest you should, Frank. That would be awful for her!” Edith exclaims. She sighs heavily. “I understand.”

 

“We’ll see.” Frank says consolingly, wrapping his arm around Edith’s shoulder lovingly. “There is still a little bit of time between now and Christmas Day. You never know what can happen.”

 

Edith sighs again and bites her bottom lip to stop the tears that threaten to spill from her pretty blue eyes, so as not to upset Frank. As she stares through the mist of tears at a brightly decorated box of Christmas crackers depicting a father playing with his children around the Christmas tree on Christmas Day, she is suddenly struck with a thought. “Yes,” she murmurs under her breath, suddenly struck by a ray of hope. “You never know.”

 

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

 

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

 

***‘A Girl of London’ is a 1925 British silent drama film produced by Stoll Pictures, directed by Henry Edwards and starring Genevieve Townsend, Ian Hunter and Nora Swinburne. Its plot concerns the son of a member of parliament, who is disowned by his father when he marries a girl who works in a factory. Meanwhile, he tries to rescue his new wife from her stepfather who operates a drugs den. It was based on a novel by Douglas Walshe.

 

****Brunswick Green is a deep, rich, often gloss-finish green with a classic, historical feel, while Cottage Green is a bolder, vibrant, and rich green often associated with traditional schemes and country aesthetics. Brunswick Green is typically darker and more dramatic, pairing well with brass or gold for an elegant look, while Cottage Green is often used on its own or with lighter neutral accents to create a cohesive traditional or rustic feel. Brunswick green was a popular colour in the 1920s, especially for painting houses and architectural details. It was a common choice for the exterior trim on homes and commercial buildings, often paired with lighter colours like cream or off-white for walls. It was also popular in other applications, like for machinery and rolling stock, especially in Great Britain where it gained popularity for its use in racing cars as British Racing Green, a shade closely related to Brunswick Green.

 

*****The V pattern in a knitted scarf is called stockinette stitch, which is created by alternating rows of knit and purl stitches.

 

******Vice-Admiral Robert Fitzroy, founder of the UK Met Office, started collating measurements on pressure, temperature, and rainfall from across Great Britain, Ireland, and Europe in 1860. These observations were sent by telegraph cable to London every day where they were used to make a ‘weather forecast’ – a term invented by Fitzroy for this endeavour. After the Royal Charter ship sank in a violent storm in 1859, Fitzroy resolved to collect real-time weather measurements from stations across Britain's telegraph network to make storm warnings. Starting in 1860, observers telegraphed readings to Fitzroy in London who handwrote them onto Daily Weather Report sheets, enabling the first-ever public weather forecasts starting on 1st August 1861 and published daily in The Times newspaper. Fitzroy died by suicide in 1865 shortly after founding the UK Met Office, leaving his life's work trapped undiscovered in archives.

 

*******An ironmonger is the old fashioned term for someone who sells items, tools and equipment for use in homes and gardens: what today we would call a hardware shop. Ironmongery stems from the forges of blacksmiths and the workshops of woodworkers. Ironmongery can refer to a wide variety of metal items, including door handles, cabinet knobs, window fittings, hinges, locks, and latches. It can also refer to larger items, such as metal gates and railings. By the 1920s when this story is set, the ironmonger may also have sold cast iron cookware and crockery for the kitchen and even packets of seeds for the nation of British gardeners, as quoted by the Scot, Adam Smith.

 

********Woolworths began operation in Britain in 1909 when Frank Woolworth opened the first store in Liverpool, as a British subsidiary of the already established American company. The store initially sold a variety of goods for threepence and sixpence, making their goods accessible to everyone, not just the wealthy upper and middle-classes. The British subsidiary proved to be very popular, and it grew quickly, opening twelve stores by 1912 and expanding using its own profits to become a fixture on the high street. The stores became a beloved British institution, with many shoppers assuming they were originally a British company. In 1982, the United Kingdom operations underwent a management buyout from the American parent company, becoming Woolworth Holdings PLC. This followed the American parent company's sale of its controlling stake to a local consortium. Later, in 2000, the company's parent (by then known as Kingfisher Group) decided to restructure, focusing more on its DIY and electrical markets. The general merchandise division, including Big W stores, was spun off into a separate company called Woolworths in 2001. Unable to adapt to modern retail trends, the company faced increasing competition and financial difficulties. The last Woolworths stores in the United Kingdom closed their doors in December 2008 and January 2009, marking the end of an era.

 

*********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.

 

**********Genevieve Schmich, known professionally as Genevieve Smeek and Genevieve Townsend, was an American stage and film actress. She was born in Freeport, Illinois and attended Mount Holyoke College, where she majored in English and English Literature. After graduating in 1920, she moved to Britain, where she joined Frank Benson's theatre company. During the mid-1920s she had several lead roles in British silent films. She died in Switzerland, of tuberculosis, at the age of 29 in 1927. In 1928, Mount Holyoke College established the Genevieve Schmich Award in her honour.

 

***********Islington Studios, often known as Gainsborough Studios, were a British film studio located on the south bank of the Regent's Canal, in Poole Street, Hoxton in Shoreditch, London which began operation in 1919. By 1920 they had a two stage studio. It is here that Alfred Hitchcock made his entrée into films.

 

************East Ham London Underground railway station is located on High Street North in the East Ham neighbourhood of the London Borough of Newham in east London. It is on the District and Hammersmith and City lines, between Upton Park and Barking stations. The station was originally opened on 31 March 1858 by the London, Tilbury and Southend Railway on a new more direct route from Fenchurch Street to Barking. It became an interchange station in 1894 when it was connected to the Tottenham and Forest Gate Railway. The large Edwardian station building was constructed to accommodate the electric District Railway services on an additional set of tracks opened in 1905. Metropolitan line service commenced in 1936. British Railways service to Kentish Town was withdrawn in 1958 and the Fenchurch Street–Southend service was withdrawn in 1962, leaving abandoned platforms.

 

*************Photoplay was one of the first American film fan magazines, its title another word for screenplay. It was founded in Chicago in 1911. Under early editors Julian Johnson and James R. Quirk, in style and reach it became a pacesetter for fan magazines. In 1921, Photoplay established what is considered the first significant annual movie award. For most of its run, it was published by Macfadden Publications. The magazine ceased publication in 1980.

 

**************J. Lyons and Co. was a British restaurant chain, food manufacturing, and hotel conglomerate founded in 1884 by Joseph Lyons and his brothers in law, Isidore and Montague Gluckstein. Lyons’ first teashop opened in Piccadilly in 1894, and from 1909 they developed into a chain of teashops, with the firm becoming a staple of the High Street in the United Kingdom. At its peak the chain numbered around two hundred cafes. The teashops provided for tea and coffee, with food choices consisting of hot dishes and sweets, cold dishes and sweets, and buns, cakes and rolls. Lyons' Corner Houses, which first appeared in 1909 and remained until 1977, were noted for their Art Deco style. Situated on or near the corners of Coventry Street, Strand and Tottenham Court Road, they and the Maison Lyonses at Marble Arch and in Shaftesbury Avenue were large buildings on four or five floors, the ground floor of which was a food hall with counters for delicatessen, sweets and chocolates, cakes, fruit, flowers and other products. In addition, they possessed hairdressing salons, telephone booths, theatre booking agencies and at one period a twice-a-day food delivery service. On the other floors were several restaurants, each with a different theme and all with their own musicians. For a time, the Corner Houses were open twenty-four hours a day, and at their peak each branch employed around four hundred staff including their famous waitresses, commonly known as Nippies for the way they nipped in and out between the tables taking orders and serving meals. The tea houses featured window displays, and, in the post-war period, the Corner Houses were smarter and grander than the local tea shops. Between 1896 and 1965 Lyons owned the Trocadero, which was similar in size and style to the Corner Houses.

 

***************The idiom “tough as old boots” is used to describe someone who is physically strong and resilient, or something that is very difficult to break or damage, like a tough piece of food. The saying likely comes from the durability of leather boots, which were traditionally made to last a long time. The phrase evolved from an earlier version, “tough as leather,” to emphasise that a person or thing is very strong, resilient, and enduring, much like a well-worn but still functional boot.

 

****************People started calling the London Underground the "Tube" around 1900, after the opening of the Central London Railway. The railway's deep, cylindrical tunnels resembled tubes, and a newspaper nickname for it, the “Tuppenny Tube”, due to a flat fare of two pence, helped the term stick. Over time, the nickname spread to refer to the entire system.

 

*****************The East Ham Woolworth Three and Six store was located at 72 to 76 High Street North, in East Ham. At the time this chapter is set, the building it occupied was an old Arts and Crafts building with half timbered gables and bay windows in a Jacobethan style, with three rounded floor to ceiling bay windows of plate glass and two sets of double doors on the ground floor.

 

******************Christmas crackers first appeared in 1847 when London confectioner Tom Smith created them, inspired by the French "bon bon" sweets he encountered on a trip to Paris. He initially sold the sweets wrapped in tissue paper with a small motto or riddle inside. Smith later added the "snap" mechanism after being inspired by the sound of a log fire, creating the "bang" we know today.

 

This bright festive window display may look real to you, but it is not all that it seems, for this scene is made up entirely of miniatures from my 1:12 miniatures collection.

 

Fun thing to look for in this tableau include:

 

The boxes of Christmas crackers and the Christmas Drawings book are 1:12 miniatures made by artisan Ken Blythe. I have a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my miniatures collection – books mostly. Most of the books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print! Sadly, so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed, sitting on shelves or closed on desks and table surfaces. As well as making books, he also made other small paper based miniatures including boxes of goods. The boxes are designed to be opened, and each one contains gaily coloured Christmas crackers made from real crêpe paper. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make them all miniature artisan pieces. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago, as well as through his estate via his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.

 

The red and green boxes containing hand painted Christmas ornaments were hand made and decorated by artists of Crooked Mile Cottage in America. The patterned green box of red and green baubles at the front to the right was hand made by Mick and Marie’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom, as is the box of hand made Christmas crackers in the box decorated with the holly and robin redbreast at the back of the display on the left. The central box of blue and white striped glass baubles are also handmade miniatures, bought from a woman in America by a very good friend of mine who knows I love to collect 1:12 miniatures.

 

The painted silver and red single loose baubles that litter the display come from an online miniature stockist in England through E-Bay.

 

The wrapped Christmas gifts decorated with ribbons are 1:12 artisan pieces, hand made by husband and wife artistic team Margie and Mike Balough who own Serendipity Miniatures in Newcomerstown, Ohio.

 

The Christmas tree at the back of the display is a hand-made artisan example from dollhouse artisan suppliers in America.

 

The red and silver backdrop is hand printed paper made by the company Zetta Florence in Fitzroy in Melbourne.

dear friends!! as the new year begins, i offer this wish from the generous fishes: that you swim fearlessly in the ocean of this life, moving fluidly and spontaneously from moment to moment... that you find friendship, well-being, and meaning on your journeys...

 

may all travelers find joy!!

 

love and best wishes,

jeanne

 

scanned, assembled and altered image, december 31, 2006

  

Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.

 

Today we are in her drawing room, which has taken on a festive air with a smart Christmas tree, expertly decorated by Lettice taking pride of place in the middle of the room. A collection of gaily wrapped Christmas gifts sit beneath its boughs, awaiting either for the arrival of their intended at Lettice’s invitation or to be taken to their intended by her. A garland drapes elegantly over the fireplace, the mantle of which is decorated with brightly coloured cards in the latest Art Deco style.

 

Lettice rises from her black japanned Art Deco tub armchair and goes to walk to the green baize door that leads from the dining room into the service area of her flat. She stops suddenly, remembering what Wanetta Ward said about her maid’s feelings about Wanetta walking unannounced into her kitchen, and thinks. Walking over to the fireplace, she depresses the servants’ bell, which she can hear ring in the kitchen.

 

Edith, Lettice’s maid, walks through the door, steps across the dining room and appears before her mistress. “Yes Miss?” she asks, making a bob curtsey.

 

“Edith, I’d like to have a word with you.” Lettice replies. Then, without further ado, she bends down and starts fossicking through the gifts beneath the Christmas tree.

 

“With me, Miss?” Edith suddenly looks perplexed down at her mistress’s derrière, clad in a deep blue serge skirt, as she moves parcels wrapped in brightly coloured festive metallic paper about.

 

“Yes,” Lettice glances up at her maid. “Oh, do sit down, won’t you Edith? I can’t have you standing about, cluttering up the place.”

 

The maid looks at what she calls the guest’s chair rather nervously. She feels awkward sitting down in her mistress’ presence on her white upholstered tub armchair, dressed in her black moiré uniform and lace frilled apron and cuffs. However, she knows better than to argue with her somewhat eccentric employer. “Yes Miss.” she sighs resignedly. She feels a blush warming her skin as it rises from her collar bones, up her neck and throat and to her cheeks as she timidly perches.

 

The maid watches her mistress continue her search.

 

“Ah!” Lettice’s triumphant cry is somewhat muffled as she calls from beneath the bauble decorated boughs surrounded by gaily wrapped gifts. “There it is!”

 

“What is, Miss?” Edith asks squinting to see what Lettice has. Feeling redundant perched on the edge of the armchair, she adds, “Can I be of any assistance, Miss?”

 

“No. No, Edith.” Lettice resumes her seat, placing a beautifully pink foil paper wrapped gift with a card tied expertly to it with silver satin ribbons on her lap.

 

“Then, pardon me for asking, Miss, but I do have a few things still to do before you and I go home for Christmas.” She looks hopefully at Lettice. “You said you wanted a word?”

 

“I actually have two words for you, Edith!” Lettice replies with a beaming smile, as she deposits the gift on the table and settles herself back in her tub armchair. “Merry Christmas!”

 

“For me, Miss?” Edith says in disbelief, her eyes widening with shock at the beautifully wrapped parcel between them.

 

“Yes, Edith,” Lettice replies with a sweeping gesture of her elegant manicured hand.

 

“Oh Miss!” Edith gasps. “I… I don’t know what to say?”

 

“That’s what you said, last year, however you still managed a polite thank you.” Lettice replies with a benevolent smile, smoothing down her dress.

 

“Oh yes!” Edith blushes. “Where are my manners?” She rises, drops a bob curtsey and then sinks back down onto the seat again, sitting almost imperceptibly more comfortably upon it. “Thank you, Miss.” Edith replies humbly as she withdraws the card from the satin bow of her gift.

 

Inside the envelope is nestled a rather sentimental and old fashioned card of Father Christmas, quite unlike anything Lettice has on her own mantlepiece, but a card greatly to Edith’s taste.

 

“This is your second year of working for me, Edith,” Lettice begins as Edith opens the card and reads it. “And once again you’ve been a real brick! I couldn’t have held such a wonderful soirée for Dickie and Margot without your help, and I know you hated talking to the Duchess of Whitby on the telephone.”

 

“Oh I wouldn’t say hate, Miss.” the maid defends.

 

“Edith,” Lettice looks her directly in the eye and says matter-of-factly. “If I hated talking to her on the telephone, I can only imagine what fear she must have struck into you with her icy tones, that nasty old trout!”

 

Edith bows her head but doesn’t reply, instead toying with the satin ribbon, gently working its soft presence through her careworn fingers.

 

“Well don’t just play with your gift, Edith, open it!” Lettice’s palpable excitement charges the air.

 

“Oh, it’s so beautiful. It’s almost too beautiful to unwrap, Miss.”

 

“Nonsense! Now don’t be a spoil sport! I thought long and hard about this gift for you, and I think it is perfect. However,” she adds tempering her tone. “I just want to be sure.”

 

Edith carefully unwraps the bow from the present and places the discarded ribbon on the green brocade stool next to her. The crisp sound of the foil wrapping tearing fills the air about the two women. Beneath the pretty metallic pink Edith finds a box prettily decorated with a still life of roses in a vase.

 

“Oh Miss!” Edith gasps.

 

“Well don’t stop there!” Lettice laughs. “Open it up. I was going to have them put it into a nice Art Deco patterned box, but I thought this was perhaps a little more you.”

 

“Oh, it is! The box on its own is enough of a present, Miss.” She runs her hands lovingly over the brightly painted surface

 

“Well, you may think that Edith, but I don’t. Keep going!”

 

Edith removes the box lid and finds it filled with a froth of bright blue tissue paper. Peeling back the layers she discovers the eau-de-nil Bakelite* mirror first, and then the hairbrush, followed by the shoehorn, the lidded box and then the frame.

 

“Oh Miss, I… I really don’t know what to say.” the maid says, holding the frame between her hands, looking down at its smart, slightly curved shape.

 

“Do you like them?” Lettice asks hopefully, her fingers steepled before her in anticipation.

 

“Like them?” Edith gasps. “I think they are most beautiful and stylish things I’ve ever laid eyes on!” Edith stands again. “Thank you, Miss.” She drops another quick bob curtsey.

 

“Oh I’m so pleased.” Lettice claps her hands in delight. “When I saw your picture of Bert on Armistice Day, I knew you needed a better home for him than the inner pocket of your handbag.”

 

“I don’t know what my Mum will say,” Edith begins.

 

“Well, she doesn’t need to know, does she?” Lettice interrupts. “It’s the only photo you have of him, so you best take good care of it and put it safely in the frame.” She looks at her delighted maid holding the frame for a moment. “And maybe one day there might be a new photograph of someone else to go in there, but for now, put Bert in there.”

 

“That’s very generous of you, Miss.”

 

“Not at all Edith,” Lettice flaps the compliment away with a languid hand. “You deserve it for being a brick of a maid. I’m only pleased that you like it!”

 

“Oh I do, Miss! I like it ever so much!”

 

“And you can always take the brush, mirror, and I think there’s still a comb in the box,” Lettice cranes her neck and peers into the crumpled blue tissue spilling from the box where she can see the eau-de-nil Bakelite tray peeking out. “When you go home to stay for Christmas. I’m sure your mother would appreciate seeing some of the gift I’ve given you. Just don’t mention the frame.” She smiles in a conspiring way. “That can be our little secret.” She taps the side of her nose with her finger.

 

“Yes Miss.”

 

“And is your brother going to be home for Christmas this year too?”

 

“Yes he is Miss!” Edith gushes. “His ship docks in Southampton just before Christmas. Mum got a postcard from Melbourne just the other week. He’s been a saloon steward on a ship that sailed all the way to Australia! Can you believe it, Miss?”

 

Lettice smiles indulgently at her wide eyed maid as she replies, “Goodness, that is a very long journey isn’t it? Well, it sounds like you will have a lovely Christmas with everyone reunited.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Miss.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Edith.”

 

Edith settles ever so slightly further back into the cushions of the tub chair and admires her beautiful new dressing table set.

 

*Bakelite, was the first plastic made from synthetic components. Patented on December 7, 1909, the creation of a synthetic plastic was revolutionary for its electrical nonconductivity and heat-resistant properties in electrical insulators, radio and telephone casings and such diverse products as kitchenware, jewellery, pipe stems, children's toys, and firearms. A plethora of items were manufactured using Bakelite in the 1920s and 1930s.

 

This upper-class Mayfair drawing room may look very real to you, but it is in fact made up of pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The eau-de-nil dressing table set, which has been made with incredible detail to make it as realistic as possible is a Chrysnbon Miniature set. The mirror even contains a real piece of reflective mirror. Judy Berman founded Chrysnbon Miniatures in the 1970’s. She created affordable miniature furniture kits patterned off of her own full-size antiques collection. She then added a complete line of accessories to compliment the furniture. The style of furniture and accessories reflect the turn-of-the-century furnishings of a typical early American home. At the time, collectible miniatures were expensive because they were mostly individually crafted.

 

British artisan Ken Blythe was famous in miniature collectors’ circles mostly for the miniature books that he made: all being authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection. However, he did not make books exclusively. He also made other small pieces like the brightly decorated box, which is actually a memory box and came filled with miniature cards, keepsakes and even legible letters in envelopes! To create something so authentic to a life sized original in such detail and so clearly, really does make these miniature artisan pieces. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago and through his estate courtesy of the generosity of his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.

 

The Christmas card on the table is just one of twelve handmade traditional style Christmas cards that arrived in their own Christmas box from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in Essex.

 

The Christmas wrapping is actually foil from a small chocolate egg I ate during Easter 2021, but I think it does the job of pretending to be Christmas paper.

 

The elegantly decorated Christmas tree is a hand-made 1:12 size artisan miniature made by an artist in America. The presents beneath it come from various miniature specialist stockists in England.

 

The 1:12 miniature garland over the Art Deco fireplace was hand-made by Karen Lady Bug Miniatures in England and the 1;12 Art Deco card selection on the mantle came from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniature store in England.

 

The Elite Styles magazine from 1921 sitting on the lower tray of the black japanned coffee table was made by hand by Petite Gite Miniatures in the United States.

 

Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The Art Deco tub chairs are of black japanned wood and have removable cushions, just like their life sized examples. To the left of the fireplace is a Hepplewhite drop-drawer bureau and chair of black japanned wood which has been hand painted with chinoiserie designs, even down the legs and inside the bureau. The chair set has a rattan seat, which has also been hand woven. To the right of the fireplace is a Chippendale cabinet which has also been decorated with chinoiserie designs. It also features very ornate metalwork hinges and locks.

 

On the top of the Hepplewhite bureau stand three real miniature photos in frames including an Edwardian silver frame, a Victorian brass frame and an Art Deco blue Bakelite and glass frame.

 

The fireplace is a 1:12 miniature resin Art Deco fireplace which is flanked by brass accessories including an ash brush with real bristles.

 

On the left hand side of the mantle, behind the cards, you can just glimpse the turquoise coloured top of an Art Deco metal clock hand painted with wonderful detail by British miniature artisan Victoria Fasken.

 

In the middle of the mantle is a miniature artisan hand painted Art Deco statue on a “marble” plinth. Made by Warwick Miniatures in England, it is a 1:12 copy of the “Theban Dancer” sculpture created by Claire-Jeanne-Roberte Colinet in 1925.

 

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

Song birds pause momentarily to scrunch on seeds left by another park patron.

Mandalay Fisherman Village- Myanmar

  

Be the first to kick start your generous support and fund my production with more amazing images!

 

Currently, I'm running a crowd funding activity to initiate my personal 2016 Flickr's Project. Here, I sincerely request each and every kind hearted souls to pay some effort and attention.

 

No limitation, Any Amount and your encouraging comments are welcome.

 

Crowd funding contribution can be simply direct to my PayPal account if you really appreciate and wish my forthcoming photography project to come alive.

Please PayPal your wish amount to : men4r@yahoo.com

 

Email me or public comments below your contribution amount for good records with your comments and at final day, at random, I shall sent out my well taken care canon 6D with full box n accessory during random draw to one thankful contributor as my token of appreciation.

 

Now, I cordially invite and look forward with eagerness a strong pool of unity zealous participants in this fundermental ideology yet sustainable crowd fund raising task.

Basically, the substantial gather amount is achievable with pure passion n love heart in photography and not necessary be filty rich nor famous to help me accomplish raising my long yearning photography career, a sucking heavy expense that been schedules down my photography making journey had inevitably, some circumstances had badly fall short behind racing with time and inability to fulfill as quickly in near future consolidating good fund .

Honestly, with aspiration and hope, I appeal to urge on this media for a strong humanity mandate through good faith of sharing and giving generously on this particular crowd funding excercise to achieve my desire n is not just purely a dread dream , is also flickers first starter own crowds funding strength turning impossible into reality through this pratical raising method that I confidently trust it will turn fruitful from all your small effort participation, every single persistency will result consolidating piling up every little tiny bricks into an ultimate huge strong living castle.

In reality, I have trust and never look down on every single peny efforts that been contributed as helpful means, turning unrealistic dream alive is the goal in crowd funding excercise, No reason any single amount is regard to be too small when the strength of all individual wish gather to fulfill my little desire to make exist and keep alive. .

I sincerely look forward each and every participants who think alike crowds funding methodlogy works here no matter who come forwards with regardless any capital amount input be big or small , please help gather and pool raise my objective target amount as close to USD$10K or either acquisition from donation item list below:

 

1- ideally a high mega pixel Canon 5DS ( can be either new or use ok)

2- Canon 70-200mm F2.8 L IS lens ( can be either new or use ok)

Last but not least, a photography journey of life time for a trip to explore South Island of New Zealand and Africa.

.

My intended schedule may estimate about 1 month round trip self drive traveling down scenic Southern Island of New Zealand for completing the most captivating landscape photography and wander into the big five, the wilderness of untamed Africa nature for my project 2016 before my physical body stamina eventually drain off.

 

During the course, I also welcome sponsor's to provide daily lodging/accommodation, car rental/transportation, Fox Glacier helicopter ride and other logistic funding expenses, provide photographic camera equipments or related accessories .

Kindly forward all sponsors request terms of condition n collaboration details for discussion soon.

 

Great Ocean Drive- the 12 Apostle's

 

Please Click Auto Slide show for ultimate viewing pleasure in Super Large Display .to enjoy my photostream . ..

Due to copyright issue, I cannot afford to offer any free image request. Pls kindly consult my sole permission to purchase n use any of my images.You can email me at : men4r@yahoo.com.

 

Don't use this image on Websites/Blog or any other media

without my explicit permission.

 

For Business, You can find me here at linkedin..

 

Follow me on www.facebook.com here

Beautiful Artist at Bagan

 

Be the first to kick start your generous support and fund my production with more amazing images!

 

Currently, I'm running a crowd funding activity to initiate my personal 2016 Flickr's Project. Here, I sincerely request each and every kind hearted souls to pay some effort and attention.

 

No limitation, Any Amount and your encouraging comments are welcome.

 

Crowd funding contribution can be simply direct to my PayPal account if you really appreciate and wish my forthcoming photography project to come alive.

Please PayPal your wish amount to : men4r@yahoo.com

 

Email me or public comments below your contribution amount for good records with your comments and at final day, at random, I shall sent out my well taken care canon 6D with full box n accessory during random draw to one thankful contributor as my token of appreciation.

 

Now, I cordially invite and look forward with eagerness a strong pool of unity zealous participants in this fundermental ideology yet sustainable crowd fund raising task.

Basically, the substantial gather amount is achievable with pure passion n love heart in photography and not necessary be filty rich nor famous to help me accomplish raising my long yearning photography career, a sucking heavy expense that been schedules down my photography making journey had inevitably, some circumstances had badly fall short behind racing with time and inability to fulfill as quickly in near future consolidating good fund .

Honestly, with aspiration and hope, I appeal to urge on this media for a strong humanity mandate through good faith of sharing and giving generously on this particular crowd funding excercise to achieve my desire n is not just purely a dread dream , is also flickers first starter own crowds funding strength turning impossible into reality through this pratical raising method that I confidently trust it will turn fruitful from all your small effort participation, every single persistency will result consolidating piling up every little tiny bricks into an ultimate huge strong living castle.

In reality, I have trust and never look down on every single peny efforts that been contributed as helpful means, turning unrealistic dream alive is the goal in crowd funding excercise, No reason any single amount is regard to be too small when the strength of all individual wish gather to fulfill my little desire to make exist and keep alive. .

I sincerely look forward each and every participants who think alike crowds funding methodlogy works here no matter who come forwards with regardless any capital amount input be big or small , please help gather and pool raise my objective target amount as close to USD$10K or either acquisition from donation item list below:

 

1- ideally a high mega pixel Canon 5DS ( can be either new or use ok)

2- Canon 70-200mm F2.8 L IS lens ( can be either new or use ok)

Last but not least, a photography journey of life time for a trip to explore South Island of New Zealand and Africa.

.

My intended schedule may estimate about 1 month round trip self drive traveling down scenic Southern Island of New Zealand for completing the most captivating landscape photography and wander into the big five, the wilderness of untamed Africa nature for my project 2016 before my physical body stamina eventually drain off.

 

During the course, I also welcome sponsor's to provide daily lodging/accommodation, car rental/transportation, Fox Glacier helicopter ride and other logistic funding expenses, provide photographic camera equipments or related accessories .

Kindly forward all sponsors request terms of condition n collaboration details for discussion soon.

 

Great Ocean Drive- the 12 Apostle's

 

Please Click Auto Slide show for ultimate viewing pleasure in Super Large Display .to enjoy my photostream . ..

Due to copyright issue, I cannot afford to offer any free image request. Pls kindly consult my sole permission to purchase n use any of my images.You can email me at : men4r@yahoo.com.

 

Don't use this image on Websites/Blog or any other media

without my explicit permission.

 

For Business, You can find me here at linkedin..

 

Follow me on www.facebook.com here

A moment of visual clarity,

A small glass to catch the light

A reflection into the soul

A calming, yet expansive harmony.

 

Peaceful and soothing

Beautiful visual element

Small and uncomplicated

Smooth, humble and comforting

 

A glass of abundance, hope and life

Elegant surface light reflecting

understanding, friendhip and soothing

hope and peace.

 

A tranquil relaxing vitreous

image of fertility and

compassionate generosity

So tells luster abounding within the heart.

 

. Peace and love be with you.

Namaste.

  

Divided reverse. Letter generously translated by xiphophilos, penned on 1 December 1917 and addressed to a Herr Edmund Happ, master shoemaker, in Markt Wald near Türkheim (Bavaria). Einheitsstempel: Bayer. Res. Pi. Komp. [Nr. 19?] Deutsche Feldpost 752. Postage cancelled the same day.

 

A2170 was on a bombing mission to Somain in Northern France on 23rd November 1917 when it was brought down by heavy AA fire near Douai. The official report states that the pilot, 2Lt R. Main had his foot blown off but landed the aircraft relatively intact before it overturned.

 

The unique white crescent insignia was allotted on 26th of August 1917. The "L" represents "B" flight.

The Generous Briton, Brant Broughton, Lincolnshire. I wonder if they offer free refillable beer?

 

24th January 2019

Instagram

Parnassusweg 11/02/2021 13h17

I love the new artwork on the Parnassusweg.

 

Love or Generosity (2020)

Nicole Eisenman

 

The construction of the new court at Parnassusweg 280 is already well advanced, and the hearings will take place there from 1 March 2021. The American artist Nicole Eisenman created the artwork "Love or Generosity" for the new court. This artwork will be on the square at the entrance of the new court from Friday 27 November. This public square, which will play a central role in the area due to future plans for the Zuidas, is accompanied by a work of art that does justice to the building, the judiciary itself and the public.

 

The artwork "Love or Generosity" depicts a gatekeeper of the court: not a guard, but a gentle person who offers relaxation and comfort. The statue is more than five meters high, making it a good match for the new ten-storey courthouse. Despite the height of the statue, the friendly attitude of the "gatekeeper" ensures that the statue does not deter, but rather attracts and makes you curious.

 

The maker of the sculpture, Nicole Eisenman, is best known to the general (art) public for her figurative paintings in which she applies different styles, ranging from Renaissance painting to modern art. Since 2012, Eisenman has also manifested himself as a sculptor, including with presentations at the Venice Biennale and the Whitney Biennial. In her work, current themes from contemporary society come to the fore, which she approaches with humor and love.

Part of large stained glass window at Huntington Gardens in San Marino, California

Generously loaned for display at the Washington Auto Show.

This is a view using FITS file mosaics generously provided courtesy of Susan Stolovy, with attribution to Rick Arendt and Solange Ramirez for their work in producing the final mosaics. Her team used a processing technique that alleviated some of the saturation issues arising in some of the brighter parts of the mosaic that one might find in the mosaics provided by the Spitzer archive.

 

My take is not necessarily much different than what's already been done, but it is quite a bit less saturated than what you can find on the Spitzer website, and just a bit more of those wispy dust and gas formations can be made out. Anyway, it's nice to work with some data where someone else has already done most of the work.

 

For reference, here is a link to the original version using the same wavelengths on the Spitzer website: www.spitzer.caltech.edu/images/1540-ssc2006-02a-A-Cauldro...

 

Screen: 8.0 µm (IRAC4)

Red: 5.8 µm (IRAC3)

Green: 4.5 µm (IRAC2)

Blue: 3.6 µm (IRAC1)

 

The image is presented in galactic coordinates, with north up in that regard.

This was the first site I visited with the wonderfully generous Balta and I was absolutely blown away. There it was, a complex with multiple structures, its buildings with the ornate facades still mostly intact, just sitting in the jungle with not a soul around but us. I felt incredibly lucky to be able to visit and see such an an amazing site. It was a very special day.

 

Andrews ("Xkichmook Revisited") believes Xkichmook was built about 800AD. H.E.D Pollock ("The Puuc") states that "with the exception of Edifice 1, the structures at Xkichmook do not seem to be of major importance, and I should guess the site to be small to medium size" but it was certainly spectacular to me.

 

If you'd like, take a look at my infrared images and my images from Yucatan.

A very generous friend decided to gift their beloved friend with a custom wooden unicorn. And I had the opportunity to be in the middle of it all! This was a big undertaking, but definitely a worthwhile project! I also love surprises, so it was fun all around.

 

I learned so many things along the way while making this unicorn. It's amazing how much you don't understand something until you try to make it in 3D, lol. When it was complete, Stella almost couldn't bear to be separated from it, she seemed to have taken quite a liking to this horse :D. I think the two quite suit eachother, if I ever have the chance, I'd like to make another animal just for her; I was thinking of a little cat ;)

 

The surprise unicorn is now with its new owner!

  

Check my Etsy if you're interested in a doll of your own ♥

Photographer : Marshad AlMarshad

Follow Me: @MrshdM

www.mrshd.net

 

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

 

Warning!:

-Please Don`t Comment With Your Last Picture Or URL, Your Comment Will Be Deleted

-Silly Comments Will Be DELETED!.

All Rights Reserved for The Photographer. Any usage of the Picture without permission will cause you legal action.

Please write to ricseet@gmail.com if you like a FREE copy of this picture. In return please donate any amount and to any charity of your choice. Just trying to do the little we can help to the needy. Thank you for your generosity!

 

Thank you for viewing and have a happy day.

 

Explore #4, May 10 2012

 

Like to dedicate this to ALL Loving & Caring fathers out there.

Have a Great Day with the family!

 

Sad that this pic was stolen and

Explore #4, May 10 2012

 

Wishing all a Happy Weekend ahead!

When I visited my daughter on March 20 2011, my grandson, Aidan, was telling me about this bird with babies. I was excited and asked him to show me. He took me outside his home and pointed up - "there they are".

Wow - I saw how cute they were and grab my cam from the car.

Thank you Aidan!

 

Update: May10 2012

This pic is sold to Nat Geo for their coming book. Proceeds is going to charity.

The lady who bought the pic had a hard time tracking me down becos the person who downloaded this pic from my Flickr account without my knowledge, plastered this all over the internet and change my name from Ric Seet to Rik Seet. So no one can track the originator down. Now others are profiteering from this scam and here is the link to one such websites. You pay them to download my stolen pic:

 

pixdaus.com/under-her-wings-by-rik-seet-birds-aves-fauna-...

 

When I did a Rik Seet goggle search there are about 4 full pages of links to such websites !

 

www.google.com.sg/search?q=Rik Seet&ie=utf-8&oe=u...

 

This is one of the downside of the internet. To prevent such future mishaps, I have since disabled the download feature under Privacy & Settings. Base on the feedback this is not even safe. Additional advises is to add Watermarks and reduce file size to 800X800. From what I am hearing nothing is save on the net.

Thank you friends for your kind advise. .

 

Update: May13 2012

I managed to write to a few websites/blogs via email and FB.

1. A friend responded on FB and apologize for posting the pic on FB for Mother Day.

2. An Australian cyclist by the name of Craig plaster the pic for 2012 Mother Day. I wrote to inform him that the pic is my and he blocked me off immi'ly. Isn't that just great, steals your pic and ignores you!

3. What's even more interesting is Pixdaus.com has an option for you to complain if your are the owner of the intellectual property. Isn't this a laugh. I presume they believe they excuse themselves of any legal obligation in the eyes of the law by having this feature on their website! I have written to them and waiting for their reply.

 

Update June 1 2012

Today a caring Flickr friend brought to my attention that the above pic was stolen again and this pic was posted on Flickr. Wrote to the person to delete my picture which was done. Not a word of apology.

These people have no shame - steal other pictures and post it like theirs. Even took part in invites and participated at the various levels of award to claim credit for themselves.

here is the link if this shameful person and I have seen another couple of stolen pics as well becos they are too skillful for him. Even wrote to advise that these be remove. I am contacting the legal department of Yahoo in Singapore and making a few suggesting to them to apprehend such people.

by Pasckal2011

 

www.flickr.com/photos/69511790@N07/7293622534/

 

Since then more Flickr friends have alerted me. I am now no more angry becos I have learnt to share and come to realized this picture brings great memories & joy to others. One guy wrote to request for a print becos he wanted to place it next to his Bible.

He said that it is "God's Gift To Nature"

 

Update June 4 2012

Great to see that couple of my Flickr friends have added water mark to their pic. Very creative as they take the trouble to strategically position the watermark . I will borrow this idea. Thanks guys!

 

Update Dec 17 2012

Nat Geo is now printing double the number of copies and has agreed to denote US$300/ to charity of my grandson choice - SPCA. Thank you Nat Geo.

 

Update Dec 25 2012

Today I received a very touching letter from a mother who requested this print. I am glad that a picture is worth a thousand words and holds special meaning and brings great joy.

So if you need a print please drop me a Flickr mail and your mailing address. Thank you.

My heart goes out to this special lady and this picture is my gift to her. Some of you are aware that my daughter was critically ill. In her own works she told me she nearly died in Oct. Now I rejoice becos she is making slow recovery ----. A small step at a time!

 

Hi Ric,

I have been searching for the photographer who took the absolutely beautiful photo of the colorful momma bird with it's babies under its wings. I've actually been praying I would find the original photographer. I won't get into the details, but for the last almost 2 years, I've been going through a really hard time with my health due to a horrible medical mistake that I suffered at the hands of a doctor. I will not let anyone tell me I am not going to get better. My husband and my son need me back. This picture holds such meaning for me...I've found it on other websites, which I am so sorry that people are stealing your work, and I have gone back to look at it a lot over the last several months. It brings me great comfort and the colors are just so beautiful and bright. I was wondering if it would be possible to buy a large print of it from you so that I can frame it and have it matted with a verse so I can look at it every day in my house. Would you mind letting me know if it's possible to buy a print from you? If so, what are the size proportions that you could print out for me? The place I want to hang it could handle an overall size of 24"x24" or 24"x28", which would be framed and matted with an inscription matted under it. Hopefully that description makes sense. Would you mind contacting back?

 

Update April 11 2016

Today i received a very comforting email from this lady and I thank her for helping mereach out to others who may need this pic becos of the sentimental/special meaning this pic means to them. For me this pic means a world to me bcos I am a dad to two precious daughters that I love dearly. No matter what -- I will always be there for them as long as I am on this good earth.

 

Hi Ric,

I must confess I posted your beautiful picture of the bird shielding her babies under her wings on a tweet and my FB page. I didn't take it from Flickr, I (wrongly) assumed it was in the public domain. Would you like me to remove it or would it be mutually agreeable to post a link to you for your credit and publicity? I am a solicitor working from home writing wills and trusts, hence the family theme, I have not tried to profit directly from the photo, just thought it was a nice image of caring. Sorry.

 

Kind regards,

Elizabeth

 

Thank you Elizabeth. There are lots of caring people on this good earth.

"Would you like a cookie?"

Rose from David Austin.

Background texture from Pareeerica, textures from Boccacino and leslie Nicole (French Kiss).

 

is about the heart"

 

Brighter Lives co-founder, Peter Towle from England, he is having a new challenge, Coast to Coast bike ride on June 9th, from Morecambe to Whitby. He wants to raise awareness and funds to help our children in Honduras. Would you help him? follow his instructions in the poster, thank you so much for helping and sharing!!

www.blchonduras.com

PADDY" "Hullo Everyone! Daddy has very kindly rewarded us generously for our patience whilst he photographed all the pretty Art Nouveau stained glass windows around "The Gables"! He treated us to a high tea of little deadly cakes and tea in the Peacock Room! Thank you very much Daddy!"

 

SCOUT: "Oh yes, thank you Daddy! I don't have a grumbly tummy for the time being." *Rubs his tummy contentedly.*

 

PADDY: "Our high tea was served on beautiful china, and the table was set with silverware and fine linen napery. We feel like very special guests!"

 

SCOUT: "Paddy? Paddy!"

 

PADDY: "Yes Scout?"

 

SCOUT: "Paddy, why do they call this the Peacock Room. There are no peacocks strutting about."

 

PADDY: "Thank goodness for that! Peacocks can be very beautiful, but are quite spiteful and are prone to snapping at little bears in brown felt hats and mackintoshes! The reason why it is called that is because of the beautiful Art Nouveau inspired wallpaper of blue peacocks on the walls."

 

SCOUT: "Oh goodness Paddy! I was looking so closely at all the delicious little deadly cakes on the sideboard over there that I didn't even notice the wallpaper."

 

PADDY: "So is your grumbly tummy suitably sated now Scout?"

 

SCOUT: "Oh yes it is Paddy!"

 

PADDY: "Excellent! Then I shall have the last bit of cake on the plate! Grumbly tummy Daddy! Grumbly tummy!" *Snuffles up the last piece of cake and smiles contentedly.*

 

My Paddington Bear came to live with me in London when I was two years old (many, many years ago). He was hand made by my Great Aunt and he has a chocolate coloured felt hat, the brim of which had to be pinned up by a safety pin to stop it getting in his eyes. The collar of his Macintosh is made of the same felt. He wears wellington boots made from the same red leather used to make the toggles on his mackintosh.

 

He has travelled with me across the world and he and I have had many adventures together over the years. He is a very precious member of my small family.

 

Scout is a recent addition to our little family. He was a gift to Paddy from my friend. He is a Fair Trade Bear hand knitted in Africa. His name comes from the shop my friend found him in: Scout House. He tells me that life was very different where he came from, and Paddy is helping introduce him to many new experiences. Scout catches on quickly, and has proven to be a cheeky, but very lovable member of our closely knit family.

 

The "The Gables" has a beautiful, light filled tea room which they call the "Peacock Room" because of the beautiful Art Nouveau inspired blue peacock wallpaper they have decorated the room with. It used to be "The Gables" best, or master bedroom and dressing room. Now turned into one room it has a high ceiling featuring Art Nouveau mouldings and several elegant stained glass windows featuring stylised Art Nouveau flowers depicted in a striking combination of blue and gold, and one window full of golden yellow pears. The window of pears has a similar window in the entrance hall.

 

"The Gables" is a substantial villa that sits proudly on leafy Finch Street in the exclusive inner city suburb of East Malvern.

 

Built in 1902 for local property developer Lawrence Alfred Birchnell and his wife Annie, "The Gables" is considered to be one of the most prominent houses in the Gascoigne Estate. The house was designed by Melbourne architect firm Ussher and Kemp in what was the prevailing style of the time, Queen Anne, which is also known as Federation style (named so after Australian Federation in 1901). Ussher and Kemp were renowned for their beautiful and complex Queen Anne houses and they designed at least six other houses in Finch Street alone. "The Gables" remained a private residence for many years. When Lawrence Birchnell sold it, the house was converted into a rooming house. It remained so throughout the tumultuous 1920s until 1930 when it was sold again. The new owners converted "The Gables" into a reception hall for hire for private functions. The first wedding reception was a breakfast held in the formal dining room in 1930, followed by dancing to Melbourne’s first jukebox in the upstairs rooms. Notorious Melbourne gangster Joseph Theodore Leslie "Squizzy" Taylor was reputed to have thrown a twenty-first birthday party for his girlfriend of the day in the main ballroom (what had originally been the house's billiards room). "The Gables" became very famous for its grand birthday parties throughout the 1930s and 1940s. With its easy proximity to the Caulfield Race Course, "The Gables" ran an underground speakeasy and gambling room upstairs and sold beer from the back door during Melbourne’s restrictive era of alcohol not sold after six o'clock at night. Throughout its history, "The Gables" has been a Melbourne icon, celebrating generation after generation of Melbourne’s wedding receptions, parties and balls. Lovingly restored, the atmosphere and charm of "The Gables" have been retained for the future generations.

 

Grand in its proportions, "The Gables" is a sprawling villa that is built of red brick, but its main feature, as the name suggests, is its many ornamented gables. The front façade is dominated by six different sized gables, each supported by ornamental Art Nouveau influenced timber brackets. The front and side of the house is skirted by a wide verandah decorated with wooden balustrades and rounded fretwork. "The Gables" features two grand bay windows and three other large sets of windows along the front facade, all of which feature beautiful and delicate Art Nouveau stained glass of stylised flowers or fruit. Impressive Art Nouveau stained glass windows can also be found around the entrance, which features the quote made quite popular at the time by Australian soprano Nellie Melba "east, west, home's best." Art Nouveau stained glass can be found in all of the principal rooms of the house; both upstairs and down. “The Gables” also features distinctive chimneys and the classic Queen Anne high pitched gable roofs with decorative barge-boards, terra-cotta tiles and ornate capping.

 

As a result of Federation in 1901, it was not unusual to find Australian flora and fauna celebrated in architecture. This is true of "The Gables", which features intricate plaster work and leadlight throughout the mansion showing off Australian gum leaves and flowers. "The Gables" has fifteen beautifully renovated rooms, many of which are traditionally decorated, including beautiful chandeliers, ornate restored wood and tile fireplaces, leadlight windows, parquetry flooring, sixteen foot ceilings and a sweeping staircase. The drawing room still also features the original leadlight conservatory "The Gables" boasted when it was first built.

 

"The Gables", set on an acre of land, still retains many of the original trees, including the original hedge and two enormous cypress trees in the front. The garden was designed by William Guilfoyle, the master landscape architect of the Royal Botanical Gardens, and "The Gables" still retains much of it original structure. It features a rose-covered gazebo, a pond and fountain, as well as the tallest Norfolk Island pine in the area, which can be seen from some of the tallest skyscrapers in the Melbourne CBD.

 

Henry Hardie Kemp was born in Lancashire in 1859 and designed many other fine homes around Melbourne, particularly in Kew, including his own home “Held Lawn” (1913). He also designed the APA Building in Elizabeth Street in 1889 (demolished in 1980) and the Melbourne Assembly Hall on Collins Street between 1914 and 1915. He died in Melbourne in 1946.

 

Beverley Ussher was born in Melbourne in 1868 and designed homes and commercial buildings around Melbourne, as well as homes in the country. He designed "Milliara" (John Whiting house) in Toorak, in 1895 (since demolished) and "Blackwood Homestead" in Western Australia. He died in 1908.

 

Beverley Ussher and Henry Kemp formed a partnership in 1899, which lasted until Beverley's death in 1908. Their last building design together was the Professional Chambers building in Collins Street in 1908. Both men had strong Arts and Crafts commitments, and both had been in partnerships before forming their own. The practice specialised in domestic work and their houses epitomize the Marseilles-tiled Queen Anne Federation style houses characteristic of Melbourne, and considered now to be a truly distinctive Australian genre. Their designs use red bricks, terracotta tiles and casement windows, avoid applied ornamentation and develop substantial timber details. The picturesque character of the houses results from a conscious attempt to express externally with gables, dormers, bays, roof axes, and chimneys, the functional variety of rooms within. The iconic Federation houses by Beverley Ussher and Henry Kemp did not appear until 1892-4. Then, several of those appeared in Malvern, Canterbury and Kew.

 

Queen Anne style was mostly a residential style inspired by the Arts and Crafts movement in England, but also encompassed some of the more stylised elements of Art Nouveau, which gave it an more decorative look. Queen Anne style was most popular around the time of Federation. With complex roofline structures and undulating facades, many Queen Anne houses fell out of fashion at the beginning of the modern era, and were demolished.

   

  

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swat_District

  

Swat (pronounced [ˈsʋaːt̪], Pashto: سوات) is a valley and an administrative district in the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Province, located close to the Afghan-Pakistan border. It is the upper valley of the Swat River, which rises in the Hindu Kush range. The capital of Swat is Saidu Sharif, but the main town in the Swat valley is Mingora.[1] It was a princely state (see Swat (princely state)) in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa until it was dissolved in 1969. The valley is almost entirely populated by ethnic Gujjar and Pashtuns (Afghans). The language spoken in the valley is Pashto/Pakhto and Gojri. With high mountains, green meadows, and clear lakes, it is a place of great natural beauty and is popular with tourists as "the Switzerland of the region".

  

History

  

Swat has been inhabited for over two thousand years. The first inhabitants were settled in well-planned towns. In 327 BC, Alexander the Great fought his way to odegram and Barikot and stormed their battlements. In Greek accounts these towns have been identified as Ora and Bazira. Around the 2nd century BC, the area was occupied by Buddhists, who were attracted by the peace and serenity of the land. There are many remains that testify to their skills as sculptors and architects. In the beginning of the 8th century AD, Gabari Royal Tajik tribe advanced through Laghman, ningarhar, Dir and invaded Swat, defeating the Buddhists and the Hindus. This war was headed by Sultan Pakhal Gabari and later on by Sultan Behram Gabari Rulers of Kuner Pich and cousin of Rulers of Balkh and Kashmir. Later some Dilazak encrouched tha area and settled among Gabaris, who in turn were ousted by the Yusufzais which was backed by Mughal Badshah Zahiruddin Muhammad Baber, considered the super power in 1519 and 1520. The historical paradox was that the Yusufzais were ousted from Kabul by Mirza Ullegh beg, the uncle of Baber, and killed 600 malak of Yusufzai; the Gabaris helped Yousofzais refugees with a warm welcome and settled them in Bajour Dir and Swat regions. The Yousofzais forgot the generosity of Gabaris and encrouched upon the Gabari state with the plotted help of Zahiruddin Muhammad babar. They Demolished the Gabar-Kot (fortress) in bajour in 1519 and further advanced to the swat and compelled the last Gabari King Sultan Awais Gabari to flee to Upper Dir where he established his rule in,Chitral wakhan,Badakhshan and other upper Oxus. The originator of the present family of Swat was the Muslim saint Abdul Ghafoor, the Akhund of Swat, a Safi Momand of Hazara district, from where he went to Buner territory. He was a pious man and the people respected him so greatly that they called him Akhund Sahib.[2]

 

During the mid-19th century, Muslim tribes were fighting against each other for the possession of Swat Valley. On the intervention of the honourable Akhund Sahib, the killing was stopped, and such was his influence that the chiefs of all tribes unanimously made him the ruler of the valley. Akhund Sahib administrated the valley according to Muslim laws. Peace and tranquility prevailed, and agriculture and trade flourished in the territory. Akhund Sahib had two sons by his wife, who belonged to Nikpi Khel(نیک پی خیل).

 

After the death of Akhund Sahib, the tribal chiefs again started fighting and killing, which continued for years. Eventually the tribal chiefs agreed to give the control of the valley into the hands of the honourable Gul Shahzada Abdul Wadood, the son of Mian Gul Abdul Khaliq, son of Akhund Sahib. The wife of Mian Abdul Wadood was the daughter of Honorable Mirza Afzal-ul-Mulk, the ruler of Chitral. The British by trick put Chitral under the suzerainty of Kashmir. The Chitral ruler gave two horses every year to the Rajia of Kashmir, and the Raja provided Chitral with grain and sugar, etc. Swat thus went under protection of the British.

 

During the rule of Mian Gul Muhammad, Abdul Haq Jehanzeb, the son of Mian Abdul Wadood Khatana, the state acceded to Pakistan in 1947. The present prince, Muhammad Aurzngzeb Khan, son of Jahanzeb, married the daughter of Field Marshal Mohammad Ayub Khan in 1955. Thus by intermarriages with the other castes, the family became a branch of the imperial Gujjars i.e., the Royal family of Swat valley which belongs to the Gujjar family which laid down the foundation of Swat kingdom. Jahanzeb started a Degree College at Saidu Sahrif, the capital of the State, and four High Schools at Mingora, Chakesar, Matta and Dagar. Fourteen middle schools, twenty-eight lower middle schools, and fifty-six primary schools were established. A girls high school and high class religious schools were established at Saidu Sharif. At all the schools, the poor students were granted scholarships. The state was an exemplary state during British rule. They also have a firm stand in politics of Pakistan. The current Prince Aurangzeb Khan was also Governor of Baluchistan.

  

Buddhist heritage of Swat

  

Although it is generally accepted that Tantric Buddhism first developed in Swat under King Indrabhuti, there is an old and well-known scholarly dispute as to whether Uddiyana was in the Swat valley, Orissa or some other place. Padmasambhava (flourished eighth century AD), also called Guru Rimpoche, Tibetan Slob-dpon (teacher), or Padma ‘byung-gnas (lotus born) legendary Indian Buddhist mystic who introduced Tantric Buddhism to Tibet and is credited with establishing the first buddhist monastery there.According to tradition, Padmasambhava was native to Udyana (now Swat in Pakistan).[3] Padmasambhava was the son of Indrabhuti, king of Swat in the early eighth century AD. One of the original Siddhas, Indrabhuti flourished in the early eighth century AD and was the king of Uddiyana in the Kabul valley. His son Padmasambhava is revered as the second Buddha in Tibet. Indrabhuti's sister, Lakshminkaradevi, was also an accomplished siddha of the 9th century AD.[4] Ancient Gandhara, the valley of Pekhawar, with the adjacent hilly regions of Swat and Buner, Dir and Bajaur was one of the earliest centers of Buddhist religion and culture following the reign of the Mauryan emperor Ashoka, in the third century BC. The name Gandhara first occurs in the Rigveda which is usually identified with the region[5]

  

Buddha heritage in the Swat Valley

  

The Swat museum has acquired footprints of the Buddha, which were originally placed for devotion in the sacred Swat valley. When the Buddha ascended, relics (personal items, body parts, ashes etc.) were distributed to seven kings, who built stupas over them for veneration.

  

The Harmarajika stupa (Taxila) and Butkarha (Swat) stupa at Jamal Garha were among the earliest Gandhara stupas. These were erected on the orders of King Ashoka and contained the genuine relics of the historic Buddha.[citation needed]

 

The Gandhara school is credited with the first representations of the Buddha in human form, rather symbolically as the wheel of the law, the tree, etc.[citation needed]

 

As Buddhist art developed and spread outside Gandhara, Gandharan styles were imitated. In China the Gandhara style was imitated in bronze images, with gradual changes in the features of these images over the passage of time. Swat, the land of romance and beauty, is celebrated throughout the Buddhist world as the holy land of Buddhist learning and piety. Swat was a popular destination for Buddhist pilgrims. Buddhist tradition holds that Buddha himself came to Swat during his incarnation as Gautama Buddha and preached to the people here.

 

It is said[by whom?] that the Swat valley was filled with fourteen hundred imposing and beautiful stupas and monasteries, which housed as many as 6,000 gold images of the Buddhist pantheon for worship and education. Archaeologists now know of more than 400 Buddhist sites covering an area of 160 km2 in Swat valley alone. Among the important excavations of Buddhist sites in Swat an important one is Butkarha-I, containing original relics of the Buddha. A stone statue of Buddha, is still there in the village Ghalegay.[citation needed] There is also a big stupa in Mohallah Singardar Ghalegay

  

Hindu Shahi Rulers and Sanskrit

  

Swat was ruled by the Hindu Shahi dynasty who have built an extensive array of temples and other architectural buildings now in ruins. Sanskrit may have been the lingua franca of the Swatis.[

  

Hindu Shahi rulers built fortresses to guard and tax the commerce through this area. Their ruins can be seen in the hills of Swat: at Malakand pass at Swat’s southern entrance

  

Advent of Islam by Mahmud of Ghazni

  

At the end of the Mauryan period (324-185 BC) Buddhism spread in the whole Swat valley, which became a very famous center of Buddhist religion.[8]

 

After a Buddhist phase the Hindu religion reasserted itself, so that at the time of the Muslim conquest (1000 AD) the population was solidly Hindu.[8]

  

In 1023 Mahmood of Ghazni attacked Swat and crushed the last Buddhist King, Raja Gira in battle. The invasion of Mahmood of Ghazni is of special importance because of the introduction of Islam as well as changing the Chronology.

  

Arrival Of Yousafzais

  

The first Muslim arrivals in Swat were Pakhtun Dilazak tribes from south-east Afghanistan. These were later ousted by Swati Pakhtuns, who were succeeded in the sixteenth century by Yusufzai Pakhtuns. Both groups of Pakhtuns came from the Kandahar and Kabul valley

  

Geography

  

The valley of Swat is situated in the north of N.W.F.P, 35° North Latitude and 72° and 30° East Longitude, and is enclosed by the sky-high mountains.

 

Chitral and Gilgit are situated in the north, Dir in the west, and Mardan in the south, while Indus separates it from Hazara in the east. Physical Features: Swat can be divided into two physical regions:

 

Mountainous Ranges.

Plains.

  

Mountainous Ranges

  

As mentioned above, Swat is lying in the lap of Mountainous Ranges, which are the offshoots of Hindukush, so the larger part of Swat is covered with high mountains and hills, the crests of which is hidden by everlasting snow. Though these gigantic Ranges run irregularly: some to the west while the others to the east, but the general direction is North-South. These ranges enclose small but very enchanting valleys.

 

Eastern Ranges: In Kohistan-e-Swat the chief knot of eastern ranges is Mankial. Its northern branches separate Kohistan-e-Swat from Abasin Kohistan. These ranges form a barrier between Gilgit and Swat, and between Chitral and Swat. The southern extension of Mankial ranges reaches proper Swat. There they join Shangla ranges. Shangla ranges separate proper Swat from Shangla Par area (Shangla Par district). In Shangla district, there are Karora Ranges, which separate Puran from Kanra and Ghurband. The continuation of Shangla ranges joins Dwasaray. On the one hand Dwasaray separates lower Swat from Puran, on the other, it set aside the Buner from Puran. Now the general Direction of the ranges turns westward. Here it is called Elum. Elum Ranges is a big wall between the proper Swat and Buner. The Elum ranges at last join mountains of Malakand.

  

The Western Ranges: Western ranges start from the mountain and hills of Gabral, Kohistan-e-Swat. It joins the hills of Kundal (Utror). There these ranges meet Daral Ranges. These ranges form a border with Dir district. They run west ward and are named according to the locality. For example Lalko ranges Manrai and Chaprai etc. at last they join the hills of Adenzee and Shamozee. Manrai ranges send off some off shoots southward. They the hills separate Arnoyay valley from the widest valley of Nekpikheil valley.

  

Plains

  

Actually the valley of Swat starts from the foothill of Malakand but we are concerned with portion from Landakay to Gabral (Gulabad), the area within the administrative boundaries of Swat. The length of the valley from Landakay to Gabral is 91 miles. Two narrow strips of plains run along the banks of Swat River from Landakay to Madyan. Beyond Madyan in Kohistan-e-Swat, the plan is too little to be mentioned. So for as the width concerns, it is not similar, it varies from place to place. We can say that the average width is 5 miles. The widest portion of the valley is between Barikot and khwaza khela. The widest view point and the charming sight where a major portion of the valley is seen is at Gulibagh on main road, which leads to Madyan. There are some subsidiary valleys, which help to increase the width of the main valley. These subsidiary valleys are called "Daras". A Dara a narrow passage between mountains, and sometimes, the upper course of a river is also called Dara. If we imagine the main valley as a stem of a tree the subsidiary valleys form its branches. Swat River and its tributaries drain Swat. There fore, the whole valley is the outcome of running water. This flowing water cuts the upper courses deeply, and flows the load of washed away materials. As the gradient is greater in the upper course so the erosion is on large scale, particularly in the summer rains, when all the rivers are in flood. The big boulders and stones are rolled, which causes more destruction in the upper courses. When the loaded water reaches to the areas of low gradient, the heavier materials are deposited. The deposition takes place according to the slope, generally, we observe, that the upper course is made up of big boulders, the middle course is of relatively small stones, pebbles, and debris, while the lower course is made of fine clay. Anyhow, the whole plain of Swat valley is strewn by the running water, and is made up of fine alluvial soil.

  

Demographics

  

The population at the 1981 Census was 715,938, which had risen to 1,257,602 at the next Census in 1998. The main language of the area is Pakhto. The people of Swat are mainly Pakhtuns,(Afghans) Yusufzais, Akhund Khel Miangan (Syed), Chitralis, Kohistan is, Gurjar (Gujar or Gurjar is the major tribe of the district; its people are divided in different clans like Khatana, Bajarh, Chichi, Ahir, Chuhan, Pamra, Gangal etc. are the main subtribe of the Gurjar family of Swat), Akhund khel Yousafzai, Nooristani, and Awans. Most probably they are originated from the same tribe that roamed around the great trans-Himalayan mountain ranges thousands of years before, and now remained in some isolated pockets of the Himalayan mountain ranges.[citation needed]

 

The Dardic people of the Kalam region in northern Swat are known as Kohistan is and speak the Torwali and Kalami languages. There are also some Khowar speakers in the Kalam region. This is because before Kalam came under the rule of Swat, it was a regional tributary to Chitral. The Kalamis paid a tribute of mountain ponies to the Mehtar of Chitral every year.

  

Tourist attractions

  

Marghazar

  

Marghazar 16 km away from Saidu Sharif is famous for its “Sufed Mahal” the white marble palace of the former Wali (Ruler) of Swat.

  

Malam Jabba

  

Malam Jabba (also Maalam Jabba, Urdu: مالم جبہ) is a Hill Station in the Karakoram mountain range nearly 40 km from Saidu Sharif in Swat Valley, Peshawar, Pakistan. It is 314 km from Islamabad and 51 km from Saidu Sharif Airport.Malam Jabba is home to the largest ski resort in Pakistan. The Malam Jabba Ski Resort, owned by the Pakistani Tourism Development Corporation, had a ski slope of about 800m with the highest point of the slope 2804 m (9200 ft) above sea level. Malam Jabba Ski Resort was the joint effort of the Pakistan government with its Austrian counterpart. The resort was equipped with modern facilities including roller/ice-skating rinks, chair lifts, skiing platforms, telephones and snow clearing equipment.

  

Swat Museum

  

Swat Museum is on the east side of the street, halfway between Mingora and Saidu. Japanese aid has given a facelift to its seven galleries which now contain an excellent collection of Gandhara sculptures taken from some of the Buddhist sites in Swat, rearranged and labelled to illustrate the Buddha's life story. Terracotta figurines and utensils, beads, precious stones, coins, weapons and various metal objects illustrate daily life in Gandhara. The ethnographic section displays the finest examples of local embroidery, carved wood and tribal jewellery. For the last three years the museum is occupied by Pakistan army and it is not known when they would be leaving it.

  

Miandam

  

Miandam is a small summer resort ten kilometres (six miles) up a steep side valley and 56 kilometers (35 mi) from Saidu Sharif, making it an hour's drive. The metaled road passes small villages stacked up the hillside, the roofs of one row of houses forming the street for the row of houses above. Tiny terraced fields march up the hillside right to the top. Miandam is a good place for walkers. Paths follow the stream, past houses with behives set into the walls and good-luck charms whitewashed around the doors. In the graveyards are carved wooden grave posts with floral designs, like those used by Buddhists 1,000 years ago.

  

Madyan

  

By the time you reach this small town at 1320 m and about 60 km from Mingora, the mountains have closed in and the valley is almost snug. Here one senses why Swat is so popular among the tourists. There are a lot of embroidered shawls in the Bazars of Madyan.At 1,321 metres (4,335 feet) above sea level,but it is a larger town and has many hotels in all price ranges and some good tourist shopping. Antique and modern shawls, traditional embroidery, tribal jewellery, carved wood and antique or reproduced coins are sold along the main street. This is the last Swati village, offering interesting two-and three-day walks up to the mountain villages... ask in the bazaar in Muambar Khan's shop for a guide. North of Madyan is Swat Kohistan where walking is not recommended without an armed guard. The central mosque at Madyan has carved wooden pillars with elegant scroll capitals, and its mud-plastered west wall is covered with relief designs in floral motifs. Both bespeak the Swati's love of decoration.[10]

  

Behrain

  

A quarter of an hour past Madyan, the road squeezes through Behrain. Tourists stop to shop or have a look around for beautiful carved wood chairs and tables and other handicrafts. Behrainis are a mix of Pashtuns and Kohistanis. Behrain is ten kilometres north of Madyan and only slightly higher, at about 1,400 metres (4,500 feet). It is another popular riverside tourist resort, with bazaars worth exploring for their handicrafts. Some of the houses have carved wooden doors, pillars and balconies. These show a remarkable variety of decorative motifs, including floral scrolls and bands of ornamental diaper patterns almost identical to those seen on Buddhist shrines and quite different from the usual Muslim designs.

  

Kalam

  

2070 m high and 100 km from Mingora, it was the centre of an independent state in the 19th century. It was later taken by Chitral then given to Swat after partition.Kalam, 29 kilometres (18 mi) from Bahrain and about 2,000 metres (6,800 feet) above sea level, the valley opens out, providing rooms for a small but fertile plateau above the river. In Kalam the Ushu and Utrot rivers join to form the Swat river. Here, the metalled road ends and shingle road leads to the Ushu and Utrot valleys. From Matiltan one gets a breath-taking view of the snow-capped Mount Falaksir 5918 metres (19,415 ft.), and another unnamed peak 6096 metres (20,000 ft.) high.

  

Usho

  

Usho 3 km from Kalam Valley and 117 km from Saidu Sharif

  

Utror

  

Utror 16 km from Kalam Valley and 120 km from Saidu Sharif. Utror valley is situated between 35° 20′ to 35° 48′ N latitudes and 72° 12′ and 72° 32′ E longitudes. The population of Utror is 6888 and the area of the valley is about 47400 hectares. Utror valley is surrounded by Gabral and Bhan valleys on the east, upper Dir district on the west, Kalam valley on the south and Gabral valley on the north. It is 15 km from Kalam, the centre of Swat Kohistan. The altitude of the valley at Utror proper is 2300 meters and reaches to 2900 meters at Kandol Lake.

  

Ghabral

  

Gabral valley lies between 35° 20′ to 35° 48′ N latitudes and 72° 12′ and 72° 32′ E longitudes over an area of about 38733 hectares. The population of Gabral is 3238. The valley is surrounded by Chitral District in the north, Utror valley in the south and south west, upper Dir district in the west and Bhan and Mahodand valleys in the east. It is 5 km distant from Utror proper and 20 km from Kalam. The altitude of the valley ranges from 2580 metres at Baila to 5160 metres at Karkaray Lake top.In Utror and Gabral, 44 medicinal plants are collected during the months of May, June, July and August. Only 14 of them are traded to National and International markets while the rest are used locally. A survey by Pakistan Forest Institute concludes that 75 crude herbal drugs are extensively exported and more than 200 are locally traded in Pakistan. Indigenous people, who have no training in sustainable harvesting, post-harvesting care and storing of medicinal plants, collect 85 percent of these crude herbs from the wild.

  

Kundol Lake, Swat valley

  

Mahudan

  

Mahodand valley, which lies in the North of Kalam, is famous not only among nature lovers, and escapists but also the exotic trout fish hunters. The valley can be accessed through an un-metalled road from Kalam in a four by four (4x4) vehicle. The road is bumpy and tricky but the surrounding landscapes engrosses you so severely that you wish for more and expect to discover new panoramas. The small hamlets that are scattered in the mountains and the bellowing smoke that spirals into the sky from the houses are some, which lives in the memory forever. Swat River, which is born here, is shackled by the tall mountains, which has turned its water into a roaring monster trying to release itself from its fetters, but there are some places where the river is calm and silent without showing any sign of rebellion.

  

Pari (Khapiro) lake

  

Pari Lake is one of the lakes in Swat region which is located at a very high altitude in the foot of the tallest peak in the range with a considerable depth. The name Pari or Khapiro is given to the lake due to the widespread belief that the lake is the abode of fairies where they live and bathe in the cool, pure and clear water of the lake. It is located to North-east of Utror valley and can be accessed only by trekking. Trekking to the lake needs endurance and love for nature as the trail is exasperating as well as dangerous therefore, utmost care should be taken while trekking on the narrow bends and turns leading to the lake. The lake is accessible from both Izmis and Kundal lakes. Two ascending tracks lead to this lake from Kundal and Izmis lakes taking almost five hours to reach this roof top of Swat. The trail is very steep from both sides but the surrounding beauty and eye-cooling green pastures and exotic flowers not only boost the trekker’s stamina but compel him to explore further.

  

Kundol Lake

  

The pastoral valley of Swat has abundance of precious resorts of nature where one can find solace and respite from the never-ending struggle of life. Kundal or Kandolo Lake is one such place here upon which the Maestro of nature has spent extra time and effort to paint. Kundal Lake is situated in the north of Utror valley. One can easily access it from Kalam via Utror from where a link road ends in a green valley called Ladu in the foothills of the lake. You can either hike to Ladu from Utror or take a four-wheeler to ease and minimize your journey. It consumes almost two hours to reach the beautiful valley of Ladu. For the adventurous kind, a walk in the romantic valley will unravel several new mysteries. The people who take temporary residency over here during summer plow the open land and harvest potatoes and turnips, which are famous all over the country for its exotic taste. There is also a small hut in Ladu where you can take tea and get something for eating. From Ladu it takes almost four hours to reach the lake. Some locals can guide you and even take your luggage if properly paid. The mountains around this small valley are covered with tall cedar and pine trees and meandered by different streams and torrents. The people are friendly and provide you guidance if required.

  

Bashigram Lake

  

Bashigram Lake is situated to the east of Bashigram valley near Madyan. The road to this valley is partly metaled and can be plied by a four by four or any ordinary vehicle. It takes almost forty to fifty minutes to reach this picturesque valley inhibited by simple and hospitable folk. From here, trekking of four to five hours, depending on professionalism and enthusiasm of the trekkers lands you in the realm of a serene and enchanting lake of Bashigram.

  

Spin Khwar (White Stream) Lake

  

Spin Khwar is a beautiful lake hidden in the lap of mountains towards the north of Kundal Lake and east of Utror valley. The name Spin Khwar has a clear significance as a small white stream in the east flows down to the lake from the surrounding mountains and is a major source of water for the lake. The lake is accessible through two tracks, one from Kundal and the other from Ladu valley. The track from Ladu is comparatively easy to walk and less tiring while the track from Kundal is not only difficult but alarmingly dangerous although it is short and links Kundal and Spin Khwar. Its steepness and dangerous bends needs an experienced trekker and unending physical strength. The grazers in the area have built small huts and a mosque where one can stay but a personal tent is more recommendable as these huts are in a poor condition due to lack of maintenance.

  

Daral Lake

  

Daral lake is situated to the northeast of Sidgai Lake and can be accessed through Saidgai after two three hours rigorous trekking. The trail to Daral is full of fun and amusement because it runs over sky touching heights of the mountains provides spectacular sights and panoramas for the beauty hungry eyes of nature lovers. A close look towards the south will reveal the long and winding sellouts of river Swat in the horizon.After walking and trekking for about two and a half hours on bare and naked mountains, the trail start descending towards the East where Daral Lake is located.

  

Administration

  

The region has gone through considerable changes over the last few years since the dissolution of the princely state in 1969. Members of the former Royal family have since on occasion been elected to represent the area in the Provincial Assembly and National Assembly.

  

Provincial & national politics

  

The region elects two male members of the National Assembly of Pakistan (MNAs), one female MNA, seven male members of the Provincial Assembly of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (MPAs)[11] and two female MPAs. In the 2002 National and Provincial elections, the Muttahida Majlis-e-Amal, an alliance of religious political parties, won all the seats amidst a wave of anti-Americanism that spread after the United States' invasion of Afghanistan.

  

Wild Life: In early days when the shrubs and bushes covered slopes and foothill areas,hares, porcupine, fox, jackal, wolf, pigs, and hyenas were in large number. Now the need for fuels decreased the scrubs and trees, so these animals have decreased considerably. In the forests,monkeys are often found. Among the birds: hawks, eagles, falcons are found in the high mountains, while pheasants, partridges, hoopoes, larks, sparrows, quails, doves, swallows, starlings, nightingales, crows, kites, vultures, owls, bates are the common birds.

  

Bees: The bees were kept in Swat commonly, and the pure honey of was famous all over the country. But now the moveable beehives have affected the Swat locally reared bees greatly. Now, the local good honey is found in remote areas only, while the honey of moveable hives is available everywhere in low prices.

  

Fisheries: There is a large fishery in Madyan. In this fishery the trout fish are being reared. In Kohistan-e-Swat there are some private fisheries too. In Buner the fish were being reared in Barandu, Dagar. Moreover the Swat River serves as a permanent fishery throughout the year while the tributaries of it are used for fishing only in spring season.

  

Mineral Resources: Mines' production plays an important role in the economy of a country, particularly in the regions where they exist, because, the local people get the opportunities to labor in, and earn their livelihood. But the Swati mines have no importance for the local people in this respect. It is necessary, however, to mention what they are, and where do they exist. Swat is rich in mineral wealth, but the discovered commodities are a few. Among them, the china clay stands first; others are marble stone, and emerald.

  

China Clay: The china clay exists at “Kathyar” in Nekpikheil (on the road that leads to Shahderai at a distance of 15 miles from Mingora). This is the largest mine, having the finest quality, of China clay in Pakistan. The clay is mined here, and is transported to Shaidu in Nawshehra (which is at a distance of around 100 miles from Swat). It is not so advantageous for the local people, because they have no opportunity to work in the complex.

  

Soap Clay: The mine of soap clay has been discovered recently between Alpurai and Kanra on the side of Gilgit Road (Shahrah-e-Resham). It is spread in a vast area.

  

Marbles: The marbles are dug near Charbagh, Murghuzar, and Barikot in the proper valley of Swat, and in Buner, it is mined in Thor Warsak, Bampokha, and Sawawai. Moreover, there is a great expectation of iron ores, which will be discovered in near future.

  

Emerald: The finest quality of emerald is produced in Swat. Its Color and transparency is unique. It is the best in world. It is exported to the international markets: There is an export potential of 500 million dollars in this sector, provided it is excavated and cut as per international standards. Before the absorption of Swat in Pakistan, the emeralds of Swat were better in quality, and greater in quantity. But since then it is said that the quantity of production is little, and the quality devalued.

  

Industries:

  

Handicrafts: The handicrafts of Swat are very famous. When a tourist visits Swat, he accumulates bundles of these articles as gifts for his friends. All of the crafts prepared here are interesting, especially, the following are very charming.

  

Woolen Blankets: These blankets are known as "Sharai". They are prepared of wool obtained from the local sheep. The weight of a medium size blanket is four kilos. This is the best source of defense from the severity of winter. It is woven in Dewlai, Kala Kalay, Salampur, Puran, and Ghurband. These villages prepare the items on commercial scale.

  

Shawl: Shawl is a younger brother of Sharai, as it is also a woolen sheet, but light in weight. Sometimes, cotton is also mixed in its texture. It is beautifully fringed, and is commonly used by ladies. The tourists like it too much. Shawls are prepared in Salampur and Dewlai "Jolabad" on commercial bases.

  

Rugs: The next important thing, made of local fleece with laborious work, is rug. This is prepared in the villages by pressing wool with the help of water spray. After preparation, it is beautified with the usage of various colors. Rugs are the traditional carpets of shepherds, but now are used everywhere.

  

Embroidery: The embroidery of Swat is very famous, and is liked everywhere in Pakistan, as well as by the out-comers. This art is an indoor hobby of the ladies in Swat. Particularly in Nekpikheil, this is so common that very younger girls might also be seen having needlework in their hands. There are three types of embroidery:

  

Panrae or Panhey: Panrey or Panrhey is the old fashion of shoes, still used by the old persons in Swat. They are made in Swat with the simply tanned leather. The cobblers have great skill in the formation of ladies shoes with golden lace work. Similarly, the sandals with golden lace work are also made. The cobblers of Shahderai had great skill in this field. It is now archaic.

  

Shkor: A Shkor is a pot in which chapatis (plate bread used in India and Pakistan) are kept. The ordinary Shkors are prepared everywhere in Swat, but a special design is made in Puran and Chagharzee (These Shkors are high-based pots made of wheat stalks with laborious art, not easily available in bazaar).

  

Furniture: Furniture of various styles is made in the district. The cots, tables, chairs, dressing tables, cradles of more advanced types, etc. are furnished in Mingora, and in nearly all large villages.

 

Some wonderful and generous person here on Flickr learned that I intended to leave the Flickr community and they gifted me a Pro Account.

 

I can not express how very grateful I am to that person and want to thank them so very much.

 

However, given that it is Flickr there seems to be a problem in getting the Gift Pro account activated.

 

When I try to activate it all I keep getting is an error message that says " An Error Has Occurred, Please Try Again." and when I try again and again and again I still only get the error message.

 

It seems that Flickr is stuck on the " An Error Has Occurred, Please Try Again." message.

 

Hopefully this glitch gets resolved soon, I will try to activate the Gift Pro Account again tomorrow.

The darkness gives the space to light. It let's the light glow. If it was a devilishly bad thing, there could never be any light. The darkness is the most generous of all, if you think like me ;)

Generosity is nothing else than a craze to possess. All which I abandon, all which I give, I enjoy in a higher manner through the fact that I give it away. To give is to enjoy possessively the object which one gives.

 

Jean-Paul Sartre

 

I suggest to look at my stream on Fluidr .

Rose Anglaise de David Austin

Not my photo albeit, generously donated by my better half. However, it is my editing, as half the building was in late-day shadow. "Why not just one of your own photos, Paul?" you might ask. Well kids, here is a good photography lesson from your Uncle Paulie... when taking your camera out on a photographic excursion, always remember to put your newly recharged battery back in the danged thang! It works much better that way.

 

"Wildflowers for Buffalo" by Louise “Ouizi” Jones.

Letter generously translated by xiphophilos; penned in Wettstetten on the 12th of October 1914 and addressed to Herr Georg Fritsch in Otzing Bavaria. Postage cancelled in Wettstetten the same day.

 

He writes: "There are 23 of us and 1090 Frenchmen. But they don't do anything, they are also very afraid of Bavarians."

 

French prisoners of war including a Chasseur Alpin and two Hussars sit at the feet of their Bavarian captors, just a couple of months after the commencement of la « Grande Guerre ».

"Grace has been defined as the outward expression of the inward harmony of the soul."

~ William Hazlitt ~

 

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside all people. He said, "My son, the battle is between two 'wolves' inside us all. One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith."

 

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: "Which wolf wins?" The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

 

Generosity comes in all shapes and sizes. On 30 July 2016, six of us from Calgary had the honour of meeting a 92-year-old gentleman who has lived most of his long life on a huge area (380 hectares, 939 acres) of beautiful land near Hanna, Alberta. Though Gottlob Schmidt (known as Schmitty) has now moved into town (Hanna), he is not far from his beloved land and still loves to spend a lot of time there. My friends and I understand why. This untouched land is not only beautiful to the eye, with its undulating hills with small, scattered pockets of woodland, but it also hides all sorts of natural treasures, including the wildlife that enjoys this native grassland.

 

There are so few areas of native grassland left in Alberta, so each one is very precious. Schmitty told us that he had never seen his land looking so green! Perhaps not too surprising, as we had had so much rain recently, often accompanied by thunderstorms. In fact, the rain started on our return journey to Calgary and I was driving from our meeting place back to my house in torrential rain.

 

This is where the word 'generosity' comes in. Two years ago, Schmitty donated all his land to Alberta Parks, along with certain strict regulations (listed below) on how the land was to be maintained. He was very warmly recognized for his extreme generosity. The Park is known as Antelope Hill Provincial Park and, when Schmitty is no longer able to visit and enjoy his old, family homestead, the Park will be opened to the public. For now, it remains his own, private property.

 

The highlight for us that day was meeting Schmitty himself. I can only hope that I might be lucky enough to be in half his shape if I ever reached that age! It was an absolute delight to spend a little time with this man with the big heart when we first arrived and again later in the day, when it was time for us to head back to Calgary. We also got to meet Schmitty's good neighbours, Donna and Ken.

 

www.albertaparks.ca/media/5788002/antelope-hill-pp-fact-s...

 

calgaryherald.com/news/local-news/you-can-thank-this-man-...

 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=WIVVBdkoUVY&feature=youtu.be

 

My friends (specialists in mosses, lichens and liverworts and other things) and I, were given permission to spend the day there, to list all our findings. Our time was spent climbing one main hill and walking part way around it, calling in at several of the small areas of woodland. This bright yellowy orange fungus was hidden with others within the trees. These were the other highlight for me! It is quite rare that we come across one of these Amanita Muscaria mushrooms, and it is so exciting and such a treat when we do! Isn't it beautiful and amazing? Of course, it's just a "fungi nut" talking, ha. This is a telemacro shot, so it was much smaller in reality. They are so attractive but also poisonous!

 

"A large conspicuous mushroom, Amanita muscaria is generally common and numerous where it grows, and is often found in groups with basidiocarps in all stages of development. Fly agaric fruiting bodies emerge from the soil looking like a white egg, covered in the white warty material of the universal veil... Amanita muscaria poisoning occurs in either young children or people ingesting it to have a hallucinogenic experience... A fatal dose has been calculated at an amount of 15 caps. Deaths from this fungus A. muscaria have been reported in historical journal articles and newspaper reports. However, with modern medical treatment a fatal outcome because of the poison of this mushroom would be extremely rare."

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amanita_muscaria

 

Various plants were good to see, too, including about four Prairie Crocuses that were still in bloom. I hadn't seen Skeletonweed for a long time, but there were quite a few small clusters of it. A new plant to me was a tall one with white flowers, that I still need to identify properly. The occasional gorgeous wild Rose made a bright splash of colour.

 

After a few hours of exploration, the only things that we were so happy and relieved to leave behind were the mosquitoes! Never had I seen so many of them - the air was filled with these tiny, blood-sucking insects that followed us every step of the way!

 

Thanks so much, Heide, for driving Sandy and myself all the way out there - about a two and three-quarter hour drive. Much of the distance was on the same roads that I had driven recently with my daughter, but this was the first time I had ever been as far as Hanna and just beyond. Hanna now has a Tim Horton's, opened around three months ago : ) Thanks, Heide, too, for trying to find the old railway roundhouse - unfortunate that there was too much construction in the area, so one can't get to the roundhouse. And thank you so much, Peter, for arranging and organizing this wonderful trip! Most importantly of all, our thanks to Schmitty, who so kindly allowed us to share the special land that he has called home for so many decades. Our thanks for allowing us to spend the day there and, even more importantly, thank you for your great gift to all Albertans, with your incredibly generous donation of Antelope Hill Provincial Park.

www.rawcar.com/blog