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Wishing everyone a wonderful day!!
A best friend is like a four leaf clover, hard to find, lucky to have.
Anon
Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity.
Khalil Gibran
The language of friendship is not words but meanings.
Henry David Thoreau
Friends are the family you choose.
Jess C. Scott
Some people go to priests, others to poetry, I to my friends.
Virginia Woolf
Thank you for your kind visit. Have a wonderful and beautiful day! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️
or the wind, but you can change yourself :-)
Jim Rohn
Unless, of course, you are President "I take no responsibility" Fearless Leader, in which case you can blame your predecessor, the liberal Fake News media, or the "Deep State", etc...etc...etc ;-(
HPPT!! VOTE!! RESIST!!
japanese camellia, 'Rosea Supreme', sarah p duke gardens, duke university, durham, north carolina
AlphaTrains 193 558 "TXL / Natural Talent" + 193 552 "TXL / Responsibility Driven" mit Klv-Zug am 21.08.2020 in Niederaudorf.
"Our humanity rests upon a series of learned behaviors, woven together into patterns that are infinitely fragile and never directly inherited."
Margaret Mead
Im letzten Licht gelang diese Aufnahme des DGS 43142 aus Verona Q. E. nach Lübeck Skandinavienkai, traktioniert von 193 553-5 "Responsibility Driven".
This picture of DGS 43142 from Verona Q.E. to Lübeck Skandinavienkai, hauled by 193 553-5 "Responsibility Driven", was taken in the last light near Nordheim.
If ever I see a Robin in the Garden, can't help thinking about his Friend Batman..................
Batman : "No, Robin. With my head sticking out of this neosaurus costume, I might not appear like an ordinary, run of the mill crimefighter."
...........................................
Batman : "That's one trouble with dual identities, Robin. Dual responsibilities."...........
It is extremely sad to witness puffins resorting to using fishing line to construct their nests. This highlights the impact of human activity on the natural world and the dangerous consequences of littering. The use of fishing line puts the birds' lives at risk and has serious consequences for the puffin and its offspring, including entanglement, injury, and death. It is crucial that we all take responsibility for preserving the environment and its inhabitants by disposing of waste properly and reducing our reliance on harmful materials.
Mit einem langen ARS Altmann-Zug aus Regensburg konnte 193 552-7 "Responsibility Driven" (saving CO2 in sustainable, cross-border connections) bei Feldmoching fotografiert werden.
Near Feldmoching I was able to take this picture of TX Logistik's 193 552-7 "Responsibility Driven" (saving CO2 in sustainable, cross-border connections) hauling a long ARS Altmann train from Regensburg to Verona Q. E.
As many times as I have met Justin (sort of "pictured", under the orange blanket), I have never known him to NOT be sharing an abode with Hillbilly. Usually he can be found inside Hillbilly's little shack, making the living quarters even more constrictive.
Today was the first time I have seen him out on the street in colder weather. Even Hillbilly popped his head out and seemed surprised that Justin was out on the sidewalk.
I cannot imagine that "civic responsibility" about 6 ' distancing has somehow made it into the homeless community. I have to assume that is merely coincidence. Though it does seem to be curious timing.
I don't need you, I want you.
I have no blanks to fill,
I have spaces to share.
I don't expect you to make me happy,
I want to smile at my joy
and make you smile at mine.
I don't love you to death, I'm not yours and you're not mine.
I'm complete even without you,
You are perfect even without me.
I won't die if you leave,
You won't stop being happy if I leave.
You don't take responsibility
Of my personal satisfaction,
I welcome you as a mirror and messenger,
I offer you my eyes to investigate yours.
I do not bind you or let myself be bound by the need to be loved,
from the fear of abandonment.
I am not alone without you,
You are not lost without me.
We are two wonderful precious universes,
complete, perfect,
that meet to create new worlds.
I will not close doors and windows to keep you next to me,
I will not allow you to restrict my flight.
I honor your freedom by choosing mine every day.
193 553 "Responsibility driven" zieht DGS 43109 von Hannover nach Verona und kam zur Freude des Fotografen im Altmühltal vor die Linse.
193 553 "Responsibility driven" with DGS 43109 from Hannover to Verona in the Altmühl valley.
In my defense to avoid any punishment, I have been officially left unsupervised, and I take no responsibility for what happens!!
Mit dem DGS 43853 von Rheine nach Puccio Rusco werden ausschließlich fabrikneue Auflieger befördert. Am 11. Juni 2022 waren diese einheitlich in weiß gehalten. Als Zuglok war an diesem Tage die für TXLogistik fahrende 193 553 von Alpha Trains eingeteilt. Im Waldstück zwischen Grafing und Assling entstand eine Aufnahme dieses speziellen KLV-Zuges.
DGS 43853 from Rheine to Puccio Rusco only carries brand-new trailers. On 11 June 2022, these were uniformly white. On this day, the locomotive was the 193 553 from Alpha Trains, which was driving for TXLogistik. A photo of this special intermodal train was taken in the woods between Grafing and Assling.
Acts 1:20 “For it is written in the book of Psalms, ‘Let his house become deserted, and let there be no one to live in it,’ and ‘Let another take his position of responsibility.’”
Eyebrows : Vladdy // « Nova » Eyebrows ft. Body Alchemy
Vladdy Shop : maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Vladdy/118/162/4000
The chalk painting on the Hambleton hillside - first etched into the landscape of Sutton Bank’s southern slope in 1857 - has not had a new lick of paint since 2018, following the disbanding of the volunteers of the Kilburn White Horse Association who previously took on the task until health and safety concerns prevented further involvement.
Local landowners Forestry England have now taken on responsibility for maintaining the horse and last week began rejuvenating it at a cost of £20000.
It's cold, I'm bored so here's one from four years ago, can't wait for the sea holly to flower again and await the buzzers.
"Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity" - ~ K. Gibran
Vorig jaar stond ik een aantal kaar in Bornheim op de Linker Rheinstrecke. Dat gaat dit jaar niet snel gebeuren omdat ze daar een lange tijd bezig zijn met werkzaamheden aan onder andere de bovenleiding. Hierdoor is er vaak verminderd treinverkeer mogelijk en worden er veel goederentreinen omgeleid over de Rechter Rheinstrecke. Deze omgeleide treinen betreffen vaak intermodale treinen van verschillende privaten afkomstig uit Köln Eifeltor, België of Nederland.
Eerder de dag toen we onderweg waren richting Köln Gremberg zagen we op Köln Eifeltor een groene AlphaTrains 193 staan van TXL. TXL heeft in totaal 9 vectrons gehuurd van AlphaTrains welke allemaal een mooie bestickering hebben gekregen. De hoop was dat deze met een omgeleide trein zou passeren. We vermoedden dat de trein snel na onze aankomst zou passeren, aangezien de trein vertrekgereed leek te staan. Helaas kwam de trein maar niet langs en waren we hem eigenlijk al vergeten toen opeens midden op de middag het sein groen toonde richting Troisdorf. Na ongeveer 2 minuten kwam er wat groens door de bocht en werden we alsnog flink verrast.
Te Köln Gremberg komt de TXL 193 553 "Responsibility Driven" voorbij de verraste spotters. Aan de haak heeft ze een omgeleide intermodale trein waarmee ze zojuist is vertrokken uit Köln Eifeltor. De trein is onderweg via de Rechter Rheinstrecke richting Italië!
Taken @ Witherwood Thicket
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Caracus%20Island/14/72/21
Do you know me?
Really know me?
You have opinions about my opinions
About my music
About my clothes
About my body
Some people hate what I wear
Some people praise it
Some people use it to shame others
Some people use it to shame me
If I wear what is comfortable, I am not a woman
If I shed the layers, I'm a slut
Though you've never seen my body, you still judge it
And judge me for it
Why?
We make assumptions about people based on their size
We decide who they are
We decide what they're worth
If I wear more, if I wear less
Who decides what that makes me?
Is my value based only on your perception?
Or is your opinion of me not my responsibility?
Quality is everyone's responsibility.
W. Edwards Deming
Replacing the trench drain apron at our garage door entrance.
Am 30.Juli 2022 bespannte die ATLU 193 553 (Werbelok Responsibility Driven) den DGS 43151 von Köln Eifeltor nach Verona Quadrante Europa in Italien für ihren Mieter TXL.
Die Aufnahme enstand südlich St.Goarshausen an der rechten Rheinstrecke (KBS 466).
Der Zug hatte mit ca 1,5 Stunden Verspätung den Loreleytunnel durch fahren und passiert nun die markanten Felsen mit dem Aussichtstempel Leiselfeld nördlich dem Betriebsbahnhof Loreley.
Die schon lange anhaltenden Trockenheit hatte die Natur schon früh im Jahr ausgedöört und sorgt schon viel zu früh für eine fast herbstliche Laubfärbung.
In a world defined by responsibility, seriousness, and relentless hurry, a glowing neon sign whispers a simple yet powerful message: “Never Grow Up.” These three words, captured in the fleeting atmosphere of a bustling café, carry a meaning that extends far beyond their apparent simplicity.
The concept of never growing up is often associated with preserving a childlike innocence and maintaining an everlasting curiosity. It is a call to retain the ability to see the wonder in the mundane, to delight in the small things, and to explore the world with open eyes. In childhood, every moment is filled with possibilities, and every minor adventure can be the greatest.
Yet, “Never Grow Up” is more than just a sentimental recollection of the past. It also serves as a critical reflection on society, which often demands that we relinquish our youthful dreams and fantasies to fit into the role of ‘adult.’ This role is filled with obligations, serious decisions, and often a heavy dose of reality that can weigh us down.
Last December, I completed by responsibilities at the college a bit earlier than usual and took off like a shot for the Pacific Northwest. I had been looking for ideas the week before and when I finally saw that waves approaching 25 feet were due to hit the Central Oregon Coast, I made a quick reservation at an Airbnb in Coos Bay and set off on the 16 hour drive to Medford. I spent the night at a truck stop before heading over to Brookings and then up the coast. I spent the next 8 days shooting my butt off.
After shooting some colossal waves, I decided to continue North up to Cape Disappointment in Washington with hopes of grabbing more large waves as high winds were in the forecast. I arrived early on this particular morning fairly certain that I was going to get skunked. I spent about 30 minutes or so shooting long exposures in the dim morning twilight before some color began to creep into the sky. The mist that you see in this shot was not from low clouds but instead from spray left when the waves in this area slammed into the cliff face. I also waited long enough to allow the beam of the light house to sweep across during this exposure.
Shortly after this photo was taken, the entire sky erupted over Cape Disappointment. This is easily one of my favorite spots on the Washington Coast, and I'm hoping to get back here next week on a short break before my Spring semester begins.
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Thank you so much for your views and comments! If you have specific questions or need to get in touch with me, please be sure to send me a message via flickr mail, or feel free to contact me via one of the following:
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wear and take, especially in these times, distinguishes people with attitude.
The Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, Berlin
It is painful for me to think that within a year this fox, and others on Island Beach State Park, were exterminated by gun-slinging, hunt-happy authorities who don’t deserve their positions. There is no excuse but there should be responsibility and accountability. When our natural places are mismanaged, those responsible should pay financially and with jail time. Sitting pretty in their government backed positions should not provide them with protection from prosecution. #RedFoxes
Another experimental lith print image. I am working with the copper sulfate bleach look, and trying to analyze both how it works and what it does to images sort of viscerally. Perhaps most interesting in a high-rez world of what is the emotional impact of the sacrificed information?
Having done a little darkroom and other alternative process photography before, I know that it is sometimes kind of a luxury to just let the vagaries and vicissitudes of the process make decisions, and it can be surprisingly challenging as you lean more, to in a way take creative responsibility for the final image to a greater degree.
This is a step in a larger process for me. Learning to see another way. And it feels weird to do something that is both so satisfying and feels so at risk of being outgrown and so then despised.
But making art is about embracing tensions like these, isn't it? About finding ways to surf that wave.
In a few years I will either still like these, or they will have helped me to grow into someone who is capable of seeing differently. This gives me the courage to show them, but not quite enough comfort to do so without making my long justifications. Somewhere.
Reichstag / Berlin / Germany
Album of Germany: www.flickr.com/photos/tabliniumcarlson/sets/7215762606822...
“We are made wise not by the recollection of our past, but by the responsibility for our future.”
George Bernard Shaw
9.4.09
The flight arrived on time; and the twelve hours while on board passed quickly and without incident. To be sure, the quality of the Cathay Pacific service was exemplary once again.
Heathrow reminds me of Newark International. The décor comes straight out of the sterile 80's and is less an eyesore than an insipid background to the rhythm of human activity, such hustle and bustle, at the fore. There certainly are faces from all races present, creating a rich mosaic of humanity which is refreshing if not completely revitalizing after swimming for so long in a sea of Chinese faces in Hong Kong.
Internet access is sealed in England, it seems. Nothing is free; everything is egregiously monetized from the wireless hotspots down to the desktop terminals. I guess Hong Kong has spoiled me with its abundant, free access to the information superhighway.
11.4.09
Despite staying in a room with five other backpackers, I have been sleeping well. The mattress and pillow are firm; my earplugs keep the noise out; and the sleeping quarters are as dark as a cave when the lights are out, and only as bright as, perhaps, a dreary rainy day when on. All in all, St. Paul's is a excellent place to stay for the gregarious, adventurous, and penurious city explorer - couchsurfing may be a tenable alternative; I'll test for next time.
Yesterday Connie and I gorged ourselves at the borough market where there were all sorts of delectable, savory victuals. There was definitely a European flavor to the food fair: simmering sausages were to be found everywhere; and much as the meat was plentiful, and genuine, so were the dairy delicacies, in the form of myriad rounds of cheese, stacked high behind checkered tabletops. Of course, we washed these tasty morsels down with copious amounts of alcohol that flowed from cups as though amber waterfalls. For the first time I tried mulled wine, which tasted like warm, rancid fruit punch - the ideal tonic for a drizzling London day, I suppose. We later killed the afternoon at the pub, shooting the breeze while imbibing several diminutive half-pints in the process. Getting smashed at four in the afternoon doesn't seem like such a bad thing anymore, especially when you are having fun in the company of friends; I can more appreciate why the English do it so much!
Earlier in the day, we visited the Tate Modern. Its turbine room lived up to its prominent billing what with a giant spider, complete with bulbous egg sac, anchoring the retrospective exhibit. The permanent galleries, too, were a delight upon which to feast one's eyes. Picasso, Warhol and Pollock ruled the chambers of the upper floors with the products of their lithe wrists; and I ended up becoming a huge fan of cubism, while developing a disdain for abstract art and its vacuous images, which, I feel, are devoid of both motivation and emotion.
My first trip yesterday morning was to Emirates Stadium, home of the Arsenal Gunners. It towers imperiously over the surrounding neighborhood; yet for all its majesty, the place sure was quiet! Business did pick up later, however, once the armory shop opened, and dozens of fans descended on it like bees to a hive. I, too, swooped in on a gift-buying mission, and wound up purchasing a book for Godfrey, a scarf for a student, and a jersey - on sale, of course - for good measure.
I'm sitting in the Westminster Abbey Museum now, resting my weary legs and burdened back. So far, I've been verily impressed with what I've seen, such a confluence of splendor and history before me that it would require days to absorb it all, when regretfully I can spare only a few hours. My favorite part of the abbey is the poets corner where no less a literary luminary than Samuel Johnson rests in peace - his bust confirms his homely presence, which was so vividly captured in his biography.
For lunch I had a steak and ale pie, served with mash, taken alongside a Guinness, extra cold - 2 degrees centigrade colder, the bartender explained. It went down well, like all the other delicious meals I've had in England; and no doubt by now I have grown accustomed to inebriation at half past two. Besides, Liverpool were playing inspired football against Blackburn; and my lunch was complete.
Having had my fill of football, I decided to skip my ticket scalping endeavor at Stamford Bridge and instead wandered over to the British Museum to inspect their extensive collections. Along the way, my eye caught a theater, its doors wide open and admitting customers. With much rapidity, I subsequently checked the show times, saw that a performance was set to begin, and at last rushed to the box office to purchase a discounted ticket - if you call a 40 pound ticket a deal, that is. That's how I grabbed a seat to watch Hairspray in the West End.
The show was worth forty pounds. The music was addictive; and the stage design and effects were not so much kitschy as delightfully stimulating - the pulsating background lights were at once scintillating and penetrating. The actors as well were vivacious, oozing charisma while they danced and delivered lines dripping in humor. Hairspray is a quality production and most definitely recommended.
12.4.09
At breakfast I sat across from a man who asked me to which country Hong Kong had been returned - China or Japan. That was pretty funny. Then he started spitting on my food as he spoke, completely oblivious to my breakfast becoming the receptacle in which the fruit of his inner churl was being placed. I guess I understand the convention nowadays of covering one's mouth whilst speaking and masticating at the same time!
We actually conversed on London life in general, and I praised London for its racial integration, the act of which is a prodigious leap of faith for any society, trying to be inclusive, accepting all sorts of people. It wasn't as though the Brits were trying in vain to be all things to all men, using Spanish with the visitors from Spain, German with the Germans and, even, Hindi with the Indians, regardless of whether or not Hindi was their native language; not even considering the absurd idea of encouraging the international adoption of their language; thereby completely keeping English in English hands and allowing its proud polyglots to "practice" their languages. Indeed, the attempt of the Londoners to avail themselves of the rich mosaic of ethnic knowledge, and to seek a common understanding with a ubiquitous English accent is an exemplar, and the bedrock for any world city.
I celebrated Jesus' resurrection at the St. Andrew's Street Church in Cambridge. The parishioners of this Baptist church were warm and affable, and I met several of them, including one visiting (Halliday) linguistics scholar from Zhongshan university in Guangzhou, who in fact had visited my tiny City University of Hong Kong in 2003. The service itself was more traditional and the believers fewer in number than the "progressive" services at any of the charismatic, evangelical churches in HK; yet that's what makes this part of the body of Christ unique; besides, the message was as brief as a powerpoint slide, and informative no less; the power word which spoke into my life being a question from John 21:22 - what is that to you?
Big trees; exquisite lawns; and old, pointy colleges; that's Cambridge in a nutshell. Sitting here, sipping on a half-pint of Woodforde's Wherry, I've had a leisurely, if not languorous, day so far; my sole duty consisting of walking around while absorbing the verdant environment as though a sponge, camera in tow.
I am back at the sublime beer, savoring a pint of Sharp's DoomBar before my fish and chips arrive; the drinking age is 18, but anyone whose visage even hints of youthful brilliance is likely to get carded these days, the bartender told me. The youth drinking culture here is almost as twisted as the university drinking culture in America.
My stay in Cambridge, relaxing and desultory as it may be, is about to end after this late lunch. I an not sure if there is anything left to see, save for the American graveyard which rests an impossible two miles away. I have had a wonderful time in this town; and am thankful for the access into its living history - the residents here must demonstrate remarkable patience and tolerance what with so many tourists ambling on the streets, peering - and photographing - into every nook and cranny.
13.4.09
There are no rubbish bins, yet I've seen on the streets many mixed race couples in which the men tend to be white - the women also belonging to a light colored ethnicity, usually some sort of Asian; as well saw some black dudes and Indian dudes with white chicks.
People here hold doors, even at the entrance to the toilet. Sometimes it appears as though they are going out on a limb, just waiting for the one who will take the responsibility for the door from them, at which point I rush out to relieve them of such a fortuitous burden.
I visited the British Museum this morning. The two hours I spent there did neither myself nor the exhibits any justice because there really is too much to survey, enough captivating stuff to last an entire day, I think. The bottomless well of artifacts from antiquity, drawing from sources as diverse as Korea, and Mesopotamia, is a credit to the British empire, without whose looting most of this amazing booty would be unavailable for our purview; better, I think, for these priceless treasures to be open to all in the grandest supermarket of history than away from human eyes, and worst yet, in the hands of unscrupulous collectors or in the rubbish bin, possibly.
Irene and I took in the ballet Giselle at The Royal Opera House in the afternoon. The building is a plush marvel, and a testament to this city's love for the arts. The ballet itself was satisfying, the first half being superior to the second, in which the nimble dancers demonstrated their phenomenal dexterity in, of all places, a graveyard covered in a cloak of smoke and darkness. I admit, their dance of the dead, in such a gloomy necropolis, did strike me as, strange.
Two amicable ladies from Kent convinced me to visit their hometown tomorrow, where, they told me, the authentic, "working" Leeds Castle and the mighty interesting home of Charles Darwin await.
I'm nursing a pint of Green King Ruddles and wondering about the profusion of British ales and lagers; the British have done a great deed for the world by creating an interminable line of low-alcohol session beers that can be enjoyed at breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner; and their disservice is this: besides this inexhaustible supply of cheap beer ensnaring my inner alcoholic, I feel myself putting on my freshman fifteen, almost ten years after the fact; I am going to have to run a bit harder back in Hong Kong if I want to burn all this malty fuel off.
Irene suggested I stop by the National Art Gallery since we were in the area; and it was an hour well spent. The gallery currently presents a special exhibit on Picasso, the non-ticketed section of which features several seductive renderings, including David spying on Bathsheba - repeated in clever variants - and parodies of other masters' works. Furthermore, the main gallery houses two fabulous portraits by Joshua Reynolds, who happens to be favorite of mine, he in life being a close friend of Samuel Johnson - I passed by Boswells, where its namesake first met Johnson, on my way to the opera house.
14.4.09
I prayed last night, and went through my list, lifting everyone on it up to the Lord. That felt good; that God is alive now, and ever present in my life and in the lives of my brothers and sisters.
Doubtless, then, I have felt quite wistful, as though a specter in the land of the living, being in a place where religious fervor, it seems, is a thing of the past, a trifling for many, to be hidden away in the opaque corners of centuries-old cathedrals that are more expensive tourist destinations than liberating homes of worship these days. Indeed, I have yet to see anyone pray, outside of the Easter service which I attended in Cambridge - for such an ecstatic moment in verily a grand church, would you believe that it was only attended by at most three dozen spirited ones. The people of England, and Europe in general, have, it is my hope, only locked away the Word, relegating it to the quiet vault of their hearts. May it be taken out in the sudden pause before mealtimes and in the still crisp mornings and cool, silent nights. There is still hope for a revival in this place, for faith to rise like that splendid sun every morning. God would love to rescue them, to deliver them in this day, it is certain.
I wonder what Londoners think, if anything at all, about their police state which, like a vine in the shadows, has taken root in all corners of daily life, from the terrorist notifications in the underground, which implore Londoners to report all things suspicious, to the pair of dogs which eagerly stroll through Euston. What makes this all the more incredible is the fact that even the United States, the indomitable nemesis of the fledgling, rebel order, doesn't dare bombard its citizens with such fear mongering these days, especially with Obama in office; maybe we've grown wise in these past few years to the dubious returns of surrendering civil liberties to the state, of having our bags checked everywhere - London Eye; Hairspray; and The Royal Opera House check bags in London while the museums do not; somehow, that doesn't add up for me.
I'm in a majestic bookshop on New Street in Birmingham, and certainly to confirm my suspicions, there are just as many books on the death of Christianity in Britain as there are books which attempt to murder Christianity everywhere. I did find, however, a nice biography on John Wesley by Roy Hattersley and The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. I may pick up the former.
Lunch with Sally was pleasant and mirthful. We dined at a French restaurant nearby New Street - yes, Birmingham is a cultural capitol! Sally and I both tried their omelette, while her boyfriend had the fish, without chips. Conversation was light, the levity was there and so was our reminiscing about those fleeting moments during our first year in Hong Kong; it is amazing how friendships can resume so suddenly with a smile. On their recommendation, I am on my way to Warwick Castle - they also suggested that I visit Cadbury World, but they cannot take on additional visitors at the moment, the tourist office staff informed me, much to my disappointment!
Visiting Warwick Castle really made for a great day out. The castle, parts of which were established by William the Conquerer in 1068, is as much a kitschy tourist trap as a meticulous preservation of history, at times a sillier version of Ocean Park while at others a dignified dedication to a most glorious, inexorably English past. The castle caters to all visitors; and not surprisingly, that which delighted all audiences was a giant trebuchet siege engine, which for the five p.m. performance hurled a fireball high and far into the air - fantastic! Taliban beware!
15.4.09
I'm leaving on a jet plane this evening; don't know when I'll be back in England again. I'll miss this quirky, yet endearing place; and that I shall miss Irene and Tom who so generously welcomed me into their home, fed me, and suffered my use of their toilet and shower goes without saying. I'm grateful for God's many blessings on this trip.
On the itinerary today is a trip to John Wesley's home, followed by a visit to the Imperial War Museum. Already this morning I picked up a tube of Oilatum, a week late perhaps, which Teri recommended I use to treat this obstinate, dermal weakness of mine - I'm happy to report that my skin has stopped crying.
John Wesley's home is alive and well. Services are still held in the chapel everyday; and its crypt, so far from being a cellar for the dead, is a bright, spacious museum in which all things Wesley are on display - I never realized how much of an iconic figure he became in England; at the height of this idol frenzy, ironic in itself, he must have been as popular as the Beatles were at their apex. The house itself is a multi-story edifice with narrow, precipitous staircases and spacious rooms decorated in an 18th century fashion.
I found Samuel Johnson's house within a maze of red brick hidden alongside Fleet Street. To be in the home of the man who wrote the English dictionary, and whose indefatigable love for obscure words became the inspiration for my own lexical obsession, this, by far, is the climax of my visit to England! The best certainly has been saved for last.
There are a multitude of portraits hanging around the house like ornaments on a tree. Every likeness has its own story, meticulously retold on the crib sheets in each room. Celebrities abound, including David Garrick and Sir Joshua Reynolds, who painted several of the finer images in the house. I have developed a particular affinity for Oliver Goldsmith, of whom Boswell writes, "His person was short, his countenance coarse and vulgar, his deportment that of a scholar awkwardly affecting the easy gentleman. It appears as though I, too, could use a more flattering description of myself!
I regretfully couldn't stop to try the curry in England; I guess the CityU canteen's take on the dish will have to do. I did, however, have the opportune task of flirting with the cute Cathay Pacific counter staff who checked me in. She was gorgeous in red, light powder on her cheeks, with real diamond earrings, she said; and her small, delicate face, commanded by a posh British accent rendered her positively irresistible, electrifying. Not only did she grant me an aisle seat but she had the gumption to return my fawning with zest; she must be a pro at this by now.
I saw her again as she was pulling double-duty, collecting tickets prior to boarding. She remembered my quest for curry; and in the fog of infatuation, where nary a man has been made, I fumbled my words like the sloppy kid who has had too much punch. I am just an amateur, alas, an "Oliver Goldsmith" with the ladies - I got no game - booyah!
Some final, consequential bits: because of the chavs, Burberry no longer sells those fashionable baseball caps; because of the IRA, rubbish bins are no longer a commodity on the streets of London, and as a result, the streets and the Underground of the city are a soiled mess; and because of other terrorists from distant, more arid lands, going through a Western airport has taken on the tedium of perfunctory procedure that doesn't make me feel any safer from my invisible enemies.
At last, I saw so many Indians working at Heathrow that I could have easily mistaken the place for Mumbai. Their presence surprised me because their portion of the general population surely must be less than their portion of Heathrow staff, indicating some mysterious hiring bias. Regardless, they do a superb job with cursory airport checks, and in general are absurdly funny and witty when not tactless.
That's all for England!
Photo taken through Glass!
Lion
Of all the great cats, the lion has always held a supreme place in man's esteem and imagination. The lion has always been honored by man, crediting the regal beast with attributes he prizes most; nobility, courage, loyalty, combative skills and sexual prowess. This attribution applies to both sexes, for a lioness is a creature of sinuous beauty ,but the full-grown male, whose magnificent mane ranging in color from a rich golden brown to a deep blackish-brown, mark him as the veritable monarch of the plains. The legacy of the lion, King of Beasts, as the model throughout history is demonstrated by its appearance among the earliest drawings made by humans over 15,000 years ago.
Zoological name: Panthera leo
Species: Of the known sub-species of lion there seems to be an agreement on 2 as far as genetics go - Pantherinae Panthera leo leo - the African lion, and Pantherinae Panthera leo persica - the Asian lion. Regardless of the area of Africa a lion is found in today, their DNA analysis has shown them to be the same, whereas there is a difference between African and Asian. As of the time of this writing, the Barbary lion has never been tested and compared to these results, and may in fact be a third and distinct lion sub-specie.
Presence on the planet: The lion was once found from northern Africa through southwest Asia (extinct in most countries within past 150 years), west into Europe (extinct 2000 years ago) and east into India (relict population in Gir Forest only). Today, the majority of Africa’s lions can be found in east and southern Africa, with a small number in west Africa. Most of the lions today exist inside protected areas. No accurate number of how many lions exist in the wild has been reported, but guesstimates are between 30,000-100,000.
Habitat: Lion prides are often found in the open plains, but are known from nearly all habitats except deep desert and rainforest. Lions climb trees to rest and cool off, or sometimes to escape stampedes. During the day, lions rest by water holes or salt licks, but at night these places are usually reserved for hunting.
Physical appearance: Males range from 172 to 250 cm in body length, females from 158 to 192 cm. Tail length varies between 60 and 100 cm in length. Females are 45 to 68 kilograms lighter than the average-size male, but have an equal muscle mass. Males weigh between 150 and 260 kg while females weigh between 122 and 182 kg.Lions have a broad face, rounded ears, and a relatively short neck. Male lions have a mane, which varies in color. It usually is a silverish-grey or a yellowish-red. The darker the mane the older the lion. Captive lions are known to have longer and fuller manes than wild lions. The underside of males is a buff color, while the females' underside is whitish in color. Both sexes have sharp retractable claws on each paw and powerful shoulders, which they use to bring down their prey. Hinge-like jaws containing 5 centimeter canines also aid the lion in hunting and catching their prey.
Diet: Lions are very opportunistic eaters, and will take almost any prey ranging from small rodents to young rhinos, hippos and elephants. The majority of its prey, however, is medium to large ungulates, most notably zebra, wildebeest, impala, warthog, hartebeest and waterbuck. They will stay away from adult rhinos, hippos, elephants and even giraffes. The females do most of the hunting, and the male will come and join the females after the kill is made. The females will make way for the males and allow him to eat his fill first. Males will participate on a hunt when it is a particularly large prey item - like a water buffalo - where his size and strength is required to bring down such a large animal (although enough females can do it successfully on their own). Males must also hunt during their bachelor stages, when there are no females to take care of them.
Reproduction & Offspring: Lions will reproduce any time of the year, and all females of reproductive maturity will breed at the same time. This allows them to give birth in synchrony with each other, thereby sharing the suckling responsibilities. Any lactating female in a pride will suckle any cub that belongs to the pride. Lions give birth to 1-6 cubs after a gestation of 110 days. The cubs are born blind and helpless, and weigh approximately 2-4 pounds. Cub mortality is very high in lions, and less than half will survive their first year. Young males will leave their pride between 2-4 years if they can get away with staying that long, but sometimes they are forced out as early as 13-20 months. Females remain with their natal pride most of the time, although some will disperse and form new prides. While male lions are physically capable of reproducing at 30 months and females at 24 months, they do not generally successfully reproduce until pride membership has been firmly established.
Conservation status: Lions are generally considered problem animals whose existence is at odds with human settlements and cattle culture. Their scavenging behavior makes them highly susceptible to poisoned carcasses put out to eliminate predators. Where the wild prey is migratory, lions will predate on captive stock during the lean season, thus making the nuisance animals and easy targets for humans to eliminate.
HSS 😊😊😍
Have we completely lost our way? All I see and read is hate, confrontation, war, violence, and total misunderstanding!
Don't we teach our children and grandchildren about love, caring, respect, responsibility, understanding, having the ability to reach mutual, peaceful, and reasonable solutions for everyone? It is time to stop the hate, selfishness, greed, and glee in promoting discord. And the political blame game is making things worse! It is time for the Legislative, Executive, and Judicial branches of government to work together to make this country better, a place for us all to be proud of. Stop the bickering, and avoiding your responsibilities, and start the real work of looking for positive solutions for all.
Love is the only way for us to live and survive!!! And when we all realize this we will be in a much better place. At the rate we are going, we won't be here much longer!
Wake up everyone, we all belong to the human family and we should all be looking out for ALL of us and teaching our children and grandchildren to do so as well.
I am sorry my Flickr friends but I find it incredible that it is almost impossible to read or listen about positive happenings and even if one might believe they are not happening, they are we just have to focus on the positive.
I sincerely hope and pray for change for the better and SOON!
Thank you for your kind visit. Have a wonderful and beautiful day! ❤️ ❤️❤️