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With Honest Gratitude
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Masquerade Ball
2 parts
Part 1
“Nancy Drew’s” view
That early summer evening I was attending a posh masquerade ball with my parents. My twin brother was supposed to come but ended up spending the night keeping company to a neighbor girl he fancied, who was babysitting some young nieces of hers.
At the time I was a young lass of 15. I thought I knew everything at that stage in my life and was far too cheeky to be told differently.
For the affair, we all happily dressed up in our best. Or at least mum and I were happy, father maybe not so much.
Father had dressed in his tux with a green cummerbund. He wore a green eye mask.
He was also carrying a flask of brandy and a case of cigars.
Father, though now a police super, had started as a university student clerking for MI6. So he claimed his costume was the spy James Bond
, Which explains his toy pistol that was actually a lighter to use for his cigars, but not brandy or cigars themselves.
Since father was Bond, mum declared she was dressed as the secretary Miss Moneypenny.
That evening she wore her elegant eye-catching blue taffeta gown with a scooped neckline, ruffled half sleeves, and a fluttering skirt that lay knee-length in front, shin-length in back.
With it, she wore her best jewels. A matching sapphire and diamond jewelry set that sparkled deliciously under the ceiling lights of the great banquet hall. The matched set consisted of a long side hair clip, earrings, necklace, bracelet, cocktail ring, and a kite-shaped broach pinned to her waist. The necklace was especially pretty. A wide v shape, set with large pear-shaped sapphires interspersed with smaller round diamonds set in loose gold chains. She wore a deep blue mask that covered her eyes and nose. Mum joked that she was a secretary undercover.
I thought she looked more like a movie star on the BAFTA red carpet.
As for myself, I was wearing my shiny green party dress. It has a sheer satin blouse with long sleeves. And a shiny pleated swishy skirt that fell to the top of my black leather pumps with the fake emerald clasps. The mesh waistline was decorated with emerald and diamond rhinestones.
I was wearing my “good” jewels. My long gold and diamond heart-shaped pendant, wide rhinestone bracelet, and 4 of my favorite rhinestone rings with green gems.
I also was wearing the long old fashioned clasped rhinestone diamond earrings that mum had given to me on my birthday. She had bought them while at university from a second hand for a couple of pounds. Later she discovered that the 2 largest stones were real diamonds, the earrings being worth 10 times what she had paid. This was my first time wearing them out.
I felt quite pretty dressed up like I was. And ready for what I hoped would be an evening of adventure. Especially after my father said his ladies(Mum and I) were both “dressed to kill” that evening.
I also wore a black bandit-type mask I had gotten from my brother’s room. It came from a costume play box we both kept our role-playing game items in.
Not sure who I was masquerading as, but when Father suggested Nancy Drew, I went with it.
Overall, as a party, the masquerade ball was simply dazzling.
A dressy, mostly adult affair. By the way, everyone was dressed, I was reminded of the way actors and actresses attending an awards show looked. With the only real costumes being the fancy masks the guests were wearing.
We found a small side table and snatched it. No one else joined us.
Mum and dad ended up leaving me alone a lot as they mingled and then danced on the raised floor at one end of the hall.
Which was not fair for they also expected me to stay close.
It was packed that evening, so much so that there was not enough room on the raised floor, that reached up to my chin when standing. So some of the dancing couples were forced down to the lower floor directly below.
I had been to several school dances myself, and admit to desiring to be asked to dance this evening. But there were few there my age, no one I knew, and I was far too shy to make any approaches to make new acquaintances that night.
Feeling a bit nervous, I found myself playing a lot with my bracelet. Watching, mesmerized by the sparkling jewels set in it. I also pulled out my small compact and amused myself by watching my earrings sparkle while I made them sway.
At one point, a couple of hours in, I was sitting there alone at our side table, drinking slowly from a small goblet of wine my father had gotten me, with a bit of light-hearted scolding from mum for doing so.
Well, the wine has purseits effect, and a call to nature I felt overrides what my father said about staying put.
I picked up my small green velvet purse and headed off in search of relief.
I found the loo across the room, next to the long bar where drinks were being served.
It was crowded inside and I got jostled a bit as I stopped right in the way of a pair of young ladies. “ Rude twits,” I said under my breath, for they never even apologized barreling along as they were.
I finished and headed back out. I stopped by the bar to have a look around.
Those twit girls who had been rude to me were standing there, backs to me, blocking my pat as they were giggling over something
Looking for another way around, I saw off to my left an opening that led outside. I went over and found myself at the entrance to a large upper-floor balcony with about 12 tables strewn about. Only half the tables were full.
I went out and started to explore.
It was a warm evening with a beautiful full moon that made everything appear romantic and fairytale-like.
Looking over the side I saw hedges below, like the kind that would border a flower garden. I couldn’t see over them, but I detected the smell of roses coming from that direction.
As I circled around, several ladies were watching me, and I got nervous about being out here alone.
So I cut back to the entrance. I then noticed something I had missed. Just on the inside of the balconeys’ entranceway, was a small set of stairs leading down. A thin rope was across with a poster reading: Gardens are off Limits.
“A thin rope is not much of a deterrent.” I thought reading the sign.
Just then a man in a security guard's uniform passed.
He warned me sternly.
“No one allowed below, young miss.”
I nodded, red-faced, and headed to the entrance.
I went straight back to my table. My parents were not back, so I grumpily sat back down.
How it galled me to be treated as a child by that rental cop(as father calls them) when I was feeling so grownup this evening.
I was still fuming as a gentle hand unexpectedly took hold of my shoulder, startling me.
A voice said, “Hello Samantha.”
I turned and found myself looking up into the smiling eyes of a handsome young male. He was all in black. His opera phantom half mask, tux, vest, shirt, and bow tie. Not a bit of color, except for his twinkling blue eyes.
“I’m not Samantha, wrong girl,” I said apologetically, rather wishing I was Samantha with a handsome friend like this.
He said, “ No, you certainly are not my friend Samantha.”
He then looked me up and down…
“Far prettier, if I dare say.”
How do you do, held anyone up lately?” He added with a firm, soothingly deep voice that reminded me of Father’s.
I was too taken off guard to answer back right away. Obviously, he has mistaken me for someone closer to his own age. Mum had said I looked years older that evening, with my eyes made up and with my red hair swept back, held in place by a green velvet clip.
I gulped. The proper thing to do was make him aware of his mistake. But I was a bit off over feeling the odd man out and quickly decided to go with the moment.
I decided to stay in my character of Nancy Drew.
I raised my hand. “How do you do sir, my name is Nancy, and no, despite the mask, I'm not a thief.”
Taking my hand he kissed it with chivalrous gallantry. “Pleasure is all mine, glad my watch and wallet are safe”.” he chuckled merrily, looking at me with thoughtful eyes.
Then, still holding my hand, asked…” May I sit for a bit, rather tuckered out at the moment?”
I nodded my head feeling that this could well be the adventure I was hoping for.
It felt both secure and divine being treated as an adult. I then realized he was asking me a question.
“So Nancy, what then, does your character do for a living if she is not a thief?”
Without thought I answered, staying in character…“ I am an amateur detective.”
He answered in his soothingly deep voice “ Well that is quite interesting indeed, what kind of cases do you like working on?”
I didn't know how to answer that and squirmed as my face turned red, which I know really makes my freckles show up on my cheeks.
“ I bet you are really clever at catching thieves. And that is why you are here this evening? Or are you taking the night off?”
Taking the cue, I nodded my head. Hard enough that I felt the green clip loosen “No thieves here tonight.”
He laughed in a winning manner. “ I guess not, probably no reason for one to be here. So miss Nancy, you've not asked whom I am playing this evening.”
I had not, so I guessed..” let me see, an Undertaker ?” I said teasingly.
He chuckled..”Not even close. A.J. Raffles, cricketer, at your command my lady.”
I had no idea who A.J.Raffles was, and I could see that my face had been a dead giveaway to that.
He chuckled. “Never heard of him? Well, Raffles loved to play cricket, as well as several other hobbies. And there is a story behind that, as a lad, that helped him choose his course as an adult. Care to hear it?”
Nodding yes, I took a sip of wine as he began his tale.
“When A.J. Raffles was a lad of ten he attended a wedding where his parents were both best man and maid of honor. A.J sat at a table with an older Great Auntie who paid him no heed.
He soon fell in with a group of bored older boys who had been throwing dice in a makeshift crown and anchor board. The game had been broken up by one of the servers and they had all been chased away
AJ was huddled in with that group as they watched the dressed-up wedding guests up on the dance floor. They began talking amongst themselves, commenting over the scene before them.
“Look at dem jools the birds are wearing. Bet they'd be worth a lot.” One of the lads was saying. Another quipped back that too bad those dames weren't their age. “Yeah, like that would mean anything. What would you do, lift their jools?” Came the teasing retort. “Hell yeah I would.” said a cocky lad. And someone else said “I like to see you do it. “ AJ was taking all this in, squirming a bit because he had always had a secret desire to make a collection of the pretty jewellery he'd seen ladies wearing. Tonight was no different.
I smirked, “sounds like my brother.”
“There you go then, you know how he felt also “ my new friend answered smiling pleasantly before continuing...
Well as fate would have it, two young teenage girls came walking Purposefully past. They threw that group of boys a rather coy look while passing as close by as they could.
One was dressed in a slick satin high necked gown of deep red with a rhinestone necklace and earrings. Her companion was wearing a sky blue sleek satin party dress, smooth black jacket, and strands of imitation pearls.
No sooner had they passed than the inner circle of boys began to dare and double dare. Money was put up in bets that enticed two of the lads to take up the challenge. That being to come away free with the girl’s necklaces.
The two lads left, and as the others looked on, went up to the two young lassies and began to converse. The giggling girls finally allowed themselves to be led to the dance floor
As they began to dance, more bets were made amongst the remaining lads, with young AJ joining in. Spending his only farthing on blue satin losing her pearls, and doubling that it would be done without her noticing.
Both of the dancing boys made several amateur attempts upon their female partner’s jewels. Blue satin, misinterpreting why her partner had his hand high up on her backside, giggled and fled away. Red satin ran off after her friend, but not before the wily lad who had been holding her had given even her a hug, nicking her shimmering necklace off from around the high collar of her slick gown as she struggled free.
He came back triumphantly to collect his winnings. Though some argued that seeing her necklace had not been touching skin it was not a real contest. He got his winnings in the end and the group wandered off, the prized necklace being passed around with envy.
AJ stayed behind contemplating. He watched as the lads stopped by a table where a young girl sat alone. She was wearing a long bridesmaids' gown of silk dyed in several shades of teal and green. A single string of real pearls hung down from her bare neck. Expensively swinging down elegantly. He knew what the group of lads were discussing in their private huddle. AJ moved off not wishing to see anymore.
“Those poor girls, I am glad your character walked away from that instead of embarking on a life of crime, “ I said to my new friend.
He looked at me thoughtfully, I saw a gleam grow in his eyes that I found exciting.
“Nancy, out of curiosity, if I’m not prying, you mentioned your brother would like my Raffles’s story?”
It was a delicious question, one I had been hoping "Raffles" would ask. I picked up my pendant as I answered, my mouth dry with anticipation to see his reaction.
“Yes he would, your Raffle story is similar to a game my brother came up with.
“Please tell me more, it sounds rather interesting, and I bet you have fun playing it.” He said, with excited curiosity.
I giggled. “Well, we play it in the woods. I wear a play dress and play jewelry. My brother actes as the thief who tries to catch me and rob me of my jewels. Then, if he does, he hides and I play the detective trying to find him. I know it sounds rather odd.”
He gently took my hand. “No, not at all odd, as I said, sounds rather exciting.”
“Yes, very exciting “Raffles” added a faraway look in his eyes.
A silence ensued and I happened to look up at the raised platform of the dance floor and saw mum and father dancing there.
He turned around, followed my eyes.
“I see you're looking at that lady, pretty in blue, with the sparkly sapphire jewels”
I guiltily nodded yes, turning to look at him. “If you wait a bit, you will meet them. That’s my mum and father.
Turning back to face me, his eyes went down to mine.
“You and your mother are both are very pretty, if I may be so bold?”
He took up my hand and kissed it as he asked this.
“But now, I must be toddling off, taken up too much of your time I’m afraid .”
We both stood up to say goodbye.
Without thinking, I happily held out my hands for a friendly hug to thank my “Raffles” for being so very nice and entertaining.
He did so willingly and I felt his reassuring fingers securely patting up along my back. it felt very nice and I became aware of a rather pleasant prickling-like sensation in some very good feeling areas.
He looked at me up and down smiling.
“Well “Nancy” I hope you liked my Raffles story.
I looked up at him with an intriguing, almost hopeful expression. Thinking of his story, thinking my twin brother would have loved to have been there. I then asked, holding my breath:
“Do you think Raffles regretted not playing the games those boys were up to?”
My heart was beating miles a minute, and I started to place my hand upon it to still it.
Before I could, he took that hand up in his.
Holding it, he told me, while patting down along my wrist and arm reassuringly…
“I think Raffles is the type never to regret anything, what do you think?”
I nodded my head happily satisfied. Feeling my earrings move along my face as my hair fell out of place just a little bit more.
I remembered having watched those earrings in mum’s mirror. I had quite liked the way they glittered. I was hoping he had noticed also.
As I looked into those friendly blue eyes, I believe he had noticed, for I could see their shimmering reflection in them.
He smiled at me broadly.
“Here “Nancy” allow me to get you seated.”
Such a gentleman I thought as he pulled out my chair and gripped his fingers supportively along my arms as I slid forward.
He then again lifted and kissed my hand.
“Righto,” he nodded and was off.
I was feeling a warm tingling sensation over the whole adventure. I placed my hands down between my legs and happily mulled back over the whole experience as I rocked back and forth in my seat.
Was this what it was like to be treated with special attention from a handsome stranger?
I had felt so lifted away as he had hugged me. And his fingers felt like heaven as he had run them ever so gently through my hair. I locked my legs together as I shivered over reliving that feeling.
So, now I was again left alone to my own devices. But with really nothing to do.
After a happily spent 45 minutes of daydreaming and imagining different scenarios over how my meeting the charming Raffles playing stranger could have gone, I realized that I had a sudden urge to do something, anything than just sitting here.
I daringly decided to explore the off-limit gardens.
I pushed back my chair with determination and rose.
Grabbing my purse, I moved off in the direction of the balcony. I skirted the outer wall, going past the main door, and reached the outdoor balconies entrance. I had not been spotted, successfully avoiding the dance floor and bar area.
I looked around. No rental cops were now in the area.
I turned the corner with a beating heart, snuck underneath the rope at the stairs entrance, and scurried down.
Reaching the ground I looked around. Catching my breath as my beating heart slowed down. I saw the hedges, and the woods off to the side, a path running along in between.
I took the path, knowing it would be out of sight of the upper balcony.
My excitement over going on an adventure increased as I walked, taking in the cool air, marveling over the moonlit beauty. I came to a side entrance and found myself in a rose garden. The roses were beautiful and fragrant. Off in the distance, I heard a fountain bubbling.
I pulled the now loose clip from my hair, shaking my head as I felt my hair fall to my shoulders.
Feeling more comfortable, I looked around, deciding on what to do next.
Some of the roses surrounded a white marble statue of Cupid. I walked the 10 paces from the wood path up to it, bending down to smell the roses.
Suddenly a rabbit jumped from the judge, startling me. I gave out a loud gasp, my hand holding onto my breast to quell the renewed pounding of my heart.
I then giggled at my silliness.
But a chilly feeling washed over me as I realized I was out here all alone.
I became very aware of how I looked
“Dressed to Kill” as Father had said.
“And I knew why I was warned not to go off exploring on my own.” I thought to myself, visions of what could happen filled my head, fueled by what I had seen on the Telly and the games I played with my twin.
I began to turn. Intent on losing no time to get back to the stone staircase.
It was then something small hit the fountain with a shocking clang.
I totally jumped out of my skin.
Suddenly a pair of cold hands slipped over my eyes and I was pulled back against what was unmistakably a man’s figure.
I gasped, my heart leaping up. Within a split second, I had thoughts that it was my twin brother playing a game. But I knew he was not here, and this was not one of our games.
My hand went to my chest, grasping my pendent as my whole figure wilted and my head began to swirl.
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End of Part One
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Masquerade Ball
2 parts
Part 2
“Nancy’s” view Continues
A voice quietly said from behind my back.
“ Hello, Samantha, fancy meeting you here.”
“Raffles!” I blurted with relief, as his hands pull away. I felt his fingers caressing alongside my face, then along through my hair.
He stepped back, and I quickly turned around. With a deep sigh of relief, it was really him, my Raffles.
“Not playing a game alone, are ye Lass?” He asked me, blue eyes twinkling.
“No,” I said shaking my hair.
He smiled, pulling his hands from his pockets,
I then lectured…” you gave me quite the start sir. “ then I giggled, unable to control my emotions and pleasure of his appearance here in this deserted garden.
He placed a finger under my chin, lifting it so I was looking up into his eyes.
“Stand still,” he commanded and moved around behind me.
“Good thing I didn’t do what first popped into my devious mind..”
I felt his knuckle go into my back…
”Playing your games. Now Stick ‘ em up miss .”
“Good thing you didn’t I would have peed myself... I giggled.
“Raffles” chuckled:
“Stay in character miss .”
We’re the words I heard from behind me
I raised up my hands, imagining like I was actually being held up. My heart began to race again with a feeling of delicious danger as I spoke.
“What do you want from me?”
Raffles, still holding his knuckle into my back …reached out his other hand with an open palm as he spoke.
”Put your hands down, I’ve taken a fancy to that bracelet of yours. So please hand it over. “
I shivered, saying smartly. “I don’t believe a real thief would say please …”
My friend “Raffles” responded.
“Would my real victim ask that? Try a different tack.”
Trembling again, with delicious delight. I played along.
“No sir, not my bracelet, anything but that …”
“That’s better, a bit of heartfelt pleading can never heart.
After a second the hand withdrew.
Raffles laughed amiably…
“Ok miss, keep your bracelet then. “
He chuckled from behind, removing his knuckle….
“It was only a thought I had when I saw you out here walking alone, remembering the story of the games you play with your brother, did I do ok?”.
“Smashing .” I giggled gleefully “Spot on.”
I put my hands down to my sides as Raffles placed a hand on my shoulder and ran it down my satin blouse’s sleeve while he came back around to face me.
“All kidding aside, you really shouldn’t be out here alone “Nancy” someone less inviting as me may have been about. And I don’t mean your brother. So let’s see you back safe Lass.”
I nodded.
He lifted my hand and pulled my back to him.
Coddling along against his warm figure, Raffles led me back along the path to the stairway.
“I’ll be leaving you here “Nancy” I was on my way home.
I looked up into his face. “it was fun meeting you, sorry you have to go. “
“So am I Lass.”
We embraced in a deep hug.
As we broke apart, He ran his fingers up my side, then lifted my hair.
He let my hair down, his fingers tingling as he touched along my ears and face as he spoke.
“A Very pretty one you are, and don’t ever let anyone say differently.”
I shivered with excitement over his praise as, with a clenched fist, he held my chin up, looking deep within my eyes. But he had such a sad look in his eyes.
I couldn’t help myself. I practically leaped up against him and tightly squeezed him in my arms.
We finally broke apart. He smiled. Looking like he had been relieved of some troubling thought.
“Go now, you before I change my mind about playing games.”
Letting me go with a chuckle, I turned and went up to the stairs, turning I blew him a kiss.
He was still watching, hands in his vest pocket, he pulled them out and caught it..acting like he was putting it inside his vest.
“My second this evening.” I heard him say mysteriously…
Then turning away, he went off down along the path.
I turned and went up the stairs, feeling lighter than I had all evening.
I was soon sneaking back onto the upstairs balcony.
With a start, I saw the backside of father off in a corner with some of his lads. Smoking a cigar.
I hightailed it out back through the entrance before slowing down to a walk.
As I made my way back I was still riding on air.
“What a delicious adventure I was having, one I was not expecting at all.”
I saw that my mum was back sitting at the table.
She did not notice me approaching, her eyes had a distant, far-off look, and she was smiling over something.
I gave a cheery hello as I went to my chair, though my heart was pounding.
Mum snapped out of her reverie and smiled at me. I could tell she was a bit tipsy from drinking wine all evening.
I also noticed with surprise that her neckline was striking bare. She had taken off her pretty necklace. Why? I wondered as mum spoke to me.
“Where did you go off to, babe?”
“To the loo, I unabashedly lied.” The words came out with surprisingly no hesitation.
“Having a good time?” she asked.
“Brilliant,” I said, telling no lies.
“I’m am having a lovely time also,” she answered an unasked question with a giggle.
She went on with a story I could see she was aching to tell someone.
“It all started when a rude man ran into me while your father was getting drinks. That wasn’t so nice, but then…”
And she looked off rather dreamily, which I thought was rather silly
“Honey, then I ran into the most darling young man. All dressed in black. He had seen that man bump into me with no apologizing, so he did so for him, then he asked me to dance. “ she said, blushing rather prettily.
“Told me he was dressed as an undertaker didn’t he, that he was there to collect souls. Then he told me the most marvelous stories about what young lads your age would bet on.”
“At a wedding?” I asked cautiously, not about to admit that I may have already met him.
“No, he talked about being at a cricket match and the older lads betting in on stealing a kiss from a girl.”
As she told me this mum was stroking the neckline of her gown, noticeably bare without her pretty necklace. . So WHY had she taken it off I pondered? It had looked so nice sparkling along there.
I started to ask about the necklace when an older lady began yelling out from a table across the room
“It’s missing! Has anyone here seen my daughter’s diamond bracelet? Cecilia is missing one of hers!” The older lady wailed.
I stare at mum, watching horrified by her reaction:
Mum’s hand shot to her neck, and I saw the startled look fill her eyes as she realized her sapphire diamond necklace was missing also.
“She had not been the one to remove her necklace!” I thought with a stark awareness
What sinister activity had been going on here this evening?
Remembering the garden game with Raffles I quickly lift my hand studying my wrist. My bracelet was still there. As well as all my rings.
I was starting to breath a sigh of relief when mum pulled back my hair, her eyes wide with shock
Honey, your earrings are gone. I reach up and feel nothing. My eyes also grow wide. What is going on?
By now the whole venue was in an uproar. Apparently, several other ladies were also checking, and some just then noticed the loss of their jewellery. Verbal gasps and mumbling could be heard amongst the tables.
Father, still out on the upper floor balcony at the time, heard the commotion.
Reacting instinctively, he had the rental security block the exits, nobody was to leave, then called in at his police station for reinforcements
He then showed up at our table to see how we were doing.
He was shocked and dismayed that we both had apparently fallen victims to the criminal shenanigans played out that evening.
He asked mum if she could think of anything out of the ordinary that had happened?
She mentioned being bumped by “that” man while waiting by the bar for my father to get his brandy. Neither could say if they remembered seeing mum wearing her necklace after that. Father admitting he had been more focused on meeting up with his cigar and brandy drinking lads that he was on “That prat!”
This made me want to believe that it had not been the handsome stranger we had both danced with as the culprit.
“And if he had not been the one to take mother’s necklace, then he was probably not responsible for taking the jewels I was missing. And I was not going to hurt my memories of his most welcome attention to me, be tarnished by accusing him without merit.” I told myself.
As mum and father were discussing this, my mind was flying. For I knew father, and mum would be asking me if I had had anything odd happen this evening.
For one thing, I was not about to admit sneaking off into the road gardens alone.
I myself in my heart strongly suspected “Raffles.” He had been too smooth and suave. But I did not have any real evidence. did not have any real evidence. And papa always said circumstantial evidence is no real proof.
No, I assured myself, at no time had I felt a prick on my wrist, and itch on my ears, a tug at my throat, nor a twitch anywhere else on my person that would have alerted me to the devious tricks an unknown someone had played upon my “dressed to kill” figure that evening.
So I, with all innocence, was able to play dumb at first when my father asked me how I thought my jewels had been lost.
Then, realizing that I was to be questioned like the rest when Father’s Detectives showed up.
Prompted by father, I gave it some real thought. Then it clicked. I remembered those two twit girls running into me while in the loo.
So I told my father that story, as well as his detectives later on. I ruefully admitted to not getting a clear enough look to be able to describe them.
And I got away with that story, though my father told me I should have waited and gone into the loo with mum.
I never mentioned the meeting with the mysterious handsome male calling himself “Raffles” to anyone.
The fact that Mum never said anything about her dance with him, helped me cement any concerns that he may have been the culprit. For I had definitely found a soft spot in my heart for the handsome stranger with the deep soothing voice and easy manner.
I have always associated my meeting with “Raffles” from a film line heard years later. later. One lady in satin was telling another lady in velvet that she had known a mutual acquaintance since childhood.
“And even back then, whenever he passed by us on the stairs, all the girls would place a hand on their hearts… And their jewels….”
I had also felt he was a kindred spirit for the way he asked about the games my brother and I played. He had seemed to enjoy hearing about them.
And actually, Father’s detectives never got a clear story from any of the(mostly intoxicated) victims that evening concerning pinpointing when they thought their jewels had been taken.
It was then decided that there must have been a small invading gang of male and female thieves who quickly worked the room, targeting our jewels. The real mystery was in their methods.
From what I heard the thief(s) made quite a nice haul, not in quantity, but quality. No one was ever caught.
Mum seemed more concerned that my earrings had fallen victim to thieves, more so than she was over the loss of her necklace.
She accepted the fact that she herself had been a victim. Reasoning that it was the risk a lady always takes when wearing out her good jewels.
So we were all shocked by what happened the next day.
I had gone right to bed that evening, actually early morning, for it was 2:00 am when I was undressing in my room. I had placed my purse upon my antique vanity.
The next morning I discovered the purse on the floor. Assuming that our Golden Retriever, Gypsy’s tail had knocked it over, I picked it up.
Looking inside I saw something flickering.
Emptying it on the bed I was shocked to see the earrings I thought had been lost!
Mum, father, and I all were baffled over what had happened?
It was a proper mystery.
The earrings and my green velvet purse had to be taken in for evidence. Though no clues were discovered.
Which was fine by me. especially since Father Christmas that year brought me my own grown-up set of rhinestone jewellery. And a new dangling sapphire and diamond necklace for mum, that far outshone the one stolen from her that unlucky evening.
Later on that month I went to the library to do a bit of Nancy Drew-like sleuthing.
I was shocked upon learning whom AJ Raffles had been:
A famous cricket player by day, a secret master jewel thief at night!
I decided to just let sleeping dogs lay.
(Carl Zeiss Jena Flektogon f2,8/35mm)
I am always fascinated when an old lens begins to "paint" by itself in some situations, shot wide open. It enhances, unasked, the inherent beauty in natural structures, like in this case, of some tiny, dry and, at first sight, quite unimpressive flowers. No editing at all, just framing.
RED HERRINGS
There is a certain upper class jewelle emporium with a branch located in a rather large modern shopping centre. A while back, across the way, a fancy dress shoppe opened that custom tailors one of a kind party dresses, gowns and tuxes at prices only very few could afford.
The managers of the two stores came up with an idea to primp up sales on weekends by having their male employees dress in the dress shoppes tuxes, while the predominately female clerks would wear gowns and dresses designed by the dress shoppe designers. With the female attendants from each upper crust establishment wearing the jewelle emporiums’ glittery offerings in an added enticement to attract sales.
The concept turned out to be a smashing success, with a marked 10 % increase in the fancy dress shoppes revenue, and a 17 % increase of revenue in the jewelle emporioum branches’ till in the first month alone!
However, success does not always come without its little drawbacks….
One weekend just after term, a female university student hired on at the dress shoppe. This day she was an absolute vision, resplendent in a long flowing gown of satin and lace, wearing a rather regally shimmering diamond pendent with matching earrings and bracelet! Midway in into her shift, she waited upon a smartly attired long haired, mid aged lady in search of a long dress to wear at an affluently posh affair. As she tried on a satin number that made her look like a movie star (which she decidedly was not) the lady could not take her eyes off the clerks jeweles.
The clerk let her have a closer look and informed her exuberantly that they could be purchased at the Jewelle Emporium across the way, where there was a wide selection to be had for a stealing price…..!
The lady soon had a far off look in her eyes…
Apparently she was the ex-wife of some quite high ranking police official, having been replaced by a much younger version trophy wife some years before….. This lady, who, shall we say, had a grudge to bare, would certainly not be attending the wake of her ex once he passed on!
Holding up the diamond pendent to eye level, She began to tell the young, excitable clerk a story that would have the young student forever more keeping a keen eye about whenever out for a posh night of it……
Now, we are not sayin the tale below is loosely based on that chic shoppers’ story, but it definitely is not a story, if true, that the police would be willing to have tossed about in the publics’ realms …….
And one does not simply want to be accused of telling porkey pies, now does one?
Red Herrings :
Act One - Herrings best served cold
The Director, down from London, had done a good sell of his rather unique Idea.
The Bishop listened eagerly, not necessarily because he was as interested in the gentlemen’s request, as much as his Holiness was interested in the carrot that had been dangled, all £ 8000 pounds worth. All one was to do for it was just to allow the Director, his small camera crew and 3 actors to do a bit of test screen movie making.
Filming would take place at the Upper Eastminster Catholic Diocese’s Charities Ball , annually held at St Davids .. As it turned out, £ 8000 pounds was exactly the amount needed to do some majored repair work on the Cathedrals’ slate roof, so the Bishop agreed to give it a listen.
It would be quick, the Director assuredly promised, in and out, only about 90 minutes needed to film in 2 locations. A dance scene inside, and a tryst in the extensive gardens outside.
Not a naughty tryst, the Bishop asked, concerned about the church’s reputation. Not atoll the Director assured him, just a bit of light snogging with an embrace or two , no one’s clothes will come off in the process… Just think of the love scene in Casablanca, nothing more harmless than that will be filmed in the gardens I dare say!
Would the guests be put out? The Bishop asked, concerned because he knew that they would be paying out a lot for the tickets to attend the event. The good Bishop was reasonably concerned with losing an amount of profit equal to , if not greater than , the check the Director was dangling.
Nobody’s nose would be put out of joint, and the news of the filming may prove to be a great draw..The producer convincingly put the Bishops concerns at ease, almost like he was just as worried as his Holiness about losing money. But it was only a screen test, was it not? Was one question that was left unasked….so what money was the Director worried about?
All the guests had to do was ignore the filming as it was going on, although they could gather and watch off screen, and there would be also a £ 5 payout to anyone caught on camera as an extra, £15 per couple used on the dance floor … The Director added, trying to lay all further misgivings to rest.
His concerns finally nullified, The Bishop happily took the pre-offered check and gave his blessing to the producer and his good works.
Word spread, like wildfire around the Diocese, and soon the good Bishop had received an unprecedented number of reservations for the annual formal event, filling the large ballroom of St David’s to the max.. which was actually quite a feat in and of itself!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The evening of the ball was a warm autumn one, with a full moon promising to soon peek over the horizon. A weak gusting wind blew through, cutting down the light fog attempting to rise, and gently blowing the dresses and gowns of the female guest, like so many coulorful and shiny flags, as they excitably emerged from their Limos, Rolls and other rather pricy fancy sports automobiles.
The setting sun played of the jewels specially worn out for the occasion, creating a show of colourful sparks from the expensive pieces. For the wealthy guests had dressed to the dashing nines with regal displays of an almost absurd amount of jewels and expensive gowns brought out or brought for the occasion…. Not for the Charity Ball in as much as hopes of getting on cameras….
Soon the large Ballroom Chambre at St David’s was filled with guests; dancing, drinking and waiting hopefully for the evenings’ main entertainment to come soon.
They were late, almost nine before the filming crew, consisting of the Director, an assistant, his crew of two cameramen, and his 2 actors, (1 quite attractively attired and professionally made up Lady and 1 rather dashing male who looked quite a bit like a young William Powell ) waltzed in. The Ballroom was still filled, most guests waiting in eager anticipation for them to arrive.
A young priest with thick glasses met the Director and crew outs side as they arrived, thanking them graciously for the donation and the extra money earned through the publicity. He quite amicably chatted with the crew as they unloaded, following them back inside, before reappearing where a group of young ladies and woman had gathered around the rather handsome actor. Breaking through he took the actor by the arm and whispering in his ear, led him gratefully through the throng of dolled up females, and inside the chambre where the director was waiting. The actor thanked him, as all eyes were now upon him, with the level of chattering that could be heard in the background noticeably had risen when the actor had walked in. Taking his leave, the young priest slipped unnoticed disappearing into the background.
There was a lot of interest for the mulling crowd of sparkling well-heeled gusts as the filmmakers set up the 2 cameras around the dance floor.
The director go right to it.
A song was requested and the Director selected a large group of couples from the crowd to participate. Picking out a different group each time they replayed the same song between takes. Quite a few of the ladies he selected as dancers were younger, obviously single, and had to scamper about in a whirlwind of swishing gowns to collect men to dance with. This flurry of activity created a great source of amusement to the crowd whom had gathered around just to watch with upmost attention.
All eyes were upon the actor as he escorted the actress to the floor. The actors filmed several different dance scenes to the same song, in and out of the extras dancing on the same floor. Quite a few of the guests, against the Director’s admonitions, stole looks at the actor and his actress partner. But it was only for a screen test he reasoned, and let it go unchallenged, or reshot ….
Then, at the end, the Director asked for a young volunteer to dance with the actor, a semi well known man known for playing a supporting role on a new tele-drama.. A flurry of ladies raised their primly satin gloved hands(their dangling bracelets and rings sparkling like so many fireworks out of control) and finally , after much deliberation, the actor chose one, and they danced for almost twenty minutes in order to get the extra footage just right… The whole ballroom scene took about 80 minutes to shoot, the band played the same song almost 7 times through. But no one really noticed or cared, they were all so absorbed and caught up in the thrill of things that time, and most other distractions, went unnoticed.
Then came time to film the garden tryst, and the majority of the guests filed out and crowed together to watch the filming through breaks in the hedges. The scene was to take place in a far corner of the garden, next to an old ornate wrought iron gazebo that was the center point of the extensive gardens, both being some 300 years old. It took almost 90 minutes of shooting with the scene repeated several times with the actress meeting the handsome actor in three different takes on the same play…
To the discern of many of the young female guests, still gripped in the fanciful mood of the evening, and still quite drooling over the handsome actor so near, there was no asking for an amateur volunteer to shoot a kissing scene!
So it was now going on past midnight before they were finished filming the screen test. The camera crew started packing up, as the Director, actor and actress signed autographs. The young priest with thick glasses reappeared to hand out some tablets for the signatures, suggesting their use.
After this ritual was finished, the crew filed into the black van and a limo and left the gathering.
The crowd watched until the last tail light turned the corner than began to break up.
A few left for the evening, exhausted by the long night of it, and facing a dark drive home to their mansions and town houses.
But quite a few dispersed back inside for a final dance to properly end the quite exciting events of the evening ….!
Unbeknownst to them, the evening was quite far from being over !
End of Act 1
“Quand on rencontre un mystère, on croit généralement être scélérats cachés “
Author Unknown
To be Continued 😉
Es könnte viel bedeuten: wir vergehen,
wir kommen ungefragt und müssen weichen.
Doch daß wir sprechen und uns nicht verstehen
und keinen Augenblick des andern Hand erreichen,
zerschlägt so viel: wir werden nicht bestehen.
Schon den Versuch bedrohen fremde Zeichen,
und das Verlangen, tief uns anzusehen,
durchtrennt ein Kreuz, uns einsam auszustreichen.
--------------------------------------------------
It could mean so very much: we pass,
we come unasked and must give way.
But that we speak and do not understand each other
nor reach each other’s hand for even a moment,
destroys so much; we shall not survive.
Even the attempt is endangered by alien signs,
and the yearning to look deep into one another
is severed by a cross that eradicates us in solitude.
Ingeborg Bachmann
"The view" of Swaledale from above Angram looking towards Thwaite.
I couldn't be there and not take it, could I, especially after having been directed to it, unasked, by a friendly native, and with that lovely sky.
Everything that you need is in you and everything that you want is waiting for you. You might need many things and I hope that you find what you want and need and that there is a balance between those two drives for you. When I have what I need then I want photographic subjects. Having been lured to Loch Ness I was out of my worlds in joy within the beauty all around me that transformed the struggles within me. Yes we are in a burial ground, but it is full of centuries of history and mystery left evident in the style and content of this wonderful place. A tree at the edge of the burial ground looks fantastic in the beautiful Highland light. I wonder if this Rowan Tree was either left for a Rowan, or for an Ashley with it also being referred to as a Mountain Ash Tree? Maybe someone still knows the how and the why this tree came to be in such a well tended space? The stones lasting over the centuries still record the past and show the tides of fortune rising and falling. Some questions asked and unasked have answers unneeded even if we want to know, sometimes it is best to have what you need in you and to progress where you can fittingly find what you truly want.
© PHH Sykes 2023
phhsykes@gmail.com
Link with more information.
The Boleskine Burial Ground
1999 - Puerto Galera Oriental Mindoro Philippines. The painted vehicle is called a jeepney, and is common type of transportation bus used by the public in the Philippines. In Manila the owners (they are private) pay a fee to drive a specific street or route. People pay a small fee and get off and catch a different one when they want to change directions. I think they worked similar here. They originated as extended jeeps after WWII, hence the name. And the stainless steel jeeps in the Philippines seem to be a tradition. Kind of cool if you ask me.
I was doing some work at the Manila Bulletin newspaper that year. I took the weekend off to go down to this island for a bit of a break. I was going to go to White Beach, but ended up going to a quieter resort area just to the east of here. This is the main street of the area just off the ferry docks. It's all paved now from photos I have seen, and more built up. This is where some guy from Europe came up to me and started, unasked, to give me advice on how to find a wife here. When I told him I was in the Philippines for work, he took off quite quickly. I hope he found his love and it worked out. I think it might not be as quick a fix as some might believe.
Earlier in the year, I even got to meet their president, Joseph Estrada at an event at the paper. Also, VP Arroyo, Corizon Aquino, and Cardinal Sinn (yes that really was his name). No I'm not a big shot, but was lucky to be invited.
288/365 Work with textures
I took the original image @ Flamingo Gardens and Wildlife Sanctuary
Davie, Florida, USA
October 24th/2009
Nikon D5000
____________________________________________________________________________________
So You Want To Be A Writer
by Charles Boukowski
if it doesn't come bursting out of you in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.
if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.
don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.
when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.
there is no other way.
and there never was.
____________________________________________________________________________________
Textures with my deepest gratitude to Bocaccino: TEXTURE-tra-538b Thanks a lot dear Jean !!
.../
Alaric and Asteria Deadmore
Alaric and Asteria Deadmore were a debonair and beloved couple that shared many years of deep and abiding love for each other. They were inseparable and did absolutely everything together from the day they were married and they faithfully supported and stood by each other through good times and bad.
Unfortunately, they were powerless to slow the ravages of time as they watched the sparkling light of their lives together slowly dim and begin to fade away. Determined to maintain their love and commitment to each other, they sought out a rather eccentric doctor that that was rumored to provide a path to an almost unlimited life. The Deadmores decided that anything was preferable to the pain of a long agonizing parting, so they agreed to undergo his "life-changing" procedure.
On the appointed day they shuffled into his surgery, located off to the side of large Victorian manor, with a rather distressed appearance hidden by overgrown shrubbery. Nervous pleasantries were exchanged along with a sizable portion of their accumulated wealth. Still holding hands, the Deadmores were rolled on gurneys into an impressive looking laboratory. The feel of their entwined fingers was the last bit of memory they were aware of before they both fell asleep.
Small creaky metallic sounds from beside her made her turn, slowly, stiffly, with almost imperceptible movements. "Beloved," she said softly, "are you awake again"? Her voice trailed off into an uncertainty filled silence filled with misery and unasked questions.
He stood beside her, different now, but as handsome as she remembered, as she had always thought he was. "It didn't work then," his voice broke her reverie, "I wish we had not decided we would do this." Nodding slightly, she agreed "no amount of money was worth," she paused then added, "this".
The experiment hadn't worked. They didn't work. Everything was tarnished metal including their clothing. A slow, almost imperceptible, mechanical shudder settled the hat she had bought and worn so proudly to a more rakish angle on her head.
"Beloved," she said again and turned slowly, painfully to look up at him, a single rust colored tear slid down her patina covered cheek "it's alright," her words sounded strange and discordant, and nothing like the familiar voice she remembered, she looked around sadly as they stood together in the forgotten dusty corner.
She held out her hand, uncurled stiff fingers, on her palm lay her heart, no longer pulsing with life, still, cold, as cold as they were now destined to be.
“I love you still, until eternity," she murmured as her voice broke with emotion and a small puddle of rusty tears gathered at her feet as the silence enveloped them once more and time seemed to be suspended, just for them.
Squirrel and Clifton Landar
a) i wanted to post a pic titled "my empire". i shot a couple, two weeks ago, spent lushious six minutes processing them, saved them to disk; there was just a tiny, unrelevant fragment of me and clouds for miles on end to be seen. the classical window shot, which i'm sure is already a reason for nausea, somewhere else and between the lines; and there's always a but, here more than elsewhere;
b) the but being: there is no empire to be shown. as history books go, the winner buried a citadel under ruins and crumble, the loser is inhabiting aforementioned ruins in the fashion of lizards;
c) and there's a lot to be said about lizards: i'm typing at full speed, there's no time at all, i'll leave you with just a couple of post-hypnotic suggestions, in the hope that sometimes in the past you have been hypnotized, and said cues would start singing: and the cues are: sewn eyes, hypotermal state, hiss. i should drop something about the tail growing anew, but i think it's unasked for;
d) on friday night i could hear myself uttering the words: i'm ready, even willing to accept that my sickness has psychosomatic roots. i could grab binoculars and look all the way into the past and actually pinpoint the exact wheres and hows; but despite all of my efforts - and i did many, believe me, and i'm successful at most of my hacks, 'cos i've skimmed as many crap as i could in order to gain simplicity of motion and effectiveness of gesture, so to speak - i'm practically unable to act a reverse engineering of it. practically, completely unable. where should i begin?
e) i'll stress it again: there's no empire, and i doubt that one has ever been. the governor has been hanged on the county's highest tree, the peasant are bacchus-drunk and riotous still, the book of laws is just ashes and cinders flying all over the place. i've officially stopped logging as /root in my head since years. there is no masterplan, no place to go: since everything became hallucinatory everybody stopped hallucinating and a blueprint to make the days crisper is nowhere to be found.
f) there is no empire and this is just a Flashdance remake. wearing a presumptuos imitation of Jennifer Beals rags the protagonist is perpetually auctioning for a role in the ballet; perpetually stuck in the frame that sees him, or her for that matter, jumping at the top, just below the celing, Irene Papas singing What a feeling enthusiastically in an endlessly pitched down droning sample. unable to rise any higher or to drastically drop down.
e) and this moment, believe me, was no different at all. i wrote i sailed off on a tangent of body stretch or something to that effect 'cos intentions might be ideas and ideas might be bulletproof but anyway both insist in the habit of flying away at the dimmest murmur of breeze, the dimmest murmur of a big grey gland trapped inside a bone cage, gasping for air and light, in the span of an eternity lasting exactly ten autoshoot seconds. i ended up looking like a damn scarecrow, laughing my arse off when i looked at the shot on the tiny one inch and a half visor.
f) the next scene, i guess, is entirely up to you.
the protagonist might finally be unleashing its mutant powers over the land, a krakatoa fandango of flying lava and brimstones and shrieking cracking thunderbolts preceded by rumbles so low your same bones would start hissing as lizards and reptiles do when they are nervous or mating or plainly enjoying a stroll in the park;
or he might be finally uttering his last senseless sentence, that would go perpetually unheard as most of those do.
then with a simple careless jump he might just be flying away.
posterised unasked, on a bug in irfanview, now i can't save by advancing thru irfan view, make a crop or tweak, and it saves in as posterised...OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Bird Table
Ornithological oasis
In a dowdy garden
Where the birds crowd
Winging in on a prayer, unasked
Yet here’s their daily bread
Scruffy sparrow, dandy goldfinch
At the top table
Robin, hoodlum- starling
Vie for an outlaw meal
Peanut dispenser and fat balls
Swing from eager attention
Green and chaff finches
Compete in different jerseys
As timid wren and hedge sparrow
Keep to the touchlines
Wood-pigeon gleans the flags
Beneath the woodwork
With some authority
Associated with size perhaps?
A sudden scatter and panic
And a feeder is suddenly food
As the ambushing sparrow-hawk
Drives-thru this avian McDonald’s
And in the garden's quiet
Leftover feathers fall
© Mike Laycock (silversalt)
Day by day thou art making me worthy of
the simple, great gifts that thou gavest to me
unasked---this sky and the light, this body
and the life and the mind---saving me from
perils of overmuch desire.
There are times when I languidly linger and
times when I awaken and hurry in search of
my goal; but cruelly thou hidest thyself from
before me.
Day by day thou art making me worthy of
thy full acceptance by refusing me ever and
anon, saving me from perils of weak,
uncertain desire.
-Rabindranath Tagore (Nobel Laureate Indian Poet)
After riding my bike downtown for the first time this year, I decided to reward myself with a relaxing pause and a coffee a Coffee & Company on Princess Ave. This friendly fellow appeared just as I was locking my bike and he proceeded to unlock his bike which was on the other side of the post. "I'm just leaving" he said. "Let me make more room for you."
So began a conversation. I asked if he cycled often and he said "I go everywhere on my bike in the summer. The car just sits there. A tank of gas lasts for ages." It turned out he lives around Skeleton Park, not far from downtown. When he heard that I had biked an hour on the K&P Trail he commented that was quite a ride.
One thing led to another and soon a handshake was exchanged. Meet Jim.
We chatted a bit and I discovered Jim moved to Kingston from Toronto seven years ago following his retirement. I told him my wife and I had moved here from Toronto just two years ago to be near our grandchildren. He doesn't miss Toronto much and is happy in Kingston. So are we. We compared neighborhoods in Toronto and he said the city has changed a lot over the years and he prefers Kingston which he finds is friendlier. "I'm people-oriented and the people here are friendlier" he said.
Just then a man walking down the street greeted him by name. The man turned out to be from one of Kingston's most prominent families. "So how do you know him?" I asked. "Oh, he has a beautiful Corvette I was admiring one day and one thing led to another. He's a real down-to-earth guy. A real pleasure to chat with."
As the conversation evolved, I thought to invite Jim to be part of my Human Family photo project. As usual, I over-explained the project at which time he said "So you want to take my picture? That's ok." Sometimes keeping it simple is the way to go.
We stepped away from our bikes and into a narrow passagway between the coffee shop and a pub patio. Jim was a squinter even though he was facing north and my gentle urging for him to try opening his eyes a bit wider didn't seem to help much so I simply went with it. Looking at the photos he said "Yikes! I didn't realize my mouth was hanging open like that." I said "No problem; we can take a couple more" so we did.
I found Jim an interesting fellow. He is 67 and spent much of his career in the trucking industry. I assumed he drove and he said "Everyone makes the same assumption but I've never driven a truck in my life." We shared a laugh. "I had a company with 15 trucks and it was a good job. Sometimes I wish I was still working but everything had become computerized and I didn't have those skills. When I retired I was bored and grew tired of Toronto. I had a friend living in Kingston who said I should move here. It's a great city so I did and I have never looked back."
Just then a passer-by waved and called out a greeting. Does she have a Corvette, I wondered. He answered my unasked question. "She's a neighbor. A very nice lady." I had a feeling that if we stood there much longer, Jim would meet a dozen friends. He is clearly a "people person."
Jim said he worked for a few years for IBM but his advancement was blocked by his failing a test they administered. "I wasn't surprised. I'm lousy with math and computers. Just not in my skill set. This is my skill set" and he pointed to his mouth. I love people and interacting. I'm better suited to working with people, not machines."
We compared our ages (as we seniors often do) and talked about how 40 seemed ancient when we were kids. "My father died in his 40s. He had a funeral home. That's a rough job. He drank a lot and it killed him. He wasn't a happy man. I could always tell when he came home from preparing a child for burial. It was the worst. I could always tell. Yeah, the alcohol and all those embalming chemicals got him."
I was surprised to learn that he was a pro football player when young. He was on the Argonauts 1983 Grey Cup-winning team and he showed me the flashy ring with a large A. (Why didn't I photograph that ring?)
Jim's message to the world is "Stop worrying so much." He said if you listen to the news everyone is constantly worried about nuclear war and all that. They aren't going to drop the bomb. No one is that stupid. It would wipe out everyone." Jim, like many, is critical of the media for stirring peoples' anxiety and fears.
I asked how his friends would describe him. "Oh, I don't know. Probably just a happy go lucky, friendly guy." That seemed like a pretty good description.
We parted by commenting on how unpredictable every day is. "If you hadn't arrived on your bike just as I was getting ready to leave on mine, we wouldn't have met at all. If we hadn't met, we wouldn't have had this friendly chat... and I wouldn't have been able to help you with your project."
I thanked Jim and told him it had been a pleasure.
Jim is my 891st submission to The Human Family Group on Flickr. You can see more portraits of stranger and read their stories by clicking here: www/flickr.com/groups/thehumanfamiy
UPDATE:
As luck would have it, Jim and I met again at the bike rack outside the downtown coffee shop five weeks later. It was fun to meet again and catch up with each other. I told Jim I regretted not having photographed his ring from his pro football days on the Toronto Argonauts. I also found out that he had spent a couple of years at a college in Iowa on a football scholarship and he said his college had played against the Iowa college my brother had attended, It's a small world.
I met Sakim yesterday, walking along the river. He was engaged in some odd behavior that I never quite figured out.
I think I may have to seriously consider joining the 100 Strangers project.
Haven't been around much, I know. Couple of reasons; 2 weeks ago I bruised 3 ribs quite badly after playing circus with Kookaï, one of our dogs. Needless to say that Kookaï was a lot better at playing the 'tamed' animal than I was as a handler... :-) But man, that hurts!!!!!!
Secondly, I grew more and more annoyed by 2 things; my pictures showing up on all sorts of sites, unasked and unpermitted and secondly the seemingly random choice in Explore; one day 20 or so more (or less) than the next day. It seems that 'interestingness' is rather flexible... I know it shouldn't bother me, but it still did.
Ah well, and than you read your Flickr Mail and you read all the nice, warm and friendly words and than I think; who cares anyway as long as we're having fun all together.
So, here is another posting; like with the Warsau tiger, this mail lion picked up the scent of the female in heat so his expression is not anger or threat but his most seductive way of asking how she would like her eggs in the morning :-)
This was taken on Friday during a period when I was following some instructions how to install some 'mirror' version of W10 on my laptop which had gone through a slow-motion crash earlier this week. The 'mirror' download took just about a hour, but then I had going on for 5 hours of nice polite advice from Windows while it upgraded (unasked) to an even more disastrous working environment. This picture has come to you via an old XP desktop that I have had to re-vitalise and find XP-compatible software (AV, photoprocessor) for. In the next couple of days I shall have find all my pass keys so I can reload stuff like Office 365 once I have carried out a clean upload of W10, losing all apps I have added (thankfully few) in the last couple of years. Grrhhh didn't quite cover my mood, but wearing a light-as-a-feather dress did!
Karachi, Pakistan.
The silence in her words, the unasked question
forces me to move towards an undesired direction
In its own classic gate life moves
once blinded, thought there was no one to lose
Deprived of the feeling of happiness
I feel left alone in this mess of loneliness
Finding out love in you, I try
unable to smile, unable to cry
The rusty memories do make me think of you
trying to escape, every time, I rush into the blue
The affection in your smile, the depth in your eyes
was never for me, I never realized
Worthy of nothing, still I wish to survive
I look for your love, for you, I strive
Overruled by the strong desire of being priceless like you
I am yet to be loved, to be touched by you!
-Added to the Cream of the Crop pool as my best of 2008.
For over two decades, I have had this 8×11 B&W photo (taken by Delmar Watson) of Sophia Loren and Jane Mansfield among my collection of classic Hollywood photographs. Two popular and beautiful actresses together in a photo which I really never knew the story behind it.
The image features Sophia Loren glaring at the cleavage of Jane Mansfield but in truth the story behind the photo is featured in Jane Mansfield’s Wikipedia profile:
In April 1957, her bosom was the feature of a notorious publicity stunt intended to deflect attention from Sophia Loren during a dinner party in the Italian star’s honor. Photographs of the encounter were published around the world. The most famous image showed Loren raising an eyebrow at the American actress who, sitting between Loren and her dinner companion, Clifton Webb, had leaned over the table, allowing her breasts to spill over her low neckline and exposing one nipple.
The world media was quick to condemn Mansfield’s stunts, and one editorial columnist wrote, “We are amused when Miss Mansfield strains to pull in her stomach to fill out her bikini better. But we get angry when career-seeking women, shady ladies, and certain starlets and actresses … use every opportunity to display their anatomy unasked.
Loren was interviewed by Entertainment Weekly in 2014, and she said about the photo, "She came right for my table. She knew everyone was watching. She sat down. And now, she was barely… Listen. Look at the picture. Where are my eyes? I’m staring at her nipples because I am afraid they are about to come onto my plate. In my face you can see the fear. I’m so frightened that everything in her dress is going to blow—BOOM!—and spill all over the table."
But don't go to Sophia Loren to have her sign this photo, because she won't. Loren said, "Actually, many, many times I am given this photo to autograph it. And I never do. I don’t want to have anything to do with that. And also out of respect for Jayne Mansfield because she’s not with us anymore."
Nevertheless, I still enjoy this photo!
The past drifts away, shrouded in mist, time’s brilliance now frozen, unasked, untouched. A quiet stillness, complete in its being.
What lies ahead? The echoes of what has been, shelter, friends, laughter, and doubts.
Within the weight of this stillness, there lingers a fragile hope, that even in the shadows, tomorrow might yet find its light.
© 2025 Lorrie Agapi – All rights reserved.
**My heart, my words. Please respect them.**
Dear reader,
These words you are reading right now, whether it's a poem, a short story, or a thought is a piece of my soul. I write with passion, each word flowing from my heart, deeply connected to me. My poems are not just words, they are alive, carrying my emotions and essence within them.
If you plan to take them without my permission, know this: you are also taking a piece of my soul. And with every stolen word, I will always be present within the lines you use.
So be mindful… You never know what lies hidden between the lines, for words hold a power that goes far beyond the visible.💫
Ever so grateful to this stranger for holding the pose, unasked I should add!
Image made with my Rolleiflex 2.8E Planar on Kodak Portra 400 film.
This remarkable boy is shoveling snow from our neighbor's driveway. He is 11 years old. Unasked to do so, he is a great kid. Soon he and his 12 year old brother were here doing ours. They did it to be good. They got some hot chocolate and then went back out to finish. We made them take some money. Snow has covered the drive again.
