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I'm assuming this related to the 1976 competition due to the dated autograph on the front A quick search reveals that the contest still goes on and is part of the "National Miss" contest in the UK. The copyright notice on the reverse is unreadable though it starts "Grimsby" and I'm assuming it's from a local newspaper.
Seen in Eastbourne, East Sussex. Complete with fake wood above the grille!
G423 XEU
✓ Taxed - Tax due: 1 April 2021
✓ MOT Expires: 8 January 2021
Vehicle make IVECO-FORD
Date of first registration 1 June 1990
Year of manufacture 1990
Cylinder capacity Not available
Fuel typeDIESEL
Export markerNo
Vehicle status Taxed
Vehicle colour WHITE
Number of previous owners: 11
Current owner since Aug 2018
Mileage at last MOT: Unreadable
Odometer previously stuck on 168,291 since at least 2006.
This image evokes a deep sense of solitude and unspoken emotions. The young man sits slumped on the doorstep, lost in thought, while the girl lingers in the doorway, her expression unreadable. The muted colors and soft lighting add to the melancholic atmosphere, suggesting themes of longing, distance, or perhaps a farewell.
c1910 postcard view of Main Street in Elkhart, Indiana. This view was looking north from the Lexington Avenue intersection. There are no automobiles in this scene. The only vehicles are horse-drawn wagons, including an ice wagon. There were also several bicycles as well as a few pedestrians.
The most distant buildings in this scene were the three-story buildings on the northeast corner at Jackson Street. The Hotel Bucklen was on the southeast corner of that intersection and clearly dominated this scene. Another postcard shows the barber’s pole near the hotel portico more clearly. It was probably advertising a barbershop located in the hotel basement. The 1910 Sanborn™ fire insurance map set for Elkhart shows two saloons and a harness business facing Main Street in the four-story hotel building. According to the map set, the businesses in the two-story building south of the hotel included a pianos business and a bank. However, a 1912 city directory¹ listed First National Bank at the pianos business location (110 South Main Street and listed St. Vincent’s Roman Catholic School next door (112 South Main Street) where the map set shows the bank. It is possible the bank expanded and the school was located upstairs.
The LYRIC sign and the two American flags identified the location of a theatre (114 South Main Street). The map set shows a 10c vaudeville theatre at that location, but the directory listed the Philip Rittel meats business at that address. The next building south stood next to the alley. The map set shows a grocery and meat market at that location while the directory listed Charles Dotson’s saloon at that address (116 South Main Street).
Across the alley to the south, the 1910 map set shows a soft drinks business. A sign hanging on the front of that store (118 South Main Street) displayed a bottle. The directory listed Adolph Meas’ saloon at that address. There are two small signs on the next building south (120 South Main Street), but they are unreadable. The map set shows a saloon at that location and the directory listed Silas Joseph’s Crescent Pocket Billiards Parlor at that address. However, the map set shows a pool hall next door at 122 South Main Street and the directory listed Joseph Eash with a cigars, billiards and pool business at this address. The sign at 122 South Main Street advertised CRESCENT BILLIARDS and POOL. The name CRESCENT was also painted on the window. Several bicycles were parked at the curb in front of this business or the business next door.
The pediment on the next building south (124 South Main Street) included the name DODGE and LAW OFFICE. The 1912 directory didn’t list this street address or any businesses at this address. (It included listings for the Dodge Building at 224 South Main Street.) The ICE wagon parked at the curb is blocking the view of the entrance to that building. The map set shows a barbershop at 124 South Main Street. Next door (126 South Main Street), the map set shows a gunsmith and repair business while the city directory listed Earl Smith’s saloon at that address. The sign painted on the window advertised THE SPOT. A beer sign was hanging beside the entrance.
The name on the next building south was BIERMAN and the 1910 map set shows a saloon in the Bierman Block at that location (128 South Main Street). The directory listed Anthony Manning as the proprietor of a saloon and “The Old Inn Buffet” at that address. The signs on the windows advertised “THE OLD INN” BUFFET and HOOSIER CREAM. The placard in the window advertised BASE BALL. The directory also listed Fannie Bierman as a resident at that address and listed her late husband Amil as deceased (February 4, 1911).
The map set shows another saloon in the building at the south end of the block (130 South Main Street), but the sign on the building in this view advertised the ELKHART WATER CO. The city directory confirmed the water company’s location at this address. This suggests the postcard was based on a photograph taken after the 1910 map set was completed. That set is dated August, 1910.
All of the buildings north of the alley in this scene are gone. Most of the buildings south of the alley were still standing as of 2007.
1. Polk’s Elkhart City Directory 1912, Volume II (Detroit, Michigan: R. L. Polk & Co., 1912). Available online at archive.org/details/elkhartindianaci00unse_0.
From a private collection.
Selected close-up sections of this postcard can be seen here, from left to right in the image.
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Copyright 2012-2016 by Hoosier Recollections. All rights reserved. This image is part of a creative package that includes the associated text, geodata and/or other information. Neither this package in its entirety nor any of the individual components may be downloaded, transmitted or reproduced without the prior written permission of Hoosier Recollections.
Unnecessary complexity, chaos, financial woe and a gradual erosion are all symptoms of a sick NHS in the UK. However, most of us who reside in the UK already know this, so I opted for a more subtle conceptual approach that can be compared to a mechanism of infinite complexity, that cannot do the job that it was originally created to do.
I also attempted to address abitrariness and the intrinsic nature of the NHS to British culture/society, both conceptually and actually. I won't expand on these ideas any further in written form, because the perception of the viewer is intrinsic to the arts, particularly to abstract art.
The idea of inserting text into the already complex visual forms, was to attempt to render the text partially unreadable and to partially cohere text with the visual forms. Some words retain an identity seperate from the visual forms and "shout out" phrases, some that appear to be abitrary and others, such as "Whistleblow" "Car Crash" "Corporate" and "illegal" that have a direct relevence to the overriding concept of the work.
Simon
Made for SWFactions. Original Post: www.eurobricks.com/forum/index.php?/forums/topic/180672-j...
Our trio find themselves in a precarious position, deep in the forgotten jungles of Imynusoph, face-to-face with the dastardly ex-Imperial Colonel Corbett!
Read on to find out how it happened!
Intrepid reporter Kitsa Rigo grumbled and pushed aside another bright green frond. Her shirt was sweat-soaked, she had cuts on her arm from the foliage and she had stepped in something gooey that was seeping through her boot. She should have been in the Core Worlds investigating corporate corruption, not here, in the farthest reaches of the galaxy, looking for a tribe and treasure that may or may not be made up.
Impatiently, she stomped alongside her two companions. "Mr. Clod, it's time to deal with the truth: we're walking in circles," she said. "I'm putting this in my story for the Gazette, you know."
"Shush shush, would you shush? Be quiet," said Clod, rolling his eyes and trying to look unbothered. "And stop writing. You're driving me up the wall. Just wait. I'm sure I know where we are. Sure, things look bad now, but . . . haven't you ever heard that saying? The night is darkest before the dawn?"
"Well--well, actually, Mr. Clod...technically, that isn't quite true," stammered Professor Floon, who, while hurrying forward to speak, tripped in the undergrowth.
The Klatoonian explorer pulled the Neimodian academic roughly to his feet. "What was that, Professor?" he growled.
"Well, about what you just said...Not here, not on Imynusoph. You see, due to its remoteness, there is a dearth of verifiable information about Imynusoph. While regrettable, that is what makes a CFS research station such a desirable outcome!"
"Get to the point...
"W-Well, in spite of this scarcity of knowledge, I've been pouring over what existing tomes we do possess, and I've learned that on this planet it is, in fact, the dusks that are the darkest. A result of a peculiar tilt on the planet's axis. A fascinating quirk, I think!"
"So far, I don't think any of your quirks are all that fascinating, professor."
"Oh my! I say--"
"I wish you wouldn't. You're distracting me from my wayfinding. Ms. Rigo, engage the professor in conversation so I can figure out where we are, would you?"
She put a hand on her hip and glared. "I thought you knew."
"I know...in my bones, alright?" he replied, waving away her accusation. "My instinctive being. My internal map. I just want to make sure my bones, being, and internal map are hitting the mark. Let's take a left up here, into this clearin--Woah there!"
"HEY!"
"Oh my!"
Buffeted by a sudden swinging of broad-leaved plants, the three of them tumbled headfirst into the aforementioned clearing, where they found themselves quickly sinking into some kind of sand. The sand was also sinking, and quickly.
"Oh my, oh my!" Warbled Professor Floon.
"We need a rope or something! A vine!" Kitsa shouted.
Clod looked around for a way out. "You better not put this in your story, Rigo!"
"Is that really important right now?" she snarled. "Ugh--It's no good, there's nothing to grab hold of."
The Professor tried to stay calm. "Mr. Clod! What do we do?"
"Oh, as if this con-artist knows..."
Clod shot her a proud look. "Actually, I do know! I know exactly. How about that?"
The Professor and Reporter turned and stared at the disappearing form of Harnaby Clod. They waited for instruction.
"It's obvious, isn't it? Start shouting for help!"
Kitsa threw up the hand that wasn't being sucked down by sand. "Oh, great plan! Very dramatic."
"Mr. Clod, I feel the need to caution you...such a ruckus may very well draw dangerous wildlife toward our location, which, while fascinating, may--"
Clod scowled at what he could still see of the Professor. "Listen here, Egghead: It's our only hope! Start making a ruckus or you'll never see dangerous wildlife again!"
The three started shouting for help. They were nearly submerged in the sinking sand when they heard something coming, from every direction. For a moment, Clod worried they really had brought out some kind of violent beast that would snatch them from the pit with its teeth, and rip them apart for food.
But it wasn't a beast. It may have been something worse.
It was half-a-dozen people with guns, wearing smashed-up imperial armor, and a speeder bringing up the rear. The pirates surrounded them and brought their weapons to bear. The trio tried to raise their hands in surrender, but, well, the sand.
A man dressed in officer regalia and a fur cloak swept towards them, curling his mustache with a finger. He was followed by a mean-looking Sergeant; his right hand man.
"My, my. Look what we've found, Slyfoot!" said the officer.
"People, sir," said his right hand man.
"Yes, people! Indeed! We weren't looking for people. We were, in fact, on the search for beasts. You three are very much not beasts! Except perhaps the one in the wide-brimmed hat, but the resemblance there seems entirely superficial. Do you understand me?" He frowned at the drowning trio. "At the risk of being rude, I must say you have wasted my time. And what are you doing out here, at the end of hyperlanes? The back of beyond! Looking for the golden treasures of Imynusoph, I suspect. Slyfoot is always telling me that finding the famed treasure of Imynusoph will earn me a commendation from the regional governor, and I am always telling Slyfoot that, alas! The treasure is a myth." He crept closer to the edge, looking at them sharply. "But treasure hunters are no myth. No, no, a persistent thorn in my side. You are treasure hunters, aren't you? Best to answer quickly, before you are consumed by the sand and I am left to wonder about your answer forever."
Clod spat and roared. "Get us out of here, you Imp snake! "
"How eloquent," smiled the officer. "Answer the question!"
"Treasure Hunters?" cried an indignant Floon, who was apparently more offended by the accusation than by the lack of help. "Pardon me, sir-- but that is hardly the case!"
Kitsa and Clod groaned, but the Officer looked intrigued. He smiled to his men as if sharing an inside joke. "Oh, indeed? And what is the case, my man?"
"Dun't--teld--hem--inniedeng!" said Kitsa, flailing as her head started to go under.
Floon did not comprehend the warning. With wounded pride, he launched in, "I am a researcher! An academic! I am here to study the local fauna, the fantastic giant birds of Imynusoph! Surely you've heard of them!"
Leaning closer, a gleam appeared in the officers eye. "You know of these giant birds, do you?"
"I do! Of course I do! It's only natural! I am Professor--blub--Pod Floon, and I politely demand your assistance! My associates and I are moments from a most unpleasant death!"
The officer looked pleased. "A fellow of manners and distinction! Out here, an even rarer find than my prey. I've made up my mind. Hop to it, men! Get them out of the sand!"
Slyfoot raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure, Colonel? Perhaps we should just leave them. It will save us the trouble..."
"No, Slyfoot! You've only ever believed in the treasure, never the giant birds! Slyfoot, ever the skeptic, except when it pertains to gold! Well, it appears I have finally found someone who shares my interest!"
Slyfoot's expression was unreadable. "Understood, sir. May I have the dog-faced one for interrogation?"
"Hey!" Clod growled. He knew when someone was talking about him.
The Colonel waved a hand. "Oh yes, naturally. Do as you must with that one. Troopers! Bring these three to our camp. I would have further conversation with our guests."
To be continued!
The can color appears to match the unreadable graffiti letters on the wall there... Hmm... well, looks like we caught our can. Our job here is done.
I couldn't decide which shot I like better. There so much I like and yet flaws in each one. I've been interested in trying this with the black background and 2 different size shots so here ya go. Michigan Central Depot was built in 1913 and closed in 1988.
I do want to point out that I did not do this graffiti. If other people want to do graffiti that's up to them, I choose not to. Last time I was in there a bunch of drunk moronic kids were running around painting ALIS all over the place and screaming and waving at cars out of the windows, so I left. I hate stupidity but it's rampant in the world today. I've been asked in the past if I would still shoot this as often as I do if it wasn't in the condition it's in. The answer is yes. I'm one of those weird guys that loves buildings.
A bookmark to mark a spread in a Bruno Munari book and a reading light. The spread has documentation, a photograph and instructions in Italian, of Bruno Munari's Showing the Air -performance from 1969. The instructions are partly unreadable as the right page is half covered with black sand. The left side is firmly fastened with a paper binder.
Random Mirror, installation at Kutomo, January 2012
ehka.net
There is so much ‘Now’ being written, and somehow I want to find the shortest way to, that elusive Eldorado-ish, ‘Now’. Mind you, I do seem to be doing it by going through Dostoyevsky and Joyce, and Duchamp and Goya, and others (Zola’s Nana and the wonderfully syphilitic Maupassant), but I excuse myself by telling myself that they were eons ahead of their time, and some of their drivers were akin to mine, my precious HIV (One disease to rule them all, etcetera, etcetera). I recognize these titans as tripping-up points too, and hope that if I was to pass them on the street, or down the old boreen (Boreen: Gaelic for muddy old country lane), I would take a chainsaw to them, as recommended by the Buddha himself. Ditto Mr. Courbet, as in ‘Good Morrow Gustave’. Thankfully it all eventually should fit in the cannon, or canon, take your pick (TYP), at last to be shot out, or shat out (TYP), and might, hopefully (some hope), end up in those bastions designed to hold those sorts of things, those museumy places. But now you can just plonk them there yourself, utilizing the divinely appointed Photoshop and, before you know it, James is your abusive uncle, or Bob, or somesuch.
The miracle of ‘Now’ is something else indeed. All the self-help books say you should get there, at least if you want to achieve Nirvana. And who doesn’t, to be sure, to be sure?
Did you ever think of just strangling Cleo? I bet you did. I even suspect you have murdered her a thousand times already, or more. But I also suspect she fights back. Those O’Ptolemies, I swear.
Yes, I see that particular type of Irish brutality in yer man’s face. It is very close to home, uncomfortably so. There’s a certain ‘Peaky Blinders’ there too, the sort of brutality gestated over generations as a result of being totally brutalized yourself/himself/ourselves. I let my American spelling keyboard change brutalised to that other spelling. I allow that happen, on and off, as it wants to, if I can’t be bothered to check it. I was pretty mid-Atlantic anyway, crossing back and forth with the other fecking Geese, so what schticks sticks. I have more or less decided to let it do what it wants. One might as well get to the ‘nowness’ of it all and embrace LOL and TYP, and just get on with it. I suspect misspelling and no punctuation might be the way to go.
You must register that resentment at this historic brutalizing, being a Sassenach (Sassenach: Those English geezers what dun us in for over 400 years) there, in the wild-west of that green patch, down that ol’ bog road on this blessed St. Paddy’s Eve. I certainly felt the difference being a ‘Paddy’ when I first arrived in London, before I manufactured my posh English plumminess. It didn’t help that it was the same time that the IRA were doing their damndest to disrupt any attempts at ‘passing’, like they even knew of my existence. It also didn’t help that, as an usher at the 'National Theatre' (before the 'Royal' was added to the name), I had to search pundit’s bags for bombs. “Suren’ ye wouldn’t be of-a-trying to smuggle explosives into de teatre, at all, at all, now would ye me old sagosha (Sagosha: patronizing Oirish term of endearment, roughly equivalent to the English ‘my good fellow’), to be sure, to be sure?” It took weeks of concentrated effort to reconstruct the ‘Th’ sound alone; the rest was all about learning to not sound so bloody apologetic.
Of course, I dabbled in the Perecs, the Guattaris, the Foucaults, the Deleuzes, the Kristevas (French geezers who wrote semiotic poop in the 70s, basically just here to prove that I was once semi-smart, or at least pretended to be), but remember none of it, other than ‘Discipline and Punish’, which did at least lead me towards some new realisations; that idea that the streets were cleaned up for trade, that madhouses were created for the undesirables who might clutter, or have been unsightly on, those money-generating arteries, the removal of that living and proliferating plaque. Nothing, of course, has changed since then, spendooley being spendooley, at least other than the fact that I became newly, or more, stupid. I would now file them all under the ‘unreadables’, happily so, I might add. Then there was so much pretence and so little time. Now there’s even less time, thankfully, so ‘Now’ it is, misspellings and ‘LOL’ included, and all that new pretence. All the same, it was good to know where ‘The Bedlam’ had come from, at least initially.
I do be having education envy; that “He was a Cambridge man, of course”, rankles. I would have happily strangled ‘Jude the Obscure’ to take his place, sort all that shit out, and get a good education. I would also have greedily eaten all his children, and their nappies/diapers (Wild Goosing there to be Trans-Atlantically understood), to get there. But when all is said and done I will just have to twaddle along with “He was a ‘NELP’ man, of course”, even though NELP transmogrified into that glorious seat of learning, ‘The University of East London’.
I know you have seen the image before and ‘favoured’ it, liked it, starred it, gave it a big dolloping red heart, raised my hopes even, but I am sending it to you again here. It records the moment just before I took a chainsaw to Mr Courbet down that old French boreen. It, that trusty chainsaw, was in the black bag at me mateses feetses (Smeagol talk for friend’s feet).
The notes here are in brackets beside the words they are explaining. In the original Word document they are numbered and added as notes at the end of each page, just like in a proper book.
Can I have an Amen (CIHAA) up here?
My first entry for the Summer Joust 2020
12x12 Vignette
More pics will follow!
Story down below.
Thanks for checking!
"For those in search of the power to stay
White hawks will lead the way"
-Translated from The Myktrodian Verses, MMCXIX
Not far from the trees where she first spotted the birds, Eryxia kept her eyes to the ground.
"There should at least be some of them " She thought, scanning through what seemed like the thirtieth bush.
"So far the translations Uncle left me were correct about everything, so why don't I see any?"
She was looking for Conocybe Vulgariae, one of the most poisonous toadstools to be found anywhere.
More commonly known as ‘gutting shrooms, for when ingested the toxic of this bowl shaped mushroom will cause such convulsions there have been cases of people throwing up their own stomach.
Although not extremely rare, recent discoveries for its use in both the medical as the magical world turned this once demonized fungus into a wanted commodity, so obviously people have searched far and wide to get a piece of that pie.
Eryxia was no such people, and her search for the shrooms was only the beginning of her quest.
She was after the far more rare, little known Conocybe Perpetua.
This white anomaly of the gutting shroom is said to have the power to elongate life exponentially and even cure mortal ailments and fatal wounds when concocted correctly.
Little is known to common folk about where to find gutting shrooms, as competing guilds keep that secret along with the secrets of their trade. Luckily, Eryxia can be very persuasive when needed, so it cost her all but a few drinks to convince a local herbalist to tell her what areas to start searching.
Even less is known about the location or even existence of Conocybe Perpetua;
Aside from a few references in archaic potion rituals and nigh unreadable magical formulae, it has only been mentioned in one document, The Myktrodian Verses, a collection of ancient riddles, songs and poems hinting of legends of yore.
This large vase is by Italian maker Zaccagnini. Marked D 20 (something unreadable) Z Italy, it was found in Minneapolis.
My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
There’s still more to come. 😃
(This is not the final draft.)
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Scene: Garden 3‑4
Jack slumped deeply in the commander’s chair, his gaze sweeping across the pale glow of the monitor wall.
Camera feeds A17, A18, A19—all fixed on the arena’s center. Yet the security guard on the west side of the stands wasn’t watching there. His eyes were glued to the emergency exit at Section 212. Its sensor blinked once—a flash of red warning across the screen.
“A suspicious movement… the door sensor just lit up,” Jack's low voice vibrated through Ben’s earpiece.
Ben glanced upward at the monitors and whispered,
“Shall I go?”
“No,” Jack replied, his voice dropping. “Don’t leave your post. I’ll handle it.”
He paused, stern. “It’s probably nothing. But—stay alert. Keep your eyes peeled.”
Silence fell over each earpiece, the tension thickening. On the monitor, the door remained motionless—neither opening nor closing—frozen in stillness.
Jack burst from the briefing room, sprinted up from underground into the arena, his view sweeping the western stand. He looked up at the broad, flat ceiling of Madison Square Garden, sensed it swelling with the heat of the crowd. Cheers greeting the presidential candidate blended with jeers—clearly, anti‑Republicans had infiltrated.
Jack narrowed his gaze on the west stand, then lowered his eyes to his iPhone. Multiple social feeds scrolled with frenetic energy, and one post caught his attention: a murder threat, flashing in angry red text.
He dashed down the crowded corridor and reached the west stand, addressing a nearby guard:
“Evening. Everything clear on your end?”
The guard, clad in plain black suit with no tie—just a discreet earpiece—nodded, calm. He lifted his jacket slightly, revealing the outline of a Glock 19 at his waist. No hostility—just a tacit acknowledgment. Jack responded with a silent nod, their training speaking volumes.
“Door sensor tripped once. I’ll check visually.” Jack seized the cold metal handle and cast a glance down the corridor beyond. Darkness swallowed the path; silence reigned.
He spoke into his earpiece:
“All clear in the west stands. Security is solid.”
He patted the guard’s shoulder. “Stay alert.” The man returned a brief smile—and then lights died across the arena.
In the dark, red lasers lanced from ceiling to floor as a menacing bass drum rolled in from below. A crisp hi‑hat scythed in sixteenth‑notes; a heavy kick drum struck four‑on‑the‑floor. A low, rumbling bass synth layered in—and the very air of the arena began to pulse.
The crowd's heartbeat synchronized with the beat. Swirling smoke and laser cuts, the floor trembling. From deep within the sound, a processed male voice intoned again and again:
“Strength. Order. America.”
As smoke thickened the light, colossal center-hung screens flickered to life:
J U S T I N B R A D F O R D
One spotlight pierced the gloom—red, then blue, finally white—tracing the American tricolor. Within its glow appeared a man: Justin. Clad in a dark‑navy tailored suit, a bold crimson tie signifying the Republican Party, a single white rose pinned to his lapel.
Moments later, another spotlight revealed Eleanor Blake, dressed in an elegant black gown, standing behind him. Hand in hand, they strode center stage, each step purposeful. The audience looked on, awestruck, shouting cheers:
—“Take back America!”—
Red, blue, and white lights danced across their feet. Eleanor paused; Justin stepped forward to the microphone as the music faded and lights dimmed again. Silence engulfed the arena.
He made no sound—only a slight, assured smile. That smile was a declaration of war. Saying everything without uttering a word. That posture—that was the bearing of a man who would become the most powerful leader in the world: President of the United States.
Justin scanned the crowd for a moment, then spoke in calm tones. His golden hair, blue eyes—mirroring Eleanor’s—lent gravity to his words:
“Good evening, New York. How’s your night going so far?”
He smiled at a woman in the front row. Following his father’s advice, he spoke as if addressing just one person, not an entire audience—
—“When I arrived in the parking lot tonight, I felt weighed down by the humidity. Eleanor whispered to me: ‘We chose the best course to protect you. Our team would risk their lives for you.’”
His voice rang clear. Thunderous applause erupted from tens of thousands. A wave of anticipation rolled toward the stage. The spotlight seemed to center itself in his eyes—and likewise in Eleanor’s.
“Tonight, we gather to put our will once again at the heart of this nation. To reclaim the ‘light’ America is forgetting. Over the past four years, our party restored the economy, brought back security, rebuilt national order. Now, it’s time to shine that light brighter—not as mere hope, but as our responsibility. If America shines again, the world will follow. We must seize that stronger, purer light. It will illuminate the world.”
Justin’s voice reverberated through the arena—until… a dry gunshot cracked the air from center stage.
Jack dove instinctively. His eyes darted upward to the giant screens: time froze. He saw Justin’s body convulse backwards, his jacket tail flipping off his left shoulder. The first bullet struck his left arm, the second to his left abdomen. Justin crumpled slowly, falling face‑first.
“Justin!” Eleanor’s scream cut across the stage. Her wide eyes fixed on him, trembling. A haze of tears blurred her vision. Secret Service agents shielded her, pulling her back.
“Hit the deck!” Guards and crowd shouted in chorus. Pandemonium erupted. Women's screams overlapped. The reverberation of gunfire lingered ominously in the cavernous space.
Unbeknownst to most, Jack’s ears had discerned two shots. He closed his eyes and re‑ran the sound—each fired from above—each from perilously close.
“Ben—where are you?” Jack pushed through collapsing spectators, heading to the stage.
“By Justin’s side. Missed his heart—just grazed left arm and abdomen. Not arterial, but bleeding heavily.”
“Medical team’s on the motorcade. Justin has Bombay blood—two bags ready on the ambulance. Start transfusion.”
“If that’s not enough, what about Elijah?”
“Either way, he’s en route. Bellevue Hospital stores Bombay bags—confirmed three days ago.”
Bombay blood: a rare type first found in Bombay (now Mumbai) in 1952—not A, B, or O—afflicting about 1 in 10,000 in India, 1 in 2.5 million worldwide. It can only be transfused to someone of the same type.
Ben replied calmly.
They rushed Justin to Bellevue Hospital—the closest to the Garden. Jack called Elijah. Before the first ring ended, Elijah answered, breathless:
“Jack... this is bad. We’ve no blood—no Bombay stock.”
Jack couldn’t believe it.
“I saw the bags in person three days ago!”
Silence, then Elijah replied:
“The blood keeper was killed in a car crash yesterday.”
As Jack absorbed the news, his voice boomed over the arena’s PA, shaking the trembling building. The crowd froze and then shattered. Thousands surged toward exits—only to find them locked.
“There’s explosives in this building. Please, stay calm and head for the exits. I repeat—I am….”
Panic rippled. Eight exits in total—most had been sealed for VIP and motorcade security. The crowd funnelled into the remaining three.
Low moans grew to shrieks. People trampled the fallen. A little girl's white blouse had turned grey, her teddy flattened. During flight, no one looked back. At one exit, dozens collapsed, graves to the trampling. The weight buckled railings, jammed the door.
“Doors won’t open!” “There’s children—!” Screams scattered. Security couldn’t reach the scene. Orders were drowned in noise. Control evaporated.
“The crowd is uncontrollable, Jack,” came Zakaria’s voice through the PA, along with a simultaneous link to staff smartphones.
“You got my email? Open the link. No virus, I promise.”
Hurriedly, Jack checked his phone. The site loaded:
“Good evening, New York—and Los Angeles. My name is Zakaria Haddad. My real name. Five years ago, I lived in Gaza. Now I sit in a room many of you recognize.”
On the screen, a brown-skinned man with a trimmed beard—Zakaria—seated in a chair eerily like the Oval Office. Three green-curtained windows behind him—the color favored by Prophet Muhammad. A portrait of Ibn Sina hung on the wall, his gaze deep, delicate—reaching from time’s past to the present.
Zakaria glanced at his watch, then back at camera—an unreadable dark joy flickering in his eyes.
“Breaking news—watch your phone alerts.” Instantly:
Former Democratic President Owen Reed shot at Los Angeles Convention Center
Zakaria hid a wry smile.
“A sad update, America. But don’t mourn. In Gaza, we suffered 55,000 times this. We lost over 55,000 dear souls—and we wept.”
He averted his gaze, clasped both hands, slammed his fist onto the desk. The air thickened. Yet in his eyes brimmed silent tears—quiet sorrow.
“We do not seek money or glory in death. We seek tears equal to the 55,000. Only tears can heal us.”
He rested his elbows, folded his hands, chin supported. A long pause. His eyes twitched with small sorrowful motions.
Zakaria rotated a framed photo toward the camera.
“My family. More precious than my life. Gone in an instant.”
There was no hatred in his voice—only respect and gentle grief. He began again.
“I was one among those 55,000. Even if I perish, their wills persist. I stand here to voice our will.”
He quietly reached into his right drawer, withdrew a Glock 17, chambered a round, and placed the barrel against his temple. His eyes were merciful—gentle, embracing his lost family.
As a Sunni, he stared straight at the camera:
“God bless America.”
Backlit by three blazing windows, he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. The dry crack snapped through the room. The camera jerked—then the screen went black.
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Previous notes
3
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54639396885/in/dateposted...
2
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54628511025/in/dateposted...
1
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...
Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
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Notes
1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"
•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.
•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).
•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.
•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.
2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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Saipan. USA. 2016. LUMIX G3 shot … 9 / X
サイパン。アメリカ。２０１６。LUMIX G3 shot … 9 / X
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
まだまだ投下します。😃
(最終稿ではありません。)
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場面 ガーデン３−４
指揮官席に深く腰を落としていたジャックは、青白いモニター群をくまなく睨んでいた。
カメラ番号A17、A18、A19──いずれもアリーナ中央を捉えている。だが、スタンド席西側の警備員の視線が集中していたのは、そこではなかった。彼が見つめていたのはセクション212の非常扉だった。その扉のセンサーが、わずか一度だけ、反応を示し、ディスプレイに赤い警告が走った。
「不審な動きだな。ドアのセンサーが一瞬、点いた」
ジャックの低い声が、ベンのイヤピースを震わせた。
ベンは即座に 頭上のモニターを見上げ、囁くように言った。
「行くか？」
「…いや。持ち場は離れるな。俺が行く」
ジャックの声がわずかに低くなった。
「たぶん、気のせいだ。ただし──全員、警戒は解くな。そのまま、周囲に意識を集中しておけ」
それぞれのイヤピースに静寂が落ち、張り詰めた空気で満ちた。
モニターに今映っている扉は、開くことも、閉じることもなく、ただ沈黙している。
ジャックはブリーフィングルームを飛び出し、スタンド席、西側が見渡せるアリーナまで、地下から駆け上がった。
マジソンスクエアガーデンの平坦な天井は、吐き出された人の熱気でいつもより膨らんでいるように、ジャックには見えた。大統領候補を歓迎する声とそれを罵倒する叫び声が錯綜し、鼓膜の奥を揺らした。どうやら反共和党も紛れ込んでいるようだ。
ジャックは、スタンド席西側へしばらく目を凝らしてから、手元のアイフォンに目を落とした。画面には、いくつかのSNSが同時に広がっており、それぞれが激しい書き込みによって文字が流れてゆく。右下の、メタの書き込みに、ジャックは目を留めた。殺害予告のメッセージが走り、赤く灯っている。ジャックは喧騒に満ちた通路を駆け抜け、スタンド席西側へ着くと、警備員へ声を掛けた。
「おつかれ。異常はないか？」
ジャックはさりげなく背筋を伸ばした。ジャケットの背中越しに、腰の中央──背骨の下に沿ってぴたりと固定されたグロック19の存在を確かめた。
「どうも。こちらは異常ありませんよ。何かありましたか？」
黒のスーツで、胸元にネクタイはない、プレーン・クロースの私設セキュリティだ。視線は沈着で、イヤピースから伸びるコードが耳の下に覗いている。男は一瞬、ジャックを睨むように見たが、ジャケットの裾を軽く持ち上げ、ホルスターの形をわずかに見せた。男に敵意はなかった。それが合図だった。ジャックも同じように、背筋を伸ばしながら無言で頷いた。この沈黙こそが、互いの訓練と経験を示していた。
「ドアのセンサーが一度反応した。目視で確認する」
ジャックは、冷たい金属の取っ手を掴み、扉の奥を一瞥した。辺りは暗闇に沈み、静まり返っていた。
ジャックはその場からすぐにイヤピースで伝えた。
「スタンド席西側に異常はなかった。セキュリティーにも問題はない」
ジャックは、男の肩を軽く叩いて、いった。
「引き続き、頼む」
男が笑顔でジャックに挨拶すると、アリーナの照明が一気に落ちた。
闇の中、赤いレーザーがガーデンの天井から床まで、縦横に切り裂き、重く低く唸るような打ち込みの硬質なバスドラがアリーナの底から噴き上がった。ハイハットが16分音符で刻まれ、深く沈むキックドラムが四拍を正確に打つ。そこに、低くうねるベース・シンセが重なり、会場全体の空気そのものが脈打つように震え始めた。
観客の鼓動が、低く分厚い音にシンクロし始めた。スモークが舞い、赤いレーザーが切り裂く中、床の震えが増していった。低いベース音に重なった奥から、加工された男性の声が繰り返し聞こえてくる。
“Strength.（強さ） Order.（秩序） America.”
場内のスモークが、光を濁らせるようにさらに舞うと、巨大なセンター・ハング・スクリーンに文字が浮かび上がった。
J U S T I N・B R A D F O R D
その瞬間、中央のスポットライトが、ひとつだけ点いた。赤から青へ──そして白へと、アメリカの三色をなぞるように変化する演出だ。
その光の中、男が姿を現した。
ジャスティンだ。ダークネイビーのテーラードスーツに、共和党を示す真紅のネクタイを巻いている。胸元には一輪の白いバラのピンバッジが添えられていた。
数秒遅れて、彼の背後にもうひとつ光が射した。漆黒のドレスを纏ったエリノア・ブレイクがスポットライトを浴びている。
ふたりは笑顔で手を取り合うと、ゆっくりステージ中央へ歩み始めた。彼らの歩みに迷いはなかった。強さと秩序の意志を現した姿に、観客の誰もがその姿を見上げ、歓声を上げている。
ー アメリカを取り戻せ！ ー
マイクスタンドへ近づくにつれ、アリーナの熱はさらに帯び、波のようにうねった。
赤、青、白の光がジャスティンらの足元を錯綜した。
エリノアを残し、ジャスティンは、一歩前に出て、マイクの前に立った。
音楽が静かにフェードアウトし、照明が再び落ちていく。
── その瞬間、全アリーナが沈黙に包まれた。
彼は、何も言わず、ただ口元に微笑みを浮かべた。その微笑みが、宣戦布告に等しかった。
語らずに、何かを語っている。
それが、世界でもっとも権力を持つ、アメリカ大統領の姿勢なのだ。
ジャスティンは、しばらく観衆を見渡してから、穏やかな口調でいった。エリノアと同じ金色に煌めく髪とブルーの瞳が、彼の言葉をさらに支えるようだ。
「こんばんは。ニューヨーク。今日は、いいことがあったかい？」
ジャスティンは、微笑みながら、最前列の女性に問いかけた。彼は、父のルールを守っていた。多くの聴衆に語るのではなく、たったひとりの身近な人へ言葉を伝えるのだ ーー
「僕は今日、駐車場に着いた時、気が滅入ったよ。ひどい湿気に陰鬱になった。でも、ここにいるエリノアが僕に言ったんだ。あなたを守るために、スタッフは最善の手段を選んだ、とね。そして、スタッフはみな、僕のために命を賭けてくれると」
歯切れよく言い切ったジャスティンの言葉に、再び観衆は沸いた。数万人の熱波がステージへ押し寄せた。
ジャスティンの目には、ステージにあった光を収束させたような輝きがあった。もちろん、エリノアの青い瞳にもだ。
「今夜、僕らがここに集まったのは、それぞれの意志を、再びこの国の中心に叩き込むためだ。アメリカが忘れかけている“光”を、もう一度我々の手に取り戻すためだ。この4年間、我が党は経済を立て直し、治安を取り戻し、国家の秩序を再構築した。今、私たちはその“光”をもっと強く照らす時に来ている。それは、ただの希望ではない。責任だ。アメリカが再び輝けば、世界はそれに倣う。そして、もっと強い、鮮明な光を私たちは手にしなければならない。アメリカが強い光を取り戻すことで、世界をくまなく照らすことができるのだ。私たちには、もっとそれができるはずだ」
ジャスティンの声が、再び会場を震わせた瞬間、乾いた銃声が響いた。ステージ中央あたりからだ。ジャックは音と同時に身を屈め、アリーナの頭上に展開した巨大なセンター・ハング・スクリーンに目をやった。ジャックには映る全ての時間が止まっていた。ジャスティンの身体が弾けたように背後へ揺れた。ジャケットの裾がゆっくり翻り、左肩から崩れてゆく。たぶん、最初の弾は左肩に着弾した。その後、再びジャスティンは前屈みになった。二発目は左腹部だ。ジャスティンの身体は、床へスローモーションのように崩れ落ち、うつぶした。
「ジャスティン！」
エリノアの矯正がステージに響いた。大きく見開いた瞳が、一点を見つめまま、細かく揺れている。一瞬にして透明な薄い膜が幾重にも重なって滲み、零れた。
ジャスティンへ近づこうとするエリノアの体を前面から覆うようにしてSPが抑え込み、引き離している。
「伏せろ！」というSPと観客からの声が同時に周囲を支配した途端、観客席は混乱に包まれた。
女性らの悲鳴が錯綜し、誰か、とやはり別の女性の声がかぶさった。すでに消えている銃声の余韻が、巨大な会場に重く残って覆っている。
ステージにいた者以外は、一聴しただけでは気づかなかったがジャックの耳は聴き分けていた。弾は間違いなく２発だった。騒然とした場内をよそに、ジャックは静かに目を閉じた。発射音から着弾までを想像した。一発目の弾は、ジャスティンのほぼ頭上からだった。そして、もう一発もだ。発射音から着弾までの様子からしておそらくかなりの近距離だ。
「ベン、どこだ」
ジャックは、出口へ卒倒してゆく観客らを抗うようにしてステージへ近づいていく。ベンの冷静な声がすぐに聞こえてきた。
「ジャスティンのそばだ。心臓ははずれているが、左肩と左腹部をかすめているようだ。動脈には達していないが出血がひどい」
「車列にあった救護班がすぐにいく。ジャスティンはボンベイブラッドだ。救急車にブラッドバッグが二つ備えてある。とりあえず輸血するはずだ」
「足らなかった場合は、イライジャのところか？」
「いずれにしても搬入だ。ベルビュー病院にブラッドバッグが保管されている。予備の輸血だ。三日前に確認した」
ボンベイブラッドとは、１９５２年にインドのムンバイ、旧ボンベイで初めて確認された、通常のA、B、Oには分類されない特殊な血液型だ。インドでは１万人にひとり程度だが、世界的には２５０万人に１人ともいわれているもので、同じボンベイ型からボンベイ型への輸血しかできない。
ベンは、冷静にわかったといった。
マジソンスクエアガーデンに最も近いベルビュー病院にジャスティンを運び込む。ジャックは、病院で控えているイライジャに直接電話した。ワンコールが切れる前にすぐイライジャは反応した。
「ジャック、大変だ。血液がない。ボンベイブラッドがないんだ」
ジャックは、耳を疑った。
「三日前に、俺は直接担当の、名前は忘れたな。とにかく目の前でブラッドバッグを確認したぞ」
イライジャは、数秒の沈黙の後、応えた。
「その血液の管理者は、きのう、交通事故で亡くなったんだ」
ジャックがその言葉に沈黙していると、場内にジャックの声でアナウンスが流れた。すでに震えているガーデンをさらにその声が震わせた。ジャックは、再びスクリーンに目をやったが、音声だけがジャックの声だった。
「みなさん、落ち着いてください。私はシークレットサービスのジャック・バンスです。この建物には爆薬が仕掛けられていますが、みなさん、落ち着いて、出口へ向かってください。繰り返します。私は….」
場内の空気が一瞬にして、硬直した。同時に、崩壊した。パニックはすぐに伝染した。数千の観客は、波紋のように大きく揺れ、一斉に出口へ傾れ込んだ。しかし、ジャスティンへの発砲と同時に出口は封鎖されていた。
メインアリーナの出入口は合計8つ――だがその多くは、来賓警備や車列誘導のためにすでに封鎖されていた。群衆の大半が、残された3つの出入口に集中した。
低い声から高い叫び声。倒れた人間を踏みつける足。転倒した白いブラウスの少女はすでに黒ずんでいる。小さな熊のぬいぐるみの顔が真っ平らになっている。
人は、逃げるときに後ろを見ない。出入口の一つでは、すでに数人が折り重なるように倒れ、その上をさらに何十人もの足が越えていった。荷重により手すりが歪み、出口の一部が完全に塞がれる。
「ドアが開かない！」
「子どもが――！」
叫び声が乱れ飛び、場内警備は現場への到達すら困難な状態だった。あらゆる指示が雑音にかき消され、もはや群衆は誰の言葉も聞いていなかった。
制御不能の肉の波――それが、人間の集団というものだった。
「この程度の混乱ではなかったぞ、ジャック」
ザカリアの声が切ったはずのPAから場内へ響いた。同時に、ジャックら警備スタッフへのスマートフォンへリンク先の案内がいっせいに届いた。
「メールが届いただろう？ リンク先を開け。安心しろ、ウィルスは除去済みだ」
ザカリアが笑いを抑え、皮肉混じりにいった。
ジャックは後ろポケットから慌てて、アイフォンを開いた。１件のメール着信を開くと、サイトが現れた。
「こんばんは、ニューヨーク。そしてロサンゼルス。私の名前はザカリア・ハッダード。本名だ。５年前、ガザに住んでいた。今は、みなさんがよく目にする部屋を真似た部屋に私はいる」
褐色の、顎髭をたくわえたザカリアは、アメリカ大統領執務室とほとんど同じ部屋の椅子に座っていた。背後に見える三つの大きな窓には、グリーンのカーテンが掛けられている。預言者ムハンマドが好んだ色だ。
壁面には、剣ではなく詩と理性で世界を導こうとした男、イブン・シーナーの肖像画が掛けられていた。その眼差しは、ワシントンよりも深く、リンカーンよりも繊細なもので、遥か遠く、消え去った時間の底からこちらを見据えているようだった。
ザカリアは腕時計に目を落としてから、再び、カメラに視線を向けた。目には言葉にできない喜びのような暗い影が落ちている。
「そろそろブレイキングニュースだ。スマートフォンの速報に注目して欲しい」
ザカリアがそういった途端、速報が流れた。
【民主党前大統領のオーウェン・リードがロサンゼルス・コンベンション・センターで銃撃された模様です】
ザカリアは、一瞬俯いて笑いを堪えながらいった。
「悲しい速報じゃないか。アメリカのみなさん。でもどうか悲しまないで欲しい。私が経験したガザではこの55,000倍だ。55,000人以上の大切な人を失い、そして、涙を流した」
ザカリアはカメラから目を逸らし、俯いた。そして両手を固く握りしめ、力強く机を叩きつけた。部屋の空気が硬直した。重く固まった空気が画像からも伝わってくる。しかし、顔を上げたザカリアの目にはうっすらと涙が溢れていた。静かな涙だった。
「私たちは、お金を求めない。また、死による名誉も求めない。私たちが欲しいのは、55,000人が流した涙と同じだけの涙だ。流された涙と同じだけの涙だけが、私たちを癒す」
両肘を机につき、両手を組むと、ザカリアは静かに顎を乗せた。目を閉じて、しばらく沈黙が続いた。目尻が細かく震えているようだった。
ザカリアはデスクにあったフォトフレームをカメラへ向け、反転させた。
「私の家族だ。私の命よりも大切な家族だ。すべて一瞬で奪われたよ」
彼の言葉に憎しみはなかった。語尾には、亡くなったものへの敬意とたくさんの優しさを詰め込んだ静けさが含まれている。続けて、ザカリアはゆっくり口を開いた。
「55,000人のうちの私はひとりに過ぎない。私が消えても55,000人もの意思は決して消えず、引き継がれる。私は、私たちの意思をここに表明するためにいる」
ザカリアは、向かって右手の机の引き出しにそっと手を伸ばした。引き出しから、グロック１７を取り出すと、スライドしてチャンバーに弾を流した。そして、銃口を自分のこめかみに当てた。ザカリアの目からは憎悪は消えていた。穏やかで、亡くなった家族を包み込むようなやさしい眼差しだった。
スンニ派である彼は、まっすぐにカメラを見つめ、いった。
「神のご加護を。アメリカ」
執務室の三つの窓から差し込んだ眩い逆光の中、ザカリアは、静かに目を閉じると、トリガーを真っ直ぐに引いた。乾いた銃声が部屋に響いた。一瞬、カメラが横へぶれたが、映像は瞬時に黒へ切り替わった。
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これまでのメモ
3
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54639396885/in/dateposted...
2
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54628511025/in/dateposted...
1
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...
追記 この小説を多少説明しました。
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
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メモ
1
「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」
•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。
•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。
•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。
•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。
2
2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3
Shots fired at Trump rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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c1910 postcard view of Main Street in Elkhart, Indiana. This view was looking north from the Lexington Avenue intersection. There are no automobiles in this scene. The only vehicles are horse-drawn wagons, including an ice wagon. There were also several bicycles as well as a few pedestrians.
The most distant buildings in this scene were the three-story buildings on the northeast corner at Jackson Street. The Hotel Bucklen was on the southeast corner of that intersection and clearly dominated this scene. Another postcard shows the barber’s pole near the hotel portico more clearly. It was probably advertising a barbershop located in the hotel basement. The 1910 Sanborn™ fire insurance map set for Elkhart shows two saloons and a harness business facing Main Street in the four-story hotel building. According to the map set, the businesses in the two-story building south of the hotel included a pianos business and a bank. However, a 1912 city directory¹ listed First National Bank at the pianos business location (110 South Main Street and listed St. Vincent’s Roman Catholic School next door (112 South Main Street) where the map set shows the bank. It is possible the bank expanded and the school was located upstairs.
The LYRIC sign and the two American flags identified the location of a theatre (114 South Main Street). The map set shows a 10c vaudeville theatre at that location, but the directory listed the Philip Rittel meats business at that address. The next building south stood next to the alley. The map set shows a grocery and meat market at that location while the directory listed Charles Dotson’s saloon at that address (116 South Main Street).
Across the alley to the south, the 1910 map set shows a soft drinks business. A sign hanging on the front of that store (118 South Main Street) displayed a bottle. The directory listed Adolph Meas’ saloon at that address. There are two small signs on the next building south (120 South Main Street), but they are unreadable. The map set shows a saloon at that location and the directory listed Silas Joseph’s Crescent Pocket Billiards Parlor at that address. However, the map set shows a pool hall next door at 122 South Main Street and the directory listed Joseph Eash with a cigars, billiards and pool business at this address. The sign at 122 South Main Street advertised CRESCENT BILLIARDS and POOL. The name CRESCENT was also painted on the window. Several bicycles were parked at the curb in front of this business or the business next door.
The pediment on the next building south (124 South Main Street) included the name DODGE and LAW OFFICE. The 1912 directory didn’t list this street address or any businesses at this address. (It included listings for the Dodge Building at 224 South Main Street.) The ICE wagon parked at the curb is blocking the view of the entrance to that building. The map set shows a barbershop at 124 South Main Street. Next door (126 South Main Street), the map set shows a gunsmith and repair business while the city directory listed Earl Smith’s saloon at that address. The sign painted on the window advertised THE SPOT. A beer sign was hanging beside the entrance.
The name on the next building south was BIERMAN and the 1910 map set shows a saloon in the Bierman Block at that location (128 South Main Street). The directory listed Anthony Manning as the proprietor of a saloon and “The Old Inn Buffet” at that address. The signs on the windows advertised “THE OLD INN” BUFFET and HOOSIER CREAM. The placard in the window advertised BASE BALL. The directory also listed Fannie Bierman as a resident at that address and listed her late husband Amil as deceased (February 4, 1911).
The map set shows another saloon in the building at the south end of the block (130 South Main Street), but the sign on the building in this view advertised the ELKHART WATER CO. The city directory confirmed the water company’s location at this address. This suggests the postcard was based on a photograph taken after the 1910 map set was completed. That set is dated August, 1910.
All of the buildings north of the alley in this scene are gone. Most of the buildings south of the alley were still standing as of 2007.
1. Polk’s Elkhart City Directory 1912, Volume II (Detroit, Michigan: R. L. Polk & Co., 1912). Available online at archive.org/details/elkhartindianaci00unse_0.
From a private collection.
The full postcard image can be seen here.
www.flickr.com/photos/hoosier_recollections/24123611483/i...
Copyright 2012-2016 by Hoosier Recollections. All rights reserved. This image is part of a creative package that includes the associated text, geodata and/or other information. Neither this package in its entirety nor any of the individual components may be downloaded, transmitted or reproduced without the prior written permission of Hoosier Recollections.
Car: Ford 3 Window Coupe Hot Rod.
Year of manufacture: 1949
Date of first registration in the UK: 9th March 1979.
Region of registration: West Sussex.
Latest recorded mileage: Unreadable (MOT 5th May 2012).
Date of last V5 issued: 17th July 2012.
Date taken: 12th October 2014.
Location: Queen Square, Bristol, UK.
Made for SWFactions. Original Post: www.eurobricks.com/forum/index.php?/forums/topic/180672-j...
Our trio find themselves in a precarious position, deep in the forgotten jungles of Imynusoph, face-to-face with the dastardly ex-Imperial Colonel Corbett!
Read on to find out how it happened!
Intrepid reporter Kitsa Rigo grumbled and pushed aside another bright green frond. Her shirt was sweat-soaked, she had cuts on her arm from the foliage and she had stepped in something gooey that was seeping through her boot. She should have been in the Core Worlds investigating corporate corruption, not here, in the farthest reaches of the galaxy, looking for a tribe and treasure that may or may not be made up.
Impatiently, she stomped alongside her two companions. "Mr. Clod, it's time to deal with the truth: we're walking in circles," she said. "I'm putting this in my story for the Gazette, you know."
"Shush shush, would you shush? Be quiet," said Clod, rolling his eyes and trying to look unbothered. "And stop writing. You're driving me up the wall. Just wait. I'm sure I know where we are. Sure, things look bad now, but . . . haven't you ever heard that saying? The night is darkest before the dawn?"
"Well--well, actually, Mr. Clod...technically, that isn't quite true," stammered Professor Floon, who, while hurrying forward to speak, tripped in the undergrowth.
The Klatoonian explorer pulled the Neimodian academic roughly to his feet. "What was that, Professor?" he growled.
"Well, about what you just said...Not here, not on Imynusoph. You see, due to its remoteness, there is a dearth of verifiable information about Imynusoph. While regrettable, that is what makes a CFS research station such a desirable outcome!"
"Get to the point."
"W-Well, in spite of this scarcity of knowledge, I've been pouring over what existing tomes we do possess, and I've learned that on this planet it is, in fact, the dusks that are the darkest. A result of a peculiar tilt on the planet's axis. A fascinating quirk, I think!"
"So far, I don't think any of your quirks are all that fascinating, professor."
"Oh my! I say--"
"I wish you wouldn't. You're distracting me from my wayfinding. Ms. Rigo, engage the professor in conversation so I can figure out where we are, would you?"
She put a hand on her hip and glared. "I thought you knew."
"I know...in my bones, alright?" he replied, waving away her accusation. "My instinctive being. My internal map. I just want to make sure my bones, being, and internal map are hitting the mark. Let's take a left up here, into this clearin--Woah there!"
"HEY!"
"Oh my!"
Buffeted by a sudden swinging of broad-leaved plants, the three of them tumbled headfirst into the aforementioned clearing, where they found themselves quickly sinking into some kind of sand. The sand was also sinking, and quickly.
"Oh my, oh my!" Warbled Professor Floon.
"We need a rope or something! A vine!" Kitsa shouted.
Clod looked around for a way out. "You better not put this in your story, Rigo!"
"Is that really important right now?" she snarled. "Ugh--It's no good, there's nothing to grab hold of."
The Professor tried to stay calm. "Mr. Clod! What do we do?"
"Oh, as if this con-artist knows..."
Clod shot her a proud look. "Actually, I do know! I know exactly. How about that?"
The Professor and Reporter turned and stared at the disappearing form of Harnaby Clod. They waited for instruction.
"It's obvious, isn't it? Start shouting for help!"
Kitsa threw up the hand that wasn't being sucked down by sand. "Oh, great plan! Very dramatic."
"Mr. Clod, I feel the need to caution you...such a ruckus may very well draw dangerous wildlife toward our location, which, while fascinating, may--"
Clod scowled at what he could still see of the Professor. "Listen here, Egghead: It's our only hope! Start making a ruckus or you'll never see dangerous wildlife again!"
The three started shouting for help. They were nearly submerged in the sinking sand when they heard something coming, from every direction. For a moment, Clod worried they really had brought out some kind of violent beast that would snatch them from the pit with its teeth, and rip them apart for food.
But it wasn't a beast. It may have been something worse.
It was half-a-dozen people with guns, wearing smashed-up imperial armor, and a speeder bringing up the rear. The pirates surrounded them and brought their weapons to bear. The trio tried to raise their hands in surrender, but, well, the sand.
A man dressed in officer regalia and a fur cloak swept towards them, curling his mustache with a finger. He was followed by a mean-looking Sergeant; his right hand man.
"My, my. Look what we've found, Slyfoot!" said the officer.
"People, sir," said his right hand man.
"Yes, people! Indeed! We weren't looking for people. We were, in fact, on the search for beasts. You three are very much not beasts! Except perhaps the one in the wide-brimmed hat, but the resemblance there seems entirely superficial. Do you understand me?" He frowned at the drowning trio. "At the risk of being rude, I must say you have wasted my time. And what are you doing out here, at the end of hyperlanes? The back of beyond! Looking for the golden treasures of Imynusoph, I suspect. Slyfoot is always telling me that finding the famed treasure of Imynusoph will earn me a commendation from the regional governor, and I am always telling Slyfoot that, alas! The treasure is a myth." He crept closer to the edge, looking at them sharply. "But treasure hunters are no myth. No, no, a persistent thorn in my side. You are treasure hunters, aren't you? Best to answer quickly, before you are consumed by the sand and I am left to wonder about your answer forever."
Clod spat and roared. "Get us out of here, you Imp snake! "
"How eloquent," smiled the officer. "Answer the question!"
"Treasure Hunters?" cried an indignant Floon, who was apparently more offended by the accusation than by the lack of help. "Pardon me, sir-- but that is hardly the case!"
Kitsa and Clod groaned, but the Officer looked intrigued. He smiled to his men as if sharing an inside joke. "Oh, indeed? And what is the case, my man?"
"Dun't--teld--hem--inniedeng!" said Kitsa, flailing as her head started to go under.
Floon did not comprehend the warning. With wounded pride, he launched in, "I am a researcher! An academic! I am here to study the local fauna, the fantastic giant birds of Imynusoph! Surely you've heard of them!"
Leaning closer, a gleam appeared in the officers eye. "You know of these giant birds, do you?"
"I do! Of course I do! It's only natural! I am Professor--blub--Pod Floon, and I politely demand your assistance! My associates and I are moments from a most unpleasant death!"
The officer looked pleased. "A fellow of manners and distinction! Out here, an even rarer find than my prey. I've made up my mind. Hop to it, men! Get them out of the sand!"
Slyfoot raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure, Colonel? Perhaps we should just leave them. It will save us the trouble..."
"No, Slyfoot! You've only ever believed in the treasure, never the giant birds! Slyfoot, ever the skeptic, except when it pertains to gold! Well, it appears I have finally found someone who shares my interest!"
Slyfoot's expression was unreadable. "Understood, sir. May I have the dog-faced one for interrogation?"
"Hey!" Clod growled. He knew when someone was talking about him.
The Colonel waved a hand. "Oh yes, naturally. Do as you must with that one. Troopers! Bring these three to our camp. I would have further conversation with our guests."
To be continued!
the lighting was bad and this was the best i could do and flash made it unreadable lol
credit me faggots
** This is an 8.5 minute video so has to be downloaded to see the full version as only 3 minutes are shown in the Flickr interface.
** For non-Pro Flickr users, the download limit appears to be 3 minutes on download as well, and so there is a link here-
www.rail.tightfitz.com/Video/Barrow_Hill_&_Stavely_Ca...
* Barrow Hill
So, on Saturday May 28th, just before moving on to the Canal Basin at Staveley and the weekend celebrations there, a small diversion was made to call in at the Barrow Hill Shed, to see what was to be seen.. In the first 22 pictures in the video, taken during the normal Shed opening times on the Saturday morning, a series of traction can be seen, and in order this is-
* BR class 40, D212/40012 'Aureol', Works No. 2669/D429, built by The English Electric Company Ltd & The Vulcan Foundry Ltd
* EWS class 37, 37521 & class 08, 08685 plus others behind these two which were not noted
* a line of 5 or more DRS class 20s, numbers unreadable from the angle taken, tut tut, no notebook!
* D5054/24054 'Phil Southern', built in 1959 by British Railways at Crewe Works with Power Unit, Sulzer 6LDA28, see-
www.elrdiesel.info/fleet-24054.php
* D4092, 'Christine', a class 10 0-6-0, diesel shunting locomotive built at Darlington in 1962.
* class 45, 45060, 'Sherwood Forester, more details here-
pioneer-diesels.co.uk/blog/?tag=45060
* Some Harry Needle class 20s with a grey diesel shunter in the foreground
* IEMD 01 shunter
* class 20 GBRf, 20905
* Ruston Diesel Shunter, D2996, 07012, was at Scunthorpe Works, as stated on Wikipedia, but not any more/
* D5814 class 31, 31414, see-
www.brdw.co.uk/class31/class31-414.html
* E3035, class 83, 83012, English Electric/Vulcan Foundry Works numbers 2941/E277, built in July 1961, withdrawn in March 1989
* EWS class 08 shunter, 08685
* Virgin Trains, class 82, 82101
* GCR 506, 'Butler Henderson'
* BR Scot Rail class 37, 37403, 'Isle of Mull', earlier numbers were D6607 & 37307
and with two of the younger enthusiasts, Casper & Oscar, attempting to drive off with one of the diesel locomotives, Casper clearly watching the gauges as he eases the throttle open whilst Oscar engages 'primary drive'... Another BR shunter can be seen in front of 'Butler Henderson', on the form of class 03, 03066. With a few of the innards of Scott Rail 37403, 'Isle of Mull' on the platform at 'Roundhouse Halt' at the region's iconic and the UK's only surviving Roundhouse Locomotive Shed, coded 18D by the LMS and 41E by BR, time to move off to the festivities at the Staveley Canal Basin, in the 2nd part of the video.
* Staveley Canal Basin
Along with the pictures taken here during the afternoon festivities, which were very good, more information can be found relating to the Canal Trust and its partners from, The Chesterfield Canal Trust-
www.chesterfield-canal-trust.org.uk
along with the IWA, the Inland Waterways Association with the Water Recovery Group being part of the IWA-
The trust held its 2016 Canal Festival at the newly refurbished and just recently completed, Staveley Basin, over the weekend of the 28th-29th of May, now, last year. Fortunately the weather was with them and it turned out to be a very successful weekend, see-
chesterfield-canal-trust.org.uk/general-news/
These 2nd set of pictures in this 8.5 minute video, taking up over 6 minutes of the total time, shows the various activities going on at the Canal Basin, some of the attractions of which, I have to say, 'The Urban Gypsies' to my mind were the best. Shots of the various activities, the canal cruisers and folks generally having a good time on and off the water and finally a short excursion along the as yet unfinished section along to where the canal will go under the track-bed of the now denuded 'Seymour Branch line', the canal then following the route alongside the GCR's old London Extension line towards the Rother Valley Country Park. From there the canal will rise up the hill to the western portal of Norwood Tunnel where it will eventually join up with the end of the other section of the canal at Kiveton. For details of this end of the work and a view inside Norwood Tunnel, 164Mby, 10m 28sec, see-
www.rail.tightfitz.com/Video/Norwood_Tunnel_2016-conv.mp4
At present the Canal water flows out of the basin through the town lock and ends up running through a pipe, over-flowing into a rough catchment area where it is finally diverted back from whence it came; the River Rother. This is as far as the navigation goes at the present time and the 1st shot shows 'Seth Ellis', built by Soar Valley Steel Boasts Ltd, having come about and moored up just this side of the temporary dam wall, waiting for its return journey through the lock. Much of the space still looks like a building site but the Canal Trust had made a great effort to make the event safe and look good with plenty of folk about to ask for information.
There were boats a-plenty of one sort or another, cruisers, canoes and more traditional craft. An evening event was the 'Parade of the Illuminated Boats', an after-dark saunter down towards where the Staveley Iron & Chemical works used to be located, opposite Mill Green. More antics from the Urban Gypsies as they 'frolic' about the place and the odd partial view of the Morris Dancing brigade.
There are several interesting characters to see here and there around the lock side and just before the excavator operator, Mr. Oscar A. Aujla, takes the final shot, a look at the yet to be completed route along from the basin overflow to around the corner under Hall Lane and then on to where the canal used to pass under the railway line.
This line, took freight moves from the Midland Line, off to the left, across the canal here and on to Seymour Junction at Poolsbrook, where it branched, the north-east line, with another branch, Oxcroft Junction, to the Oxcroft coal depot at Mill Lane, passing through Clowne, Creswell, Langwith & Shirebrook, the latter with its own branch to the colliery at Thoresby, and then through to Mansfield and points south. The other branch line went south-east to the large pits at Markham & Bolsover, on the east side of the M1 motorway at right next; this once derelict space is now being developed for contemporary industrial use and there was talk of some of this being rail connected again ... but that looks to have come to nothing.
All the tracks from Poolsbrook along to Clowne, Oxcroft Colliery and Markham Colliery have now been lifted, some of it, unofficially, in addition, the signal box at Seymour Junction, still visible on the 1999 and 2007 Google Earth views, was burned down after 2007 and the site has now been cleared. The Canal Trust, I was told, was in negotiations with Network Rail regarding the canal passage under/across the Poolsbrook branch line trackbed, which can be seen towards the end of the video, and as I understand it, NR wanted to maintain the availability of the track bed for future use but this now appears not to be the case. If so it will mean the canal trust does not have to dig another, rather deep, lock to pass under the railway line, though in a way it would be good to keep the layout as it is with a new lock under the track-bed, just in case! but that's a lot of effort if trains are never to run along here again.
The views at the end show the aspect facing towards the canal basin and looking along the now denuded track-bed towards Seymour Junction with, at that time in May, a profusion of wild flowers growing at either side of the track with the canal bridge visible at lower right where the palisade fence, zigzags into the picture; hardly worth having it there anymore! There is a shot of the rusting footbridge over the track-bed the bridge now not really needed and who knows what its fate might be once the canal passes though here with its towpath.
Closer to the basin, on the walk back from the railway formation, a shot of the point at which the canal waters flow back down to the River Rother, the exit from the muddy canal bed being below the large rectangular structures which can be seen on the left in the picture.
Coming to the end of the walk back from the point at which the canal will take its course up along the GC's old London Extension trackbed from Staveley to Killamarsh, an end on view looking into the canal outlet on this side of the town lock, with two of the cruising barges moored up and the 'Ice Cream Man' doing a brisk trade. Finally, Mr. O.A Aujla takes charge of the mechanical digger for the final shots at the canal basin, the Waterway Recovery Group instructing him on how to manipulate a road cone into the air and deposit it somewhere else.
Finally, a look back at the scene along the Poolsbrook Branch from a similar location seen in the earlier shots today. The last two shots show the scene as it looked in February, 2014, just over two years before today's festivities. The 1st looks west, towards the canal basin, with not much in the way of the canal excavation having taken place at this time; though rainwater is accumulating in the course of the canal bed. The track-bed, though weeds are everywhere, is still in its original double-track form and it wouldn't have taken much effort at this stage to re-open this line. The 2nd, and last picture in the video, is the view looking in the opposite direction and south of east towards Poolsbrook and Seymour Junction and again, the lines are in reasonably good condition and could be brought back to life for container use along to the land once occupied by the Markham and Bolsover Collieries; now sadly, it seems, not to be.
Here endeth this 'End-of-Year' piece, though there is another part to follow next in relation to developments with the route of the HS2, and I hope it provides some enjoyment and viewers feel its worth down-loading and taking a look. A very Happy and Prosperous, and hopefully less turbulent, New Year to one and all. Many thanks for your continued interest, remarks, additional information and other comments over last year, I appreciate it all...
Vieilles maisons du XVe siècle. Au no 21, cave voûtée du XIIIe siècle. [Old houses of the fifteenth century. At No. 21, vaulted cellar of the thirteenth century.]
Postcard. Postally used. Stamp intact. Cancellation date unreadable.
Published by Lib. Blanche, Lisieux. Cliché Tribouillard.
Location: Google Maps Street View / Historypin
Most of the ancient town of Lisieux was destroyed during an Allied ariel bombardment on the evening of 6 June, 1944.
Preston Hall Museum, Stockton on Tees
The MILLPOOL SS was built at Stockton in 1906; steel built; tonnage 4,222 gross and 2,707 net; length 355 feet, breadth 51 feet, depth 28.62 feet. She was built for her owners, The Pool Shipping Company, Limited.
At the time of her loss her registered owner was "Sir Robert Ropner, Baronet", in his time well known in connection with British shipping, but he had been some years dead and the continued use of his name as registered owner was due to an oversight.
The "MILLPOOL" sank with all hands in the North Atlantic at about midnight on the 2nd/3rd October, 1934, when proceeding fully laden on a voyage from Dantzig to Montreal. She carried a cargo of rye in bulk in her four holds. Her loading had been completed on the 14th September but her departure was postponed two days by reason of a casualty in the river which did not affect the "MILLPOOL".
She passed Cape Wrath on the 22nd September but her master kept in communication with his owners by wireless until shortly before the vessel´s loss. Her last recorded position on the evening of the 2nd October, 1934, was in longitude 37° 10´W. and latitude 53° 30´N. Her master had instructions to try and make "a fast passage" But there is no indication in the evidence that he did more than maintain a regular speed of about 6 knots, within the vessel´s proved capacity.
The weather conditions in the region of the North Atlantic in which the "MILLPOOL" was lost are indicated by evidence given by the master of the steamship "Ainderby" which set out from Swansea for Montreal on the 21st September. The "Ainderby" took the more southerly course, the "MILLPOOL" the more northerly.
On the 27th September the vessels were in wireless communication and the master of the "Ainderby" considered that the "MILLPOOL" was directing her course so as to bring her toward his own course. The "MILLPOOL´s" master gave no indication to the "Ainderby" that the "MILLPOOL" was in peril before the 2nd October, 1934. Both vessels, however, had by this time encountered severe storms.
On the 29th September, the "MILLPOOL´s" owners were informed by wireless that she had "experienced continuous bad weather which accounts naturally for poor speed" and the master went on to say "Cannot make progress owing to heavy gale", and reported the vessel to be 950 miles east of Belle Island, New-foundland.
On the 30th September this message came through:-"Water entering hold No. 1 from 27th September: cannot locate: now pumps will not reduce: will make St. John´s (Newfoundland) if we cannot proceed direct to Montreal". The "MILLPOOL´s" peril became acute during the 2nd October. Evidently she had been struck in the prevailing storms by wind of hurricane force.
At 6.56 p.m. her master sent out this message: "Helpless, driving before hurricane since 1.0 p.m." Within an hour he was sending out S.O.S. signals which were received on board the s.s. "Ainderby", on the Canadian Pacific Steamship Company´s s.s. "Beaverhill" and on the Cunard Company´s s.s. "Ascania".
At a few minutes before 8.0 o´clock the master signalled: "After hatch stove in: three men injured: driving helpless before gale: raising temporary aerial." A like message was picked up at 8.30. The s.s. "Beaverhill"-proceeding, as the other warned vessels did, to the help of the "MILLPOOL"-exchanged some messages with her including these:-At 9.50-s.s. "Beaverhill" signalled "Are your lights burning?" s.s. "MILLPOOL" replied "Lying in trough of sea: oil lamps not very bright."
At 12.18 a message came from the "MILLPOOL" probably from the wireless operator-" Things much the same: don´t know about things on deck: rolling heavily." Shortly before 2.0 o´clock in the morning the "Beaverhill" and the "Ascania"- both searching for the "MILLPOOL"-were in communication. Her messages had become "Too weak to read": "Unreadable". Nothing more was heard from her.
The two rescue vessels searched the area in which the "MILLPOOL" had last been heard from without result and they continued their search until the evening of the 3rd October. Then they resumed their respective voyages. What had in fact happened to the "MILLPOOL" can no doubt be accurately judged from the report of the "Ainderby".
The prevailing gale had gained such force that at 2.45 p.m. on the 2nd October the "Ainderby" was struck by "a terrific sea more of the nature of a tidal wave than a sea caused by an ordinary Atlantic gale" and her No. 1 hatch and forward bulkhead were stove in, the bridge partly destroyed and her ventilators and other fittings swept away.
The master of the "Ainderby", however, was able to bring his ship stern on to the sea; the crew were mostly put into the engineroom; the vessel came off her course and returned to Queenstown, County Cork.
This was taken on Panepistimiou Avenue, one of the main streets in the center of Athens. It was right in front of the National Library, and just a couple blocks from the hotel where I stayed.
I had just missed one of the open-air buses that takes tourists like me around the city, and I had half an hour until the next one arrived. So I sat on one of the steps and photographed people as they walked by me, just to get a sense of what "ordinary" Athens people look like ...
Note: this photo was published in a Jul 3, 2012 Go Pin It blog, with the same caption and detailed notes that I had written here on this Flickr page.
Moving into 2013, the photo was published in a May 19, 2013 blog simply titled "Athens."
Moving into 2014, the photo was published in a Sep 10, 2014 blog titled "Sommergefühle im fashionable Griechenland."
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When we hear the phrase “first impression,” we tend to think of a person. Was the politician I recently voted for as inspiring when I heard his first speech as he was years later? (More so, sadly.) Was the girl that I married as beautiful at 13 as she was years later, in her twenties and thirties? (Yes, and yes.) Did Bob Dylan’s Blowin’ in the Wind send more of a shiver down my spine in 1963 than it did when I heard it drifting from a car radio 45 years later? (No. It stops me dead in my tracks every time I hear it.)
It’s not just people that make first impressions on me. Cities do, too, perhaps because I encountered so many of them while my family moved every year throughout my childhood. Or perhaps it’s because, after seeing so many cities that I thought were different in the United States, I was so completely unprepared for the wild variety of sights and sounds and smells that I encountered as a grown man, when I traveled to Europe and South America, to Africa and Asia and Australia. And even today, there are cities that I’m visiting for the first time, and which continue to take me by surprise.
Athens is one of those cities. I don’t know what I was expecting… Something old, of course, something downright ancient, filled with smashed statues and marble columns like Rome, engraved with unreadable inscriptions in a language I never learned — but probably not as ancient as Cairo. Something hot and noisy and polluted and smelly, perhaps like Calcutta or the slums of Mumbai. Something gridlocked with noisy, honking traffic congestion, perhaps like Moscow.
What I didn’t expect was the wide, nearly-empty highways leading from the airport into the city. I didn’t expect the cleanliness of the tree-lined streets that ran in every direction. I did expect the white-washed buildings and houses that climbed the hills that surround the city — but the local people told me that buildings in Athens were positively gray compared to what I would have seen if I had stayed longer and ventured out to the Greek islands.
I also didn’t expect the graffiti that covered nearly every wall, on every building, up and down every street. They were mostly slogans and phrases in Greek (and therefore completely unintelligible to me), but with occasional crude references in English to IMF bankers, undercover policemen, a politician or two, and the CIA. There were a couple slogans from the Russian revolution of 1917, from the Castro uprising in Cuba, and even from the American revolution (“united we stand, divided we fall.”)
Naturally, I thought all of this had come about in just the past few months, as Greece has wrestled with its overwhelming financial crisis. But I was told by local citizens that much of the graffiti has been around for quite a bit longer than that – just as it has been in cities like New York and London. Some of it was wild and colorful, with cartoon figures and crazy faces … though I don’t think it quite rises to the level of “street art” that one sees in parts of SoHo, Tribeca, and the East Village in New York. What impressed me most about the graffiti in Athens was its vibrant energy; I felt like the artists were ready to punch a hole through the walls with their spray-cans.
These are merely my own first impressions; they won’t be the same as yours. Beyond that, there are a lot of facts, figures, and details if one wants to fully describe a city like Athens. Its recorded history spans some 3,400 years, and it includes the exploits of kings and generals, gods and philosophers, athletes and artists. There are statues and columns and ruins everywhere; and towering above it all is the breath-taking Acropolis. It’s far too rich and complex for me to describe here in any reasonable way; if you want to know more, find some books or scan the excellent Wikipedia summary.
It’s also hard to figure out what one should photograph on a first visit to a city like Athens. It’s impossible not to photograph the Acropolis, especially since it’s lit at night and visible from almost every corner of the city. I was interested in the possibility of photographing the complex in the special light before dawn or after sunset, but it’s closed to visitors except during “civilized” daytime hours. It’s also undergoing extensive renovations and repair, so much of it is covered in scaffolding, derricks, and cranes. In the end, I took a few panorama shots and telephoto shots, and explored the details by visiting the new Acropolis Museum, with the camera turned off.
Aside from that, the photos you’ll see here concentrate on two things: my unexpected “first impression” of the local graffiti, and my favorite of all subjects: people. In a couple cases, the subjects are unmistakably Greek – Greek orthodox priests, for example – and in a couple cases, you might think you were looking at a street scene in São Paulo or Mexico City. But in most of the shots, you’ll see examples of stylish, fashionable, interesting people that don’t look all that much different from the people I’ve photographed in New York, London, Rome, or Paris. Maybe we can attribute that to the homogenization of fashion and style in today’s interconnected global environment. Or maybe we can just chalk it up to the fact that people are, well … interesting … wherever you go.
In any case, enjoy. And if you get to Athens yourself, send me some photos of your own first impressions.
c1910 postcard view of Larwill, Indiana. The postcard has no caption, but shows the railroad in the foreground and the prominent LARWILL, IND. POST OFFICE sign. This view was probably looking north on Center Street, but, most of these buildings are now gone. In this scene horse-drawn buggies and wagons were present along with several pedestrians, some of whom were posing for the photographer.
According to a 1907 county history,¹ the town was laid out in 1854 along the Pittsburg, Fort Wayne & Chicago (P. F. W. & C.) Railroad. The original town name was Huntsville. However, when the post office moved from nearby Summit, it could not be renamed Huntsville Post Office because another Huntsville post office already existed in Indiana. Residents decided to change the town’s name to Larwill so that the town and post office could use the same name. There being no other Larwill post office in Indiana, the Post Office Department agreed to change the post office name as well.
A 1916 county atlas² includes a map of Larwill that appears to show the post office on the northeast corner at the Center Street railroad crossing. However, the hand-lettered label is unclear. A short distance north, the map shows a hotel on the northeast corner at North Street.
The 1916 atlas map shows the depot near the southwest corner of the Center Street crossing. This postcard scene shows a bandstand above the sidewalk near the left edge of this scene and near where the depot would have been.
Across North Street, beyond that bandstand, a sign advertised CITY DRUG STORE on one of the buildings. A smaller sign probably bears the name of the druggist, but is unclear. A 1905 druggist directory listed one druggist in Larwill, S. W. Byall. A 1908 directory listed John E. Berry and Edward L. Garrett, but only John Berry was listed in a 1912 directory. Farther up the street, another sign appears to include the word FUR or FURS.
Across the street, possibly near the Hammontree Street intersection, were signs advertising a FEED BARN and a LUNCH ROOM. At the North Street intersection, three men were standing beside a gas lamp. The sign on the side of the building on that corner is unreadable, but may have identified the name of the hotel that the 1916 map shows on that corner. The signs on the building north of the post office are unclear as well. The sign above the post office advertised the local Modern Woodmen of America chapter.
The P. F. W. & C. railroad extended across Indiana from Pittsburg and Ohio through Fort Wayne, Columbia City, Warsaw and eventually to Chicago. By the time a 1908 railway guide³ was being published, the railroad had become part of the Pennsylvania Railroad system. A schedule dated December 1907 showed six daily trains traveling westbound between Pittsburg and Chicago on this route. Five stopped in Fort Wayne, but none stopped in Larwill. That same schedule showed eight trains traveling eastbound with two of these stopping in Larwill. A separate schedule showed two trains from running in each direction between Crestline, Ohio and Chicago. They stopped at Larwill. A separate train ran daily between Fort Wayne and Chicago and it also stopped in Larwill. A note at the bottom of the schedules pointed out that this line was double-tracked all the way between Pittsburgh and Chicago. That was a big deal and showed how important this route was.
1. Samuel P. Kaler and Richard H. Maring, History of Whitley County, Indiana (Indianapolis, IN: B. F. Bowen & Company, 1907). Available online at books.google.com/books?id=-hUVAAAAYAAJ&printsec=front....
2. Standard Atlas of Whitley County, Indiana Including a Plat Book (Chicago, IL: George A. Ogle & Co., 1916). Available online at www.historicmapworks.com/Atlas/US/9079/.
3. The Official Railway Guide: North American Freight Service Edition (New York: National Railway Publication Co., 1908), pages 478-479. Available online at books.google.com/books?id=kLgbTCc-AOcC&printsec=front....
From a private collection.
The full postcard image can be seen here.
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Copyright 2011-2016 Hoosier Recollections. All rights reserved. This creative JPG file package is an original compilation of materials and data. The package is unique, consisting of a wide variety of related and integrated components. Neither this package in its entirety nor any of the individual components may be downloaded, transmitted or reproduced without the prior written permission of Hoosier Recollections.
The Worlds End pub Knaresborough Yorkshire sited across the road from Mother Shiptons Cave near to the River Nidd where there is a petrifying well which has been a tourist attraction since 1630
Ursula Southeil (c. 1488 - 1561) , the legendary soothsayer and prophetess who exhibited prophetic and psychic abilities from an early age, writing prophecies in the form of poems, not much different than the cryptic Quatrains of Nostradamus
The first publication of her prophecies, which did not appear until 1641, eighty years after her death, contained a number of mainly regional predictions. this was followed by another edition in 1684. This stated that she was born in Knaresborough in a cave and was reputed to be hideously ugly. The woman who delivered Ursula', spoke of a smell of sulphur and a great crack of thunder as the child came into the world.
In 1512 aged 24 she married Toby Shipton, a local carpenter, near York Some say she had bewitched him, as she was too hideous for him to be attracted to her. They lived in Knaresborough, he died 2 years later.
Ursula had told fortunes and made predictions throughout her life. They lived in Knaresborough, but had no children, Her power to see into the future made her well known not only in her home town but throughout England.
Her legend was passed on through oral traditions, perhaps sometimes embellished. Many of her visions came true within her own lifetime
In subsequent centuries her predictions alluded to the tthe defeat of the Spanish Armada in 1588 , he Great Fire of London in 1666 - Samuel Pepys whilst surveying the damage to London caused by the Great Fire, in the company of the Royal Family, discussed her prophecy of the event.
She also prrdicted the Dissolution of the Monasteries. This led to the redistribution of the wealth and land held by the monasteries to the emerging middle class and the existing noble families.
Also modern technology - planes, submarines, telephone / internet etc
"Then upside down the world shall be and gold found at the root of tree
All England's sons that plough the land shall oft be seen with Book in hand
The poor shall now great wisdom know great houses stand in farflung vale all covered o'er with snow and hail
A carriage without horse will go, disaster fill the world with woe.
in London, Primrose Hill shall be In centre hold a Bishop's See
Around the world men's thoughts will fly quick as the twinkling of an eye.
And water shall great wonders do how strange. And yet it shall come true.
Through towering hills proud men shall ride no horse or ass move by his side.
Beneath the water, men shall walk shall ride, shall sleep, shall even talk.
And in the air men shall be seen in white and black and even green
A great man then, shall come and go for prophecy declares it so.
In water, iron, then shall float as easy as a wooden boat
Gold shall be seen in stream and stone
In land that is yet unknown. and England shall admit a Jew
You think this strange, but it is true
The Jew that once was held in scorn shall of a Christian then be born.
A house of glass shall come to pass in England. But alas, alas
A war will follow with the work where dwells the Pagan and the Turk
These states will lock in fiercest strife and seek to take each others life.
When North shall thus divide the south and Eagle build in Lions mouth
Then tax and blood and cruel war shall come to every humble door.
Three times shall lovely sunny France be led to play a bloody dance
Before the people shall be free three tyrant rulers shall she see.
Three rulers in succession be each springs from different dynasty.
Then when the fiercest strife is done England and France shall be as one.
The British olive shall next then twine In marriage with a german vine.
Men walk beneath and over streams fulfilled shall be their wondrous dreams.
For in those wondrous far off days the women shall adopt a craze to dress like men, and trousers wear and to cut off their locks of hair
They'll ride astride with brazen brow as witches do on broomstick now.
And roaring monsters with man atop does seem to eat the verdant crop
And men shall fly as birds do now and give away the horse and plough.
There'll be a sign for all to see be sure that it will certain be.
Then love shall die and marriage cease and nations wane as babes decrease
And wives shall fondle cats and dogs and men live much the same as hogs.
In nineteen hundred and twenty six build houses light of straw and sticks.
For then shall mighty wars be planned and fire and sword shall sweep the land.
When pictures seem alive with movements free when boats like fishes swim beneath the sea,
When men like birds shall scour the sky then half the world, deep drenched in blood shall die.
For those who live the century through in fear and trembling this shall do.
Flee to the mountains and the dens to bog and forest and wild fens.
For storms will rage and oceans roar when Gabriel stands on sea and shore and as he blows his wondrous horn old worlds die and new be born.
A fiery dragon will cross the sky six times before this earth shall die
Mankind will tremble and frightened be for the sixth heralds in this prophecy.
For seven days and seven nights Man will watch this awesome sight. The tides will rise beyond their ken to bite away the shores and then the mountains will begin to roar
And earthquakes split the plain to shore. and flooding waters, rushing in will flood the lands with such a din
That mankind cowers in muddy fen and snarls about his fellow men. He bares his teeth and fights and kills and secrets food in secret hills and ugly in his fear, he lies to kill marauders, thieves and spies.
Man flees in terror from the floods and kills, and rapes and lies in blood And spilling blood by mankinds' hands will stain and bitter many lands
And when the dragon's tail is gone, Man forgets, and smiles, and carries on to apply himself - too late, too late for mankind has earned deserved fate.
His masked smile - his false grandeur, will serve the Gods their anger stir. and they will send the Dragon back to light the sky - his tail will crack upon the earth and rend the earth
And man shall flee, King, Lord, and serf.
But slowly they are routed out to seek diminishing water spout And men will die of thirst before the oceans rise to mount the shore. And lands will crack and rend anew You think it strange. It will come true.
And in some far off distant land some men - oh such a tiny band , will have to leave their solid mount and span the earth, those few to count,
Who survives this (unreadable) and then begin the human race again. But not on land already there but on ocean beds, stark, dry and bare
Not every soul on Earth will die as the Dragons tail goes sweeping by. Not every land on earth will sink but these will wallow in stench and stink of rotting bodies of beast and man
Of vegetation crisped on land.
But the land that rises from the sea will be dry and clean and soft and free of mankinds' dirt and therefore be the source of man's new dynasty.
And those that live will ever fear the dragons tail for many year
But time erases memory You think it strange. But it will be.
And before the race is built anew a silver serpent comes to view and spew out men of like unknown to mingle with the earth now grown Cold from its heat and these men can enlighten the minds of future man to intermingle and show them how to live and love and thus endow
The children with the second sight. a natural thing so that they might grow graceful, humble and when they do the Golden Age will start anew.
She also said ” The world shall end when the High Bridge is thrice fallen”.
The High Bridge at Knaresborough has fallen twice so far….
Click on the pic to see full size. Even though there was a movie titled Bull Durham. Bull Durham Smoking Tobacco, also known as “Genuine Bull Durham Smoking Tobacco,” was a world-famous brand of loose-leaf tobacco manufactured by W.T. Blackwell and Company in Durham, North Carolina. Beginning in the 1850s and remaining in production until August 15, 1988. Over the years, the brand changed ownership multiple times, yet continued to be one of the most successful tobacco brands of all time. The brand is most commonly associated with its highly successful advertising campaigns that revolutionized the advertising industry. this is the first time I have actually seen a real and faded ghost sign. It is in 2 parts Bull Durham in the first part and the smoking tobacco in the second, Putting them in one picture made the difficult sign almost unreadable.
c1910 postcard view of Main Street in Elkhart, Indiana. This view was looking north from the Lexington Avenue intersection. There are no automobiles in this scene. The only vehicles are horse-drawn wagons, including an ice wagon. There were also several bicycles as well as a few pedestrians.
The most distant buildings in this scene were the three-story buildings on the northeast corner at Jackson Street. The Hotel Bucklen was on the southeast corner of that intersection and clearly dominated this scene. Another postcard shows the barber’s pole near the hotel portico more clearly. It was probably advertising a barbershop located in the hotel basement. The 1910 Sanborn™ fire insurance map set for Elkhart shows two saloons and a harness business facing Main Street in the four-story hotel building. According to the map set, the businesses in the two-story building south of the hotel included a pianos business and a bank. However, a 1912 city directory¹ listed First National Bank at the pianos business location (110 South Main Street and listed St. Vincent’s Roman Catholic School next door (112 South Main Street) where the map set shows the bank. It is possible the bank expanded and the school was located upstairs.
The LYRIC sign and the two American flags identified the location of a theatre (114 South Main Street). The map set shows a 10c vaudeville theatre at that location, but the directory listed the Philip Rittel meats business at that address. The next building south stood next to the alley. The map set shows a grocery and meat market at that location while the directory listed Charles Dotson’s saloon at that address (116 South Main Street).
Across the alley to the south, the 1910 map set shows a soft drinks business. A sign hanging on the front of that store (118 South Main Street) displayed a bottle. The directory listed Adolph Meas’ saloon at that address. There are two small signs on the next building south (120 South Main Street), but they are unreadable. The map set shows a saloon at that location and the directory listed Silas Joseph’s Crescent Pocket Billiards Parlor at that address. However, the map set shows a pool hall next door at 122 South Main Street and the directory listed Joseph Eash with a cigars, billiards and pool business at this address. The sign at 122 South Main Street advertised CRESCENT BILLIARDS and POOL. The name CRESCENT was also painted on the window. Several bicycles were parked at the curb in front of this business or the business next door.
The pediment on the next building south (124 South Main Street) included the name DODGE and LAW OFFICE. The 1912 directory didn’t list this street address or any businesses at this address. (It included listings for the Dodge Building at 224 South Main Street.) The ICE wagon parked at the curb is blocking the view of the entrance to that building. The map set shows a barbershop at 124 South Main Street. Next door (126 South Main Street), the map set shows a gunsmith and repair business while the city directory listed Earl Smith’s saloon at that address. The sign painted on the window advertised THE SPOT. A beer sign was hanging beside the entrance.
The name on the next building south was BIERMAN and the 1910 map set shows a saloon in the Bierman Block at that location (128 South Main Street). The directory listed Anthony Manning as the proprietor of a saloon and “The Old Inn Buffet” at that address. The signs on the windows advertised “THE OLD INN” BUFFET and HOOSIER CREAM. The placard in the window advertised BASE BALL. The directory also listed Fannie Bierman as a resident at that address and listed her late husband Amil as deceased (February 4, 1911).
The map set shows another saloon in the building at the south end of the block (130 South Main Street), but the sign on the building in this view advertised the ELKHART WATER CO. The city directory confirmed the water company’s location at this address. This suggests the postcard was based on a photograph taken after the 1910 map set was completed. That set is dated August, 1910.
All of the buildings north of the alley in this scene are gone. Most of the buildings south of the alley were still standing as of 2007.
1. Polk’s Elkhart City Directory 1912, Volume II (Detroit, Michigan: R. L. Polk & Co., 1912). Available online at archive.org/details/elkhartindianaci00unse_0.
From a private collection.
The full postcard image can be seen here.
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Copyright 2012-2016 by Hoosier Recollections. All rights reserved. This image is part of a creative package that includes the associated text, geodata and/or other information. Neither this package in its entirety nor any of the individual components may be downloaded, transmitted or reproduced without the prior written permission of Hoosier Recollections.
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however we are northwest of Lettice’s flat, in the working-class London suburb of Harlesden visiting the home of Edith’s, Lettice’s maid, beloved parents. Edith’s father, George, works at the McVitie and Price biscuit factory in Harlesden as a Line Manager, and her mother, Ada, takes in laundry at home. They live in a small, two storey brick terrace house which opens out directly onto the street, and is far removed from the grandeur of Lettice’s Mayfair flat, but has always been a cosy and welcoming home for Edith and her younger brother Bert all their young lives. Since her father’s promotion in 1922, Edith’s mother is only laundering a few days a week now. The money she makes from this endeavour she uses for housekeeping to make she and George’s life a little more comfortable, but she is able to hold back a little back as pin money* to indulge in one of her joys, collecting pretty china ornaments to decorate their home with.
We are in Ada’s front parlour, which is where most of her decorative porcelain finds from different shops, fairs and flea markets around London are proudly displayed. With busy stylised floral wallpaper and every surface cluttered with ornaments, it can only be described as highly Victorian in style, and it is an example of conscious consumption, rather than qualitative consumption, to demonstrate how prosperous the Watsford family is, especially now that George holds the management position that he does. Like many others of its kind in Harlesden and elsewhere in London, it is the room least used in the house, reserved for when special guests like the parish minister or wealthy old widow and the Watsford’s landlady, Mrs. Hounslow, pay a call. However today’s special guest is not either the minister, nor Mrs. Hounslow. It is Frank Leadbetter, Edith’s beau, who has arranged to visit Edith’s parents on his own, as he has a very important question to ask of them both.
Dressed in his Sunday best suit, Frank sits awkwardly in one of two Victorian high backed barley twist chairs. The combination of the formality of his suit and the hard and uncomfortable horsehair upholstery of the chair encourage Frank to sit with a ramrod stiff back in his seat. He looks awkwardly around the room, allowing his gaze to flit in a desultory fashion around the unfamiliar surrounds of the Watsford’s formal front parlour. Cluttering the surface of an old Victorian sideboard and an ornate whatnot, the cold stares of Queen Victoria, Edward VII, Queen Alexandra and the current King George V and Queen Mary stare out from the glazed surfaces of plates and other objects celebrating coronations and jubilees, whilst on the mantle, flanked by pretty statues of castles and churches, younger versions of George and Ada in sepia pose formally with Edith as a little girl and Bert as a baby, gazing out from brass frames with blank stares. Frank coughs awkwardly and nervously tugs at his stiff collar, feeling hot even though there is no fire going in the small grate of the fireplace.
“Now, now, young Frank!” George booms good naturedly from the one comfortable seat in the room, an old armchair with thick red velvet button back** upholstery. “No need to be nervous, me lad!”
“Oh, you don’t know why I’m here, Mr. Watsford.” Frank replies, running his right index finger nervously around the inside of his collar.
George chuckles. “I think I can guess, Frank.”
Frank gazes down at Ada’s dainty best blue floral china tea set on the lace draped octagonal table set between the cluster of chairs. A selection of McVitie’s*** biscuits brought home by George from the nearby factory sit in a fluted glass dish.
“Will Mrs. Watsford be long, do you think, Mr. Watsford?”
“I shouldn’t think so, Frank. She’s only gone to boil the kettle and fill the pot.”
As if knowing that she was being spoken about, Ada sweeps through the door of the parlour, holding aloft the glazed teapot in the shape of a cottage with a thatched roof with the chimney as the lid that Edith bought for her as a gift from the Caledonian Markets****. “Here we are then,” she says with a heightened level of exuberance. “Tea for three!” She carefully places the teapot in the centre of the tea table.
“Perfect timing, Ada love.” George replies, and without waiting, reaches across the void between him and the tea table and snatches up a biscuit.
“George!” she chides. “Where are your manners?” She looks askance at her husband, who settles back in his seat, quite unperturbed by his wife’s scolding. “Guests first.” She sweeps her hand across the table towards the biscuits as she lowers herself precariously onto the edge of the other high backed barley twist chair. “Frank?”
“Err… umm…” Frank stutters. “Ahh, no… no thank you, Mrs. Watsford. I… I’m not hungry.”
“Oh well, more for us then, Ada love.” George says cheerfully through a biscuit filled mouth, stretching out his hand to the glass dish again.
“George!” Ada cries, slapping her husband’s hand sharply, the sound echoing around the cluttered parlour.
George retreats in his seat, recoiling and rubbing his chastised hand rather like a dog nurses a limp paw.
“Shall I be mother then*****?” Ada asks rhetorically as she automatically picks up the milk jug. “You take milk, don’t you Frank?”
“Err… yes, Mrs. Watsford.” Frank replies as she slops some milk into his cup before adding a dash to her husband’s and her own.
“And sugar?”
“Err.. two please, Mrs. Watsford.”
“Ahh, a sweet tooth after my own heart.” Ada replies with an indulgent smile, putting two heaped teaspoons of sugar into Frank’s cup before adding one to George’s and two to her own. “Now!” she sighs, taking up the cottage ware teapot pouring tea into the cups. “You wanted to talk to us, Frank?”
“Well…” Frank begins.
“You know it feels jolly funny having you here Frank, but not Edith.” Ada interrupts the young man even as he begins. “I’m quite used to you coming with Edith now.”
“Well, you know… I… I really wanted this to be a conversation that I had alone with you and Mr. Watsford,” Frank indicates to George, still licking his wounds. “Mrs. Watsford. So, I asked Hilda to take Edith out shopping today.”
“And she isn’t missing you, Frank?” Ada queries, as she replaces the pot in the middle of the tea table.
“Err…” Frank blushers, heaving and puffing his cheeks out. “Well, I told Edith a bit of a tall tale. I said that I had to help Giuseppe, my chum with his restaurant in the Islington****** today.”
“Oh yes,” Ada remarks with a tone of distaste as she hands George his cup of tea. “Giuseppe. He was your Italian friend who gave you the wine that we shared that first time we met, wasn’t he?”
Frank blushes red at the painful memory of that first rather awkward Sunday luncheon he had at the Watsfords’ when he and Ada had had a disagreement about some of his beliefs about life. “Yes.”
“My, my.” Ada takes up her own cup of tea and cradles it in her lap as she smiles to herself. “Such subterfuge to be alone with us.”
“You might not enjoy poor Frank’s discomfort quite so readily, Ada.” George pipes up from his seat as he sips his tea, tempering his wife.
“I was merely asking a question, George love.” Ada replies with a smug smile.
“No you weren’t, and you know it.” George retorts. “You were bringing up difficult memories of that awkward first tea we all had together, when you know perfectly well that we have all come a long way from there.” He gives his wife a doleful look. “Stop raking over old coals that don’t need to be raked over.”
“I agree, George.” Ada replies calmly. “We have come a long way; however, I was merely reminding Frank that in spite of that, we still have some concerns about his philosophies about life.”
“You have concerns, Ada love. I don’t.”
“Well one of us has to, if Frank has come here asking for Edith’s hand.” Ada turns her attentions to their young guest. “That is why you are here, isn’t it, Frank?”
“Well… I…” Frank stammers.
“Of course it is, Ada love. Frank?” George asks, sitting up in his seat.
“Well yes, Mr. Watsford. That’s what I came for. I came to formally ask for Edith’s hand in marriage.”
George leaps from his seat, dropping his half drunk cup of tea into the tea table noisily, sloshing tea into the saucer in his haste, before he bustles around the small black japanned cane table on which a vase of flowers stands before patting Frank on the back. “Of course! Of course! We’d be delighted, wouldn’t we Ada?” He turns and beams at his wife before turning quickly back to Frank without waiting for a reply. “What took you so long, Frank my boy?”
“Well Mr. Watsford, I know Edith and I have been stepping out for a while now,” Frank explains, sighing with relief and smiling at George’s exuberant acceptance of his request for Edith’s hand. “But I wanted to have a few things in place before I asked you.”
“Jolly good! Jolly good!” George chuckles delightedly. “Have you got a ring yet?”
“I’m not quite there yet, Mr. Watsford, but I’m getting there. I… I also wanted to assure you that my intentions are genuine. I… I love Edith and I don’t want anyone else.”
“Well, of course you don’t, lad!” George puffs, rubbing the young man’s right shoulder comfortingly. “We knew the moment we saw you together, that you two were made for each other, didn’t we Ada?”
Ada doesn’t reply immediately.
“Oh, this is wonderful, Frank!” George shakes Frank’s hands, barely able to contain his joy. “Welcome to the family!”
“Now just hang on for a moment.” Ada’s voice cuts in, slicing the joy with its sharp edge. “Let’s not rush into this without a few clarifying things first.”
“What?” George asks. He snorts preposterously. “Whatever do mean, Ada love? Frank’s just said his intentions are good. I don’t need anything more than that.”
“Well I do.” Ada replies calmly.
“What… what is… is it, Mrs. Watsford?” Frank asks, his voice quavering with nerves.
“Now, if you’d both just sit down for a moment,” Ada says, replacing her cup on the table, indicating for the two men to resume their seats.
Deflated, both Frank and George return to their respective seats.
“Now, Frank,” Ada starts, leaning forward in her seat. “I would just like to say that in principle, I am as pleased as my husband is that you’re asking for Edith’s hand in marriage.”
“Then Ada…?” George begins, but his wife silences him by holding up the palm of her hand to him.
She goes on. “I’d already had words with Edith about the two of you eloping.”
“Oh I’d never do that to you, Mr. Watsford or my Gran, Mrs. Watsford.” Frank assures her, looking earnestly into her unreadable face.
“Yes, I’m glad to hear it, as it confirms what Edith said, which was the same as you.” Ada turns to her husband. “Prospects?”
George looks quizzically at his wife. “Prospects?”
“Yes, prospects!” Ada’s eyes grow wide as she looks knowingly at him. She lowers her voice and whispers, “Remember, we discussed this?” When he looks uncomprehendingly at her again, she adds in a hiss, “When I said you’d go all doolally******* over Frank’s proposal, which you have?”
“Oh!” George pipes up. “Oh yes!” He sits up in his seat and turns to Frank. “Now young man, Both you and Edith have told us that you’re trying to improve your lot in life.” Ada scoffs from her seat. Ignoring her, he asks, “What are your prospects for Edith, once you’re married?”
“Well, it is true that I am trying to improve my circumstances. It’s one of the reasons why I have held off asking for Ediths hand until now. Like I said, I wanted to get a few things in place before I did.”
“Such as?” George’s bushy eyebrow arches over his right eye as he asks.
“Well, as you both know, I’ve been doing extra duties at Mr. Willison’s to build up my skills. I don’t want to be a delivery boy all my life.”
“No of course not, lad!” George pipes up.
“George!” Ada exclaims. “Let the boy finish. I want to hear what he has to say, not you.”
“Err… no, of course not.” George blusters. “Go on, Frank.”
“Well, I’ve been doing a bit of window dressing and arranging of products for Mr. Willison. I’ve also been taking a correspondence course on bookkeeping, which Edith doesn’t know about.”
“Why not?” Ada snaps.
“Because I wanted to complete it first and show that I’ve applied the skills before I told her: rather like a surprise, Mrs. Watsford.”
“Alright Frank.” Ada softens. “And have you?”
“Well, it’s a bit hard to get Mrs. Willison to relinquish anything about the shop’s books, but I did manage to do a bit of bookkeeping earlier this month when she was poorly and in bed. Technically she gave the task to her daughter, Miss Henrietta, but she wanted to do other things in her spare time, so it was reasonably easy to convince her to give it over to me to do, and Mrs. Willison did admit that I did a good job of it.”
“Well that’s something, isn’t it Ada?”
Ada nods in agreement with her husband, but keeps looking at Frank with an observant stare.
Frank continues. “And I’ve been tapped on the shoulder by friends of mine who are part of a trades union.” An uncomfortable look begins to cloud Ada’s features at the mention of unions. “And they tell me that soon there might be an opening or two in one of the suburban grocers for an assistant manager position, which would lead eventually to a position where I’d be running my own corner grocer.”
“In Metroland********?” George splutters. “My daughter all the way out there?”
“It’s not so bad, Mr. Watsford. The Chalk Hill, Grange and Cedars Estates are all built along the railway line not too far from Wembley Park, so Edith would be able to visit you easily, and you’d be able to come and visit us too. We’d live in a nice little flat above the shop with indoor plumbing and all electrified.” Ada tuts at the mention of electricity, but Frank continues to paint a vision of his and Edith’s rosy future. “The children we have, your grandchildren can grow up attending local schools and getting lots of fresh air.”
“Well, since you put it like that, I guess it’s not so bad, is it Ada?”
“Well,” Ada purses her lips. “I’m sure that Edith has told you that I hold no faith in that newfangled electricity, but living in Cavendish Mews she seems to have become a convert.”
“And a lovely new estate is far healthier for any children that we have, Mrs. Watsford. It’s far better than living in a house in Clapham Junction.”
“And how much will this flat of yours cost?” Ada asks seriously.
“Around five shillings a week for a two-up two down******** semi********* in the Chalk Hill Estate, Mrs. Watsford.” Frank says, gaining strength in his convictions, filling his voice with a new boldness and surety. “And, if we were to live in a flat above the grocers’ shop, it would be even less, and we’d still have all the modern conveniences like hot and cold running water and an inside privy.”
“Nothing wrong with an outdoor privy.” remarks George.
“Nothing wrong with an indoor one, either, Mr. Watsford. I only the best for Edith and our children.”
“Alright, young Frank.” George backs down.
“Now, going back to what I had eluded to before, Frank,” Ada continues. “You’re a good lad, Frank Leadbetter, and I can see that by your thoughtfulness and your manners. I know you love our Edith, and you obviously treat her very well…”
“As she deserves, Mrs. Watsford.” Frank assures her.
“I know, Frank.” Ada tempers him. “However, the vehemence with which you spurn your new ideas around is still a bit frightening to me.”
“Oh, there’s nothing to be frightened of Mrs. Watsford.”
“But these labour unions of yours…” Ada’s voice trails off.
“I can assure you, Mrs. Watsford, the unions aren’t bad, and I am not a Communist.” Frank defends himself. “As I said just before, I only want the best for Edith and for the family I hope we will have together. I just want a better world for all of us, and the unions will help with that. However, I swear that I’m not associated with any of those militant factions that popped up after the Russian Revolution. I believe in peaceable actions, discussion and compromise.” Frank looks earnestly at Ada. “I would never put Edith in any danger. I’m a hard working man who just wants a good future. Some of the finer details of it may be different to yours and Mr. Watsford’s, Mrs. Watsford, but at the end of the day, our ideals are the same, and whatever I do, Edith and her wellbeing is central in everything I do, and everything I have planned.”
Ada sighs and smiles. “Alright Frank. So long as she is, I can only give you my blessing too.”
“Oh thank you, Mrs. Watsford!” Frank exclaims, standing up and walking over to Ada who rises from her seat and embraces Frank kindly.
“Good lad!” George says, standing up as well and beaming over his wife’s shoulder, winking at Frank.
He reaches down and snatches up two more biscuits from the fluted glass bowl on the tea table.
“George!” Ada scolds, not quick enough to catch him this time.
He smiles back at her gormlessly.
“At this rate I’m going to have to let out that vest of yours, George Wastford!” Ada remarks.
George turns to Frank. “Are you sure you want the joy of these moments of wedded bliss, Frank my boy?” he asks jokingly.
*Originating in Seventeenth Century England, the term pin money first meant “an allowance of money given by a husband to his wife for her personal expenditures. Married women, who typically lacked other sources of spending money, tended to view an allowance as something quite desirable. By the Twentieth Century, the term had come to mean a small sum of money, whether an allowance or earned, for spending on inessentials, separate and in addition to the housekeeping money a wife might have to spend.
**Button back upholstered furniture contains buttons embedded in the back of the sofa or chair, which are pulled tightly against the leather creating a shallow dimple effect. This is sometimes known as button tufting.
***McVitie's (Originally McVitie and Price) is a British snack food brand owned by United Biscuits. The name derives from the original Scottish biscuit maker, McVitie and Price, Ltd., established in 1830 on Rose Street in Edinburgh, Scotland. The company moved to various sites in the city before completing the St. Andrews Biscuit Works factory on Robertson Avenue in the Gorgie district in 1888. The company also established one in Glasgow and two large manufacturing plants south of the border, in Heaton Chapel, Stockport, and Harlesden, London (where Edith’s father works). McVitie and Price's first major biscuit was the McVitie's Digestive, created in 1892 by a new young employee at the company named Alexander Grant, who later became the managing director of the company. The biscuit was given its name because it was thought that its high baking soda content served as an aid to food digestion. The McVitie's Chocolate Homewheat Digestive was created in 1925. Although not their core operation, McVitie's were commissioned in 1893 to create a wedding cake for the royal wedding between the Duke of York and Princess Mary, who subsequently became King George V and Queen Mary. This cake was over two metres high and cost one hundred and forty guineas. It was viewed by 14,000 and was a wonderful publicity for the company. They received many commissions for royal wedding cakes and christening cakes, including the wedding cake for Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Phillip and Prince William and Catherine Middleton. Under United Biscuits McVitie's holds a Royal Warrant from Queen Elizabeth II.
****The original Caledonian Market, renown for antiques, buried treasure and junk, was situated in in a wide cobblestoned area just off the Caledonian Road in Islington in 1921 when this story is set. Opened in 1855 by Prince Albert, and originally called the Metropolitan Meat Markets, it was supplementary to the Smithfield Meat Market. Arranged in a rectangle, the market was dominated by a forty six metre central clock tower. By the early Twentieth Century, with the diminishing trade in live animals, a bric-a-brac market developed and flourished there until after the Second World War when it moved to Bermondsey, south of the Thames, where it flourishes today. The Islington site was developed in 1967 into the Market Estate and an open green space called Caledonian Park. All that remains of the original Caledonian Markets is the wonderful Victorian clock tower.
*****The meaning of the very British term “shall I be mother” is “shall I pour the tea?”
******The Italian quarter of London, known commonly today as “Little Italy” is an Italian ethnic enclave in London. Little Italy’s core historical borders are usually placed at Clerkenwell Road, Farringdon Road and Rosebery Avenue - the Saffron Hill area of Clerkenwell. Clerkenwell spans Camden Borough and Islington Borough. Saffron Hill and St. Peter’s Italian Catholic Church fall within the Camden side. However, even though this was the traditional enclave for Italians, immigrants moved elsewhere in London, bleeding into areas like Islington and Soho where they established bars, cafes and restaurants which sold Italian cuisine and wines.
*******Doolally is British and Irish slang for a person who is eccentric or has gone mad. It originated in the military.
*******Metroland is a name given to the suburban areas that were built to the north-west of London in the counties of Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire and Middlesex in the early part of the Twentieth Century that were served by the Metropolitan Railway. The railway company was in the privileged position of being allowed to retain surplus land; from 1919 this was developed for housing by the nominally independent Metropolitan Railway Country Estates Limited (MRCE). The term "Metroland" was coined by the Met's marketing department in 1915 when the Guide to the Extension Line became the Metro-land guide. It promoted a dream of a modern home in beautiful countryside with a fast railway service to central London until the Met was absorbed into the London Passenger Transport Board in 1933.
********Two-up two-down is a type of small house with two rooms on the ground floor and two bedrooms upstairs. There are many types of terraced houses in the United Kingdom, and these are among the most modest. The first two-up two-down terraces were built in the 1870s, but the concept of them made up the backbone of the Metroland suburban expansions of the 1920s with streets lined with rows of two-up two-down semi-detached houses in Mock Tudor, Jacobethan, Arts and Crafts and inter-war Art Deco styles bastardised from the aesthetic styles created by the likes of English Arts and Crafts Movement designers like William Morris and Charles Voysey.
*********A semi-detached house (known more commonly simply as a semi) is a house joined to another house on one side only by a common wall.
This cluttered and old fashioned, yet cosy front parlour may look realistic to you, however it is in fact made up of pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection, including pieces from my childhood.
You may think that by 1926 when this story is set, that homes would have been more modern and less Victorian, and many were. However, there were a lot of people during this era who grew up and established their homes during the reign of Queen Victoria and did not want to update their homes, or could not afford to do so, so an interior like this would not have been uncommon in the 1920s and even in the lead up to and during the Second World War.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The old fashioned high backed Victorian chairs with their barley twist detailing and brass casters were made by Town Hall Miniatures
Ada’s collection of commemorative plates of Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee in 1897, the Coronation of King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra in 1902 and the Coronation of King George V and Queen Mary in 1911 on the sideboard and the whatnot are all made by the British miniature artist Rachel Munday. The plate of Edward VIII on the far left is a piece of souvenir ware from around 1905 and is made of very finely pressed tin.
The bust of Queen Victoria was made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. It has been hand painted by me.
The Victorian Prince of Wales (later King Edward VII) vase in the centre of the fireplace has been hand made, painted and gilded by Welsh miniature ceramist Rachel Williams who has her own studio, V&R Miniatures, in Powys.
The Watsford family photos on the mantlepiece are all real photos, produced to high standards in 1:12 size on photographic paper by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The frames are from various suppliers, but all are metal.
The church and castle statues at either end of the fireplace are made of resin and are hand painted. They came from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop in the United Kingdom.
Sitting on the central pedestal table is the cottage ware teapot Edith gave her mother as a gift a few years ago. Made by French ceramicist and miniature artisan Valerie Casson, it has been decorated authentically and matches in perfect detail its life-size Price Washington ‘Ye Olde Cottage Teapot’ counterparts. The top part of the thatched rood and central chimney form the lid, just like the real thing. Valerie Casson is renown for her meticulously crafted and painted miniature ceramics.
Also on the table, the glass dish of biscuits is an artisan piece. The bowl is made from real glass with the biscuits attached and hand painted. It came from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The teacups, milk jug and sugar bowl also come from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop.
Ada’s wicker sewing basket, sitting closed to show off its pretty florally decorated top, has knitting needles sticking out of it. The basket was hand made by Mrs. Denton of Muffin Lodge in the United Kingdom.
The fireplace, the whatnot, the central pedestal table, the embroidered footstool by the fireplace, the brass fire irons and the ornate black japanned cane table on which Ada’s sewing box stand also came from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop.
The sideboard is a piece I bought as part of a larger drawing room suite of dolls house furniture from a department store when I was a teenager.
The collection of floral vases on the bottom two tiers of the whatnot came from an online stockist of miniatures on E-Bay.
The vase of flowers are all beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium and inserted into a real, hand blown glass vase.
The little white vase in the forefront of the photo is mid Victorian and would once have been part of a tiny doll’s tea service. It is Parian Ware. Parian Ware is a type of biscuit porcelain imitating marble. It was developed around 1845 by the Staffordshire pottery manufacturer Mintons, and named after Paros, the Greek island renowned for its fine-textured, white Parian marble, used since antiquity for sculpture. I have had it since I was about ten years old.
The ‘home sweet home’ embroidery and the painting on the wall come from online shops who sell dollhouse miniatures, as does the Art Nouveau vase on the left hand side of the picture.
This side shows *BLANK* Transportation with the number 186
The door side said "OWNED AND OPERATED BY" with nothing under it, though there is a number over the door in the style of Laidlaw (6 digits) but has worn off to the point of being unreadable.
The back of the bus has the #150 in the back right corner.
This bus has had quite a history!!
Photo description:
Blonde bombshell from Broadway… Dolores Gray, musical comedy star who played 1,034 performances of “Annie Get Your Gun” in London and winner of the 1951 Antoninette Perry Award on Broadway is in Hollywood for her first screen role. Together with Gene Kelly, Dan Dailey, Cyd Charisse, and Michael Kidd she’ll star in MGM’s “It’s Always Fair Weather.” Her rich, torchy voice will be heard in “Thanks A Lot But No Thanks,” and ”Music Is Better Than Words,” and “I Thought They’d Never Leave.” On the screen she’ll be introduced as one of Broadway’s most glamorous stars [rest of text unreadable].
I photographed this 1/5th Scale Model Case Tractor Engine (Built 1980) at the 1990 Steam Weekend at the Blue Mountain & Reading Railroad Station in Hamburg, Pennsylvania on September 16, 1990. This Model Tractor is using a power take off belt to drive (what looks like) a Hay Baler, which is located on the Right Side of my Photograph..
I had to re-create the Sign in front of the Tractor (with Photoshop™) because it was unreadable in my photograph.
Also, I'm having difficulty finding my notes from the Festival Festival. However, if I can find my small spiral note book for September 1990, I will update this narrative with additions and/or corrections.
Disclaimer: This photo was taken on September 16, 1990 with my Minolta Maxxim 5000 SLR using Print (Negative) Film when I was just learning photograph; so it is very soft & grainy. I scanned the Negative, used Photoshop Elements to correct the exposure and to generate a Digital Image.
Fantastic postcard image of the Central Business District in Cynthiana, Kentucky. Signs on the left side of the sreet are: Dailey Taxi; Shell (with a curbside pump displaying a clam shaped globe); Coffee Shop; and Ashland. On the right side the signs are: Hogg Drugs Walgreen Agency; Kahns Sausage Bacon Ham American Beauty Meats - Albert J. Hatterick Meats; Unreadable sign; B.F. Goodrich Marshal Foley; Refrigerators Aldmiral Radios Maffett; Blancke's Eat; Fountain Service Beer; Standard Oil; and last up is Hotel.
I'm not good at identifying older cars, but I can tell you that the truck coming towards the photographer is an International. Feel free to add commnts or identification.
Here we see Sanders Wright bodied Scania L94UB type 318 as it pulls away from the Gold Park bus stop on the B1145 Mundesley High Street whilst working the above Holt bound service 5 journey. From the destination display we can see that upon arrival at Holt, bus and driver will continue through to Fakenham on service 9. As I have mentioned before, in order to serve the Gold Park stop, buses travelling in the Cromer/Holt direction have to make a clockwise circuit of the village by way of Back Street, Station Road, Church Lane and Cromer Road. I previously used this location on 23rd September 2016 when Sanders vehicle 406 was captured working the same journey. On that occasion the trees were in leaf and the roses were in bloom, but the very bright sunshine bleached out the Mundesley sign making it almost unreadable.
thomashawk.com/2007/01/top-10-hacks-on-flickr.html
1. The number one hack for Flickr would have to be Flickrleech. Flickrleech is a site developed by Andrew Houser (who is also a kick ass photographer), or simply Houser as he is often called, with the tagline, "because paging sucks."
When Houser released Flickrleech originally it would allow you to pull up any Flickr user's photos as a full page of thumbnails with no pagination. Although very cool, loading up 7,000 thumbnails wasn't exactly the nicest things to do to Flickr's servers and Houser actually changed his site to load 500 thumbnails at a time and today it sits at 200 thumbnails at a time.
Still, having the ability to browse a flickr user's photos at 200 thumbnails at a time is remarkable and allows you more photos on a single page than anything Flickr offers up themselves.
I'm constantly using Flickrleech to check out a new photographer's photos or to rapid fire go through someone's stream.
If you like these Flickr hacks feel free to digg them here.
This memorial has been researched by the Roll of Honour team, and where information has been used from that site it is identified as (RoH).
www.roll-of-honour.com/Norfolk/NorwichStSaviour.html
W H Ager
William Henry AGER (RoH)
Private 328231, 1st Battalion, Cambridgeshire Regiment. Killed in action 28th August 1918. Aged 19. Born and enlisted Norwich. Son of Mr. and Mrs. C. Ager, of 15, Golden Dog Lane, St. George's, Norwich. Buried in PERONNE ROAD CEMETERY, MARICOURT, Somme, France. Plot III. Row I. Grave 3.
CWGC: www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=310602
There is a picture of William Henry on Norlink
norlink.norfolk.gov.uk/02_Catalogue/02_013_PictureTitleIn...
The accompanying notes read
Ager, Private William Henry, 3/4 Norfolk Regiment
Resident at 15 Golden Dog Lane, Norwich; enlisted 7 November 1915; killed in action in France, 26 August 1918.
The 2 year William , born Norwich, can be found on the 1901 Census at 15 Golden Dog Lane in the parish of St Saviour, This is the household of his parents, Charles, (aged 42 and a Carpenter from Norwich) and Caroline, (also aged 42 and from Norwich). Their other children are:-
Annie…….aged 18.….born Norwich…..Yarn Picker
Edith………aged 15.…born Norwich…..Yarn Twister
Sidney……aged 12.….born Norwich
Charles…..aged 8.……born Norwich
Alice…….aged 4.……born Norwich
However, while Charles senior still appears to be in Norwich for the 1911 census, his wife, William, Charles and Alice appear to be completely absent.
The Battalion would have been involved in the general advance following the Third Battle of Albert, which is one of the divisional Battle Honours.
Battle of Albert (1918) (August 21 - 22, 1918) was the third battle by that name fought during World War I, following the First Battle of Albert, and the Second Battle of Albert, with each of the series of three being fought roughly two years apart. This smaller third battle was significant in that it was the opening push that would lead to the Second Battle of the Somme, and heavily involved the New Zealand Division, formed after the disastrous Gallipoli campaign. This attack opened the advance, with the main attack being launched by the British Third Army, with the United States II Corps attached.
The attacks developed into an advance, which pushed the German 2nd Army back along a 50-mile (80 km) front line. On August 22, the New Zealand Division took Albert, with the British and Americans advancing on Arras. On August 29, Bapaume fell into British and American hands, which resulted in an advance by the Australian Corps, who crossed the Somme River on August 31 and broke the German lines during the Battle of Mont St. Quentin. Ultimately, the overall battle resulted in the German Army being pushed back to the Hindenburg Line, from which they had launched their spring offensive.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Albert_(1918)
www.cwgc.org/victory1918/content.asp?menuid=35&submen...
A Barber
Arthur BARBER (RoH)
Private 267239, 13th (Service) Battalion (Forest of Dean)(Pioneers), Gloucestershire Regiment. Died 26th April 1918. Born St Saviour, Norwich, enlisted Norwich. No known grave. Commemorated on TYNE COT MEMORIAL, Zonnebeke, West-Vlaanderen, Belgium. Panel 72 to 75.
CWGC: www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=847003
(No personal details on CWGC).
We have a 2 year old Arthur A, born Norwich, and living at Tarrells Yard, which appears to be in the Cowgate \ Bull Close area in the neighbouring parish of St Pauls, as well as a 4 year old Arthur and his 26 year old father of the same name living in nearby St Augustines. There are then a further 5 Arthur \ Alfred’s of the right sort of age to have fought in WW1 in the ranks, i.e. born after 1875 and with a Norwich connection.
The division of which Arthur’s unit was part lists amongst its battle honours for 1918
Second Battle of Kemmel. 25-26 Apr.
As part of the German assault there was a heavy bombardment of the Artillery and rear areas with both conventional shell and gas.
www.webmatters.net/belgium/ww1_lys_4.htm
W Barber
William BARBER (RoH)
Private 6692, Depot, Norfolk Regiment. Died 9th July 1917. Aged 33. Husband of Ellen Barber, of 2, Mischief Yard, Peacock St., Norwich. Buried in NORWICH CEMETERY, Norfolk. Plot/Row/Section V. Grave 547.
CWGC: www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=2803041
No match on Norlink
The 17 year old William,(born Norwich and employed as a Shoe Finisher), can be found on the 1901 census at 176 St George Street, in the parish of St Augustines. This is the household of his widower father, James, (aged 59 and a Publican from Norwich), Also resident is William’s brother, Walter, aged 19 and a shoe finisher from Norwich.
Wm A. Bassett
William A BASSETT (RoH)
Private 250620, 1st/6th Battalion, Durham Light Infantry. Killed in action 28th July 1918. Aged 23. Born and enlisted Norwich. Son of Mrs. L. E. Bassett, of 2, Ling's Court, Stump Goss, Magdalen St., Norwich. Formerly 5565, Norfolk Regiment. Buried in THELUS MILITARY CEMETERY, Pas de Calais, France. Plot V. Row C. Section 1.
CWGC www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=296709
CWGC only lists this soldier as W Bassett.
Brother of Walter Albert listed below.
No match on Norlink
The 1901 Census has the 4 year old Willie, born Norwich, recorded at 18, Gildencroft in the Parish of St Augustines. This is the household of his parents, George, (aged 45 and a sweep, no place of birth recorded), and Lottie, (aged 39 and from Norwich). The rest of their children are:-
Richard…………..aged 16.……born Norwich……Printers apprentice
Ethel………………aged 15.…..born Norwich
George……………aged 11.…..born Norwich
Walter…………….aged 10.….born Norwich
Lillian…………….aged 6.……born Norwich
Hilda…………..aged 2.……….born Norwich
The 1st/6th had been reduced to a cadre by the end of June, with surplus men being released to other units. As the Thelus Military Cemetery was used for battlefield casualties, I suspect Private Bassett was one of those surplus men, and he died while serving with another unit.
Wr.A.Bassett
Walter Albert BASSETT (RoH)
Private 12784, 7th Battalion, Norfolk Regiment. Died 13th October 1915. Aged 24. Born St Saviour, Norwich, enlisted Norwich. Son of Mrs. L. Bassett, of 2, Ling's Court, Magdalen St., Norwich; husband of Laura V. Watling (formerly Bassett), of 2, St. Saviour's Alley, Magdalen St., Norwich. Commemorated on LOOS MEMORIAL, Pas de Calais, France. Panel 30 and 31.
CWGC www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=727290
Brother of William above.
No match on Norlink
See William above for 1901 Census details.
On 12th October 1915 the Battalion moved from billets to a line in front of the St Elie Quarries, taking over from the Coldstream Guards. The attack was planned to go ahead the following day under a smoke cloud with the Norfolks closing on the German trenches from both ends of their position thus straightening their line, their own trenches being in a semi-circle. The left side of the Battalion was also tasked with bombing a German communications trench. A bright sunny day with an ideal wind for moving the smoke towards the enemy positions, the artillery bombardment began at 12:00 and was intensive by 13:45. 54 heavy and 86 field howitzers and 286 field guns fired on enemy trenches in the area of the Hohenzollern Redoubt, Fosse 8, the Quarries, Gun Trench and the positions south to Chalk Pit Wood. It failed to cause sufficient damage to the enemy positions. The smoke barrage went wrong and ceased by 13:40, twenty minutes before the attack was launched at 14:00 and was thus very thin. German machine gun fire from in front and from the direction of Slag Alley, opposite the Norfolks right flank, enfiladed their attack. Whilst they gained a foothold in the Quarries and consolidated the position they were unable to advance further. In the battalions first serious engagement they lost 5 Officers killed or died of wounds and 6 wounded, and 66 other ranks killed, 196 wounded and 160 missing.
Source: 1914-1918.invisionzone.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=42270
W G Brown
William George BROWN (RoH)
Driver T/326178, Royal Army Service Corps. Died in India 6th October 1918. Born, resident and enlisted Norwich. Buried in Bangalore (Hosur Road) Cemetery and commemorated on MADRAS 1914-1918 WAR MEMORIAL, CHENNAI, India. Face 26.
Note: The MADRAS 1914-1918 MEMORIAL is situated at the rear of the Madras War Cemetery. It bears the names of more than 1,000 servicemen who died during the First World War who lie in many civil and cantonment cemeteries in various parts of India where it is not possible to maintain their graves in perpetuity.
CWGC www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=1465419
No match on Norlink.
The 1911 Census high level search contains two individuals with the first names William George with a Norwich, (although there are also two George Williams). There are of course many William Browns who may be the man we are looking for. The details available are:
Circa 1901 born Norwich resident Norwich
Circa 1880 born Norwich resident Norwich
On the 1901 census the 1901 born individual doesn’t even appear, and therefore as its likely he was born after March 1901 its very unlikely he was serving overseas in the British Army in 1918.
There are two William Brown’s that match the 1880 individual and neither are listed with any middle names. Therefore any further information I add here would simply be mis-leading.
E D Brundish
Edgar Donald BRUNDISH (RoH)
Private 3/8042, 1st Battalion, Norfolk Regiment. Died 7th October 1915. Aged 39. Son of Edgar John and Ruth Brundish, of Norwich. Buried in POINT 110 OLD MILITARY CEMETERY, FRICOURT, Somme, France. Plot/Row/Section G. Grave 8.
CWGC www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=571013
There is a picture of Private Brundish on Norlink
norlink.norfolk.gov.uk/02_Catalogue/02_013_PictureTitleIn...
The accompanying notes read
Born at St. James's, Norwich on 22nd December 1879, Private Brundish was educated at Silver Road School. He enlisted 25th August 1914 and was killed in action in France on 7th November 1915
(NB, the Norlink date is different to the CWGC\Roll of Honour Date.)
The 21 year old Edgar, (born Norwich and a Boot and Shoe Maker by trade), is recorded at 12 Mousehold Street in the Parish of St James with Pockthorpe on the 1901 census. He is married to Edith , aged 21 and a Boot Machinist, also from Norwich. Edgar is the head of household.
On the 1891 Census the 11 year old Edgar D. is recorded at The Paddocks, Silver Road in the Parish of St James. He is already employed as a Domestic Servant - a House Boy. Unfortunately, Edgar’s name is at the top of the page, with his parents, (and any elder siblings) on the previous page. He has 5 younger siblings:-
Ronald N………..aged 9.…..born Norwich
Patricia R……….aged 7.…..born Norwich….recorded as deaf and dumb
Rupert Jn……….aged 5.…..born Norwich
Maud M………..aged 3.……born Norwich
Percy Ed……….aged 1.……born Norwich.
Fortunately Edgar is just old enough to make the 1881 census. There his parents are listed as John, (aged 34?, and possibly a Brewers Serv.?, from Horning) and Ruth, aged 24 and also from Horning. There are no older siblings listed.
Interestingly, a family history web-site gives some slightly difference information. Edgar’s father John married Ruth Thompson in Norwich in 1879. Their children are listed as
Beatrice R. Brundish, b. 1884, Norwich, England, d. 1896, Aged 12 London.
Edgar Donald Brundish, b. 1880, Norwich, England, d. 07 Oct 1915, World War 1 France.
Percy Edward Brundish, b. 1890, Norwich, England, d. 1937, Wisbech.
Reginald Victor Brundish, b. 1882, Norwich, England, d. 1916, World War 1.
Rupert John Brundish, b. 1886, Norwich, England, d. date unknown, Australia. +Maud Maria Brundish, b. 04 Oct 1887, Norwich, England, d. 1981, Norwich, England.
Hilda R. Brundish, b. 1897, Norwich, England, d. date unknown.
familytreemaker.genealogy.com/users/t/h/o/Donald-J-Thorpe...
Name: BRUNDISH, REGINALD V.
Rank: Bombardier Regiment/Service: Royal Field Artillery Unit Text: 35th Div. Ammunition Col. Age: 35 Date of Death: 17/07/1916 Service No: 6942
Grave/Memorial Reference: 27. 242. Cemetery: NORWICH CEMETERY, Norfolk
CWGC www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=2803070
The 1st Battalion were on rotation in and out of the front-line trenches at Fricourt at this time, in what was then a comparatively quiet sector. Sniping and the occasional artillery \ mortar barrage would take their toll. For a glimpse of this, take a look at the War Diary of the 1st Battalion Bedfordshire Regiment who were in the same Brigade as the 1st Norfolks and frequently fought together.
www.bedfordregiment.org.uk/1stbn/1stbtn1915diary.html
F B Edwards
Benjamin Frederick EDWARDS (RoH)
[Listed as F B on memorial and CWGC] Private 3673, 1st/4th Battalion, Norfolk Regiment. Killed in action 4th October 1915. Enlisted Norwich. Buried in 7th FIELD AMBULANCE CEMETERY, Turkey. Special Memorial Plot/Row/Section A. Grave 64.
Note: There are now 640 Commonwealth servicemen of the First World War buried or commemorated in this cemetery. 276 of the burials are unidentified but special memorials commemorate 207 casualties known or believed to be buried among them.
CWGC: www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=605477
No match on Norlink
There is no Frederick Benjamin or Benjamin Frederick with a Norfolk connection listed on the 1911 Census. There are numerous Frederick Edwards on the 1901 Census including one aged 6, born Norwich and currently resident at 30 Silver Road, Norwich in the neighbouring parish of St.Pauls, while there is also a 19 year old Benjamin Edwards, a Boot and Shoe Operator from Norwich who was currently residing at 43 Barracks Street, in the neighbouring parish of St James.
Fortunately the baptism records for some of these parish’s are on line. There is a Frederick Benjamin listed who was born 12th January 1895 and baptised the 24th September 1896 at the church of St.James, Pockthorpe. His parents are listed as Ellis William and Ellen Elizabeth. His fathers occupation is given as drayman. Going back to the census, this ties in with the 6 year old at Silver Road.
At the time of the 1901 census, Ellis was aged 34 and a Drayman from Long Stratton. Ellen was 36 and probably also from Long Stratton. As well as Frederick, their other children are:-
Alfred…….aged 14.…born Norwich……occupation undecipherable
Charles……aged 13.…born Norwich
Gertie…….aged 10.…born Norwich
Florence….aged 4.….born Norwich
After the fighting in the middle of August, the struggle was more against disease and hardship than against Turkish guns and rifles. Dysentery caused havoc in all ranks, and in the middle of October there remained of the 1/4th Battalion only sixteen officers and 242 men fit for duty.
user.online.be/~snelders/sand.htm
H E Fitt
Frank Herbert FITT (RoH) - but see my notes.
[Listed as H F on memorial and CWGC] Private 235096, 1st/5th Battalion, The King's (Liverpool Regiment). Killed in action 31st July 1917. Aged 27. Born Norwich, enlisted and resident Lowestoft. Son of Harry and Sally Fitt, of Eden Villa, 2, Eden St., Lowestoft; husband of Hilda Pearl Fitt, of 146, Raglan St., Lowestoft. No known grave. Commemorated on YPRES (MENIN GATE) MEMORIAL, Ieper, West-Vlaanderen, Belgium. Panel 4 and 6.
CWGC: www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=1612459
I’ve looked at all the shots I took and its definitely an E, not an F. There is no H E Fitt listed on CWGC but there is a possible H Fitt.
Name: FITT Initials: H
Rank: Lance Corporal Regiment/Service: Norfolk Regiment Unit Text: 1st Bn.
Date of Death: 25/04/1917 Service No: 9672
Grave/Memorial Reference: VI. H. 22. Cemetery: CABARET-ROUGE BRITISH CEMETERY, SOUCHEZ
CWGC www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=585647
However, the 1901 Census throws up a new possibility - the 3 year old Harrold Fitt, born Norwich and living at 2, Cat & Fiddle Yard in the parish of St,Saviour. This is the household of his parents, Walter, (aged 40 and a Shoemaker from Norwich), and Emma, (aged 36 and from Norwich). Their other children are:-
Alice…………..aged 14.……………born Norwich
Walter…………aged 11.……………born Norwich
Sidney…………aged 9.…………….born Norwich
Maude…………aged 8.…………….born Norwich
May……………aged 5.……………born Norwich
Hilda…………..aged 1.……………born Norwich
As the 1st Battalion man is the only one of the four H. Fitt listed on the CWGC database who doesn’t have parents shown, and as the other three have parents who are not a Walter and Emma, the guesswork for now is that he is our man.
And indeed Lance Corporal H Fitt,9672, is down on the Great War Roll of Honour as a “Harold” Fitt.
Lance Corporal Fitt probably died as a result of wounds received in the attack of the 23/24th April.
From the War Diary of the 1st Bedfords
Report on action at La Coulotte.. Lt. Colonel P.B. Worrall M.C. Commanding 1st Battalion, Bedfordshire Regiment.
Sir, I have the honour to report that I received orders to attack LA COULOTTE from T.1.d.1/9 to T.1.a.3/9. and attach a copy of my Operation Orders which I personally explained in detail to all Officers and NCO’s. Briefly, I had to make:
(a) a frontal attack to the N.
(b) a flank attack East on WATER TOWER TRENCH.
AND (c) attack on triangle south of WATER TRENCH from the south, including a large part of CYRIL TRENCH held by the Germans.
The whole undertaking seemed to be most hazardous.
I considered the WATER TOWER TRENCH to be key to the situation and so attacked it frontally and in enfilade. Had I not got this footing, my Battalion must haave been wiped out by WATER TOWER TRENCH if we were held up by wire.
NARRATIVE.
4.40am. For half an hour previous to this I heard no M.G. fire and this proved a successful deployment.
5.15am. Two wounded reported that left company had reached 1st line German trench. It proved afterwards to be correct but with regard to extreme left only.
6.15am. 24 prisoners marched in from DEVONS and BEDFORDS captured at the junction of these two Battalions. 6.5am O.C. right assault company reported wounded but right company going through gaps. This Officer in charge and many others afterwards reported that it took at least five minutes to get through the wire, that there were few gaps, and a double belt (the first one 15 yards thick) in front of the first line.
7.05am. Touch with NORFOLKS reported.
7.55amj. Right 2nd wave (“C” Coy.) report they had passed through first objective (second German line) met with strong resistance, machine gun fire from houses and minerwerfer, but captured 9 prisoners (sent back), and 2 machine guns which they later smashed, and parties actually reached buildings T.1.b.5/9 and made a great attempt to rush LA COULOTTE from there, patrols were also sent out from there to try and get touch with the NORFOLKS , and companies on the left.
9.50am. NCO’s from “B” and “D” (left companies) reported that their right was held up, they had been surrounded and several prisoners had been taken. I have satisfied myself that these men were between two belts of wire with wire and a communication trench on the right from which they were enfiladed, and the gaps through which they had advanced were covered, and that they were bombed from the front and like rats in a trap.
Lt. Hunter from the right and who was on the other side of the road witnessed it and stated they were absolutely powerless.
10.00am. I sent orders to “A” and “C” to hang on and throw a defensive flank from junction of LENS-ARRAS ROAD and 1st German line and make strenuous efforts to get in touch with “B” and “D” .
11.05am. Lt. Woodford wounded, reported that “B” and “D” took the German 2nd line and were at once driven out of it with the exception of extreme left (communication trench T.1.a.30/95). Capt. C.A.S. Morris O.C. B Company was killed in rallying his men to make a gallant attack on machine guns, holding up their advance from 2nd line. At the same time I received a message that the remnants of A and C Companies were under 100 in WATER TOWER TRENCH and TRIANGLE, and that there were some NORFOLKS fighting with them and that they could not hold out much longer. They asked for reinforcements and bombs.
1.30pm. I applied at once for permission to conduct retirement in person but on this being refused I despatched Lt.H.J.EVERERTT MC with all available men from headquarters with 700 bombs and detailed orders for retirement if forced back, and I considered it imperative:
1. To hold the strong point in CYRIL TRENCH and not save the OUTPOST LINE
2. To evacuate my wounded (some 30) in the TUNNEL before evacuation.
My orders were more than carried out, the bombs were taken up under heavy fire, though some sent up by another Regiment failed to arrive, a splendid attack was led by a Sergeant of the NORFOLKS before the withdrawal, all the wounded were got away, and barricade strengthened before withdrawal.
[Cannot read time]. Verbal message received that A and C Companies had withdrawn to our original OUTPOST LINE and that Lt. H.J.EVERETT MC again sent up with a further supply of ammunition and bombs for strong point in CYRIL TRENCH.
[Cannot read time]. My position at the time of this withdrawal was:
1. About 60 men of “A” and “C”, all me effective rifles and some NORFOLKS from about T.1.a.6/7 to T.1.a.9/0 (German Front Line).
2. On my left from T.1.a.5/6 to T.1.a.1/8 the remnants of “B” and “D” lying out in front of German Wire till dusk, being continually bombed, grenaded and minenwerfened.
[Cannot read time]. A proportion of “B” and “D” Companies withdrew under the smoke of a protective barrage on German 2nd Line trench, to left of OLD OUTPOST LINE.
Copy of orders of my forced retirement attached.
I consider that my Officers, NCO’s and men showed great devotion to duty against untold odds, particularly wire and machine guns and I am forwarding under separate cover a list of recommendations.
I have the honour to be, Sir, your obedient servant
P.R.WORRALL, Lt.Colonel commanding 1st Battalion, Bedfordshire Regiment www.bedfordregiment.org.uk/1stbtn/1stbtn1917appendices.html
F Futter
F FUTTER (RoH) - but see my notes
Either Frank Charles FUTTER, Private 10554, 3rd Battalion, Coldstream Guards. Killed in action 11th May 1915. Aged 20. Born Burnham Thorpe, enlisted Norwich, resident Wells, Norfolk. Son of Charles and Elizabeth Futter, of Graver's Cottage, Burnham Thorpe, King's Lynn. Buried in CUINCHY COMMUNAL CEMETERY, Pas de Calais, France. Plot II. Row A. Grave 1.
CWGC: www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=594134
Or Frederick FUTTER, Private G/10190. 1st Battalion, Duke of Cambridge's Own (Middlesex Regiment). Killed in action 25th September 1915. Born St Bartholomew's. Norfolk, enlisted Norwich. Formerly 13023, Norfolk Regiment. Buried in CAMBRIN CHURCHYARD EXTENSION, Pas de Calais, France. Plot/Row/Section H. Grave 25.
CWGC www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=170678
The 1911 census has a Frederick Futter, born Norwich circa 1896 and still recorded in the district. There are no Futters recorded living in Norwich on the 1901 census, and no Norwich baptisms on the transcribed records available for the period 1881 to 1901. Frank is up at Burnham Thorpe, along with his nephew Walter Frederick who also died in the Great War.
The register of births doesn’t appear to have anything for 1896, but in 1895 in the April June quarter there is a Frederick John H recorded at Yarmouth.
The Great War Roll of Honour has Frederick down as Fred., and Frank Charles down as Charles F.
Therefore the balance is looking more like Frederick rather than Frank.
25th September-30th September 1915.
When dawn broke on the morning of 25th it seemed as if the elements had again conspired to make the attack abortive, for heavy rain fell and the wind, what there was of it, shifted almost continually; it was a bad day for the projection of gas. Indeed, one Brigade of the 2nd Division (6th) notified Divisional Headquarters that the wind was unfavourable, but was ordered to proceed with the projection. So, at 5.50 a.m., the cylinders were opened and great clouds of asphyxiating gas were projected into the air, whilst the smoke candles were lighted. But instead of the gas floating across No Man's Land and settling down over the German trenches, it hung lifeless in the air or blew back upon the British trenches from which it had been projected, in many places with disastrous effects.
The left Battalion (the Highlanders) of the 19th Brigade fared worse than the right-the Middlesex-for the ground in front of the former was much cut up by craters, and in these the gas hung about with exasperating stillness.
Across No Man's Land the Germans could be seen donning gas masks and using sprays-in order to dispel the gas-whilst all along their parapets, at intervals of about 20-30 yards, they lighted fires for the same purpose, and by their activities they appeared quite unaffected by the noxious fumes. For forty minutes the gas projection lasted and then, at 6.30 a.m., the signal was given for the assault.
"A", "B" and "C" Companies of the 1st Middlesex, awaiting the order to go forward, at once began their advance; "D" Company was in reserve. But the men had not gone more than a few yards ere a storm of rifle and machine-gun bullets tore their ranks to shreds and No Man's Land was soon littered with killed and wounded. Undeterred by the gas fumes the Germans stood up in their trenches, in many places upon the parapets, and poured a deadly accurate fire upon the advancing British troops. For not alone from in front of the gallant Die-Hards did fierce resistance take place, but all up and down the line. Unable to make further progress, the Middlesex men laid down. By this time the German trenches, which when the advance began had been lightly held, were packed with men and the volume of fire increased. With orders to reinforce the three forward companies, "D" Company now "went over the top," only to share a similar fate, and survivors lay close to the ground with a rain of bullets pouring overhead. The Battalion Diary records the action in the following and all too brief words: "At 5.50 a.m. a gas attack was opened on the German trenches for 40 minutes. This was not, however, very successful, and did not have much effect. At 6.30 the Battalion attacked with three Companies in the front line and one Company ("D") in reserve. The Battalion was all flung into the line, but failed to get further forward than 100 yards and were then hung up. Gunners again shelled the hostile line, but no further advance was made. At 12 noon the Battalion was ordered to withdraw into Brigade Reserve, having lost very heavily in both officers and men. A large proportion of N.C.Os. were casualties."
The 19th Brigade Diary throws but little further light on the action, though the position of the Brigade at 7.30 a.m. is given thus: "1st Middlesex about 100 yards in front of our front-line trenches; 2nd A. and S. Highlanders being under cover of the German parapet by the wire " (a terrible position). Then a little later the narrative states: "2nd A. and S. Highlanders withdrawn to their original trenches, leaving many men behind, including two complete platoons who reached the German front trenches. 1st Middlesex, trying to get on, are a hundred yards in front. Artillery shell the German front line very heavily. A bombardment under 2nd Divisional orders was arranged to start at 9a.m., after which infantry were to advance. 2nd Royal Welch Fusiliers now put out two companies to support the Middlesex, but they were met with fierce opposition and lose heavily. Bombers of 1st Middlesex reach the craters at "D," but are heavily fired on by our own artillery." At 9.45a.m. orders were received at Brigade Headquarters stating that as the attack on the right of the 2nd Division was progressing favourably, no further attack was to be made for the present by the 19th Brigade and the 6th Brigade ( the latter was on the left of the former).
Amongst the appendices to the Diary of the 19th Infantry Brigade, however, are several field messages of special interest to the Middlesex Regiment, and although there are gaps in the story it is possible to follow the course of the Battle from a battalion point of view.
The first message, timed 6.57 a.m., is from Brigade Headquarters to Battalion Headquarters Middlesex and reads: "Any news aaa How far have you advanced aaa Is gas returning you aaa Keep me well informed so that artillery barrage may be altered to suit if you want it." In reply to this message there follow several, one after the other, from the O.C. Middlesex, and they are given in their correct order, though the first was evidently despatched while the Brigade message was on its way to Battalion Headquarters: (i) "6.50 a.m. Much opposition to our front. Please ask guns to shell Les Briques trench." (ii) "7 a.m. Reserve company has got on, but we are being very heavily fired at." (iii) "7.16 a.m. Line held up. Very heavy fire aaa Have " (here the message is overwritten and is unreadable. (iv) "7.20 a.m. Ask guns to shell German front-line trench aaa Railway trench I mean." (v) "7.26 a.m. Don't think gas is affecting us or Germans. They are holding their front-line trench aaa Our Battalion is all out in area between their front trench and ours aaa 2nd Royal Welch Fusiliers are now up aaa It is essential to now shell hostile front trench." (vi) "7.30 a.m. Reported casualties probably 400, but impossible to tell aaa Have observed an enormous number fall." ( vii) "7.55 a.m. Must shell German first line aaa Our men are all out in front aaa Almost all must be killed or wounded aaa Please shell first line aaa Welch Fusiliers are now advancing." And, at 8 a.m. the Commanding Officer asks for men for the attack on his left: "Is there any news re Argylls and Sutherlands ?"
It is apparent from the last message that no news had reached the Commanding Officer of the Middlesex from his own front line of the situation on his left flank. About 8 a.m., however, Colonel Rowley received the following message from Lieut. A. D. Hill ( commanding "C" Company): "Enemy very strong in front with machine-guns and rifles. "C" Company strength only about 30 or 35 men. Impossible to advance on account of machine guns. Mr. Henry and 3 men alone remain out of two platoons. Can we have reinforcements ? We are in Square 27B in crater S.E. of road and about 60 yards south Point 79." To which, at 8.12 a.m., Colonel Rowley replied: "Hang on where you are until reinforced." The next message is written on a small muddy and blood-stained piece of paper: "8.30 a.m. "B" Company attack held up 100 yards out of own trench. Major Swainson wounded. "B" Company knocked out, few men stand fast." It is signed "P. Choate, 2nd Lieutenant."
The only other information received by Colonel Rowley from No Man's Land was a second message from Lieut. Choate, timed 10.50 a.m.: "So far as can ascertain "B" Company nearly wiped out. A few men are lying near me 100 yards in front of our front trench to left of wrecked aeroplane and facing Les Briques Farm. I have not enough men to advance further. Can you reinforce or give orders ?" There is no reply in the Diaries to this message.
The one bright spot in the attack was an assault from the left flank carried out by the Grenade Reserve platoon, assisted by a platoon of the Reserve Company ("D"). These gallant fellows attacked a large crater (at D) and actually captured it.
There is little more to tell ! At 1.15 p.m. the Battalion- all that was left of it-was ordered into reserve at Siding No. 3 and Braddell Trench. When this movement had been carried out, but a handful of men-84 other ranks-were mustered, though when darkness had fallen over the battlefield on the night of 25th other men, who had been lying out all day in No 2 Man's Land, were able to withdraw. The little party of "D" Company who had hung on to the crater they had captured were also withdrawn. During the day they had actually pushed beyond the crater, but were held up by very thick hostile wire entanglements, and the grenade officer was killed whilst trying to force a way through. A machine gun had also been pushed forward into the crater and did great execution, but the machinegun officer being wounded, the gun had to be withdrawn. Throughout the morning the Battalion stretcher-bearers performed many gallant deeds and worked heroically
Ten officers killed (Captains N. Y. L. Welman, F. V. A. Dyer, L. G. Coward and R. J. Deighton; 2nd Lieuts. C. A. J. Mackinnon, C. Pery, B. U. Hare, A. L. Hill, R. C. Mellish, J. H. Linsell; Lieut. A. W. R. Carless died of wounds on 27th September.) and 7 wounded; 73 other ranks killed, 285 wounded, 66 missing, 7 gassed and 2 suffering from shell concussion-a total of 455-were the casualties suffered by the 1st Middlesex throughout the day. Well indeed might the Brigadier-General (P. R. Robertson) commanding 28th Brigade write in a letter to Colonel Rowley, dated 26th September: "Please convey to all ranks my very high appreciation of the splendid behaviour of all ranks in yesterday's action. They did all that it was possible to do under such circumstances; their conduct was most gallant and fully upheld the fine reputation of the Die-Hards."
Source freespace.virgin.net/howard.anderson/loos.htm
S Guyett
Sidney GUYETT (RoH)
Private 241797, 1st/5th Battalion, Northumberland Fusiliers. Died 14th November 1916. Born Norwich, enlisted Norwich. Formerly 3165, Norfolk Regiment. Buried in THIEPVAL MEMORIAL, Somme, France. Pier and Face 10 B 11 B and 12 B.
CWGC www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=788145
No match on Norlink
No match on either the 1911 or 1901 Census, although there are plenty of Guyett’s in Norfolk,
The attack on Hook Sap 14th November 1916
Captain Francis Buckley wrote, in Q6a and Other Places:
The position in front was now as follows. The 1st Division had pushed the enemy back to a line running along the top of a ridge running from the Butte of Warlencourt practically due east. This ridge prevented our seeing the enemy's approaches and support positions in Le Barque. On the other hand from Loupart Wood the whole of our approaches and support trenches were in full view of the enemy, as far back as High Wood. Across those two miles no one could move in daylight without being seen by the enemy, and there was practically no position to put our field guns forward of High Wood. The enemy's front line consisted of two trenches - Gird Line and Gird support - with a forward trench on the top of the ridge, called on the left 'Butte Trench' and on the right 'Hook Sap.' Our front line Snag Trench and Maxwell Trench lay this side of the ridge and about two hundred yards away from the German forward trench.
The Butte of Warlencourt, an old Gallic burial place, was a round chalk hill, rising about 100 feet above ground level; and had been mined with deep dugouts and made into a formidable strong point. From the Butte, machine guns defended the approaches to Hook Sap, and from Hook Sap and the Gird Line, machine guns defended the approaches to the Butte. The ground between and around the opposing trenches had been ploughed up with innumerable shells, some of huge calibre, and it was now a spongy morass, difficult to cross at a walk and impossible at a run. As events proved, unless both the Butte and the Gird Line could be taken at the same time, the one would render the other impossible to hold. This then was the problem that faced the 50th Division, a problem that would have been difficult enough in the driest of weather, but rendered four times more so by the rain which fell in deluges on three days out of four during the whole of October and November.
I have dealt with these details rather fully, because this phase of the Somme battle has been passed over as a thing of no account. The eyes of the public have been directed to the successful operations at Beaumont Hamel and Beaucourt. They have not been directed to the misery and horror that we endured heroically but unavailingly on the slopes between Eaucourt L'Abbaye and Le Barque. Never have the soldiers of the 50th Division deserved more and won less praise than they did during the operations between October 25 and November 15. I have no pen to describe the conditions that were faced by the brave men, who after labouring unceasingly in the slimy horrors and rain for three weeks without rest or relief, stormed and took Hook Sap, only to be cut off and killed to the last man by successive counter- attacks. It is a sorrowful page in the history of the 7th N.F., but for stark grim courage and devotion to duty it cannot be surpassed by anything in the history of the battalion.
At dawn on November 14 the 149th Brigade attacked the Hook Sap and Gird Line, the 5th N.F. on the right, the 7th N.F. on the left opposite the sap At the same time the Australian Corps attacked farther to the right, but no attack was made on the Butte itself. An officer, who was in the trenches south-west of the Butte and saw the Northumberlands go forward, told me that he had never seen such a strange sight. The men staggered forward a few yards, tumbled into shell-holes or stopped to pull out less fortunate comrades, forward a few more yards, and the same again and again. All the while the machine guns from the German trenches poured a pitiless hail into the slowly advancing line; and the German guns opened out a heavy barrage on the trenches and on the ground outside. In spite of mud, in spite of heavy casualties, the survivors of two companies of the 7th N.F. struggled across that spongy swamp and gained the German line. What happened after that can only be conjectured, for they never kept in touch with the 5th N.F., who reached and took the Gird Line. But it is known that the 7th N.F. got a footing both in Hook Sap and in the Gird Line behind.
The Germans barraged the captured trenches twice or three times during the day, and are thought to have attacked them in force, with fresh reserves each time. Owing to the heavy and continuous barrage across No Man's Land no news could be got back, and no supports could be sent forward. Finally, at night, the remnants of the shattered brigade were collected, and another attempt were made to reach the trenches; but the Germans had evidently now got back to their old position and in the mud and darkness the fresh attack had little chance of success. Nothing more has been seen or heard of the two companies that reached Hook Sap. It is believed that they perished to the last man, over whelmed by successive German counter-attacks. Second-Lieut. E. G. Lawson fell at Hook Sap, also 2nd-Lieut. R.H.F.Woods, both Bombing Officers of the 7th N.F.; also Bombing Sergts. J.R. Richardson and J. Piercy.
The 5th N.F. did well indeed, for they succeeded in holding their ground in the Gird Line, and handed it over next day to the troops that relieved them. But that also had to be abandoned at last owing to its isolated position.
The only consolation that can be drawn from this heroic but tragic affair is that it may have created a diversion to our successful operation at Beaucourt. As an isolated operation it was doomed from the start owing to the state of the ground and the exhaustion of the men who took part in it.
www.fairmile.fsbusiness.co.uk/hooksap.htm
A Lake
A LAKE (RoH)
Either LAKE, Arthur Norman, Sapper 85613, 207th Field Company, Royal Engineers. Died 19th January 1917. Aged 34. Born Colegate, Norfolk, enlisted Norwich. Awarded the Military Medal (M.M.). Son of Mr. and Mrs. Fred W. Lake, of 36, Pitt St., Norwich; husband of Eliza Alice Lake, of 7, Rosebery Rd., Norwich. Buried in BREWERY ORCHARD CEMETERY, BOIS-GRENIER, Nord, France. Plot IV. F. 13.
CWGC: www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=59108
There is a picture of Arthur Norman on Norlink. Accompanying notes read Sapper Lake was killed on 19th January 1917
norlink.norfolk.gov.uk/02_Catalogue/02_013_PictureTitleIn...
Arthur Norman was baptised at St George’s Colegate on the 12th October 1884. His actual date of birth isn’t noted. His parents are listed as Frederick William and Sarah, and their address is given as Pitt Street, Norwich.
Or LAKE, Arthur, Private 3921, 2nd Battalion, Northumberland Fusiliers. Killed in action 12th March 1915. Aged 19. Born and enlisted Norwich. Son of Mr. and Mrs. Lake. No known grave. Commemorated on PLOEGSTEERT MEMORIAL, Comines-Warneton, Hainaut, Belgium. Panel 2.
CWGC www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=869348
Norlink also has
Lake, Lance Corporal Arthur Walter, 101st Winnipeg Light Infantry (Overseas) Battalion
Lance Corporal Lake was born at Norwich, 31st December 1883, the son of W. Walter and Lottie Lake of 83 Crown Road, Great Yarmouth. He enlisted in early 1916 and was killed 9th April 1917 at Vimy Ridge, France.
norlink.norfolk.gov.uk/02_Catalogue/02_013_PictureTitleIn...
CWGC: www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=2954741
His enlistment papers can be seen here
www.collectionscanada.gc.ca/databases/cef/001042-119.02-e...
www.collectionscanada.gc.ca/databases/cef/001042-119.02-e...
To add to our plethora of choices, the 1901 census has an 8 year old Arthur, born Norwich and recorded at 15 Priory Yard in the Parish of St James with Pockthorpe. His parents are Walter and Eliza. There is also a 11 year old Arthur recorded at 117 Oak Street, who lives with parents Robert and Mary.
While Arthur Norman from Pitt Street is there, and Arthur Walter, who by the time of the 1901 census has moved to 83 Crown Road, Great Yarmouth, there is no trace of the youngest Arthur on either the 1901 or the 1911 census. The only Arthurs of the right age and with a Norfolk connection on the 1901 census were born at Stalham and Attleborough.
C G Marshall
Cecil George MARSHALL (RoH)
probably Private M/33836, "N" Forage Company (Cambridge), Royal Army Service Corps. Died in United Kingdom 4th November 1918. Aged 22. Born Eccles, Kent, enlisted Chatham, resident Maidstone. Husband of Mabel Sophia Marshall, of 9, Howletts Court, Botolph St., Norwich. Buried in NORWICH CEMETERY, Norfolk. Plot/Row/Section 47. Grave 803.
CWGC www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=2803224
No match on Norlink
There is also a Claude at 67 Magpie Road Aged 8 Parents Thomas and Mary on the 1901 census who is still around in Norwich in 1911, but the only match on CWGC for a Claude Marshall is a Temporary Lieutenant in the 7th Battalion South Staffs Regiment, who died in 1917.
Unfortunately no next of kin details shown on CWGC
CWGC www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=159629
Private Marshall’s headstone:-
www.flickr.com/photos/43688219@N00/3085037887/
G H Marshall
George Henry MARSHALL (RoH)
Private 772766, 2nd Battalion, Canadian Infantry (Eastern Ontario Regiment). Died 29th September 1918. Aged 30. Born 12th September 1888 in Norwich. Son of Robert and Sarah Marshall, of 26, Stacey Road, Norwich; husband of Ellen Mary Marshall, of King's Head Yard, Magdalen St., Norwich. Machinist by trade,. Unmarried. Enlisted 5th February 1916 at Brantford, Ontario, Canada, passed fit 7th February 1916. Height 5 feet 5½ inches, girth 35½ inches, complexion fair, eyes brown, hair light brown, religion Church of England. Buried in BUCQUOY ROAD CEMETERY, FICHEUX, Pas de Calais, France. Plot II. Row K. Grave 23. National Archives of Canada Accession Reference: RG 150, Accession 1992-93/166, Box 5952 - 17
CWGC: www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=179082
There is a picture of George on Norlink
norlink.norfolk.gov.uk/02_Catalogue/02_013_PictureTitleIn...
Accompanying notes read Private Marshall was born in Norwich on 21st September 1888, and educated at Angel Road School. He enlisted on 30th July 1916, and died of wounds received at the Battle of Cambrai on 29th September 1918
Interestingly the photo was taken at Bonds of Magdalen Street, Norwich.
The 12 year old George appears on the 1901 Census at 51 Esdelle Street in the parish of St Augustines. This is the household of his parents, Robert, (aged 43 and a Fruiterers Porter from Norwich), and Sarah, (aged 43 and also from Norwich). Their other children are:-
Robert……..aged 21.…..Born Norwich…..Printers Compositor
Edward……aged 20.…..Born Norwich…..Shoemakers Pressman
Walter……..aged 17.….Born Norwich…..Printers Porter
Albert……..aged 16.…..Born Norwich…..Errand Boy - Drapers
Sarah………aged 14.….Born Norwich
Rosa……….aged 11.….Born Norwich
Susan………aged 10.…Born Norwich
Eliza……….aged 8.…..Born Norwich
Arthur………aged 4.….Born Norwich
The enlistment papers for George Henry Marshall, born 12th September 1888 can be seen on-line in the Canadian Archive.
www.collectionscanada.gc.ca/databases/cef/001042-119.02-e...
www.collectionscanada.gc.ca/databases/cef/001042-119.02-e...
He gives his next of kin as his father, Robert Marshall, of 26, Stacey Road, Norwich
27th September 1918
On the Corps left the 1st Division’s success paid tribute to careful planning and well-directed and determined execution. Two guns of the 1st Battery C.F.A. gave the 1st Brigade a good start by moving in front of Inchy-en-Artois and firing point-blank into enemy positions along the canal. Thus aided, the 4th Battalion, having crossed the dry bed with little difficulty, was able to jump ahead to the north-east and capture its assigned portion of the Marquion Line. Here the 1st Battalion pushed through as planned and secured the Green Line in short order. The 2nd and 3rd Battalions now assumed the lead, only to be stopped by heavy fire from the embanked railway which curved north from Bourlon. With the aid of a timely flanking attack by the 72nd Battalion they overcame this resistance and swept on to the Blue Line.
On the whole the day had gone very well. That night (General) Currie wrote in his diary: “Today’s success jeopardizes the hold of the enemy on the Quéant- Drocourt system north of the Scarpe, and he may be expected to fall back to Douai.” With the obstacle of the Canal du Nord overcome there was hope that Cambrai might soon be captured, and that the fall of Douai would follow. But gains had been limited on the Corps right, where the 4th Canadian Division, suffering from an open flank because of the slow progress of the British formations farther south, had been unable to start the second phase of the operation. During the night of 27-28 September, however, the Germans fell back. With his divisions ejected from their lines and lying unprotected in the open fields from Epinoy to Ribécourt, General von Below gave orders for a withdrawal to the far side of the Sensée between Arleux and Aubigny, and to the “Hagen” position running southward from Aubigny through Marcoing.108
On the evening of the 27th General Currie issued orders for the advance to continue throughout the night and following day in an effort to work around the north side of Cambrai and keep the enemy from setting up a defensive line west of the city.
The 2nd Battalion seems to have been engaged in holding the line on the 28th and 29th, as the various Canadian Reserve units were brought forward to keep the momentum going.
See Chapter 14, Matrix Nicholson Transcriptions.
Source: cefresearch.com/matrix/Nicholson/Transcription/
W H Mason
William Henry MASON (RoH)
Private Norfolk Regiment 1st/4th Battalion, Aged 21 Died 19/04/1917 200086 Son of Henry and Mary A. Mason, of 24, Rose Yard, St. Augustines, Norwich. Plot Panels 12 to 15. Buried in JERUSALEM MEMORIAL
CWGC www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=1646317
No match on Norlink
The five year old William H. is recorded on the 1901 Census at 11 Thompsons Yard in the Parish of St Edmunds. This is the household of his parents, Henry, (aged 46 and a Crepe Finisher from Morwich), and Mary.A., (aged 38 and from Norwich). Their other children are:-
May……….,,,,,,,,,,,,,,aged 10.…….born Norwich
Alice M……………..aged 9.……..born Norwich
Ethel………………aged 3.………born Norwich
Making up the household is a 1 year old boarder, Ernest Camplin
19th April 1917 During the 2nd Battle of Gaza,
Facing the Tank Redoubt was the 161st Brigade of the 54th Division. To their right were the two Australian battalions (1st and 3rd) of the Imperial Camel Corps Brigade who had dismounted about 4,000 yards from their objective. As the infantry went in to attack at 7.30am they were joined by a single tank called "The Nutty" which attracted a lot of shell fire. The tank followed a wayward path towards the redoubt on the summit of a knoll where it was fired on point blank by four field guns until it was stopped and set alight in the middle of the position.
The infantry and the 1st Camel Battalion, having suffered heavy casualties on their approach, now made a bayonet charge against the trenches. About 30 "Camels" and 20 of the British infantry (soldiers of the 5th (territorial Battalion of the Norfolk Regiment) reached the redoubt, then occupied by around 600 Turks who immediately broke and fled towards their second line of defences to the rear.
The British and Australians held on unsupported for about two hours by which time most had been wounded. With no reinforcements at hand and a Turkish counter-attack imminent, the survivors endeavoured to escape back to their own lines.
To the right (west) of Tank Redoubt, the 3rd Camel Battalion, advancing in the gap between two redoubts, actually made the furthest advance of the battle, crossing the Gaza-Beersheba Road and occupying a pair of low hills (dubbed "Jack" and "Jill"). As the advances on their flanks faltered, the "Camels" were forced to retreat to avoid being isolated.
Source: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_Battle_of_Gaza
E S Plumstead
Ernest Sidney PLUMSTEAD (RoH)
Gunner 875273, "A" Battery, 173rd Brigade (Territorial Force), Royal Field Artillery Killed in action 15th October 1918. Born and enlisted Norwich. Buried in DADIZEELE NEW BRITISH CEMETERY, Moorslede, West-Vlaanderen, Belgium. Plot I. Row C. Grave 35.
CWGC www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=163254
No match on Norlink
The 3 year old Ernest is recorded on the 1901 census at 55 Peacock Street in the Parish of St Pauls. This is the household of his parents, Samuel, (aged 41 and a Painter from Norwich), and Alice, (aged 31 and from Norwich). Their other children are:-
Percy……………….aged 8.………born Norwich
Alice……………….aged 6.………born Norwich
Arthur………………aged 5.……..born Norwich
Also living with them is Samuel’s Sister-in-Law, (and therefore probably Alice’s sister), Susan Saddleton, aged 19 and a Silk Weaver in a Crape Factory. Susan was also from Norwich.
CLXXIII (East Ham) Brigade: War Raised Unit; Formed at East Ham in 1915 and consisted of A, B, C and D Batteries; 36th (Ulster) Division. The Division moved to France 3-6 Oct 1915; Divisional Artillery remained in England until November 1915.
Forum Post,
14th - 15th October 1918
During the liberation of my village (Gulleghem, incl hamlets such as Salines, Steenbeek, Drie Masten...), 43 soldiers were killed and burried on the spot, the graves scattered all over the village. A document in the village archive lists their names, numbers and regiments. Most of the killed men were from the 29th Division (a few from the 35th and 36 division) serving with the South Wales Borderers, the Royal Scots, the Hampshire regiment, the Border Regiment, King's Own Scottish Borderers, Machine Gun Corps, Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers and Royal Field Engineers
(Gunner Plumstead is in the attached list)
1914-1918.invisionzone.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=104003
J W Scottow
John 'Jack' William SCOTTOW (RoH)
Gunner 101885, 355th Siege Battery, Royal Garrison Artillery. Died of wounds 21st August 1918. Born Heigham, enlisted Norwich. Buried in DAOURS COMMUNAL CEMETERY EXTENSION, Somme, France. Plot V. Row B. Grave 27.
CWGC www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=77657
There is a picture of Gunner Scottow on Norlink
norlink.norfolk.gov.uk/02_Catalogue/02_013_PictureTitleIn...
The accompanying notes read Gunner Scottow was born in Norwich in March 1887. He enlisted in August 1916, and was killed in action on 21st August 1918
On the 1911 census, a John Scottow, born Norwich circa 1887, is recorded in the district of Dartford. Other possibly related Scottow’s are a Mary, (born circa 1883, Norwich - possibly John’s wife?), and a Richard, (born circa 1909 Norwich - possibly John’s son?).
There isn’t a match on the 1901 census. On the 1891 census, the 3 year old John W is recorded at 29 Orchard Street in the parish of St Bartholomews. This is the household of his parents, John, (aged 39 and a Carpenter & Joiner from Alby, Norfolk), and Elizabeth, (aged 36 and from Hanworth). Their other children are:-
Mary……..,,,,,,,,,aged 17.….born Norwich…….Teacher:Elementary
George……,,,,,,,,aged 15.…born Norwich…….Labourer as a Packer
Elizabeth……….aged 13....born Norwich
Havvield(? Daughter)…..aged 1.…born Norwich
G Snelling
Gordon SNELLING (RoH)
Private 30316, 8th Battalion, Norfolk Regiment. Killed in action 11th May 1917. Born St Saviour, Norwich, enlisted Norwich. No known grave. Commemorated on ARRAS MEMORIAL, Pas de Calais, France. Bay 3.
CWGC www.cwgc.org/search/casualty_details.aspx?casualty=1653957
No match on Norlink
On the 1901 census the 8 year old Gordon is recorded at 8, Little White Horse Yard, Botolph Street, in the Parish of St Saviour. This is the household of his parents, George, (age 39 and a Shoemaker from Norwich), and Emma, (also aged 39 and from Norwich). Their other children are:-
George………aged 13.……..born Norwich
Emma……….aged 10.……..born Norwich
William……..aged 4.……….born Norwich
Walter………aged 1.……….born Norwich
The 18th Division, of which the 8th Battalion were part, lists amongst its battle honours the third battle of the Scarpe, (3rd May-5th May 1917), part of the wider Battle of Arras. However, while fatalities amongst the 8th continued through-out May, its difficult to establish there whereabouts during this period.
From this book.
I haven't been to the LEGO House myself, but maybe these are the locker doors? Or perhaps just wall panels?
The palette here is such a weird one — lots of unreadable text, no real pattern, so many tiles missing. Even if it's just a hand-picked selection of colors for the locker doors, that doesn't explain the transparents.
Beautifully clear airplane view of the highrises in Honolulu and Waikiki Beach. Vintage white cardboard mount “Kodachrome Transparency Processed By Kodak” slide produced between 1965 and 1972 with sn unreadable date stamp.
Photo details
- 1911 Fort DeRussy, right of the HHV
- Battery Randolph at Fort DeRussy (now the US Army Museum of Hawaii)
- 1971 Marco Polo Apartments (36 floors) on Kapiolani Blvd, above Fort DeRussy
- 1971 Waikiki Sheraton Hotel (32 floors) on the beach, center
- 1969 Royal Hawaiian Tower (17 floors), right of the Sheraton
- 1967 Outrigger Hotel (17 floors), right of the Royal
- 1969 Moana Surfrider Tower (21 floors), right of the Outrigger
- University of Hawaii Manoa Campus, center of photo
Left to right;
HP392X
Year: 2015
Make: Mercedes-Benz
Model: E400
VIN: WDDKJ6HB2FF298559
Mileage: 53,866 KM (CarFax calculated)
Other info: 4Matic 3.0L 6Cyl
GM300L
Year: 2017
Make: Mercedes-Benz
Model: E400
VIN: WDDZF6GB6HA098947
Mileage: 23,118 KM (CarFax calculated)
Other info: 4Matic 3.0L 6Cyl
GM296N
Year: 2015
Make: Mercedes-Benz
Model: C400
VIN: 55SWF6GB3FU006306
Mileage: 98,439 KM (CarFax calculated)
Other info: 4Matic 3.0L 6Cyl
Fourth car is unreadable because of the darkness of the BC Parks plate.
Diego: *drops his piece of toast, reclines back in his chair, face unreadable* “I’m going to need you to elucidate.”
Charley: “I can’t. I would have to understand it to explain it. Plus, you know I’m not great at putting what I feel into words.”
Diego: *studies Charley*
Charley: *shoulders undulate uneasily, as she feels the weight of Diego’s consideration*
Diego: “Let’s do it this way, then, since I also know you don’t lie—at least not when asked a direct question. Your subterfuge of choice is usually avoidance. Do you love me?”
Charley: “Yes.”
Diego: “Are you still physically attracted to me?”
Charley: “Yes.”
Diego: “Are you in love with me?”
Charley: *hesitates for several seconds* “I don’t know.”
Diego: “Are you in love with Grey?”
Charley: “Yes.”
Diego: “Are you staying with him?”
Charley: “Yes.”
Diego: “Are you going to tell him how you feel about me?”
Charley (exasperatedly): “How am I supposed to, when I don’t even know?”
Diego: “He knows.”
Charley: “Did he tell you that?”
Diego: “He doesn’t have to. I know he knows, and he knows I know.”
Charley: *adjusts her glasses, sighs deeply* “Geez, why did that make sense? That shouldn’t have made sense, especially at two in the morning.”
Fashion Credits
***Any doll enhancements (i.e. freckles, piercings, eye color changes, haircuts) were done by me unless otherwise stated.***
Charley
Shorts: Mattel – Barbie Playline – Fashion Avenue
Tank: Jakks Pacific – Hannah Montana
Socks: Mattel – Barbie Playline – Generation Girl Barbie
Doll is a Morning Dew Giselle transplanted to a Poppy body, re-rooted by the inimitable valmaxi(!!!)
Caid: “Nope. He’s havin’ lunch with a record label suit. Must’ve run long.”
Charley: “Thought he wasn’t interested in signing with a label.”
Caid: “He ain’t. Just networkin’.”
Charley: *hooks her bag on the back of Dane’s chair, deliberately avoiding eye contact* “Hey.”
Dane: “Hey…um, can we talk?”
Charley: “Can we talk? Yes, we’re physically able. Am I willing to talk? Undecided…*smiles in a manner that’s closer to a snarl* I am thinking about biting you, though—and not in a sexy way.”
Dane: *eyes Charley warily*
Caid: “Serves you right, asshole. Goin’ behind her back and talkin’ about her personal bidness. It’s seriously uncool, not to mention immature. You make mistakes like a rookie you get no nookie.”
Dillon: *grunts in agreement, eyes still glued to his book*
Charley: *leans against the table, crosses her arms, and stares at Caid* “Since when do you sell out one of your own for a girl, Kincaid?”
Caid: “You ain’t a girl. You’re a Chuck. You have equal bro code rights with this one…” *thrusts his thumb in Dane’s direction*
Charley: *face unreadable* “Um…thanks-so-much-not-at-all. Exactly how much do you know?”
Caid: “Just that he pissed on his shoes real good this time. He didn’t disclose the particulars, only the general gist…while putting on a spectacular show of asshattery.”
Dillon: *looks up* “Been an unholy terror since he came home last night. I’ve seen hungry, sleep-deprived chiselers with more self-control.”
Charley: *bemused expression* “Uh…‘chiselers’…sure. I guess sculptors can be kinda whiny. In fact, I heard Michelangelo was a real jackhole…who didn’t bathe. He couldn’t keep an assistant during the Sistine Chapel redo ‘cuz his pits stank so bad.”
Dillon: *brow furrows* “What?”
Charley: “What?”
Dane: “Chiseler’s Dublin slang for ‘child,’ Chuck.”
Dillon: *chuckles* “You thought I meant a sculptor? *drawls Paul Newman-style* What we have here is a failure to communicate.”
Charley: *pushes up glasses, wryly* “Wow…awesome. This isn’t embarrassing for me at all.”
Dane: *lips curves into a half-smile* “Hey, I’m the one he was calling a brat. If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s me.”
Charley: *glances at Dane, face softening infinitesimally, then shifts her attention back to Caid and Dillon* “Whereas, I appreciate the support, boys, this is between me and the ‘chiseler’ over there. Shut up and stand down.”
Fashion Credits
***Any doll enhancements (i.e. freckles, piercings, eye color changes, haircuts) were done by me unless otherwise stated.***
Charley
Shorts & Shirt: SugarBabyLoveDoll (etsy.com)
Vest: IT – Dynamite Gilrs – Love Revolution – Free Spirit Jett
Belt: Cangaway (esty.com)
Sneakers: Sekiguchi Momoko – After School Dash!
Glasses: Sekiguchi Accessory
Bag: Random Action Figure Accessory off eBay
Badges on the Bag: Nikki
Necklace & Bracelets: Me
Doll is a Morning Dew Giselle transplanted to a Poppy body, re-rooted by the savvy-n-saucy valmaxi(!!!)
Caid
Jeans: Mattel – Barbie Collector – James Dean
Tee: IT – Dynamite Boys – Love Revolution Take It Easy Cruz
Hoodie: Clear lan
Shoes: Volks – Who’s That Girl?
Hat: Mattel – Playline Fashion
Necklace: Me
Doll is a Dark Hunter Acheron.
Dillon
Pants: Clear lan
Tank: IT – Dynamite Boys – All American Auden
Jacket: Chewin
Shoes: Volks – Who’s That Girl?
Bag: IT – Homme – Silent Partner Romain
Necklace: Collected from here-n-there
Doll is a 2013 Color Infusion Declan.
Dane
Jeans: Kimberlee of Hazel Street Dezigns
Tank: Kelsie of Mutant Goldfish Designs – Screenprint added by me
Belt: Volks – Who’s That Girl
Sneakers: IT – Homme – Style Strategy Lukas
Necklace: Collected from here-n-there
Bracelet: Me
Doll is a Night Vision Count Adrian.
1975 Dennis Paxit dustcart.
Chassis no. M3125A2721 and engine no. 354U309121. Registered in Malta and re-imported to the UK. Supplied new in the UK according to the unreadable plating certificate in the cab. Unsold at Cheffins.
This Wood Burning Steam Engine was built in 1913 by the Baldwin Locomotive Works with a 2-6-2 Wheel Arrangement and a Bulbous shaped Smoke Stack to prevent sparks from being emitted by the stake preventing Brush Fires from being started. The 2-6-2 Wheel Arrangement has the Whyte Notation: Prairie.
It is now located in the Manatee Village Historical Park at 1404 Manatee Avenue, East, Bradenton, Florida 34208 and is about to undergo it's second restoration. For additional Information,. see:
www.heraldtribune.com/article/LK/20020826/News/605236347/SH/
Postally unused real photo postcard of a young man and woman (perhaps a teen-age brother and sister) posing on the cowcatcher of a large steam locomotive bearing the number 106 and built by the American Locomotive Company in 1906. The girl is wearing some kind of delegate's ribbon pinned to her jacket. The letters OSSEN are visible on the ribbon along with some smaller unreadable text. Although not mailed, the postcard carries a scribbled address on the back for O. L. George, 715 So. Hope St., Los Angeles, Calif.
AZO postcard with four triangles up, circa 1904-1918.
Car: Jaguar XE R-Sport.
Date of first registration: 22nd June 2017.
Registration region: Nottingham.
Latest recorded mileage: Unreadable (MOT 14th June 2020).
Last V5 issued: 17th March 2020.
Date taken: 17th August 2020.
Album: Carspotting
This was taken on Panepistimiou Avenue, one of the main streets in the center of Athens. It was right in front of the National Library, and just a couple blocks from the hotel where I stayed.
Note: this photo was published in a Sep 10, 2014 blog titled "Sommergefühle im fashionable Griechenland."
***************************
When we hear the phrase “first impression,” we tend to think of a person. Was the politician I recently voted for as inspiring when I heard his first speech as he was years later? (More so, sadly.) Was the girl that I married as beautiful at 13 as she was years later, in her twenties and thirties? (Yes, and yes.) Did Bob Dylan’s Blowin’ in the Wind send more of a shiver down my spine in 1963 than it did when I heard it drifting from a car radio 45 years later? (No. It stops me dead in my tracks every time I hear it.)
It’s not just people that make first impressions on me. Cities do, too, perhaps because I encountered so many of them while my family moved every year throughout my childhood. Or perhaps it’s because, after seeing so many cities that I thought were different in the United States, I was so completely unprepared for the wild variety of sights and sounds and smells that I encountered as a grown man, when I traveled to Europe and South America, to Africa and Asia and Australia. And even today, there are cities that I’m visiting for the first time, and which continue to take me by surprise.
Athens is one of those cities. I don’t know what I was expecting… Something old, of course, something downright ancient, filled with smashed statues and marble columns like Rome, engraved with unreadable inscriptions in a language I never learned — but probably not as ancient as Cairo. Something hot and noisy and polluted and smelly, perhaps like Calcutta or the slums of Mumbai. Something gridlocked with noisy, honking traffic congestion, perhaps like Moscow.
What I didn’t expect was the wide, nearly-empty highways leading from the airport into the city. I didn’t expect the cleanliness of the tree-lined streets that ran in every direction. I did expect the white-washed buildings and houses that climbed the hills that surround the city — but the local people told me that buildings in Athens were positively gray compared to what I would have seen if I had stayed longer and ventured out to the Greek islands.
I also didn’t expect the graffiti that covered nearly every wall, on every building, up and down every street. They were mostly slogans and phrases in Greek (and therefore completely unintelligible to me), but with occasional crude references in English to IMF bankers, undercover policemen, a politician or two, and the CIA. There were a couple slogans from the Russian revolution of 1917, from the Castro uprising in Cuba, and even from the American revolution (“united we stand, divided we fall.”)
Naturally, I thought all of this had come about in just the past few months, as Greece has wrestled with its overwhelming financial crisis. But I was told by local citizens that much of the graffiti has been around for quite a bit longer than that – just as it has been in cities like New York and London. Some of it was wild and colorful, with cartoon figures and crazy faces … though I don’t think it quite rises to the level of “street art” that one sees in parts of SoHo, Tribeca, and the East Village in New York. What impressed me most about the graffiti in Athens was its vibrant energy; I felt like the artists were ready to punch a hole through the walls with their spray-cans.
These are merely my own first impressions; they won’t be the same as yours. Beyond that, there are a lot of facts, figures, and details if one wants to fully describe a city like Athens. Its recorded history spans some 3,400 years, and it includes the exploits of kings and generals, gods and philosophers, athletes and artists. There are statues and columns and ruins everywhere; and towering above it all is the breath-taking Acropolis. It’s far too rich and complex for me to describe here in any reasonable way; if you want to know more, find some books or scan the excellent Wikipedia summary.
It’s also hard to figure out what one should photograph on a first visit to a city like Athens. It’s impossible not to photograph the Acropolis, especially since it’s lit at night and visible from almost every corner of the city. I was interested in the possibility of photographing the complex in the special light before dawn or after sunset, but it’s closed to visitors except during “civilized” daytime hours. It’s also undergoing extensive renovations and repair, so much of it is covered in scaffolding, derricks, and cranes. In the end, I took a few panorama shots and telephoto shots, and explored the details by visiting the new Acropolis Museum, with the camera turned off.
Aside from that, the photos you’ll see here concentrate on two things: my unexpected “first impression” of the local graffiti, and my favorite of all subjects: people. In a couple cases, the subjects are unmistakably Greek – Greek orthodox priests, for example – and in a couple cases, you might think you were looking at a street scene in São Paulo or Mexico City. But in most of the shots, you’ll see examples of stylish, fashionable, interesting people that don’t look all that much different from the people I’ve photographed in New York, London, Rome, or Paris. Maybe we can attribute that to the homogenization of fashion and style in today’s interconnected global environment. Or maybe we can just chalk it up to the fact that people are, well … interesting … wherever you go.
In any case, enjoy. And if you get to Athens yourself, send me some photos of your own first impressions.
Made for SWFactions. Original Post: www.eurobricks.com/forum/index.php?/forums/topic/180672-j...
Our trio find themselves in a precarious position, deep in the forgotten jungles of Imynusoph, face-to-face with the dastardly ex-Imperial Colonel Corbett!
Read on to find out how it happened!
Intrepid reporter Kitsa Rigo grumbled and pushed aside another bright green frond. Her shirt was sweat-soaked, she had cuts on her arm from the foliage and she had stepped in something gooey that was seeping through her boot. She should have been in the Core Worlds investigating corporate corruption, not here, in the farthest reaches of the galaxy, looking for a tribe and treasure that may or may not be made up.
Impatiently, she stomped alongside her two companions. "Mr. Clod, it's time to deal with the truth: we're walking in circles," she said. "I'm putting this in my story for the Gazette, you know."
"Shush shush, would you shush? Be quiet," said Clod, rolling his eyes and trying to look unbothered. "And stop writing. You're driving me up the wall. Just wait. I'm sure I know where we are. Sure, things look bad now, but . . . haven't you ever heard that saying? The night is darkest before the dawn?"
"Well--well, actually, Mr. Clod...technically, that isn't quite true," stammered Professor Floon, who, while hurrying forward to speak, tripped in the undergrowth.
The Klatoonian explorer pulled the Neimodian academic roughly to his feet. "What was that, Professor?" he growled.
"Well, about what you just said...Not here, not on Imynusoph. You see, due to its remoteness, there is a dearth of verifiable information about Imynusoph. While regrettable, that is what makes a CFS research station such a desirable outcome!"
"Get to the point...
"W-Well, in spite of this scarcity of knowledge, I've been pouring over what existing tomes we do possess, and I've learned that on this planet it is, in fact, the dusks that are the darkest. A result of a peculiar tilt on the planet's axis. A fascinating quirk, I think!"
"So far, I don't think any of your quirks are all that fascinating, professor."
"Oh my! I say--"
"I wish you wouldn't. You're distracting me from my wayfinding. Ms. Rigo, engage the professor in conversation so I can figure out where we are, would you?"
She put a hand on her hip and glared. "I thought you knew."
"I know...in my bones, alright?" he replied, waving away her accusation. "My instinctive being. My internal map. I just want to make sure my bones, being, and internal map are hitting the mark. Let's take a left up here, into this clearin--Woah there!"
"HEY!"
"Oh my!"
Buffeted by a sudden swinging of broad-leaved plants, the three of them tumbled headfirst into the aforementioned clearing, where they found themselves quickly sinking into some kind of sand. The sand was also sinking, and quickly.
"Oh my, oh my!" Warbled Professor Floon.
"We need a rope or something! A vine!" Kitsa shouted.
Clod looked around for a way out. "You better not put this in your story, Rigo!"
"Is that really important right now?" she snarled. "Ugh--It's no good, there's nothing to grab hold of."
The Professor tried to stay calm. "Mr. Clod! What do we do?"
"Oh, as if this con-artist knows..."
Clod shot her a proud look. "Actually, I do know! I know exactly. How about that?"
The Professor and Reporter turned and stared at the disappearing form of Harnaby Clod. They waited for instruction.
"It's obvious, isn't it? Start shouting for help!"
Kitsa threw up the hand that wasn't being sucked down by sand. "Oh, great plan! Very dramatic."
"Mr. Clod, I feel the need to caution you...such a ruckus may very well draw dangerous wildlife toward our location, which, while fascinating, may--"
Clod scowled at what he could still see of the Professor. "Listen here, Egghead: It's our only hope! Start making a ruckus or you'll never see dangerous wildlife again!"
The three started shouting for help. They were nearly submerged in the sinking sand when they heard something coming, from every direction. For a moment, Clod worried they really had brought out some kind of violent beast that would snatch them from the pit with its teeth, and rip them apart for food.
But it wasn't a beast. It may have been something worse.
It was half-a-dozen people with guns, wearing smashed-up imperial armor, and a speeder bringing up the rear. The pirates surrounded them and brought their weapons to bear. The trio tried to raise their hands in surrender, but, well, the sand.
A man dressed in officer regalia and a fur cloak swept towards them, curling his mustache with a finger. He was followed by a mean-looking Sergeant; his right hand man.
"My, my. Look what we've found, Slyfoot!" said the officer.
"People, sir," said his right hand man.
"Yes, people! Indeed! We weren't looking for people. We were, in fact, on the search for beasts. You three are very much not beasts! Except perhaps the one in the wide-brimmed hat, but the resemblance there seems entirely superficial. Do you understand me?" He frowned at the drowning trio. "At the risk of being rude, I must say you have wasted my time. And what are you doing out here, at the end of hyperlanes? The back of beyond! Looking for the golden treasures of Imynusoph, I suspect. Slyfoot is always telling me that finding the famed treasure of Imynusoph will earn me a commendation from the regional governor, and I am always telling Slyfoot that, alas! The treasure is a myth." He crept closer to the edge, looking at them sharply. "But treasure hunters are no myth. No, no, a persistent thorn in my side. You are treasure hunters, aren't you? Best to answer quickly, before you are consumed by the sand and I am left to wonder about your answer forever."
Clod spat and roared. "Get us out of here, you Imp snake! "
"How eloquent," smiled the officer. "Answer the question!"
"Treasure Hunters?" cried an indignant Floon, who was apparently more offended by the accusation than by the lack of help. "Pardon me, sir-- but that is hardly the case!"
Kitsa and Clod groaned, but the Officer looked intrigued. He smiled to his men as if sharing an inside joke. "Oh, indeed? And what is the case, my man?"
"Dun't--teld--hem--inniedeng!" said Kitsa, flailing as her head started to go under.
Floon did not comprehend the warning. With wounded pride, he launched in, "I am a researcher! An academic! I am here to study the local fauna, the fantastic giant birds of Imynusoph! Surely you've heard of them!"
Leaning closer, a gleam appeared in the officers eye. "You know of these giant birds, do you?"
"I do! Of course I do! It's only natural! I am Professor--blub--Pod Floon, and I politely demand your assistance! My associates and I are moments from a most unpleasant death!"
The officer looked pleased. "A fellow of manners and distinction! Out here, an even rarer find than my prey. I've made up my mind. Hop to it, men! Get them out of the sand!"
Slyfoot raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure, Colonel? Perhaps we should just leave them. It will save us the trouble..."
"No, Slyfoot! You've only ever believed in the treasure, never the giant birds! Slyfoot, ever the skeptic, except when it pertains to gold! Well, it appears I have finally found someone who shares my interest!"
Slyfoot's expression was unreadable. "Understood, sir. May I have the dog-faced one for interrogation?"
"Hey!" Clod growled. He knew when someone was talking about him.
The Colonel waved a hand. "Oh yes, naturally. Do as you must with that one. Troopers! Bring these three to our camp. I would have further conversation with our guests."
To be continued!
By process of elimination this is 20002 a Southern Railway Class CC2 introduced in 1945 a Raworth & Bullied design. Peter has labelled the picture as 20000 but only 20001-20003 is listed, it is not 20003 because that had a different front and the number, although unreadable has a fatter last digit than '1' 20002 was built at Ashford and lasted until 12/1968. These locomotives were seen on boat trains and heavy freight and they could pick up electicity from overhead wires and 3rd rail both at 660 volt DC. They were designated class 70 but never bore that number.
I also have no idea where the picture was taken so any more info on loco or location or an approximate date will be most welcome.
Copyright John Whitehouse and Geoff Dowling; All rights reserved, no use to be made without consent
These two grave stones in the cemetery of St. Botolph's Church in Apsley Guise are of a husband and wife. Sadly I'm unable to find out any more about them. Their stones are quite decorative and simple in design, which made them stand out in the cemetery.
The inscription on the left reads:
Sacred to the memory of Elizabeth Cole relict of Fenn Cole who departed this life (1834? unreadable)
The inscription on the right reads:
Sacred to the memory of Fenn Cole who departed this life October 6th 1821
This photograph captures the intricate details of a Baroque altar within the Wallfahrtsbasilika St. Georg in Walldürn. The altar features a prominent painting of the Virgin Mary holding the infant Jesus, surrounded by cherubs. The structure is richly decorated with marble, gold leaf, and sculptural elements, including angels and religious figures. Potted plants and lit candles adorn the altar table, contributing to the sacred atmosphere of the church interior.