ARRIVA Buses Wales Optare Tempo 2870 - YJ55 BJE is pictured in Aberystwyth on route 550 to Cei Newydd (New Quay) back in the days before Arriva withdrew from South Cambria.

 

The Portal Of Ondhor by Daniel Arrhakis (2021)

 

With the music : Eric Gordon — Secunda (With Mild Thunder) [10 Hours] (Beyond Skyrim - Morrowind)

 

youtu.be/aT-kWWPDZmo

  

She quickly withdrew her hand, dematerializing almost instantly, she had this power to appear and reappear anywhere, in any timeline just like everyone in her order of Khronos, time travelers of the portal. The lines tattooed on her face were her identity and the identification of the old order almost extinct.

When she opened her eyes she found herself in front of a long corridor whose entrance slowly materialized, flanked by strange warriors whose head resembled the old crows of the kingdom.

Wielding ornate swords, the sitting majestic figures were flanked by two lions who were also richly carved. - Haaa... ! The Portal of Ondhor and the Morghans or the Raven Warriors - Athena said with a sigh after recognizing that place. The Portal with its unique architecture that mixed futuristic cubic geometries and Gothic arches was built by the Guardians of Alborhan in a future dominated by the Megapolis or the Giant Cities of the Future, in another world but whose relationship with Krudhyn seemed distant or unlikely, or maybe not, after all not even she could be absolutely sure. Although she could travel between worlds and in different timelines, they always presented themselves differently when she revisited them.

 

This time she decided to walk down the long corridor with its gigantic stone columns, after all for some reason it had materialized there and at that moment in time.

A strange, stylized, carved metal lion seemed to welcome her over the entrance arch, at least in her world they were considered old guardians she could trust. At the end of the corridor, a bright light illuminated the entire space and comforted her in her decision.

 

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* For our Week Theme in Art Week Gallery Group - April 11 to April 17 :

 

*Art Week Gallery Group - Week Theme - Doors And Portals

 

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A Wonderful weekend dear friends ! : )

 

Thank you for your kind visit, comments and invitations !

So sorry for the absence these last days, a little better and trying catching up during the next days ! : )

 

New Bedford, Massachusetts

December 2024

 

History

St. Anthony of Padua was founded in 1895 to serve the needs of French Canadian Catholics who lived in the North End of New Bedford. The new parish was under the care of first pastor, Fr. Hormisdas Deslauriers (1861–1916), an energetic leader who would have great influence on the parishes future development. The first mass was celebrated on Oct 6th 1895 at ‘’North Union Hall’’ on Bullard Street. Shortly thereafter a two-story wood-frame church was dedicated on March 8, 1896.

 

Building

The present Romanesque style church was begun in 1902 when the parish acquired plans from Canadian architect Joseph Venne of Montreal. The cornerstone for the new building was laid in June 1904 and work began on shortly thereafter. On September 20, 1904, several construction workers were seriously injured and one killed when a 50-foot wall collapsed at the construction site.

 

After the accident the original contractor, Michael J. Houlihan of Providence, Rhode Island, withdrew from the project and noted Fall River architect Louis G. Destremps was brought in as supervising architect. The church exterior was completed in December 1905 and the lower church was available for masses by 1908. The upper portion of the church, though not yet ready for religious service was opened for public viewing on January 17, 1909. The period of 1909-1912 was largely taken up by extensive interior decoration and the installation of a large Casavant pipe organ. The finished church was formally dedicated on November 28, 1912.

 

The exterior is of red sandstone from East Longmeadow, Massachusetts. The spire is 256 feet high, the second-tallest in New England after the Cathedral of Saint Joseph in Hartford, Connecticut. The building is 241 feet long and 80 feet wide (135 feet wide at the transept). It seats 2,000 worshipers and several thousand more standing. The outline of the church can be seen for miles around and dominates the skyline of North New Bedford.

On our first visit, a shop owner told us that we arrived at Fran Ali, a village that has been famous for making pottery for decades.

It was a sunny day, which called on all the villagers to put their pots of various shapes and sizes under the sun. We sat with the woman and her children while she asked her daughter to prepare tea. A few minutes later, her husband asked us to not have a press interview with his wife and to not take pictures, despite his wife's attempts to calm his anger. He told us that he is "psychologically unstable" and he could kill us if we didn’t leave. So we quietly withdrew away from him.

 

A picture from my documentary "The forgotten Pottery Makers".

 

Instagram | Behance

Excerpt from Wikipedia:

 

Kingston City Hall is the seat of local government in Kingston, Ontario, Canada. Occupying a full city block facing Lake Ontario in Kingston's downtown, the city hall is a prominent building constructed in the Neoclassical style with a landmark tholobate and dome.

 

Market Square and Kingston City Hall, 2014

The city hall was completed in 1844, with its scale and design reflective of Kingston's status as capital of the Province of Canada at that time. The architect chosen for the project in 1841 was George Browne, and the building was believed to be one of Browne's most outstanding works.

The building was designated a National Historic Site of Canada in 1961.

 

Confederation Park, which is associated with Kingston City Hall, separates the city hall from the waterfront. Established in 1967 on formerly-industrial waterfront land, it includes a large arch with a fountain and the Confederation Basin Marina. A former Kingston and Pembroke Railway (K&P) station which once served as the southern terminus of the now-defunct line is now a visitor information centre operated by the Chamber of Commerce. A restored historic locomotive, the "Spirit of Sir John A.", recalls downtown Kingston's past role in locomotive manufacturing.

 

A fortification known as the Market Battery, was located on the waterfront directly in front of City Hall where Confederation Park is located. It was completed in 1848 because of tension between the United States and Great Britain during Oregon Crisis. The Market Battery was one of several Kingston fortifications constructed during this period. A thick outer wall, or sea wall, in the harbour extended 20 feet above the water and included embrasures for cannons, while an inner wall, which included an entrance, completed the battery's enclosure to the west. In the 1870s, after Imperial troops withdrew from Kingston, the inner wall was removed and the location became a park. The large outer wall was removed in 1885 and the land was leased to the K&P railroad. A wall of the battery has been restored to illustrate the site's history.

Mission/Trial Report 14

Date: 08-30-2325

Location: Council Chambers, Citadel

 

Defendants Present:

 

• Cian Lios

• Daisy MacKenzie

• Fazzy Constantine

• Noah Constantine

• Ryoma Halvern

• Tai Astrofengia

• T1NM4N

• Vahenir

• Scrap

• Zeth Ryder

 

BluShock Special Witness:

• Jaron

 

Prosecutor:

• Tobias Sidonis

 

It had been some time since the “former” BluShock crew’s last mission on Stackspire Colony, where C-Sec—led by the newly installed BluShock Commander Robert Kean—finally apprehended Fazzy Constantine and his crew. Now, dragged back to the very heart of galactic law, they were forced to stand before the Citadel Council and answer for their alleged crimes.

 

The list was long: Noveria. The Citadel bombings. The destruction of Stackspire. The accusations were heavy, the weight of the galaxy pressing down on them. The crew knew they had their evidence ready, their witnesses lined up, their innocence to prove. But Daisy reminded them at every turn that this was a stitch-up from the very beginning. The Council wasn’t looking for truth—they were looking for blood.

 

As the day began, the sound of sirens split the wards. The apartment doors blew open under the force of C-Sec. Fazzy and his crew’s old friend from Valtoria—now C-Sec agent Saeed Massani—entered with the unit. He wasn’t here as an ally. He was here as law. He was here to do his job. And so the crew was marched out.

 

The journey through the Wards was chaos incarnate. Barricades, shouting mobs, and angry citizens lined the streets. “Murderers!” “Terrorists!” “Traitors!” Some cursed their names. Some wept for lost loved ones in the bombings the crew had actually prevented. None of it mattered. The people had already been told the story. The truth had been written out of history.

 

The elevator doors opened to the Council Chambers. What awaited them was a scene of grandeur and judgment. Crimson-leaved trees, sculpted planters, pristine staircases ascending into the chamber of galactic justice itself. The Council was assembled: an Orc councillor, a Turian, an Asari, and a Salarian—the brother of the slain Administrator Calzen of Noveria. Prosecutor Tobias Sidonis presided over the case, his voice cold and sharp as he read the charges.

 

The crew were lined up, cuffed, made to climb the steps to the platform of judgment. Their witnesses were already there: Gavin Tarius and Darrek Solan of Noveria. Marco and Leo, the garage brothers of Stackspire. Private investigator Havid Gabour and Battle Ready Pizza Joint owner, A Krogan. Then the accusations came. Twenty counts. Smuggling. Murder. Bombings. Destruction. Fabricated evidence was hurled onto holoscreens for all to see: falsified images of Fazzy in a relationship with the Salarian Administrator; Tai Astrofengia handing over a suspicious package; the long-missing BluShock operative Chastian Necrosa setting the Citadel bomb timers. The lies were as grotesque as they were elaborate.

 

The crew spoke, one by one, defending themselves. Their innocence was unwavering. They reminded the chamber of their deeds: the evacuation of Stackspire, the halting of the Citadel bombings, the saving of billions from galactic annihilation—not once, but twice. But the Council’s faces remained stone.

 

The witnesses were called. The Stackspire trio spoke truth to power and confirmed the crew’s actions had been heroic. But betrayal was present as well—the Turian receptionist from Noveria, who once thanked BluShock for saving him, now lied under oath. He declared they were behind the massacres at Port Hanshan, his words dripping with falsity, his motives bought and paid for by unknown hands.

 

Then came Jaron. The dragon-being from Duneshade, Icaros. He had traveled far to stand in their defense. His evidence cut through the lies: recorded footage of the Stackspire president himself planting charges, abandoning the colony, and triggering the explosion that would later be pinned on Fazzy and his crew. His proof revealed the trap for what it was: a staged execution, an attempt to erase BluShock from the galaxy.

 

But even that was not enough.

 

The chamber quieted as the Council withdrew to deliberate. When they returned, the sentence was swift and merciless. Guilty. Guilty on all counts. Their heroism meant nothing. Their sacrifices meant nothing. The truth meant nothing.

 

Prosecutor Sidonis gave the order: Purgatory. The infamous space prison where convicts are sent to vanish into silence. A place so remote, so forgotten, that escape was not even a rumor. Fazzy, Daisy, Noah, and the rest would be cast into its abyss for an undefined sentence. Their ranks were stripped. Their honor burned. Their legacy erased.

 

Daisy spat words at the Orc councillor, a defiant curse about his manhood, her voice echoing as the crew was marched away. Saeed Massani, once a friend, once a comrade, carried out the Council’s will and led them to their doom.

 

Outside, celebrations broke across the galaxy. Illium News Network broadcast the verdict: “Justice has been served. Fazzy Constantine and the BluShock crew are incarcerated.” In the streets, there were cheers. In the Presidium, there was relief. For most, it was over.

 

But for Fazzy and his crew, stripped of everything, this was not the end. Somewhere, beyond the sirens and the cells, lay a future untold. Could they rise again? Could they ever return to the galaxy as its heroes?

 

That remains the unanswered question.

 

End of Report.

Turkeye is a hamlet located in the west of Zeelandic Flanders, in the south-western part of the Netherlands. Even though the village is a regular village in the province of Zeeland, the name Turkeye is probably an old spelling for Turkey. The name supposedly derives from relations between the Ottoman Turks and the Netherlands. However, depending on the age of the name, there could be a strange anachronism, since the Ottomans never referred to their Empire as Türkiye.

 

The town has 19 inhabitants. The history of Turkeye starts after the conquest of nearby Sluis in 1604 by the State army. The defeated Spanish troops withdrew and left 1500 galley slaves, among whom a large number of Muslims from the Ottoman Empire, referred to in short as Turcken. The States-General decided to release these slaves and to send the Turks back to their homeland. So they hoped to acquire the support of the Ottoman Empire in the fight against Spain. However, the so-called Flemish Turks have once again been enslaved in Marseille and have not been able to reach the Ottoman Empire. The Dutch Prince Maurits may have attached the name Turkeye as an extra tribute to the Schans Turkeye, which was constructed in the same year 1604 and to which the nearby hamlet would later be named. (Wikipedia)

The rooftop of the world.

 

Nearly 40 years ago!

 

Flying by early morning PIA Boeing 707-320C from Islamabad to Peking (as it was then known then) we crossed over the Himalayas in north-east Pakistan. This shot was taken after passing over K2, the second highest mountain in the world at 8,611 metres (28,251 ft), and is looking north into China.

 

Posted after seeing a TV documentary about Everest and how the first flight over the mountains in the 1920s was so dangerous.

 

PIA withdrew the last of its passenger 707s in 1992.

 

Replacing an earlier scanned photo with a better version 20-Mar-21, plus Topaz DeNoise AI 13-Aug-25.

 

Delivered to Euralair, France as F-GINL in Mar-92, this aircraft was leased to Air France in Oct-92 and returned to Euralair in Mar-98. On it's return to Euralair, it was sold to a leasing company and leased back.

 

In Apr-98 it was sub-leased to AOM Air Outre Mer, France. The lease was transferred to AOM in Aug-98. The aircraft was returned to the lessor in Oct-00 and was leased to LOT Polish Airlines as SP-LKI the following month.

 

Returning to the lessor in May-04, it was immediately leased to SkyEurope Airlines as OM-SEE. It was returned to the lessor in Feb-07 and leased to Aeroflot-Nord later the same month as VP-BRE.

 

Aeroflot-Nord was renamed Nordavia Regional Airlines in 2010 after Aeroflot withdrew it's franchise agreement. I think the aircraft was permanently retired at Arkhangelsk, Russia in mid 2011 (I'm unable to find any photos of it after May-11). It was broken up at Arkhangelsk in early 2019.

 

The registration VP-BRE was re-issued in Aug-17 to a Boeing 767-3W0ER of Royal Flight, Russia.

Hoping for more skimmers, I ended up with more Fiddler Crabs. They seemed pretty aggressive, between eating and dueling. The guy on the left appeared to go after the guy on the right. At one point, righty backed into his hole till there was only his big claw sticking out. Even more, as he withdrew deeper, it looked like lefty was trying to pull righty's claw off. Or so it seemed. Fun stuff.

 

Video could have been a good idea, and it did cross my mind, but you can see the hunking glass I had today. I couldn't even see these little guys with my naked eye because of the far-away close-focus distance of the glass.

“The waves broke and spread their waters swiftly over the shore. One after another they massed themselves and fell; the spray tossed itself back with the energy of their fall. The waves were steeped deep-blue save for a pattern of diamond-pointed light on their backs which rippled as the backs of great horses ripple with muscles as they move. The waves fell; withdrew and fell again, like the thud of a great beast stamping.”

― Virginia Woolf, The Waves

 

summer 2018

I spotted Mitch's converted Jeep Cherokee easing down the road and I followed it a mile or so until he turned into a laundromat. I stepped out of my own Jeep and complimented Mitch on his rig and introduced myself.

 

Mitch told me he was visiting from Colorado where he lives in the mountains. His Jeep is a miniature home with a stove, bed, shower, and several extra wet cell batteries to help power everything. Mitch told me he has been living off the grid for a little over six years. He plans to remain off the grid.

 

We shot this and a few more photographs across the street in an empty bank parking lot. Bank One to be exact. Shortly after we began, a bank employee came out to tell us they could not open the bank with us in their parking lot. I told her OK but I could tell she was agitated. So we returned across the street to the laundromat. Once the bank opened, since I had an account there, I went inside. I withdrew five hundred dollars in one dollar bills. Then I went through the drive through and redeposited it. Domari Nolo.

 

Thank you Mitch for being the 195th stranger in my 100 Strangers project. Find out more about the project and see pictures taken by other photographers at the flickr group page.

John Dudley, 1st Duke of Northumberland (1502? – 22 August 1553) was a Tudor general, admiral and politician, who de facto ruled England in the latter half of King Edward VI's reign. At Edward's death, his attempt to displace Edward's sister and heir Mary with his own daughter-in-law, Lady Jane Grey, failed, resulting in his being sentenced and put to death for high treason.

 

John Dudley was born as the first son of Edmund Dudley and Elizabeth Grey, Baroness Lisle, a descendant of Richard de Beauchamp, 13th Earl of Warwick. His grandfather was a Knight of the Garter and Steward to King Henry V. His younger brothers were called Jerome, Oliver, William and Andrew.

 

When his father was attainted and executed in 1510, Edward Guilford — a partner in many of Edmund's "profitable outrages" — became guardian of the nine-year old John and one of his younger brothers (possibly Andrew, who was later made Admiral of the North Sea). The boys were then taken into the home of Richard Guilford. Within two years, in 1512, Guilford was able to persuade King Henry VIII to repeal Edmund's attainder.

 

In order to prosper under his new-found liberty, Dudley married Edward's daughter Jane in 1520. He took part as Guilford's lieutenant in the campaign of 1523 in France under the king's brother-in-law, Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk and won a knighthood on the field for gallantry after his valour at the crossing of the Somme. He was soon to gain prominence in the tournaments of the royal court and as a protégé of Thomas Cardinal Wolsey, and so joined the group whose task it was to amuse the king. In 1527, and again in 1532, he accompanied Wolsey to France.

 

About the time of the birth of his fifth son Robert in 1532/1533, Dudley was appointed Master of the Armoury in the Tower of London. To it he brought the reputation of being the ablest commander both by land and sea that had then been of service to the Tudors. This helped rehabilitate the name of Dudley. At the coronation of Anne Boleyn in 1533 he was invited to be a cup-bearer, and he would lead the procession at the christening of the Princess Elizabeth.

 

When Edward Guilford died in 1534 without male issue or a written will, the Guilford estate was disputed between Dudley (on behalf of his wife) and Guilford's nephew John. Dudley claimed the manor of Halden, and other lands in Kent and Sussex, despite John Guilford's assertion that his uncle had intended him to inherit. Five years later Dudley sold the manor with others to Thomas Cromwell, whose protégé he became after Cardinal Wolsey's fall.

 

From 1536 he appears to have encountered some difficulties that led him to part with much of his inheritance in favour of the Midlands estate of his cousin, John Sutton, 3rd Lord Dudley; he exchanged his reversionary interest in the lands left to him by his mother to Sir Richard for life. He then made extensive purchases, especially in Staffordshire and the Welsh marches. In addition, he was given several manors by the King, including the extensive estates of Halesowen Abbey on the Dissolution of the Monasteries, so that his land base shifted to the central and west Midlands. He was elected sheriff of Staffordshire in 1536 after helping to put down the Pilgrimage of Grace.

 

In 1537 Dudley was sent on a mission to Spain and also began the connection with the Admiralty which, with his military commands from 1542, was to bring him to the fore during the closing years of Henry's reign. In January 1542 he resumed his seat in the Commons as one of the knights for Staffordshire, and upon his stepfather's death was created Viscount Lisle (derived from his mother) and made Lord Admiral for life, entering the Lords the following day to sit in regular attendance for the rest of the session.

 

Exercising his new prerogative, Dudley dispatched the French from the English Channel and stormed Boulogne-sur-Mer, for which he was to become a Knight of the Garter and was on the 23 April 1543, admitted as a member of the Privy Council. As Lord Admiral he directed the naval operations of the next two years and his presence at the third session of that Parliament was respectively shortened. To his other duties there was added in late 1544 the governorship of Boulogne. Also in 1544 he accompanied his future rival, Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford to the capture and burning of Edinburgh. A large English force, supported by a naval fleet, under Hertford's command, invaded the east coast of Scotland, sacking Leith and Dunbar and capturing Edinburgh.

 

After attending the first session of the Parliament of 1545 Dudley was to direct the operations of the fleet in the Battle of the Solent which frustrated the French attack on Portsmouth and the Isle of Wight. He went with the embassy to Paris to ratify and conclude the peace in 1546. On his return Dudley was absent from Council meetings on the grounds of ill-health, although the imperial ambassador ascribed his retirement to a difference of opinion with Bishop Stephen Gardiner, whom he had assaulted in the Council. He returned before the King died, and was in attendance at the final session of Parliament. By 1547, the year of the King’s death, he was Lieutenant General of all His Majesty's armed forces.

 

Dudley was among the sixteen members of the Regency Council, Henry had appointed to govern the kingdom during Edward's minority. The new King's uncle, Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset, was elected Lord Protector just before the coronation. That year Dudley sought and was duly granted the right to bear the arms of the Earls of Warwick, with the distinctive badge of the Bear and the Ragged Staff.

 

By the end of 1549 most councillors, including Thomas Cranmer, the Earl of Arundel, William Paulet, and William Cecil, were turned against Somerset and united behind Dudley, the man with the ambition, will and determination to oust the Protector. Dudley lead the palace rebellion against Somerset in 1549, leading to Somerset's imprisonment and eventual execution in 1552.

 

Unlike Somerset, whom he had outmanoeuvered, Dudley did not take the title of Lord Protector, and encouraged Edward VI to proclaim his majority. Nonetheless, Dudley effectively ruled the country by holding the two offices of Lord President of the Council and of Great Steward of the King's Household. Dudley was given the title of Duke of Northumberland in 1551.

 

Dudley obtained such an influence over Edward that the King was ready to make it appear that Dudley's ideas were actually his own. Whether or not it was justified, Dudley acquired a bad reputation, becoming known as a "tyrant", sometimes referred to as the merciless "bear of Warwick". Despite the differing opinion of his character, some[who?] argue in Dudley's favour that he consulted the Privy Council regularly, did not make any executive decisions, and did not use the title 'Lord Protector' that Somerset had done. Dudley also began the political education of the young Edward VI.

 

Already in 1549, Dudley achieved his great political victory over the Norfolk rebels in their efforts to remove the enclosure system. He was popularised, not only for his skill and courage, but for his mercy towards the prisoners. When his small troop was faced with destruction and outnumbered, he drew his sword, kissed the blade and spoke of death before dishonour. When the conflict was over, he responded to his officers' protests for revenge with: "Is there no place for pardon?" He asked "What shall we then do? Shall we hold the plough ourselves, play the carters and labour the ground with our own hands?"

 

In order to compensate for the economic legacy of the Duke of Somerset, Dudley ceased debasement of the coinage, although, poorly advised by economists, he did take that action one last time. Using melted church plate, the coins were revalued in 1551 and began to slow down the rapid inflation that had been ravaging the country. However, Dudley's tendency towards profiteering - allowing himself and other Privy Councillors to enrich themselves at the expense of the state when it was nearing bankruptcy - has been criticised, although there are few that believe such profiteering was required in order to ensure Councillors' support.

 

Vagrancy, enclosure, evictions, poverty and rising crime were all very immediate problems facing Dudley's regency. This was exacerbated by poor harvest and subsequent lack of food.

 

One of Dudley's first actions after Somerset's fall was to end the wars with France and Scotland that Somerset had initiated . He surrendered the besieged town of Boulogne which, whilst weakening the English position in France, gained £200,000 for the struggling economy, liberated England from a financially burdensome territory and resulted in a defensive alliance between France and England with the Treaty of Boulogne. He also withdrew the English garrisons from Scotland.

 

When King Edward was dying, he signed a document which barred both his sisters, Mary I and Elizabeth, the remaining children of King Henry VIII, from the throne in favour of Lady Jane Grey (who had married Dudley's youngest son Guilford only six weeks previously). The extent to which Dudley influenced the document is uncertain,[1] but he countersigned the King's decree.

 

The decision to name Lady Jane Grey as an heir was based on the lack of 'heirs male' from other royals and noble families with royal connections. The motivation to exclude the previous heir-presumptive, Mary, stemmed from a desire to prevent a Catholic succession.

 

Before Edward's death had been made public, the Council summoned Mary back to London, but she (informed and warned by the Earl of Arundel) refused and instead demanded to be recognised as Queen. Dudley was at his country residence having complained of illness and in his absence the council wavered. Mary, having gathered much support from the nobles and gentry of East Anglia, which soon spread into other counties, marched into London with no opposition at the head of an immense throng. This outpouring of support for Mary was due to a general dislike of Dudley, popular anger over the previous Protestant regime and over its mistreatment of Mary and genuine respect for Mary's legitimacy. The people - even many Protestants - preferred a legitimate heir over a Protestant usurper.

 

Dudley was forced to surrender to Mary and was arrested. He was put on trial in 1553 and was sentenced to death for high treason. In his parting words he announced to the stunned observers his repentance and return to Catholicism - and encouraged them all to do likewise. Though five of his sons were imprisoned along with him, they were freed after eighteen months, except for the youngest, Guilford, who was executed.

During our week's holiday in Scotland in September we stayed just outside Dunbar in East Lothian, just off the south-east coast. One place that we absolutely fell in love with was the tiny fishing village of St Abbs, which is a few miles north of the English border at Berwick-upon-Tweed.

 

In the background is the lifeboat station. There had been a lifeboat here since the loss of a steamship and 16 of her crew in 1911, and the local community was dismayed when the RNLI withdrew the local lifeboat in 2015. An appeal was launched to pay for a new boat and Boyd Tunnock of Tunnock's Teacakes covered the majority of the cost. The new lifeboat was delivered in July 2016 and is named Thomas Tunnock after Boyd's grandfather. It is a 9-metre RIB with room for 12 survivors and four crew. The top speed is 47 knots and the range is 150 nautical miles.

   

16.8.2017.

HST Power Car No 43423 'Valenta 1972 - 2010' in Grand Central livery approaches Sutton bridge with a LKX - Sunderland passenger service back in 2017. Power Car No 43484 was at the rear of the train.

Grand Central withdrew its HST's at the end of 2017 - 43423 and 43484 were transferred to the East Midland Railway's HST fleet.

On approach to Runway 18R on a clear September morning. This was the third of five A330-200F's, which the airline withdrew from service just three months later.

Southwold lies at the mouth of the River Blyth within the Suffolk Coast and Heaths Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty.

 

Southwold was mentioned in Domesday Book (1086) as a fishing port, and after the "capricious River Blyth withdrew from Dunwich in 1328, bringing trade to Southwold in the 15th century", it received its town charter from Henry VII in 1489. Over the following centuries, however, a shingle bar built up across the harbour mouth, preventing the town from becoming a major port: "The shingle at Southwold Harbour, the mouth of the Blyth, is ever shifting," William Whittaker observed in 1887.

 

Southwold Harbour, on the side of the River Blyth, is at the southern end of the town. It is home to a number of fishing boats and has numerous traditional fishing sheds along the side of the quay where fresh fish can be bought.

  

UPDATE / 🆕 :

 

I was told this morning that the government WITHDREW the article 8 of the said law thanks to the protesting artists’ widespread outcry against it 😊

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Can €40-million-worth propaganda alter human perception of common sense?

 

The Greek government recently promulgated an “Act” (not voted by parliament at first, but merely signed by Cabinet Members instead) to abolish the freedom of speech regarding any constructive criticism for using RNA as antigen in vaccines (instead of using proteins); whoever publicly speaks so faces imprisonment of two years.

 

Now, the same government is about to pass a law censoring Art, too: if an artwork is imbued by a creative idea not abiding by the establishment's official doctrine, then it will be considered as a criminal offense (and the artist will be prosecuted).

 

“Donkeys do fly,” according to a saying in modern Greek, whenever the tyrant commands so… One looks forward to also hearing the government ordering water to flow upwards!

 

The freedom of thinking is next in line to be attacked by the tyranny-ready technological surveillance infrastructure.

George Churchill (1654 – 1710), admiral, younger brother of John Churchill, first Duke of Marlborough, served as a lieutenant aboard the HMS Delft (a prize taken from the Dutch) from 10 April 1666 to 19 June 1666, during the Second Dutch war of 1665-67. During the Third Dutch war of 1672–74 he served as a lieutenant aboard the HMS York and then from 28 August 1672 aboard the HMS Fairfax and from 26 March 1674 aboard the fireship HMS Castle.

 

Following the close of the war he became a lieutenant aboard HMS Swan (another prize from the Dutch) from 2 April 1675 until 2 May 1677, and on 10 April 1678 was appointed to command HMS Dartmouth, taking up his post on 14 May. On 11 September 1680 he took command of HMS Falcon, in which he went, in charge of convoy, as far as the Canaries; he remained with the this ship until April 1684. On 26 September 1688 he was appointed to command HMS Newcastle.

 

It is difficult to believe that these appointments involved active service. If Churchill had really served, or wished to serve, afloat, there can be little question but that, with his brother's court interest, his promotion would have been very much more rapid. Guided by his brother, he was one of the first of the officers of the fleet to offer his services to the Prince of Orange, and was shortly afterwards advanced to be captain of the HMS Windsor Castle, which he commanded in the Battle of Beachy Head. With greater opportunity of distinction he commanded HMS St. Andrew in the Battle of Barfleur.

 

In 1693 Churchill withdrew from the service. His withdrawal was commonly attributed to jealousy at the promotion of Captain Matthew Aylmer to flag rank over his head, but appears to have been rather the effect of the King's dislike of the family of Churchill, and of ill-will towards Russell, then First Lord of the Admiralty, whom Churchill believed to have influenced the King's decision (Add. MS. 31958, ff. 45–6). In 1699, when Russell, then Earl of Orford, retired from the Admiralty, and Marlborough had made his peace with the King, Churchill was appointed to a seat at the Admiralty, which he held till January 1701–2, when the Earl of Pembroke was made Lord High Admiral.

 

On the accession of Anne and the appointment of Prince George as Lord High Admiral, Churchill was appointed to the council of his Royal Highness (23 May 1702). His interest sufficed to make him chief, and his first step was to promote himself at a bound to be Admiral of the Blue, thus placing himself above Aylmer, who was then Vice-Admiral of the Red. At the same time, to give the promotion an air of reality, as well as, perhaps, to ensure the pay of the rank, he hoisted his flag for a few days at Portsmouth, on board HMS Triumph. This and a similar parade the following year were his whole service as a flag officer; but the star of the house of Churchill was just then in the ascendant, and for the next six years Churchill governed the navy, as his brother, the Duke of Marlborough, governed the army. Complaints of the mismanagement of the navy were loud and frequent. The trade, it was alleged, was inefficiently protected; even the convoys were insecure. The activity of the French privateers was notorious; and the English Admiralty, with a force at their disposal immeasurably superior to that of France, so managed it that at the point of attack they were always inferior. The exploits of Duguay-Trouin, or Forbin, in the Channel brought this home to the popular mind, and permitted Lord Haversham to say in the House of Lords:

 

"Your disasters at sea have been so many, a man scarce knows where to begin. Your ships have been taken by your enemies, as the Dutch take your herrings, by shoals, upon your own coasts; nay, your royal navy itself has not escaped. These are pregnant misfortunes and big with innumerable mischiefs."

 

So also the attempted invasion by the Pretender in 1708 must have been utterly crushed, it was stoutly argued, if Byng's ships had been clean and effective. These numerous failures all brought discredit on the Prince's naval administration, the head and real autocrat of which was Churchill, and added to the many causes of ill-will which were accumulating against the Duke of Marlborough. Churchill, indeed, seems to have been ignorant, incapable, and overbearing, and to have rendered himself hated by almost all who came in contact with him.

 

He accumulated a large fortune, no doubt garnered from the thousand nameless perquisites of office. On the death of Prince George in October 1708 he retired from the Admiralty and lived mostly at a villa in Windsor Park, where he occupied himself with the care of a magnificent aviary, which at his death, 8 May 1710, he bequeathed to the Duke of Ormonde and the Earl of Torrington. He was never married, and the bulk of his large fortune was inherited by a natural son. He was Tory MP for St Albans 1685–7, and 1689–1708, and at the time of his death was member for Portsmouth. His portrait, by Sir Godfrey Kneller, is in the National Maritime Museum at Greenwich, having been presented to its predecessor (the Naval Gallery in the Painted Hall) by George IV.

It was dark all at once, and I withdrew, ate warm udon noodles, and headed home.

 

一気に暗くなり撤収、温かいうどんを食べて家路につきました。

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✈️RWY16L↘ - JA10XJ - Airbus A350-941 - Japan Airlines - JL124(ITM-HND)

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✨Taken at Haneda airport terminal 2 on January 1st, 2023, 17:00

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📷Canon EOS R3

🔭EF500mm F4L IS II USM

⚙️MANUAL・F4.0・1/125th・-2/3EV・ISO4000(AUTO)

(DxO DeepPRIME)

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A group of Go North East's now-withdrawn former "North Tyne Links" branded Transbus MPD/Transbus Mini Pointer vehicles are pictured here at Saltmeadows Road Depot, Gateshead, whilst awaiting disposal.

 

From left to right:

- 567 (NK53 TLX)

- 566 (NK53 TLV)

- 568 (NK53 TLY)

- 569 (NK53 TMO)

- 554 (NK53 TKO)

 

Following the entry into service of nine Optare Solo SR minibuses on "indiGo" services 40/41 and 80, representing an investment of approximately £1,200,000, Go North East withdrew five of the Transbus MPD vehicles previously allocated to these services under the "North Tyne Links" brand.

_____

 

“The waves broke and spread their waters swiftly over the shore. One after another they massed themselves and fell; the spray tossed itself back with the energy of their fall. The waves were steeped deep-blue save for a pattern of diamond-pointed light on their backs which rippled as the backs of great horses ripple with muscles as they move. The waves fell; withdrew and fell again, like the thud of a great beast stamping.”

 

- Virginia Woolf

The stage set up inside Cardiff Castle for the Manic Street Preachers gig this Friday where they will be playing their seminal album 'The Holy Bible' in full.

'The Holy Bible' was the swansong of their missing now presumed dead guitarist Richie Edwards.

 

"Edwards disappeared on 1 February 1995, on the day when he and James Dean Bradfield were due to fly to the US on a promotional tour. In the two weeks before his disappearance, Edwards withdrew £200 a day from his bank account, which totalled £2800 by the day of the scheduled flight. He checked out of the Embassy Hotel in Bayswater Road, London, at seven in the morning, and then drove to his apartment in Cardiff, Wales. In the two weeks that followed he was apparently spotted in the Newport passport office, and the Newport bus station. On 7 February, a taxi driver from Newport supposedly picked up Edwards from the King's Hotel in Newport, and drove him around the valleys, including Blackwood (Edwards' home as a child). The passenger got off at the Severn View service station near Aust and paid the £68 fare in cash.

On 14 February, Edwards' Vauxhall Cavalier received a parking ticket at the Severn View service station and on 17 February, the vehicle was reported as abandoned. Police discovered the battery to be flat, with evidence that the car had been lived in. Due to the service station's proximity to the Severn Bridge (which has been a renowned suicide location in the past) it was widely believed that he took his own life by jumping from the bridge. Many people who knew him, however, have said that he was never the type to contemplate suicide and he himself was quoted in 1994 as saying "In terms of the 'S' word, that does not enter my mind. And it never has done, in terms of an attempt. Because I am stronger than that. I might be a weak person, but I can take pain."

 

source wikipedia

 

Reino Unido de Gran Bretaña - Escocia - Pitlochry - Blair Atholl - Castillo de Blair

 

ENGLISH

 

Blair Castle stands in its grounds near the village of Blair Atholl in Perthshire in Scotland. It is the ancestral home of the Clan Murray, and was historically the seat of their chief, the Duke of Atholl, though the current (12th) Duke, Bruce Murray, lives in South Africa. The castle stands in Glen Garry, and commands a strategic position on the main route (now the A9 road) through the central Scottish Highlands.

 

The castle is a category A listed building, and the grounds are included in the Inventory of Gardens and Designed Landscapes in Scotland, the national listing of significant gardens.

 

Blair Castle is said to have been started in 1269 by John I Comyn, Lord of Badenoch (died c. 1275), a northern neighbour of David I Strathbogie, Earl of Atholl (died 1270), who started building on the Earl's land while he was away on crusade. Upon his return, the Earl complained about the interloper to King Alexander III, won back his land and incorporated the tower that had been built into his own castle. David II Strathbogie, Earl of Atholl (died 1326), forfeited the titles and estates after rebelling against Robert the Bruce in 1322. The earldom was granted to a number of individuals until 1457 when James II granted it to his half-brother John Stewart (1440–1512). John Murray, son of the second Earl of Tullibardine, was created Earl of Atholl in 1629, and the title has since remained in the Murray family.

 

During the Wars of the Three Kingdoms of the 17th century, the Murrays supported the Royalist cause, which led to Blair Castle being taken by Oliver Cromwell's army following his invasion of 1650. The restored Charles II created the title Marquess of Atholl for John Murray, 2nd Earl of Atholl (1631–1703). The title Duke of Atholl was granted to the 2nd Marquess in 1703.

 

When Viscount Dundee launched the first Jacobite Uprising in April 1689, Atholl decided to remain loyal to the Government (although two of his sons joined the Jacobites). Atholl’s factor, Patrick Stewart of Ballechin, held Blair Castle for King James, and Dundee visited in May. In July Ballechin refused entry to Atholl’s whiggish son and heir, Lord John Murray. Murray laid siege to the castle, and General Mackay was approaching to join him and to seize it for the Williamites. Viscount Dundee relieved the castle, and the crucial Battle of Killiecrankie was fought because Dundee did not want to retreat and surrender the castle to Mackay. Dundee and his officers and clan chiefs held a Council of War at the castle on the eve of the battle, on 26 July. The next day, the Jacobites won the battle but Dundee was killed.

 

After the battle, Blair Castle remained in Jacobite hands for some time. It continued to play an important role: for example, the Jacobite Highland chiefs swore a bond there together in August, to continue the rising.

 

In the Forty-Five, Blair Castle was occupied twice by Prince Charles Edward Stuart and his Jacobite army: in early September 1745, for several days, and then in early February 1746, again for several days. However, the Jacobites then unwisely abandoned it and Government forces, including Lowland Clan Agnew then occupied it. They held Blair Castle against the Jacobites, who laid siege to the castle during the last stages of the rising, in March 1746. They were besieged to near starvation until the Jacobite forces withdrew to fight the British Government forces at the Battle of Culloden.

 

In 1844 Queen Victoria and her consort, Prince Albert visited and stayed at Blair Castle. It was after this she gave permission to establish the Atholl Highlanders.

 

Before his death in 1996, George Murray, 10th Duke of Atholl, placed Blair Castle and most of his estates in a charitable trust, shielding them from inheritance taxes and leaving them under Scottish control, as his heir John Murray, the 11th Duke had indicated he had no desire to leave his native South Africa.

 

On the night of 10 March 2011 a fire broke out at the clock tower of castle (not part of the medieval fabric), causing the tower's roof and second floor to collapse into the first floor. The clock tower was restored in 2012, with restoration work on the clock mechanisms performed by Smith of Derby Group.

 

The oldest part of the castle is the six-storey Cummings or Comyn's Tower, which may retain some 13th-century fabric, though it was largely built in the 15th century. The extensions which now form the central part of the castle were first added in the 16th century. The apartments to the south were added in the mid-18th century to designs by architects John Douglas and James Winter. The south-east range, incorporating the clock tower, was rebuilt by Archibald Elliot after a fire in 1814. Finally, the castle arrived at its present form in the 1870s, when David Bryce remodelled the whole building in a Scots Baronial style, and added the ballroom. It was further remodelled in 1885 when a new ballroom wing was added by James Campbell Walker.

 

The castle has been open to the public since 1936. Its many rooms feature important collections of weapons, hunting trophies, souvenirs of the Murray clan, ethnographica, paintings, furniture, and needlework collected by the Murray family over many generations.

 

The castle also provides the garrison for the Atholl Highlanders, the private army of the Duke of Atholl, noted as the only legal private army in Europe. The Castle and the Atholl Estates were used in the 2008 reality television series Conquer the Castle.

 

In 2009, a Grand Fir (Abies grandis) in Diana's Grove in the grounds of the castle, was measured at 62.7 metres (206 ft), and declared the second-tallest tree in Britain.

 

*******************************************************************************

 

ESPAÑOL:

 

El Castillo de Blair se alza cerca del pueblo de Blair Atholl en Perthshire (Escocia, Reino Unido). Es el hogar de la familia Murray, a quien corresponde el título de Duque de Atholl, aunque el actual duque, que hace el número 11, John Murray (nacido en 1929) vive en Sudáfrica.

 

Se dice que el castillo comenzó a construirse en 1269 por John I Comyn, Señor de Badenoch, un vecino septentrional del conde de Atholl, quien comenzó a construir en tierras del conde mientras este estaba fuera en las cruzadas. A su regreso, el conde se quejó del intruso al rey Alejandro, recuperando su tierra e incorporando la torre que se había construido a su propio castillo.

 

Domina una posición estratégica en la ruta principal a través de la Tierras Altas centrales escocesas. El clan Agnew, de las Tierras Bajas, conservaron el castillo de Blair, sede del duque de Atholl, contra los jacobitas que lo asediaron durante el alzamiento jacobita de 1745-1746. Fueron asediados llegando a estar cerca la muerte por inanición hasta que las fuerzas jacobitas se retiraron para luchar contra el ejército del gobierno británico en la batalla de Culloden.

 

El castillo, una de las casas señoriales de Escocia más grandes, está abierto para la visita diariamente. Sus muchas habitaciones conservan importante colecciones de armas, trofeos de caza, recuerdos del clan Murray, objetos etnográficos, pinturas, muebles, bordados, etc. coleccionados por la familia Murray a lo largo de muchas generaciones.

 

El castillo es también la guarnición de los Cien Montañeses de Atholl (los Atholl Highlanders), el ejército privado del duque de Atholl, el único ejército privado legal de Europa. El castillo y las fincas de Atholl se usaron en el año 2008 para la grabación del reality show llamado Conquer the Castle.

 

El abeto gigante llamado "Diana’s Grove" en los terrenos del castillo, que mide 62,7 metros de alto, es el segundo árbol más alto del Reino Unido.

  

Malinda Aeon sliced through a curtain of vines with her machete, feeling the satisfying give as the blade parted the thick vegetation. Sweat trickled between her breasts, soaking the white halter top that strained against her curves. Ahead of her, Morgan Talbot's broad shoulders flexed beneath his damp tank top as he forged their path deeper into the jungle's suffocating embrace. The heat pressed against them like a living thing, wrapping around their limbs and drawing moisture from their bodies with each labored breath.

 

"How much further?" she called out, adjusting the shorts that clung to her thighs. The olive canvas material had darkened with sweat, riding up slightly as she stepped over a fallen log.

 

Morgan paused, turning back to glance at her with those piercing green eyes. "Getting tired already, Lin?" A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, softening his rugged features.

 

"Just wondering if you actually know where we're going." She caught up to him, close enough to smell the earthy scent of his sweat mingled with leather from his boots and wrist cuffs. "Or if we're just wandering aimlessly through this green hell."

 

Her knee-high laced boots sank slightly into the damp earth with each step, providing stability that ordinary hiking boots couldn't match in this terrain. They were practical—unlike the halter top that left her midriff exposed to insect bites and scratches, the bottom curves of her breasts visible beneath the straining fabric. But Malinda had never been one to sacrifice style entirely, even on expeditions.

 

Morgan wiped sweat from his brow, his tank top clinging to his chest like a second skin. The suspenders framed his broad torso, drawing her eye downward to where his canvas pants tucked into leather boots not unlike her own. The holster at his waist held a .45 caliber 1911 automatic pistol—a vintage piece he carried with the easy familiarity of an extension of himself.

 

"The temple should be just beyond that ridge," he said, nodding ahead. "According to your map."

 

"My very accurate map," she corrected, reaching to her belt where her archaeological tools hung in neat order: a small brush for delicate excavation, a specialized hammer, measuring tape, and a compact digital camera weatherproofed for the elements. "Unlike your sense of direction."

 

The pack slung over Morgan's shoulder shifted as he pushed aside a particularly thick cluster of ferns. "My sense of direction got us out of that cave system in Peru."

 

"After getting us lost for three hours."

 

He turned, walking backward for a few steps. "I prefer to call it 'taking the scenic route.'"

 

Malinda's laugh caught in her throat as the temple suddenly came into view behind him. "Morgan," she whispered, pointing past his shoulder.

 

He pivoted, his hand instinctively moving to rest on the grip of his pistol. "Holy shit," he breathed.

 

The temple rose from the jungle floor like a forgotten titan, its moss-covered stones a testament to centuries of neglect. Massive stone steps led to a platform where columns supported what remained of the roof. Vines crawled up the structure, nature reclaiming what man had built, yet somehow enhancing rather than diminishing its grandeur. Sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns across the ancient stonework.

 

"It's... perfect," Malinda murmured, stepping forward. Her short bob clung to her neck, damp with sweat, but she barely noticed the discomfort now. The archaeologist in her was already cataloging details—the carved symbols nearly obscured by moss, the architectural style suggesting a civilization previously undocumented in this region.

 

Morgan moved ahead of her, his body language shifting to alert watchfulness. "Stay behind me," he said, his voice dropping to a lower register. "We don't know what's still living in there."

 

"Besides ghosts and legends?" She followed him nonetheless, appreciating the way his muscular frame moved with controlled precision. The leather cuffs around his wrists caught the light as he reached back to ensure she stayed close.

 

"And possibly very real predators," he reminded her, the pack on his shoulder bouncing slightly as he began to ascend the crumbling steps. "The locals weren't exactly encouraging this little expedition."

 

Malinda's fingers trailed along the stone banister, feeling the textures of history beneath her touch. "Locals always have tales to keep treasures safe. It's practically archaeology 101."

 

"And sometimes those tales exist for good reason." Morgan's voice echoed slightly as they reached the temple platform. His hand never strayed far from his holster, the .45 a reassuring presence at his side.

 

The air inside the temple entrance was noticeably cooler, a welcome relief from the oppressive jungle heat. Malinda pulled a small flashlight from her belt, sweeping its beam across walls decorated with intricate carvings partially obscured by centuries of growth. Her breath caught as the light illuminated a particularly detailed section.

 

"Morgan, look at this." She stepped closer to the wall, her fingers hovering just above the surface. "These glyphs match the descriptions in the manuscript. The diamond is here."

 

He moved beside her, close enough that his arm brushed against hers, sending a jolt of awareness through her that had nothing to do with archaeology. "Can you read them?"

 

"Enough to know we're in the right place." Her eyes gleamed with excitement in the flashlight's reflection. "The inner chamber should be further in, past a series of traps designed to keep out the unworthy."

 

"Wonderful," Morgan muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "And I suppose you have some clever way to bypass these traps?"

 

Malinda shot him a smile that had gotten her both into and out of trouble countless times before. "That's why I brought you, darling. Those muscles aren't just for show."

 

He shook his head, but she caught the spark of amusement in his eyes. "One of these days, Lin..."

 

"You'll thank me properly," she finished for him, already moving deeper into the temple, her boots echoing on the stone floor. "After we find the Tears of Ishaara, you can show me exactly how grateful you are."

 

Morgan adjusted his pack and followed, his footsteps measured and alert. "Let's focus on surviving first."

 

The temple opened before them, shadows dancing in the beam of Malinda's flashlight. The weight of centuries pressed down, a tangible presence as real as the humidity that clung to their skin. Somewhere in the depths of this ancient structure lay a diamond worth more than money—a piece of history that could rewrite everything they thought they knew about this forgotten civilization.

 

And Malinda was determined to find it, with Morgan's strong presence at her back and his gun at the ready. The thrill of discovery pulsed through her veins, as intoxicating as any drug and far more addictive. This was what she lived for—this moment of standing on the precipice of revelation, with danger and desire intertwined like the vines that embraced the temple walls.

 

Malinda's fingers traced the weathered hieroglyphs that adorned the inner chamber walls, her trained eyes picking out patterns in the ancient text. Morgan kept watch near the entrance, his stance wide and vigilant, one hand resting lightly on his holstered pistol. The silence inside the temple felt laden with anticipation, broken only by the distant calls of jungle birds and the occasional drip of water from the moss-covered ceiling. Then came a sound that belonged to neither—a long, sinister hiss that sliced through the heavy air like a blade, freezing them both where they stood.

 

Morgan's head snapped up, his green eyes narrowing as they met Malinda's across the chamber. In three swift strides, he crossed to her, his movements silent despite his heavy boots. His hand closed around her wrist with gentle urgency.

 

"Don't move," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.

 

The hiss came again, louder this time, accompanied by a scraping sound like massive claws dragging across stone. Without hesitation, Morgan pulled Malinda behind a thick moss-covered column, pressing her against it with his muscular arm wrapped protectively around her waist. Their bodies aligned, his chest against her back, heartbeats accelerating in tandem.

 

"What the hell is that?" Malinda breathed, barely audible even to herself.

 

The column was barely wide enough to conceal them both. Morgan's body formed a shield around her smaller frame, his suspenders pressing into her exposed back where her halter top left her skin bare. She could feel every contour of his muscled torso through the damp fabric of his tank top, the heat of him seeping into her despite the temple's relative coolness.

 

A shadow passed over the light streaming in from the temple entrance. Something massive moved across the roof above them, dislodging centuries-old debris that pattered down onto the stone floor. Malinda tilted her head back, her short bob brushing against Morgan's chin as she tried to glimpse what lurked above. The movement brought her hips into firmer contact with his, and she felt his grip on her waist tighten fractionally.

 

"Oh my god," she whispered, her lips unintentionally brushing his ear as she turned her head. "Is that a dragon?"

 

The creature appeared at the temple entrance, its sinuous neck extending into the chamber. Scales the color of jade caught the filtered sunlight, refracting it across the ancient walls in hypnotic patterns. A forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air. The dragon's head alone was the size of a small car, crowned with horns that curved elegantly backward from its skull.

 

"I've never seen one before," Morgan responded, his voice a tightly controlled vibration against her back, "but yeah, that's as good a description as any."

 

His free hand moved to his side, drawing the .45 automatic in a fluid motion that spoke of years of practice. The metal gleamed dully in the half-light, its presence reassuring despite Malinda's certainty that bullets would be useless against the creature investigating their sanctuary. The cool steel brushed against her exposed midriff as Morgan shifted, creating a startling contrast to the heat building between their pressed bodies.

 

"That's not going to do much," she murmured, nodding toward the gun.

 

"Makes me feel better," he replied, a hint of grim humor in his voice. "Old habits."

 

The dragon's massive body slithered further into view as it crawled across the temple rooftop. Sections of ancient stone crumbled beneath its weight, dust motes dancing in the shafts of sunlight that penetrated the canopy above. Its scales rippled with iridescent life, each one the size of Malinda's palm. The creature moved with surprising grace for its bulk, its long tail sweeping behind it like a living counterweight.

 

Malinda found herself holding her breath, conscious of every point where her body connected with Morgan's. The danger should have eclipsed all other awareness, yet somehow it only heightened her senses. She could smell the leather of his wrist cuffs, the earthy scent of his sweat, feel the controlled rise and fall of his chest against her back. His thighs pressed against the backs of hers, solid and warm through their respective canvas pants and shorts.

 

The dragon paused directly overhead, its massive head swinging side to side as though searching. A low rumble emanated from its throat, vibrating through the temple stones beneath their feet. Morgan's arm tightened around Malinda's waist, pulling her impossibly closer as they pressed deeper into the shadow of the column.

 

His lips nearly touched her ear as he whispered, "Don't. Move."

 

The command sent an inappropriate shiver down her spine, one that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the authority in his voice and the possessive press of his body around hers. Malinda bit her lip, suddenly aware of the rapid thud of her heart—was it terror or excitement that made it race so?

 

The dragon's forked tongue flicked out again, tasting the air mere feet from their hiding place. Its eyes were amber orbs with vertical pupils that contracted in the shifting light. Ancient intelligence lurked in those depths, a predatory awareness that seemed to peer through centuries with cold calculation.

 

Morgan's finger rested alongside the trigger guard of his pistol, not on the trigger itself—disciplined even in extremity. The metal had warmed slightly from his grip, but still felt cool when it brushed against Malinda's bare skin as he adjusted his stance. The contact drew her attention to the heat building elsewhere between them, a warmth that coiled low in her belly despite the mortal danger looming above.

 

Minutes stretched like hours as they remained frozen in place. Malinda became acutely conscious of the rhythm of Morgan's breathing, deliberately slow and controlled, and found herself matching it instinctively. In and out. The synchronicity created an unexpected intimacy, their bodies falling into a shared cadence as they waited.

 

A distant sound—perhaps an animal call from deeper in the jungle—caught the dragon's attention. Its massive head swiveled toward the temple entrance, nostrils flaring. With a final rumbling hiss that seemed to reverberate through the ancient stones, the creature withdrew, its body moving with fluid grace across the rooftop.

 

Neither of them moved immediately, straining to track the dragon's retreat. Morgan's arm remained firmly around Malinda's waist, his pistol still raised in his other hand. She could feel the tension in him, coiled and ready despite the creature's apparent departure.

 

"I think it's gone," she finally whispered, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the renewed silence.

 

Morgan didn't immediately loosen his grip. Instead, his head dipped slightly, his nose brushing against her hair as he inhaled deeply. "For now," he murmured, his breath stirring the damp strands at her nape.

 

When he finally stepped back, breaking the full-body contact that had both protected and discomposed her, Malinda felt a momentary loss. She turned to face him, her back now pressed against the column, finding his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that had little to do with the dragon and everything to do with the charged space between them.

 

"Well," she said, attempting lightness despite her quickened breath, "that wasn't in any of the local legends I researched."

 

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "You always did find the unexpected, Lin."

 

His pistol remained in his hand, a reminder of the danger still lurking somewhere above them. But his eyes, as they held hers in the dappled light of the ancient temple, promised an entirely different kind of peril.

 

The echo of the dragon's passage faded into the temple's ancient stillness. Malinda watched as Morgan holstered his pistol with practiced efficiency, his gaze never leaving hers. Something had shifted between them in those moments of pressed bodies and shared breath—something that had nothing to do with survival and everything to do with the electric awareness that now charged the air around them. Without words, they understood it was time to move deeper into the temple, away from the creature that lurked above, but the heat in Morgan's eyes promised this was far from over.

 

"We should keep moving," he said, his voice rough at the edges. "Downward. Those stairs." He nodded toward a narrow stone staircase that descended into darkness at the far end of the chamber.

 

Malinda nodded, retrieving her fallen flashlight from where she'd dropped it in their rush to hide. "The manuscript mentioned a lower chamber. That's likely where we'll find the diamond."

 

They approached the stairs cautiously, alert for any sound that might signal the dragon's return. The stone steps were worn smooth by centuries of use, slick with moisture that condensed in the cool air of the temple interior. Morgan took the lead, testing each step before committing his weight.

 

"Careful," he warned, extending his hand back to her. "These are treacherous."

 

Malinda slipped her hand into his, feeling the calluses on his palm—testament to a life of action rather than theory. His grip was firm, steadying, a counterpoint to the uncertain footing beneath them. As they began their descent, his other hand found the small of her back, fingers splayed protectively across her exposed skin.

 

The touch sent a current up her spine that had nothing to do with the danger they'd just escaped. Morgan's hand was warm and sure, guiding her with a gentle pressure that felt more like a caress than a practical measure. Malinda found herself hyper-aware of each point of contact—his palm against hers, his fingers against her lower back, the occasional brush of his shoulder against hers when the stairway narrowed.

 

They moved in perfect synchronization, as if they'd been exploring together for years rather than days. When Morgan paused, Malinda halted instantly; when he sidestepped a crumbling section of stair, she mirrored his movements without needing direction. The rhythm of their descent became almost hypnotic—step, pause, test, continue—a dance of trust and shared purpose in the dim light of her flashlight.

 

The air grew cooler as they descended, carrying strange scents of ancient stone and something else—perhaps incense burned centuries ago, its essence somehow preserved in this sealed chamber. Malinda's archaeologist mind cataloged these details even as another part of her remained acutely conscious of Morgan's proximity, of the way his tank top stretched across his shoulders as he navigated the narrow passage ahead of her.

 

At the base of the stairs, they emerged onto a small landing. Morgan's hand lingered at the small of her back as they paused to catch their breath and assess their surroundings. The beam of Malinda's flashlight revealed a corridor extending ahead, its walls adorned with carvings more elaborate than those above.

 

"Look at these," she whispered, sweeping the light across depictions of robed figures bowing before a central dais. "They're worshiping something."

 

Morgan stepped closer to examine the carvings, his breath warm against her cheek. "The diamond?"

 

"Must be." She turned to look at him and found his face inches from hers, his eyes reflecting the flashlight's beam. The adrenaline that had surged through her during their encounter with the dragon hadn't dissipated—it had merely transformed, becoming something equally urgent but far more pleasurable.

 

Morgan's gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes, a question in their depths. The hand at her back pressed slightly firmer, drawing her closer. Malinda felt her breath catch, her body responding to his nearness with a rush of heat that belied the temple's cool air.

 

She turned fully toward him, her eyes gleaming with mischief and undisguised want. "We should be quiet," she murmured, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Wouldn't want to attract any... unwanted attention."

 

The last word had barely left her lips before Morgan's mouth claimed hers. The kiss was neither tentative nor gentle—it was hungry, demanding, as if he'd been holding himself back for too long. His hands moved to her waist, fingers digging into the bare skin above her olive shorts, pulling her against him with an urgency that matched her own surging desire.

 

Malinda responded instantly, her arms wrapping around his neck, fingers threading through his damp hair. The flashlight clattered forgotten to the stone floor, its beam creating wild shadows as it rolled. She pressed herself against him, feeling the hard planes of his chest against her breasts, the beat of his heart matching the frantic tempo of her own.

 

His mouth was hot and insistent, tongue sliding against hers in a dance as synchronized as their descent had been. One of his hands moved up her bare back, fingers splaying across her shoulder blades, while the other dipped lower, pulling her hips firmly against his. The leather of his wrist cuff was cool against her heated skin, a delicious contrast that made her gasp into his mouth.

 

Morgan broke the kiss only to trace a path of fire along her jaw to her ear. "I've been wanting to do that since the moment you showed up in those shorts," he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her.

 

Malinda laughed breathlessly, her hands sliding down to feel the strong muscles of his back through the damp tank top. "Only since then? I've been distracted by those suspenders since we started this expedition."

 

His teeth grazed her earlobe in response, drawing a soft moan from her that echoed slightly in the ancient corridor. They both froze, suddenly remembering the danger that lurked above them. After a moment of tense silence with no sound of the dragon's return, Morgan pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged.

 

"We need to focus," he murmured, though his hands still held her close. "Find what we came for."

 

"And then?" Malinda challenged, her fingers tracing the line where his suspenders crossed his broad back.

 

A slow smile spread across his face, transforming his rugged features into something that made her heart skip. "And then I'll show you exactly what I've been thinking about doing to you for the past three days."

 

They separated reluctantly, both breathless and flushed. Morgan bent to retrieve the flashlight, handing it back to her with a lingering touch that promised more. When he straightened, his eyes held both desire and determination.

 

"Let's find that diamond quickly," he said, adjusting his holster where it had shifted during their embrace. "I've got plans for you once we're out of here."

 

The words sent a thrill of anticipation through Malinda that had nothing to do with archaeological discovery. She nodded, forcing her mind back to the task at hand despite the lingering heat of his touch on her skin.

 

"The inner chamber should be just ahead," she said, directing the flashlight beam down the corridor. "According to the manuscript, the Tears of Ishaara sits on a pedestal carved from a single piece of obsidian."

 

They moved forward together, their steps purposeful and in sync. The tension between them hadn't diminished—if anything, that brief taste had only intensified their awareness of each other—but it now fueled their determination rather than distracting from it.

 

Malinda felt Morgan's presence at her back like a tangible force, protective and possessive in equal measure. The dragon above, the diamond ahead, and the promise of pleasure to come—all combined to create a heady mix of danger and desire that made her feel more alive than she had in years.

 

As they approached the chamber that might hold their prize, Malinda cast a sideways glance at Morgan's profile, admiring the determined set of his jaw and the intensity of his focus. Finding the diamond had always been her goal, but now she had an entirely new reason to complete this mission quickly and successfully.

 

Yesterday dawned in that quiet brightness one might almost mistake for eternity. Beneath a sun that hung low and softened, I set forth, drawn to the winding embrace of the Madriu Valley, where autumn had taken up its gentle brush, dappling each tree with a fire that smoldered rather than burned. The air held a sweetness tempered by the earth's own sighs, that smell of damp leaves and pine, as if the valley itself were stirring in contented slumber. Beneath my feet, the path was soft with layers of fallen needles, muffling my steps as though to remind me of nature’s quiet dominion.

 

At midday, the sun, once a faithful companion, grew shy, retreating behind thickening veils of cloud. A somber hue draped itself over the valley, and the first whispers of rain began to fall, as gentle as a sigh, each drop a bead of cold clarity against my skin. But rather than turn back, I felt a pull to ascend, to rise beyond the familiar contours of the valley floor. There, on the northern slope, the land beckoned upward, as if inviting me to touch the sky itself. With each step, the altitude took on a sharper edge, the air thinning as I climbed another 700 meters toward the ridge that loomed above, unseen yet profoundly felt.

 

It was then I came upon a lake, still and gray beneath the sullen sky. Its surface lay flat and colorless, a sheet of dark glass, caught in the pallor of overcast clouds. The lake’s beauty was not lost, but hidden, concealed in tones muted and brooding, the kind one might overlook were it not for the shadows that danced upon its surface, each shift of wind rippling out small, shivering patterns of reflected stone and sky. It seemed, in its way, a quiet defiance, as though waiting for some signal to reveal itself in its true form.

 

As I climbed higher and began to approach the ridge, I turned for one last look at the lake below, resigned to its silence. But then, without warning, a tear broke in the clouded shroud above. In a single, breathtaking instant, the light poured through—a blade of sun piercing the gloom, spilling across the lake’s surface in a shock of brilliant color. What had been shadow became a pool of intense ultramarine, an impossible blue that burned against the gathering storm. The lake transformed, no longer muted but radiant, its waters catching the light and casting it back in dazzling defiance of the dark sky beyond.

 

For a moment—a heartbeat, perhaps less—the Estany Blau lived up to its name. It pulsed, alive with a hue so vivid that it seemed to breathe, and in that short interval, it felt as though time itself had halted to marvel. I reached for my camera, scarcely daring to blink, feeling that the lake would slip back into its gray, solemn guise if I looked away. And then, as swiftly as it had come, the light withdrew, closing like a hand around a flame, leaving only the memory of blue in its wake.

 

That fleeting spectacle—a mere minute, if that—held within it the entirety of autumn’s nature: a season defined not by constancy but by transition, a beauty that resists possession.

 

Find out more of my stories and films on the website www.coronaviking.com

Black Beacon

1913-1915 the RFC established an airfield and experimental site for weapons and aircraft testing

1918-1924 the site was largely dormant.

1924-1939 Used by the Aeroplane and Armament Experimental Establishment (A&AEE) mainly for bomb and machine gun testing.

1935 Radar Research led by Robert Watson Watt.

1939-1945 Secret testing of radar, weapons and electronic warfare.

1953-1971 Atomic Weapons Research Establishment (AWRE) Testing of nuclear weapon components. Included construction of the pagoda blast buildings.

1971 the military withdrew.

1993 National Trust acquired the land to be nature reserve and historic site.

Aerial view of pagodas, bunkers and buildings on Orford Ness on the coast of Suffolk

 

Hello John, I'm carrying out some research on Orford Ness as an intern at the University of Exeter, and came across two brilliant aerial images of yours on Flickr (www.flickr.com/photos/john_fielding/54445823760/in/photos... and www.flickr.com/photos/john_fielding/54443303864/in/photos...). I'm helping create an ArcGIS Storymap as an open resource for heritage practitioners/academics that would be publicly available, and therefore wondered whether we could include these two images of yours in our storymap if we gave you full credit in the image information? This research is purely for academic purposes and not for profit. Many thanks,

At first, the northern Soviet bridgeheads were able to be contained by lightly equipped Romanian infantry fighting from the tops of the Dniester Hills. But by 3 July, the Soviet 12th Army's 16th Mechanized Corps had been fully moved into the bridgehead, and quickly broke through the thin Romanian defenses and pushed onto the Bălți Steppe. To counter this, the 1st Tank Destroyer Battalion was ordered to take up positions on Hill 187 near Baroncea. By the end of the day, they had dug in and camouflaged their positions, and by 4 July Soviet forces were within firing range. Forward elements of the 39th Tank Division were driving through the valley north of the hill en route to attack Drochia when they started taking flanking fire. 17 BT-7s were destroyed before the unit withdrew, but a few hours later the division attacked in full.

 

At first, the Romanians maintained the upper hand. The long range and accuracy of the VT-38's 57mm gun allowed it to pick off enemies from almost 3,000 meters away, all while their entrenched positions revealed very little of their vehicles for their attackers to shoot at. 62 Soviet tanks were destroyed before the attack was called off, and in turn only one VT-38 was disabled after a shrapnel round detonated in its fighting compartment, killing the gunnery crew but not damaging the vehicle or harming the driver. The next day, the Soviets forwent their previous strategy of a frontal attack with overwhelming numbers, and returned with a combined arms assault, opening with an artillery barrage that, although mostly firing blindly, disabled 9 more tank destroyers. This time, Soviet troops were told to take the hill no matter the cost, leading to another 56 destroyed Soviet tanks, all but destroying the division. However, this time, Soviet forces did succeed in reaching the foot of the hill, and Soviet infantry only faced resistance in the form of the battalion's machine gun platoon during their climb. By the time Romanian artillery drove back the attackers a third time, the 36-vehicle battalion had been reduced to just 14, and received permission to fall back to Bălți.

 

While the carnage reaped by 1st Tank Destroyer Battalion was considered exemplary, the story of standing tall against, then being mauled by, overwhelming Soviet attacks was typical of the Romanian tank destroyer battalions. Despite being considered elite, indispensable units, Romanian tactics for how to field them often left them vulnerable, using them as the sole defenders of positions without any supporting units. By the time Romanian forces had withdrawn from Bessarabia, what was left of the five battalions had been condensed into two, and the other three wouldn't be brought back to full strength until September. Nevertheless, their rapid deployment and expertise on positioning and concealment played a crucial role in tuning the tide against the numerical superiority of Soviet tank forces.

Commodore Francis Curzon, 5th Earl Howe - grand old man of British motor racing - and his Fiat 500, photographed in October 1943 in Leith. My colorization of the original image in the

Imperial War Museums archive.

 

"Francis Richard Henry Penn Curzon, 5th Earl Howe, CBE, RD, PC (1 May 1884, Mayfair, London – 26 July 1964, Amersham, Buckinghamshire), styled as Viscount Curzon from 1900 to 1929, was a British naval officer, Member of Parliament, and motor racing driver and promoter. In the 1918 UK General Election he won the Battersea South seat as the candidate of the Conservative Party, which he held until 1929. While in Parliament he took up motor racing, and later won the 1931 24 Hours of Le Mans race. He ascended to the Peerage in 1929, succeeding his father as the 5th Earl Howe. Earl Howe co-founded the British Racing Drivers' Club with Dudley Benjafield in 1928, and served as its president until his death in 1964.

Francis Curzon made his race debut at the comparatively old age of 44, in the 1928 Irish TT with a Bugatti Type 43. After leaving the House of Commons he pursued his driving career with increasing vigour. During the 1930s he became a well known driver, competing in many national and international races, most notably the 24 Hours of Le Mans. He entered the endurance classic six times between 1929 and 1935, only missing the 1933 event. For the first year he was entered as a part of the Bentley factory team; but he later entered his own cars, as Bentley was taken over by Rolls-Royce in 1931 and withdrew from motor racing. Driving his own Alfa Romeo 6C with co-driver Leslie Callingham he won the 2-litre class at the 1930 race. He upgraded to an Alfa Romeo 8C for the 1931 24 Hours of Le Mans, and won the race outright driving in partnership with Henry Birkin."

(Wikipedia)

The Borkumriff, an ex German lightship built in 1911, was located in Emden, West Germany and purchased for 63,000 Guilders. It was rebuilt and refitted as a broadcasting vessel at the Karstens-Werft in Emden in 1959. On 18th April 1960, the Borkumriff left Emden, towed by the British Tug Guardsman to a location off Katwijk aan Zee. In June, the Panamanian Government withdrew its flag from the ship, which was registered in an undisclosed country (Guatemala). After the Norderney took over as the home for Radio Veronica, the Borkumriff was sold for scrap and broken up in Zeebrugge.

DRS 37 716 + 37 218 top'n'tail respectively 3S29 Hellifield - York Thrall Europa Rail Head Treatment Train passing Niffany west of Skipton. When the train appeared round the corner there seemed to be no chance of getting the shot in the sun but amazingly sunshine preceded the train down the line, it was as if the train was pushing the shadows away!

37 716 was delivered from English Electric to Gateshead depot in February 1963, fingers crossed it makes it to February 2023!

In January 2024 DRS withdrew all their remaining Class 37's from service, hopefully some will be bought for further use.

 

Copyright Stephen Willetts - No unauthorised use

Excerpt from vitacollections.ca/muskokadigitalarchives/43777/data?n=3:

 

Wardell & Co., 86 Main Street East, Huntsville, Ontario, in summer.

 

Prior to the Huntsville fire of April 18, 1894, a mercantile business, owned by George Hutcheson, operated on this site under the name Hutcheson & Son. This mercantile business had been purchased by George Hutcheson from Smith and Culp in 1883. After the fire, George Hutcheson rebuilt the store on the same site but withdrew from the business. William E. Hutcheson, R.J. Hutcheson and William Hanna of Port Carling then formed the firm Hanna & Hutcheson Bros. to carry on the business. On December 28, 1911 a fire destroyed the dry goods business of Matthew Wardell at 77 Main Street East, across the street from Hanna & Hutcheson Bros. Wardell started over by moving into the Hanna & Hutcheson building which he rented for $600 a year. Later he installed electricity and the Wardell family purchased the building for $6000 in 1920. In 1939 the storefront was altered and new brick facing applied. Matthew Wardell had five children: Maude (Mrs. George Donal Nickalls), Mary "Daisy" (Mrs. William Mawhinney), Claude, St. Clair and Annetta (Mrs. Charles Deeprose Boyd). Between 1913 and 1917 the store was known as Wardell, Boyd and Son. Charles Boyd's father established a grocery business next door at 90 Main Street East in 1917, known as J.R. Boyd and Son.

 

Maude was widowed in 1899 and returned to Huntsville with her two small sons, Grenville and Jack. She and Claude bought the store in 1920. The store was famous for Scottish woollens, Spode china and Hudson's Bay blankets. One summer they operated a store at Bigwin Inn. In the 1950's there was a branch store on Highway 11 and in the late 70's early 80's a store in Bracebridge catering to young people. In 1957 Maude's son, Jack and grandson Donal Nickalls took over the business. In 1973 Donal and his wife Pat became the proprietors. The store was closed in 1986.

Not much is known about the Secret Intelligence Service. Founded in 1924, and generally considered part of the Siguranța, or royal secret police, it formed the intelligence arm of the Romanian Army. While most of their interwar activities focused on monitoring domestic and Bolshevik-sponsored communist groups, their greatest success came in June 1939 when they disrupted a 100-strong German spy ring operating out of Galați, aiming to demoralize the army and sabotage mobilization plans.

 

When the Soviet Union announced its intention to annex Bessarabia and Northern Bukovina, the SSI began extensive operations in Chișinău, as well as Iași and București. 57 men, 22 of whom were NKVD operatives, were discovered mapping out Romanian defensive positions in Chișinău and gathering information on the units being deployed. 8 NKVD agents were arrested near the Iași train station, monitoring troop movements. Countless arrests were made in București, but no exact figures were recorded due to many of them having been drawn up on false charges.

 

When the Romanian Army finally withdrew from Chișinău, the SSI agents operating there were ordered to stay behind and monitor the new Soviet government. When the time came to retake Bessarabia, these agents cut phone lines, sabotaged motor pools, and even planted bombs at the local government and military headquarters. Many also used their new Soviet citizenship to freely cross into Ukraine, gathering information that would become vital during the Odessa Raid.

(English: Fountain of the Old Boat)

is a Baroque fresh-water fountain in the Piazza di Spagna in Rome, Italy, just below the Spanish Steps.

It is so named because it is in the shape of a half-sunken ship with water overflowing its bows.

The fountain was commissioned by Pope Urban VIII and was completed in 1627 by Pietro Bernini and his son Gian Lorenzo Bernini.

 

The shape was chosen because, prior to the river walls being built, the Tiber often flooded and in 1598 there was a particularly bad flooding and the Piazza di Spagna was flooded up to a meter.

Once the water withdrew, a boat was left behind in the square.

@Wikipedia

Roundly disliked by the public and rail enthusiasts alike for many years the British Rail "Pacer Railbus" concept was realised when this prototype took to the rails in December 1980. Purists may argue LEV1 which also identified as R1 or RDB975874 the experimental single car railbus built two years earlier by BR Derby Research Centre and Leyland Bus Ltd at Workington was the 'Granddaddy' of them all as it entered service in 1978. I would argue it was only ever conceived as an experiment vehicle and never carried passenger stock numbers.

With BR opting for a 2-car railbus as replacement for the aging DMU fleet R2 the first 2-car was built as a public service prototype. It was out shopped with passenger stock numbers 55500+55501 formed as set 140 001. The unit saw public service over the entire UK from May 1981 as BR demonstrated the railbus concept to passengers and interested local authorities alike. Heralded as the new future of branch line travel sadly poor ride quality and bus seating were just no replacement for the older more comfortable DMU's they sort to replace. With Government transport policy at the time set against the railways it was very much a case of; Road Building = Investment and anything Railway = Subsidy. There was no going back for BR Pacers were to be a stop gap to what would otherwise have been line closures and reduced services as older DMUs were removed from service.

 

140 001's passenger career was largely over by 1984 as by 1983 the production version of the new train the class 141's had entered service in West Yorkshire. 140 001 spent long periods stored from 1985 onward ending up at Leeds Holbeck Depot in December 1986 where it remained until BR formerly withdrew it on 23/10/1990. A further two years open storage at Holbeck then followed before it got moved to more secure storage at Leeds Neville Hill Depot from where it was sold to Banffshire Rolling Stock Ltd in February 1995 for the sum of £2,000. This company formed by Keith & Dufftown Railway Association members were seeking to restored passenger services over the closed freight branch from Keith to Dufftown. It made the long journey to Scotland by road in February 1995 and on inspection proved too costly to make a rapid return to service so instead ended up as a static information centre at Dufftown station until enough funds were available to restore it. Work started in 2016 to make it operational but to date this remains a work in progress. Ironically in preservation it has remained stored while the older DMU's it replaced on BR operate services on the KDR.

La iglesia de Santa María la Real de Sangüesa en Navarra (España) es un templo católico de estilo románico en transición al gótico, en el que destaca su portada. Fue declarada Monumento Nacional en 1889.

La iglesia fue donada en 1131 por el rey Alfonso I el Batallador a la orden de San Juan de Jerusalén. Se trata de una pequeña iglesia románica de tres naves. La torre de planta octogonal es de arquitectura gótica, realizada entre los siglos XII-XIV.

El exterior es liso y severo. Sobre el crucero de la nave se eleva una torre de forma octogonal almenada con remate en chapitel.

Lo que ha hecho famosa a esta iglesia es el pórtico románico que se abre al sur del edificio y que constituye una de las obras más interesantes y complejas del arte medieval navarro. El pórtico es de forma rectangular. Lo componen en su parte inferior cinco arquivoltas escalonadas, que contienen 84 figuras y que forman un arco apuntado que rodean el tímpano y el dintel y que descansan en tres columnas por cada lado con figuras.

Sobre esta parte inferior que se termina con un cornisamiento estrecho, se elevan dos filas de arquerías con doble columnas que albergan catorce figuras que representan a los apóstoles y dos ángeles y en el centro de la fila superior a Cristo. Las dos hileras de arcos se separan por una moldura y los arcos se cierran por arriba con un friso de hojas. En las enjutas, además de las representaciones religiosas, hay múltiples relieves de rico simbolismo. En el tímpano se representa el juicio final.

El borgoñón Leodegarius firmó la imagen de Santa María que decora la segunda columna del lado izquierdo en el primer cuerpo. Ante el retraso de la obra, el rey retiró a Leodegarius de la dirección de la misma, y se la entrega al experimentado y veterano maestro de San Juan de la Peña, que la termina.

 

es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iglesia_de_Santa_María_la_Real_(Sangüesa)

  

The church of Santa María la Real de Sangüesa in Navarra (Spain) is a Roman Catholic church in transition to Gothic style, in which its façade stands out. It was declared a National Monument in 1889.

The church was donated in 1131 by King Alfonso I the Battler to the order of Saint John of Jerusalem. It is a small Romanesque church with three naves. The octagonal tower is of Gothic architecture, made between the 12th-14th centuries.

The exterior is smooth and severe. On the transept of the nave rises a crenellated octagonal tower with a spire top.

 

What has made this church famous is the Romanesque portico that opens to the south of the building and constitutes one of the most interesting and complex works of medieval Navarrese art. The portico is rectangular in shape. It is made up of five staggered archivolts in its lower part, which contain 84 figures and which form a pointed arch that surround the tympanum and the lintel and which rest on three columns on each side with figures.

On this lower part, which ends with a narrow cornice, rise two rows of arches with double columns that house fourteen figures representing the apostles and two angels and in the center of the upper row Christ. The two rows of arches are separated by a molding and the arches are closed at the top with a frieze of leaves. In the spandrels, in addition to the religious representations, there are multiple reliefs with rich symbolism. The eardrum represents the final judgment.12

The Burgundian Leodegarius signed the image of Saint Mary that decorates the second column on the left side of the first body. Before the delay of the work, the king withdrew Leodegarius from the direction of the same, and handed it over to the experienced and veteran teacher of San Juan de la Peña, who finished it.

 

“The waves broke and spread their waters swiftly over the shore. One after another they massed themselves and fell; the spray tossed itself back with the energy of their fall. The waves were steeped deep-blue save for a pattern of diamond-pointed light on their backs which rippled as the backs of great horses ripple with muscles as they move. The waves fell; withdrew and fell again, like the thud of a great beast stamping.” – Virginia Woolf

In the early morning of 9 April 1940 operation Wesserübung started. The invasion of Denmark and Norway. Denmark officially surrendered 08.34 on the morning of 9 April to avoid areal bombings of Copenhagen.

 

In Norway two heavy cruisers sailed up the Oslo fjord and one of them was hit by the old artillery crew at Oscarsborgs fortress. They had two 48 old German made guns named Aron and Moses that opened fire. The heavy cruiser Blücher sank. This delayed the invasion so that the royal family, parliament and the cabinet could escape.

 

Simultaneous naval and air attack were carried out on towns along the coast but the main land-based attack were carried out from Oslo.

 

The Norwegians fought to delay the Germans waiting for allied intervention. The Germans effectively used their Junkers Ju 87 'Stuka' dive bombers to demoralise the Norwegian ground troops. The Norwegian army had almost no anti aircraft defence or any viable defence against the German tanks.

 

In the beginning of May the allied withdrew northward from southern Norway.

 

By may 24 the evacuation of all allied troops were approved, June 1 the Norwegians were informed and the King and Prince were persuaded to go to Britain into exile and continue the fight. At June 8 the last allied troops withdrew from Norway.

 

Finally on 10 June Norway surrendered making it the allied nation that withstood German occupation the longest.

"I did not shriek, but all the fiendish ghouls that ride the night-wind shrieked for me as in that same second there crashed down upon my mind a single and fleeting avalanche of soul-annihilating memory. I knew in that second all that had been; I remembered beyond the frightful castle and the trees, and recognised the altered edifice in which I now stood; I recognised, most terrible of all, the unholy abomination that stood leering before me as I withdrew my sullied fingers from its own."

 

— H. P. Lovecraft, "The Outsider"

 

“The whole value of solitude depends upon one's self; it may be a sanctuary or a prison, a haven of repose or a place of punishment, a heaven or a hell, as we ourselves make it” - John Lubbock, 1st Baron Avebury

 

"...Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed." Luke 5:16

Ethelwynn, the winner of the first Seawanhaka Cup in September 1895. The 15 ft halfrater skippered by its designer William P. Stephens competed against William Brand´s Spruce IV from England´s Minima Yacht Club.

My colorization of John S. Johnston´s September 1895 photo in the Library of Congress archive (Detroit Publishing Co. collection).

Although Ethelwynn did win convincingly, The Indianapolis Journal reported on September 27 that the race on the day before had not been without some drama when the owner, Mr. Field, who served as crew, decided to withdraw:

"The Indianapolis Journal, 27 Sept 1895 p 5 reported that Ethelwynn withdrew from Race 3 when nine minutes astern, her owner (who was crewing) insisting that the 15 mph breeze was “not halfrater weather, the wind being too strong.” The skipper withdrew from the series in protest, but in the moderate conditions of the last race Ethelywnn was an easy winner. Like other designers since, Stephens felt that his boat was much faster but not always sailed at her best."

As Mr. Stephens was mentioned as the skipper of the Ethelwynn in the final results, he must have reconsidered his withdrawal from the series.

The Seawanhaka Yacht Club gives a short summary of the Cup:

"The Seawanhaka Cup®, sometimes referred to as “The Junior America's Cup”, is the oldest yachting trophy, originating in America, that is still in active competition. Originated in 1895, the Seawanhaka Cup® trophy was offered for the purpose of promoting small yacht racing and developing the Corinthian spirit among yachtsmen. The original challenge was sailed in half-raters, a boat of about 15 feet, with the Seawanhaka boat Ethelwynn sailed by William P. Stephens sporting a marconi main over 20 years ahead of its time. Ethelwynn won the regatta against a challenge from the Minima Yacht Club of England."

Displaying at the National Museum of the Marine Corps on April 11th, I had to come up with something featuring the USMC and also what’s apparently become my theme this year, the Anniversary of Something, so here’s my take on this iconic conflict. I only had about 6 hours to build it, so no border, and I would have liked to build up those ramparts higher but overall, fairly satisfied with this one. 100% LEGO except for the custom flags.

——————————

Ever forget something that was really important not to forget?

 

The Battle of New Orleans, fought on January 8, 1815 was the last major combat of the War of 1812. 4732 American combatants, commanded by Major General Andrew Jackson, prevented nearly 11,000 British infantry and Royal Marines, commanded by General Edward Pakenham, from seizing New Orleans as a strategic prize to end the war. The war was actually over by the time the main battle was fought, ended by the Treaty of Ghent on December 24, 1814, but since the US government had not yet approved the treaty, the fighting in Louisiana would continue until the British withdrew on January 18th. One of the most lop-sided victories in history, the British advanced under very heavy fire only to find once they reached the American ramparts that the ladders necessary to ascend the fortifications were not available, having been forgotten by the negligence of the Colonel in charge of them. With limited access to the Americans and taking fire the entire time, all British officers over the rank of Major were killed, leaving no one to sound the retreat. Their casualties were therefore disproportionately high, losing over 2000 in just 25 minutes of fighting, compared to less than 100 American casualties (only 13 were actually killed). As for the USMC, 58 US Marines fought at New Orleans and they are the American troops I am portraying here.

Deckers in MK have been rare on local services since Z&S withdrew their route 13 and replaced it with the 18 a few years ago, so having not 1, but 4 deckers on local routes was certainly very unexpected! Here, Arriva Shires East Lancs Lowlander FE51YWJ 4711 is seen leaving Milton Keynes Central on a service 5 to Wolverton, 13th September

Jerash, Jordan

 

Jerash (Arabic: جرش‎ Ǧaraš; Ancient Greek: Γέρασα Gérasa) is a city in northern Jordan. The city is the administrative center of the Jerash Governorate, and has a population of 50,745 as of 2015. It is located 48 kilometres (30 mi) north of the capital city Amman.

 

The earliest evidence of settlement in Jerash is in a Neolithic site known as Tal Abu Sowan, where rare human remains dating to around 7500 BC were uncovered. Jerash flourished during the Greco and Roman periods until the mid-eighth century CE, when the 749 Galilee earthquake destroyed large parts of it, while subsequent earthquakes contributed to additional destruction. However, in the year 1120, Zahir ad-Din Toghtekin, atabeg of Damascus ordered a garrison of forty men to build up a fort in an unknown site of the ruins of the ancient city, likely the highest spot of the city walls in the north-eastern hills. It was captured in 1121 by Baldwin II, King of Jerusalem, and utterly destroyed. Then, the Crusaders immediately abandoned Jerash and withdrew to Sakib (Seecip); the eastern border of the settlement.

 

Jerash was then deserted until it reappeared by the beginning of the Ottoman rule in the early 16th century. In the census of 1596, it had a population of 12 Muslim households. However, archaeologists found a small Mamluk hamlet in the Northwest Quarter which indicates that Jerash was resettled before the Ottoman era. The excavations conducted since 2011 have shed light on the Middle Islamic period as recent discoveries have uncovered a large concentration of Middle Islamic/Mamluk structures and pottery. The ancient city has been gradually revealed through a series of excavations which commenced in 1925, and continue to this day.

 

Jerash today is home to one of the best preserved Greco-Roman cities, which earned it the nickname of "Pompeii of the East". Approximately 330,000 visitors arrived in Jerash in 2018, making it one of the most visited sites in Jordan. The city hosts the Jerash Festival, one of the leading cultural events in the Middle East that attracts tens of thousands of visitors every year

Production: 1987 - 1991

Total sales: 35.739

Engine: 2,7 litre V6 (petrol)

Power: 169 PS

Gearbox: 4 speed automatic

Layout: front engine, front drive

Location: Lime Rock Park, Lakeville, Connecticut (USA)

 

The Sterling brand was unique to the North American market with the vehicles - the 825 and 827 - based on the Rover 800 series. After poorer sales than hoped for, Rover abandoned the market and withdrew the brand.

#79 Taken at a mega-secret location.

 

This was probably my best day birding since David and I started taking pics a year ago. It was just by chance we discovered this nest. We had been taking pictures of a roosting hummer when it dawned on us that she kept in the near vicinity. After realizing a nest may be close by, we walked the path out and she flushed scaring the liver out of me! David's sharp eye fell on the nest within seconds and we withdrew immediately. I had actually brushed the nest with my hip as we were on our way out. We checked on her some time later to assure ourselves she had not been put off her nest which had two eggs. When we returned she was contentedly warming her babes to be.

 

"If you go down to the woods today

You're sure of a big surprise."

 

"Beneath the trees where nobody sees

They'll hide and seek as long as they please."

After National Socialist Germany (GDR) was defeated in 1945, Wünsdorf became the site of the High Command of the Soviet Armed Forces of Germany. 35,000 Soviets were stationed in Wünsdorf with newly built stores, theaters, bread factory schools and a hospital made it an independent Soviet town in Brandenburg. Even a railroad line directly to Moscow was built.

 

Wünsdorf was given the nickname "forbidden city" because most Germans were denied access to the town until the Russians withdrew in 1994. The 600-hectare military town was walled and strictly guarded. Apart from the Russians, only about 1000 GDR citizens who worked there and had a special identity card had access to the complex.

  

In the late 2200s, NASA scientists and space crew made a breakthrough in technology that could efficiently detect, capture and store space-borne antimatter in quantities sufficient to theoretically power a star drive that would put the galaxy in far faster reach than had previously thought possible. The antimatter particles would be captured with a colossal electromagnetic net and safely guided into storage traps.

 

The safety of antimatter star drives however, remained unproven, high risk and potentially catastrophic in the event of even a minor failure. NASA, not wishing to be responsible for the destruction of the solar system in an apocalyptic antimatter annihilation event, pulled out, withdrew funding and re-assigned the antimatter teams to more mundane tasks, like developing better space toilets, mini space vacuum cleaners and space tea kettles.

 

The highly trained and ambitious NASA antimatter teams weren't having it. Space tea kettles were a demotion in their eyes, especially when their antimatter tech would help them attain the stars, to break out of the confines of the solar system! They were determined to see this antimatter thing through. A group of them managed to secure funding from a shadowy and stupendously wealthy Moon-based mining baron and they formally broke away from NASA.

 

Humorously (and rather giving the middle finger to their former employers) naming themselves NAST, pronounced "nasty": Nefarious Astronautic + Space Troublemakers. Their motto was SIDERA NOBIS! (all caps), the Latin for OUR STARS! They got to work fast. By 2319 the Xylethrus AMV1 (Antimatter Vessel 1) was completed in the Moon's orbit and ready for its inaugural test of the antimatter star drive. The rest, as they say, is history...

 

Built for SHIPtember 2018. Approx 110 studs in length.

 

Background Image Credit: NASA WISE (Wide-field Infrared Survey Explorer), Francesco Antonucci.

La iglesia de Santa María la Real de Sangüesa en Navarra (España) es un templo católico de estilo románico en transición al gótico, en el que destaca su portada. Fue declarada Monumento Nacional en 1889.

La iglesia fue donada en 1131 por el rey Alfonso I el Batallador a la orden de San Juan de Jerusalén. Se trata de una pequeña iglesia románica de tres naves. La torre de planta octogonal es de arquitectura gótica, realizada entre los siglos XII-XIV.

El exterior es liso y severo. Sobre el crucero de la nave se eleva una torre de forma octogonal almenada con remate en chapitel.

Lo que ha hecho famosa a esta iglesia es el pórtico románico que se abre al sur del edificio y que constituye una de las obras más interesantes y complejas del arte medieval navarro. El pórtico es de forma rectangular. Lo componen en su parte inferior cinco arquivoltas escalonadas, que contienen 84 figuras y que forman un arco apuntado que rodean el tímpano y el dintel y que descansan en tres columnas por cada lado con figuras.

Sobre esta parte inferior que se termina con un cornisamiento estrecho, se elevan dos filas de arquerías con doble columnas que albergan catorce figuras que representan a los apóstoles y dos ángeles y en el centro de la fila superior a Cristo. Las dos hileras de arcos se separan por una moldura y los arcos se cierran por arriba con un friso de hojas. En las enjutas, además de las representaciones religiosas, hay múltiples relieves de rico simbolismo. En el tímpano se representa el juicio final.

El borgoñón Leodegarius firmó la imagen de Santa María que decora la segunda columna del lado izquierdo en el primer cuerpo. Ante el retraso de la obra, el rey retiró a Leodegarius de la dirección de la misma, y se la entrega al experimentado y veterano maestro de San Juan de la Peña, que la termina.

 

es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iglesia_de_Santa_María_la_Real_(Sangüesa)

  

The church of Santa María la Real de Sangüesa in Navarra (Spain) is a Roman Catholic church in transition to Gothic style, in which its façade stands out. It was declared a National Monument in 1889.

The church was donated in 1131 by King Alfonso I the Battler to the order of Saint John of Jerusalem. It is a small Romanesque church with three naves. The octagonal tower is of Gothic architecture, made between the 12th-14th centuries.

The exterior is smooth and severe. On the transept of the nave rises a crenellated octagonal tower with a spire top.

 

What has made this church famous is the Romanesque portico that opens to the south of the building and constitutes one of the most interesting and complex works of medieval Navarrese art. The portico is rectangular in shape. It is made up of five staggered archivolts in its lower part, which contain 84 figures and which form a pointed arch that surround the tympanum and the lintel and which rest on three columns on each side with figures.

On this lower part, which ends with a narrow cornice, rise two rows of arches with double columns that house fourteen figures representing the apostles and two angels and in the center of the upper row Christ. The two rows of arches are separated by a molding and the arches are closed at the top with a frieze of leaves. In the spandrels, in addition to the religious representations, there are multiple reliefs with rich symbolism. The eardrum represents the final judgment.12

The Burgundian Leodegarius signed the image of Saint Mary that decorates the second column on the left side of the first body. Before the delay of the work, the king withdrew Leodegarius from the direction of the same, and handed it over to the experienced and veteran teacher of San Juan de la Peña, who finished it.

 

The Korean War Veterans Memorial was confirmed by the U.S. Congress (Public Law 99-572) on April 20, 1986, with design and construction managed by the Korean War Veterans Memorial Advisory Board and the American Battle Monuments Commission.

 

The initial design competition was won in 1986 by a team of four architects and landscape architects from The Pennsylvania State University, but this team withdrew as it became clear that changes would be needed to satisfy the advisory board and reviewing agencies such as the Commission of Fine Arts. A federal court case was filed and lost by the winning design team over the design changes. The eventual design was by Cooper-Lecky Architects who oversaw collaboration between several designers.

 

President George H. W. Bush conducted the groundbreaking for the Memorial on June 14, 1992, Flag Day, and thus construction was started. The companies and organizations involved in the construction are listed on the memorial as: the Faith Construction Company, the Emma Kollie Company, the Cold Spring Granite Company, the Tallix Art Foundry and the Baltimore District of the US Army Corps of Engineers. The memorial was dedicated on July 27, 1995, the 42nd anniversary of the armistice that ended the war, by President Bill Clinton and Kim Young Sam, the South Korean president, to the men and women who served during the conflict. Management of the national memorial was turned over to the National Park Service (NPS), under its National Mall and Memorial Parks group. As with all National Park Service historic areas, the memorial was administratively listed on the National Register of Historic Places on the day of its dedication.