Lomo LC-A with Kodak Ektar 100 film.

 

After a hard day exploring it is always good to return to a cozy, comfortable campsite.

 

Atlantic Ocean in the distance.

 

Riis Park, Fort Tilden, Rockaway, Queens, NY.

Of The World

From a flyover.

Thats our way to get a well presentation for our minfigures.

There is a standard base for one minfigure wich can be connected with another one. Two bases are connected by the legs of a minifigure in the retral line. So you get two lines of minfigures with a great view of all of them.

 

More information and pics up: THE BRICK TIME

 

Be sure to visit the BrickLink-Shop: THE BRICK TIME - Store

Vanessa cardui is the most widespread of all butterfly species. It is commonly called the painted lady, or formerly in North America the cosmopolitan.

 

Description

For a key to the terms used, see Glossary of entomology terms.

See also: Cynthia (butterfly) § Distinguishing features

 

Wing scales.

Male and female. Upperside. Ground-colour reddish-ochreous, basal areas olivescent-ochreous-brown; cilia black, alternated with white, Forewing with an outwardly-oblique black irregular-shaped broken band crossing from middle of the cell to the disc above the submedian vein; the apical area from end of cell and the exterior border also black; before the apex is a short white outwardly-oblique streak and a curved row of four round spots, the second and third being small; a marginal pale lunular line with its upper portion most defined and whitish. Hind-wing with a blackish patch from the costal vein across end of cell, a partly confluent recurved discal band, a submarginal row of lunules, and then a marginal row of somewhat scutiform spots; between the discal band and submarginal lunules is a row of five round black spots, which in some examples show a pale and dark outer ring. Underside. Forewing brighter reddish-ochreous, the apical area and outer margin much paler, the apex being olivescent ochreous-brown; discal irregular band as above, subapical white streak, row of spots and marginal lunules distinct; base of wing and interspace before end of cell white. Hindwing transversely-marbled with olivescent ochreous-brown and speckled with black scales; crossed by basal and discal sinuous whitish or pale fascia and intersected by white veins; an outer-discal row of five ocelli, the upper one smallest and usually imperfect, the second and fifth the largest, the fourth with black centre speckled with blue and ringed with yellow, and the second and fifth also with an outer black ring; submarginal lunules purpurescent-grey, bordered by a whitish fascia; outer margin ochreous. Body olivescent ochreous-brown, abdomen with ochreous bands; palpi blackish above, white beneath; body beneath and legs greyish-white; antennae black above, tip and beneath reddish.

 

Distribution

V. cardui is one of the most widespread of all butterflies, found on every continent except Antarctica and South America. In Australia, V. cardui has a limited range around Bunbury, Fremantle, and Rottnest Island. However, its close relative, the Australian painted lady (V. kershawi, sometimes considered a subspecies) ranges over half the continent. Other closely related species are the American painted lady (V. virginiensis) and the West Coast lady (V. annabella).

 

Migration

V. cardui occurs in any temperate zone, including mountains in the tropics. The species is resident only in warmer areas, but migrates in spring, and sometimes again in autumn. It migrates from North Africa and the Mediterranean to Britain and Europe in May and June, occasionally reaching Iceland,[8] and from the Red Sea basin, via Israel and Cyprus, to Turkey in March and April. The occasional autumn migration made by V. cardui is likely for the inspection of resource changes; it consists of a round trip from Europe to Africa.

 

For decades, naturalists have debated whether the offspring of these immigrants ever make a southwards return migration. Research suggests that British painted ladies do undertake an autumn migration, making 14,500 km (9,000 mi) round trip from tropical Africa to the Arctic Circle in a series of steps by up to six successive generations. The Radar Entomology Unit at Rothamsted Research provided evidence that autumn migrations take place at high altitude, which explains why these migrations are seldom witnessed. In recent years, thanks to the activity of The Worldwide Painted Lady Migration citizen science project, led by the Barcelona-based Institute of Evolutionary Biology (Catalan: Institut de Biologia Evolutiva), the huge range of migration has begun to be revealed. For example, some butterflies migrated from Iceland to the Sahara desert, and even further south.

 

V. cardui is known for its distinct migratory behaviour. In California, they are usually seen flying from north to north-west. These migrations appear to be partially initiated by heavy winter rains in the desert where rainfall controls the growth of larval food plants. In March 2019, after heavy rain produced an abundance of vegetation in the deserts, Southern California saw these butterflies migrating by the millions across the state.

 

Similarly, heavier than usual rain during the 2018-2019 winter seems to have been the cause of the extraordinarily large migration observed in Israel at the end of March, estimated at a billion individual butterflies. Painted lady migration patterns are highly erratic and they do not migrate every year. Some evidence suggests that global climatic events, such as el Niño, may affect the migratory behaviour of the painted lady butterflies, causing large-scale migrations. The first noticeable wave of migration in eastern Ukraine was noted in the 20s of April 2019. From May 15, numbers began to grow and it was possible to observe hundreds of this species in the Kharkiv region of Ukraine, including in the city streets of Kharkiv.

 

Based on experimental data, the painted lady's migration pattern in northern Europe apparently does not follow a strict north-west heading. The range of headings suggests that migrating butterflies may adjust their migration patterns in response to local topographical features and weather, such as strong wind patterns. Laboratory-raised autumn-generation painted lady butterflies were able to distinguish a southern orientation for a return migration path. According to the same laboratory-based study, when butterflies were isolated from the sun, they were unable to orient themselves in a specific direction, opposed to those that did have access to the sun. This suggests that V. cardui requires a direct view of the sky, implying the use of a solar compass to orient its migratory direction and maintain a straight flight path.

 

Mating behaviour in relation to migration

V. cardui displays a unique system of continuous mating, throughout all seasons, including the winter. This may be attributed to its migratory patterns, thus significantly affecting its mating behaviour. During European migrations, the butterflies immediately begin to mate and lay eggs upon arrival in the Mediterranean in the spring, starting in late May. In the United States, painted lady butterflies migrating towards the north experience poor mating conditions, and many butterflies have limited breeding capabilities. The "local adult generation" develops during this time, roughly from the middle of May through early June in conjunction with the butterfly progression throughout their flight.

 

During its migratory process, these painted lady butterflies start breeding, and reproduce entirely throughout their migration. Scientists have not been able to find evidence of their overwintering; this may be because they migrate to warmer locations to survive and reproduce. Female painted lady butterflies may suspend their flight temporarily when they are "ready to oviposit"; this allows them the opportunity to continually reproduce throughout their migrations. Because these butterflies are constantly migrating, male butterflies are thought to lack consistent territory. Instead of requiring territory to mate with females and developing evolutionary behaviour to defend this territory, the mating butterflies appear to establish a particular "time and place" in certain locations that they find to be suitable for reproduction. More specifically, they locate certain perches, hilltops, forest-meadow edges, or other landmarks where they will stay until, presumably, a female arrives to mate.

 

Equally important for the reproduction of the painted lady butterflies is the males' exhibition of polygynous mating behaviour, in which they often mate with more than one female. This is important for painted lady butterflies because the benefits may supersede the costs of polygyny since no permanent breeding ground is used. Upon mating, which typically occurs in the afternoon, female painted lady butterflies lay eggs one by one in their desired breeding locations. The variety of eclosion locations ultimately dictates the male painted lady behaviour.

 

Female painted lady butterflies have been observed to have a relatively "high biotic potential", meaning they each produce large numbers of offspring. This perpetual influx of reproduction may be a reason why these painted lady butterflies have propagated so successfully. One interesting aspect that scientists have observed is that these butterflies like to fly towards rain. Further studies have suggested that the large amounts of rainfall may somehow "activate more eggs or induce better larval development". Inhabited locations begin to observe a large influx of new generations of painted lady butterflies in the fall, particularly in September and October. Their reproductive success declines relatively throughout the winter, primarily through November. However, they still continue to reproduce—an aspect of butterfly behaviour that is quite unique. Scientists hypothesize that these extensive migratory patterns help the painted lady butterflies find suitable conditions for breeding, thus offering a possible reason as to why these butterflies mate continuously.

 

Oviposition

Adult butterflies feed on flower nectar and aphid honeydew. Females oviposit on plants with nectar immediately available for the adults even if it leads to high mortality of the larvae. This lack of discrimination indicates they do not take into account volatile chemicals released from potential host plants when searching for oviposition choices.

 

The availability of adult resources dictates a preference for specific areas of flowers. Flowers with more available nectar result in a larger number of eggs deposited on the plants. This reinforces the idea that the painted lady butterfly does not discriminate host plants and chooses mainly on the availability of adult food sources even if it increases the mortality rate of the offspring. The data also suggest that the painted lady butterfly favors quantity of offspring over quality.

 

Vision

Painted lady butterflies have a visual system that resembles that of a honey bee. Adult V. cardui eyes contain ultraviolet, blue, and green opsins. Unlike other butterflies, such as the monarch or red postman butterflies, painted ladies lack red receptors, which means that they are not sensitive to red light. Behavioral studies on the related species, Vanessa atalanta, have demonstrated that V. atalanta cannot distinguish yellow light from orange light or orange light from red light.

 

Roosting behaviour and territory

Groups of two to eight painted lady butterflies have been observed to fly in circles around each other for about one to five seconds before separating, symbolizing courtship. Groups of butterflies usually will not fly more than 4.5 m away from the starting point. To establish and defend their territories, adult males perch in the late afternoon in areas where females are most likely to appear. Once the male spots a female of the same species, he begins pursuit of her. If the foreign butterfly is a male, the original male will give chase, flying vertically for a few feet before returning to his perch.

 

V. cardui establishes territories within areas sheltered by hedgerows. Vanessa cardui tend to inhabit sunny, brightly lit, open environments and are often attracted to open areas of flowers and clovers. Adults spend time in small depressions in the ground on overcast days.

 

Host plants

Larvae feed on Asteraceae species, including Cirsium, Carduus, Centaurea, Arctium, Onopordum, Helianthus, and Artemisia.

 

The painted lady uses over 300 recorded host plants according to the HOSTS database.

 

Defence mechanisms

The main defence mechanisms of painted lady butterflies include flight and camouflage. The caterpillars hide in small silk nests on top of leaves from their main predators that include wasps, spiders, ants, and birds.

 

Human interaction

Vanessa cardui and other painted lady species are bred in schools for educational purposes and used for butterfly releases at hospices, memorial events, and weddings.

- www.kevin-palmer.com - Many colorful wildflowers were blooming at the start of the Heart Mountain Trail. From here it was 4 miles to the summit.

Well, if this lovely brass ornament were on my building, I would polish it faithfully too.

 

Montevideo, Uruguay.

Immediately after jumping...

View Large On Black

 

Taken on Monday just after Roche Rock- in the same IR, high contrast BW style. I have always wanted to shoot these in IR as they look so alien and IR can only add to this. I got there an there was a rainbow over the whole of the Eden site but it had gone by the time I got to this spot. Still this was the shot I was after- maybe less solid cloud would have been better but I like the way iy came out.

 

This the Eden project for those of you not familiar with the biomes. The far biome houses a rainforest (with ridiculously huge plants- this shot does not convey how vast they are) and the near biome is home to temperate and mediterranean plants (and a load of robins which are ridiculously tame and I guess don't bother to migrate!).

 

Horrible weather today- hoping it will be better tomo as I finish at 4 (and if I'm really lucky big black stormy clouds but dry)

 

Nikon D40, 18-55, Hoya R72 IR filter, f/18 and exp = 30 sec

Base: ELF Bubble Gum Pink

Pattern: Konad IP M57, Color Club Where's the Soiree

Tips: Essence Rock'n'Roll

 

nihrida.blogspot.com

on black

Churchill, Manitoba.

Minolta XE-7, Ilford FP5

 

Image ©Philip Krayna, BoxxCarr, all rights reserved. This image is not in the public domain. Please contact me for permission to download, license, reproduce, or otherwise use this image, or to just say "hello". I value your input and comments. See more at www.boxxcarr.com.

Old russian submarine degaussing base in northern Estonia.

Wunstorf Air Base

Αὐτοκράτορι Τραιανῷ

Ἁδριανῷ Καίσαρι

Σεβαστῷ Ὀλυμπίῳ

Σωτῆρι καὶ κτίστῃ

 

epigraphy.packhum.org/text/288774?bookid=709&location...

2024_10_08_IMG_4435

Based on a tip, I went looking for my first Cape May Warbler at the Opal day use area along Hwy 40 in Kananaskis. I started to think I wouldn't find it and was about to leave when it showed itself. Another new bird to add to the list.

Base jumping in Moab, UT.

West Bromwich based 2939 is repainted in the new Timesaver Blue/Red/Silver Livery which became the new Timesaver livery in 1989. All West Bromwich vechiles was painted in this livery. By 1991 a new Timesaver French/Gold Livery. This Livery became Standard for WMT in 1990 slight differnce was the red band brought up slighley to Middle by Indicator lights.

 

LIFE OF BUS 2939

 

New to West Bromwich Garage November 1986

Transferred to Walsall May 1990

Transferred to Perry Barr November 1992

Transferred to Hockley December 1994

Transferred to Walsall June 1995

Withdrawn October 2003 (Low Bridge whilst Woking Route 951)

Converted to Open top & re-instsated to Hockley March 2004

Withdrawn December 2006

Sold

Exported to Spain

  

Location: West Bromwich Bus Station

June 1989

WB

Samyang 12mm f2

Waterloo Bridge

 

Thanks for all the views, please check out my other photos and albums.

 

Valencia, Spain.

Turn of a Friendly Card

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

Based on a true adventures of a rogue active in the waning years of the 1930’s as discovered in the criminal archives of Chatwick University.

 

Act 1

I begin my tale in the present…

 

That afternoon a soiree was given as part of the purchase price of the tickets for the annual Autumn Charity Ball to be presented later that evening at the manor’s great house. Since I was alone, I just went mainly for the free food and to rub my elbows with the wealthy guests who would be in happy attendance there, and at the Ball. I was alone, but certainly not bored. There was a game I enjoyed playing to pass the time at these affairs that entailed scoping out by their dress and day jewels worn, those ladies whom would be most likely to be wearing the better costumes and sparklers that evening. It often proved to be a most beneficial insight into the actions and mannerisms of the very rich. I walked amongst the cheerful guests, eying one here ( a lady in satin and pearls) and another there( a high spirited girl with a diamond pin at the throat of her frilly silken blouse). It was as I was passing the latter that the friend she had been talking too (dressed like a vamp), bumped up against me. I caught her, steadying her as they both giggled. I didn’t mind, for the lassie’s too tight satin sheath tea dress had been an enticement to hold, and the gold bracelet that had been dangling from her gloved wrist had been a pleasure to observe. I kissed her gloved hand, rings glittering, as I apologized gallantly for my clumsiness. Her eyes were bright, almost as bright as the twin necklaces of gold that hung swaying down pleasantly from between her ample bosom. I left them, moving on to greener pastures, and it was very green, all of it….

 

It was then that I detected another pretty lassie. It was her long fiery red hair with falling wispy curls that first captured my attention. She was wearing a fetchingly smart white chiffon party dress that commanded me to acquire a closer examination. She appeared to be a blithe spirit, seemingly content with just being by herself and roaming about with casual elegance, the extensive grounds of the manor proper. I began to discreetly follow her at a distance. Although she did not wear any jewelry, her manner and the eloquent way she moved is what attracted me the most. It would be very interesting to seek her out later that evening and she what she would have chosen to decorate herself with. I followed her as she sojourned into the depths of a traditional English garden with a maze of lushly green trimmed 8 foot high hedges

 

As I strolled through the hedgerows in her wake I allowed my mind to wander its own course. Suddenly I straightened up, my reverie broken by an epiphany of sorts. I allowed myself to grin and the lady whose enchantment I was swollen up in, at that moment turned, and seeing my beaming smile assumed it was for her and gave me a rather cute nod of her head. I answered in same, as I headed en route to a nearby stone garden bench to allow my thoughts to think through themselves.

 

But before I go on, allow me the pleasure to sojourn and reminisce about an incident that occurred several years prior:

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

I was still working unaided in those days, travelling on to a new next quest that would take me just outside of Surrey.

I had just purchased my train ticket and had seen my luggage safe on board when I decided to rest in the lounge, it being some 45 minutes before allowed to enter personally aboard. Being so early the lounge was almost deserted, only one other occupant. I assumed she was waiting for someone on an incoming train due to the fact she carried no luggage. She was obviously well off, well dressed in satins and lace, and her jewels shone magnificently in the dim lights. Especially one of her rings, noticeably lying loosely around a finger, it sparkled with an expensive brilliance. I had seen one like it in a tiffanies store, worth almost 250 pounds. But she did not appreciate the show her jewelry was putting on under the lounge lights, for she was fast asleep.

 

I circled around her, aiming for a seat next to her, eyeing her and her possessions carefully. I noticed her purse had fallen off her lap and lay on the floor. An idea popped into my head, and I picked the purse up, and looked around carefully, before placing my plan into action. But I was thwarted as an older, matronly lady was spotted heading our way. I slipped the purse into my jacket and moved off before I was noticed. Of course she came in and took the empty seat across form the sleeping princess, and soon busied herself with knitting. As the older lady had sat down, not quietly, the wealthy lady stirred waking up at the noise. I went into a corner and sat, waiting. The two ladies soon fell into conversation; the minute’s ticked by excruciatingly slow. Soon I noticed we even had more company.

He was a lad of only fourteen, but with a devilish look about him that marked him a kindred spirit to meself, and his quick eyes were darting about taking it all in as he stood outside the paned glass window.

 

It was as the first announcement of boarding the train that I saw a chance for opportunity to strike.

The older lady folded up her knitting and clinching her bag, bid adieu to her new friend,( befuddled a little by the old ladies constant stream of gossip), and headed to the train. I was twenty steps ahead of her and was standing behind the youth as she left the lounge. I tapped him on the shoulder; he looked around at me suspiciously, and then caught sight of the shilling I was holding in front of his nose. I quickly whispered a few words into his ear on how he could earn it, and his grin spread as he bought into my story. I still held onto the shilling as he darted around and inside the lounge. I watched as he ran up behind the lady, circling her, then running in front of her he tripped over her leg, as she helped him up, her hand with the ring reaching down, he turned and spat onto the wrist and sleeve of that hand, than standing he ran away. Running alongside me, I handed him the shilling in passing as he ran off, disappearing in to the street.

 

I went inside and approached the astonished lady, as she was looking for her purse to get a handkerchief, confused as to its absence, while she held up her soiled hand( ring glittering furiously) in utter disbelief. I approached, catching her attention by the soothing words I uttered to her. I took her hand, unbelieving with her at just had happened, and I as I apologized for the youth of today I produced my own silk handkerchief and starting with her silky sleeve, began to wipe it off, continuing my tirade of displeasure and contempt at what had just occurred to the dear lady as I did so. As I finishing wiping her down, ending with her warm slender fingers, I kissed them, just as the last boarding announcement came over (perfect timing!) I let her go, explaining that I must catch my train. I turned and without looking back made the train just as it was letting off steam before chugging off.

 

I gained my private carriage just as the train began to lurch away. It wasn’t until after the train began its journey that I casually removed my silk handkerchief from my pocket and unwrapped it carefully, admiring up close the shimmering, valuable tiffany ring that was lying inside. I pocketed it, and then remembered the purse. I took it out and examined its contents: coin and notes equaling a handsome amount, a gold (gilded) case, embroidered lacy handkerchief, small silver flask of perfume, and ( of all things)a large shimmering prism , like one that would have dangled from a fancy crystal chandelier. A prism?, I questioned with interest as I examined it. It was pretty thing, about the circumference of a cricket ball, but shaped like a pendulum, it shimmered and glittered like the most precious of jewels. Why she had it in her purse? I couldn’t guess, and I saw no value in it, so I pocketed it and allowed it to leave my mind.

 

As I settled into my seat I began to think of the lad I had just met, I had been right on the money as far as his eagerness for mischief. Actually he reminded me of myself at that age, and I wondered if that lad with the shifty eyes would also turn out to follow the same course I had explored.

 

Which Begs the question, what had I turned out to become. And since I’m still reminiscing

I’ll give little background material about me, hopefully I don’t come across as being too conceited about my self-taught skills..

 

I had never been one to take the hard road, and even at a young age I was always looking for angles, or short cuts to make some money.

Once, while watching for some time a street magician and his acts. I observed a pick pocket working the crowd. He approached a pair of well-dressed ladies in shiny clothes, and standing behind them bided his time and then lifted a small pouch from one velvet purse, and a fat wallet from a silken one, then he moved on. Now both ladies were wearing shiny bracelets, one with jewels. I thought that he could have realized a greater profit if he had nicked one or both of the bracelets first, than try for the contents of their purses. The bracelets’ alone would have realized a far greater profit than what he lifted from their purses. It further occurred to me that by mimicking some of the sleight of hand tricks and misdirection that the magician was using on his audience, it could be accomplished. A hand placed on the right shoulder and as the lady turned right, whisk off the bracelet from her left wrist, and excuse oneself, that sort of thing.

 

So, I practiced (on my sisters, who proved to be willing accomplices to “my game”) and learned to pick their purses and pockets. I than moved onto their jewelry, starting by lifting bracelets and slipping away rings, before advancing to the brooches, necklaces and earrings they were wearing. After I was satisfied at my skill level, I went out and worked the streets. Sometimes using my one sister who was also hooked on what I was doing as a willing partner.

But I found myself still not being satisfied, in the back of my mind I thought there had to be a more lucrative way to turn a profit.

 

I’d found my answer when an attractive lady in a rustling satin gown zeroed in on me while I was “visiting” a ballroom. She was jeweled like a princess right up to the diamond band she wore holding up her piles of soft locks like a glimmering crown. The more she drank, the closer she got and I decided that her necklace would definitely help pay my expenses more than the contents of her purse (although I had already lifted the fat wallet from her small purse), and I did have very expensive tastes to pay for. So I took her onto the dance floor.

 

I was amazed at how easily I had been able to open the necklace’s clasp , slipping it over her satiny shoulder, lifting it off and placing it safely in my pocket with almost no effort. Then she decided to be playful once the song ended and brushed up against me. She felt the necklace in my pocket and before I could act she had her hand in and pulled it out.

 

The silly naive twit thought I was teasing her and told me that for my penance I had to go up to her suite in order to put it back on for her. I kept up the charade as best as I could.

 

And that’s where we ended up. A little bit of light fondling began as I placed the necklace back around her throat. I began to tease her, plied her with more and more alcohol as I tried to keep my distance, and virginity. Finally she passed out in a drunken stupor, but not before I had learned where she hid her valuables by suggesting she should lock her jewels up for the night..

 

With her safely unconscious, I began to strip her clean off all her jewels, reclaiming the necklace first. Then I visited all her jewelry casket and began looting it. I even took her small rhinestone clutch with the diamond clasp; of course I already had liberated its small wallet.

 

When I’d left her lying happily asleep in bed, still in her satin gown( the only item left to her that shined), I knew I had found a much more profitable line of “work”

 

So I began making circuits around to the haunts of the very rich, I still kept may hand in pickpocketing, so to speak, but centered only on those “pockets” containing mainly jewelry. I also began to carefully explore new ways of acquiring jewels” in masse”, so to speak.

 

Soon I had accumulated many tricks and tools, having them at my disposal to put into action once required, and for the remaining years up till the present had managed to live quite comfortably off of the ill-gotten gains using them allowed me to acquire.

 

Which brings me back to the train ride, my prism, and the rest of my background story before I retun to the present tale. Please be patient.

*****

So, anyway, I reached Surry without any further incident and disembarking, made my way out to the large country house where I would be staying to take a short rest, vacation if you will. But, pardon the play on words, for there is never any rest for the wicked, is there?

 

I had become acquainted with a servant of the old mansion ( almost a small castle, really) , that was about a mile off. I managed to learn a great deal, and soon found myself, on the pretense of visiting her, exploring the grounds. There was to be a grand ball taking place a couple of weekends away , and the maid had filled my ears with the riches that would be displayed by the multitude of regal ladies making an appearance. I began to think about trying to make a little bit of profit from my vacation. I am not sure how the idea developed, but the prism that I still had in my possession, came up centrally into my plans.

 

Late on the evening of the regal affair, I snuck over, covered head to toe in black, with my small satchel off tools by my side. I set up a candle behind an old stone ivy covered wall in a far corner of the rather large and intricate English garden that surrounded the inner circle around the mansion. I than strung the jewel-like prism in front of it. Standing behind the wall, I would strike the prism with a long stick I was holding whenever I observed sparkles emanating from silkily gowned ladies walking in the distance, solitary or in pairs. The prism would flash fire, sort of like a showy lure being used when fishing in a crooked trout stream. Only I was fishing for far sweeter game than trout. My objective was to trick certain types of jeweled ladies (scatterbrains some may call them) by luring them down onto the path beyond the wall, using their natural curiosity to my advantage.

 

I had at least two strikes rise up to my lure in the second hour.

On was a pretty lady in flowing green satin number, decorated with plenty of emeralds, which, hidden in the shadows, I observed were probably paste. I let her wonder about; as she looked and played with the shiny toy, remaining hidden until she grew bored and wandered off.

The second was a slender maiden wearing a long sleek black gown with long ivory silk gloves. I had never before seen a lady so decked out in jewels, literally head to toe. With the exception of the rhinestones adorning her heels, the rest of the lot was real, so valuably real that I could feel my mouth salivating at the thoughts of acquiring her riches. Now in Edwardian times only older, married ladies would be allowed the privilege of wearing a diamond Tiara. But in these modern times, it had become culturally acceptable for any well-to do lady, single or otherwise, to wear one out in society. Even so, they were still rarely worn, and seldom seen outside the safety of large gatherings. But there it was, a small, delicately slender piece of intricate art that glistened from the top of her head like some elegant beacon. That piece alone was probably worth more than I had made all the last four months combined!

I began to skirt around in the shadows, placing myself in position to cut off her retreat. Her diamonds blazed as she approached, eyeing the swinging prism with total concentration. Which was unfortunate, because as I was about to leave the shadows, she walked into the thorns of a rose bush, screeching out, and attracting the notice of a pair of gentlemen who had just crossed the path quite a ways off, called out when they heard the commotion. She started to become chatty with them, obviously coming on to her rescuers, my prism all but forgotten. Than before I knew it, in a swishing of her long gown, she was gone, “swimming” off before I was able to set me ”hook”.

 

Which I was able to do on the third strike, almost an hour later, just as I was beginning to ponder wither I should call it off and head back home..

 

They were a pair of young damsels in their young twenties. They may have been sisters, or cousins at the least. I still remember how my heart leapt into my throat as they observed my colourful prism and turned down the old flagstone path. I had not seen anyone out and about for some time, so I knew they would be no would be rescuers around to come to their aid

And, best of all, they were both dressed for the kill!

One, the blonde, was clad in a black velvet number that one could cannily describe as quite form fitting. As were the small ropes of pearls that hung from all points of interest, pretty with a matching pricelessness.

But her cousin, as I will refer to her, out shone black velvet quite literally.

This one, a stunning raven haired beauty, wore a long streaming gown of liquid ivory satin. A diamond brooch sparkled as it held up a fold of the gown to her waist. The fold allowed her to show a rather daring amount of a slender bare calf. The brooch was not paste, but a real jewel that had been added for the nights festivities ( To be successful, one learns to read these signs accurately) Her ears and neckline were home to a matching set of pure white diamonds. A wide diamond bracelet graced a bare right wrist ,so she must be left handed I instinctively thought, an observation that would have aided me if I were planning on having a go for slipping the bracelet from her wrist, but tonight I was planning a much more daring attempt to empty the entire jewel casket, so to speak.

 

They went to the prism, playing with it a bit, I had begun to circle around, when I noticed black velvet pointing out with multiple ringed fingers, to something further down the path past the wall.

 

With a clicking of heels I let the pair pass, they apparently wanted to see what was on the other side of the wall. I followed; it was not hard, because the necklace the raven haired one wore, diamonds fully encircling her throat, rippled and sparkled from their perch, caught in the full harvest moon’s cast, giving me more than enough light to shadow them quietly .

 

After a while they caught on that something/someone was following them, but as they turned they could see nothing. I was in black, and hooded, invisible to them in the shadows of the trees. They whispered amongst themselves, now worried, realizing that there were dangers lurking beyond the pale, in their case, the safety of the gardens , especially for ones decked out as they were. They then turned and headed right back from where they had come, right into my waiting arms.

 

It is interesting what good breeding does for young, poised ladies. For, as I stepped out of the shadows, a finger of my right hand to my lips, my Fairborn in my left hand, its black blade glinting wickedly in the moonlight , they did not scream out or shout for help. Instead the pair merely let out small gasps, and then they both, in a quite charming synchronized display of disbelief, place each one hand over their open mouths, and the other upon their perspective necklaces.

 

And as I flourished my wicked looking Fairbairn–Sykes blade in their direction, they unquestioningly reached around and undid those pretty necklaces, tremblingly handing them out to me, like actresses following a well-read script. I took the little pretties and after stuffing them into my satchel, held out again my free hand, my fingers beckoning. Not a word was spoken between us, as the frightened pair of young ladies began removing their shimmering jewels and added them in a neat little growing pile along my open palm. The raven haired girl even undid her brooch without me having to command her to do so. Once I had stashed it all away, I motioned for them to turn back around, than with a little helpful prodding on my part, they began moving forward back down the hill, away from the garden. The one in white hobbling a little now as she kept tripping over the hem of her dress, now no longer held up by the stolen brooch.

 

After we had traveled about 200 meters I had them stop, and take off their high heels. Then picking the pretty things up, I motioned them to turn back around and made them walk back the way we had come in their bare feet, watching the pair awkwardly hobble barefooted down the wooded path. They would be quite a while on their journey back, allowing me more than ample time to make me escape. I threw their shoes off to the side and went briskly the other way, reaching the place was staying at , gaining my room without notice. But not before I had hidden the jewels inside an old stump to retrieve them at a later date. I never really heard so much as a whisper of the incident, other than from the pretty lips of my friendly maiden. The wee hours of the morning before my early departure for the train station found me revisiting the stump and retrieving my satchel and its precious cargo. After hiding it all in a false bottom of my case I laid my head on the pillow and drifted off to sleep as I wondered what had happened to the little prism, marveling at how useful it had ended up proving to be.

 

So, how does this story (journey rather) relate to the one I had already started? Please read on, and enrich your curiosity… my dear readers.

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Act 2

 

So, with apologies for my lengthy elucidation, but I now return you back to the garden party I was now attending on that warm fall day. But, as you will see, my prism story needed to be told in order to add a bit of flavor to what was about to unfold.

 

As I sat on the garden bench I formulated my plans. I should be able to acquire the main piece tonight at the Ball, I would have time this afternoon to retrieve my ever handy satchel and its array of tools and have it hidden at the spot I had already selected. It was perfect, located at the end of the path I had found, or rather the charming lady in the smart chiffon dress had found for me. A gas lamp would provide adequate light for my “lure”, and it led to a back wood where I could lead any victims away and liberate them of their valuables before making my escape. I rose, just enough time to walk my escape route, before setting up and then be dressed for the evening’s festivities. I looked around, I was alone now, my lady in white had disappeared, following her own course, whatever it may have been.

 

The Autumn Ball that evening was in full swing by the time I arrived. Being a cool fall day, most of the women were wearing long gowns and dresses, and that, for whatever the reason, usually meant they were decked out with more layers of jewelry than say , if it had been the middle of summer. In order to put my plan in action I need and intrinsic piece of the trap, a prism. The one I had once had was long ago lost, a minor pawn in a game to take a pair of princesses.

 

I knew exactly the type of prism required for my plan, and so began mingling amongst the guests with that in mind.

 

I started out by walking through to the chamber like ballroom where a full orchestra was starting to play. The first person I saw from the garden party was the little tramp who had been wearing the too tight satin tea dress. That dress had been replaced with a long silky gown, her gold jewelry replaced with emeralds; including a thin bracelet that had taken the place of the gold one that she had so obligingly dangled in my larcenous path. I decided to avoid her In principle, and in doing so spied someone quite interesting.

 

That someone was a pretty lady in a long velvet gown standing off to one side, idly watching the many dancers out on the floor. The dancing couples were forming an imagery of a rainbow coloured sea of slinky swirling gowns and with erupting fireworks of sparkling jewels, ignited by pair of immensely large chandeliers that hung over the dance floor, setting them off. I made my way, skirting the dance floor to reach her, my eyes on her jewels, which were making pretty fireworks of their own. I happened to walk up just as a waiter with a tray of drinks was passing by. Plucking off a drink I offered it to the lady with one hand, my other hand placed on her back as If to steady myself. She laughed prettily, and taking the drink I met her eyes, as she was focused on reaching and holding the glass in her slippery gloved hand, mine was on the ruby and diamond necklace. My hand behind her had flicked open the simple hook and eye clasp of the antique piece and was in the process of lifting it up and whisking it away from her throat. As I said a few words to her, I pocketed it, while also taking in the rest of her lovely figure and its shiny decorations, before biding adieu. She smiled, her pale bare neckline now quite glaringly extinguished of its fire.

 

It was about an hour later, after spotting, but unable to make inroads with several likely candidates, that I finally struck gold (figuratively). It came in the form of a young couple arguing between themselves in a far corner of the chamber. She was lecturing a rather handsome man in a tux, her jeweled fingers flying in his face. If she hadn’t been moving about in such an animated fashion as she lectured, I may not have even noticed her. But as it happened I did, especially noticeable was the sanctimonious lady’s wide jeweled bracelet that was bursting out in a rainbow of colorful flickers as her hand was emphatically waving, as her long gown of silk swished around with every movement she made. Perfect. I watched for a bit, and sure enough they moved off, the man heading for the patio leading outside, the wealthy girl following him, still giving him lashes with her tongue. I moved and managed to have her bump into me simply by stepping on the hemline of her long gown. For a few seconds I was the one on the receiving end of her wrath, but I took it like a man, I could see in the eyes of her tongue lashed husband, that he was grateful for the respite. I was also grateful; grateful for the quite wide, very shimmering, bracelet that I had removed from her wrist and now was residing in my pocket.

 

I began to leave the patio, but was stopped by a matronly lady in ruffles, laces and pearls, her breath heavy with alcohol. She started to question me on what the couple had been on about. Then without waiting for an answer she launched herself into a tirade of her own, her gem encrusted, silken gloved fingers, waving in my face for emphasis. It was almost ten minutes before I was able to make my escape. Which I did, but not before slipping off one of the lecturing ladies vulgarly large cocktail rings.

 

I headed onto the patio; the time was getting ripe for my plan, which I was now ready to put into motion, now having acquired its most essential piece. I went to the end of the large patio, weaving in and out of the by now well liquored guests whom had assembled there. Across the way I saw a lady tripping over her own gown. By the time I reached her she had fallen down, giggling merrily. Two of us rushed to her aid, she was busy gushed her thanks to the rescuer she knew, while ignoring the one she didn’t! Which was unfortunate on her part, for by ignoring me, she also was ignorant of the fact that I was busy lifting the small stands of black pearls from her wrist. I left unnoticed, much like a shadow fading out of the light, or at least that’s how it seemed. Finally I reached the patios outer edge without further incident, or gain. I went on the grass and turned a corner with the intention of going, post haste around the house to reach the gardens by the long way, hoping not to be seen by anyone. But I no sooner turned the corner, when I realized that it was not to be the case.

 

It was my blithe spirit in white chiffon from the garden party, pardon me, soiree. She was unescorted, looking up at the moon above a stone turret with one lit window, so intently that my presence had not been noticed. I had been absolutely correct in my observation of her as far as what she would be wearing for the evening. For what she had lacked in ornaments at the soiree, she had more than made up for in the evening festivities. She was absolutely gorgeous, resplendent in as beautiful a silvery satin gown that I had ever witness. It was just pouring down, shimmering along her delightful figure. Her long blazing red hair was still curling down and free, but now a pair of long chandelier earrings cascading down from her earlobes, were peeking out every now and then as they swayed with her every movement. Her blazingly rippling necklace was all diamonds, dripping down the front of her tightly satin covered bosom, twinkling iridescently like an intensively glimmering waterfall. Her slender gloved wrists were home to a pair of dangling diamond bracelets that were almost outshone by her many glistening rings. All in all she was quite a lure all too herself

 

I came up to her, starling her from her reverie. Taking up her hand, I looked into her startled, suddenly blushing face. I complimented her on the fine gown she wore. She thanked me, and I could see I that she suddenly remembered she me as the chap who she thought smiled to her in the garden. She seemed to accept my compliment quite readily. I chanced it( although Lord knows I was short on time) and asked her to a dance. I did not think she would agree, so it was with a little bit of surprise, hoping she would politely decline and walk off, leaving me free to go about my business unobserved. But she accepted, and I will admit that my heart leapt as she agreed (although in the back of my mind I knew I should be off if my plan was to work). The music had stopped so we made small talk as we slowly walked back to the ballroom. Her name was Katrina. It seems she was waiting for someone, which suited my plans, but he was late and so she had time. Which may have sounded dismissive, but from the apologetic way she said it, it was anything but the sort.

 

The orchestra started to tune back up as we entered, and taking her offered hand up, was soon lost in the elegance of my appealing partner. It was a long dance, and a formal one, but I could tell she was subtly anxious to be off on her meeting, as I was to be off to my own adventure. But Katrina did not really allow it to show, which was very uncharacteristic of her someone with her obvious breeding. So I was ready when the by the end of the music she begged her condolences and took flight. I watched her as she fluidly moved away, her jewels sparkling, all of them. On her mission to meet Mr. X I thought, for whom I was already harboring a quite jealous dislike. I should be off I thought to meself.

 

But I stood, still as stone; totally mesmerized by the way Katrina’s swirling silvery satin gown was playing out along her petite, jewel sparkling figure. It wasn’t till the last of her gown swished around a corner out of sight that I moved, but not without having to shake my head to clear the thoughts of her out of it. Well old son, focus. For by now the guests were starting to wander a bit afield in the waning hours of the Autumn Ball, and my small window of opportunity was closing fast. If my little plan was going to have any chance of success it would have to be now.

 

I walked out and made my way to one of the outside exist of the garden wall. Reaching into my pocket as I did so, fingering the bracelet, now cold, that had belonged to the quarrelsome lady,and soon would be playing another role, far from one its former mistress would ever have dreamed off. I also felt my new acquisition, still warm from my dance partner’s body. I will admit that I had felt a twinge of regret for taking it from a lady I had found to be most charmingly captivating. But slipping off the diamonds up and away from her throat had been as temptingly easy as it had been automatic. I had advantageously made use of the sleekness of her scintillatingly silky gown, and with the distractions created by the movements of the dance, successfully managed to keep Katrina’s attention safely diverted from the reality of why my fingers were ever so gently, caressingly sliding along her slippery gowns neckline. The truth was I had originally placed my hand there because it had felt so right, and I was a little startled when my fingers had subconsciously started playing with her necklaces clasp. Before I knew it, they had flicked open the gemstone clasp of her obviously expensive diamond necklace, and had lifted up. As I watched out of the corner of my eye, almost like I was a spectator, as opposed to being the perpetrator, I saw the chain move up and over her shoulder; its diamonds sparkling with is as the necklace disappeared from view behind her back.

It was a favored technique that I had perfected to the point that by this stage of my career I nearly always acquired my objective. But, as odd as it sounds, I was not happy with myself on this occasion.

 

But I did not long dwell on my mixed feelings on taking the charming lass’s diamonds, for by now I had reached my place of ambush. It was in one of the farthest reaches of the garden, at a bend on the end of a long path that, with a gas lamp at its beginning just off the patio, would allow me to see from some distance off. Behind me was a break in the hedge wide enough for a person to walk through comfortably. It was here, off a tree limb, underneath a second ornate cast iron gas lamp, which was now lit, that I hung the shimmering bracelet that I had sought out and acquired for just that reason

 

I walked around and saw that it could be seen flickered off in the distance from the woods, Perfect! Earlier I had hidden my satchel with a hood and knife and bit of rope in the hollow of an old tree. I now retrieved them, and after getting ready, found my position and waited. At 10 minutes past the first hour of my wait, with nary a single glimpse of anyone, I started to fidget. My corner may be just a bit too desolated I was beginning to admit to myself. It seemed that most of the guests were staying by the patio. I was starting to think that I should pack it in, possibly rejoining the guests for one last parting( of someone from her Jewelry). I was just reaching down to pick up my satchel when I suddenly saw something flash under the gas lamp at the beginning of the path, and my senses immediately perked up. I watched as the wisps of rich shimmery satin moved closer, I stiffened, drooling with anticipation, the game was afoot.

  

I could see clearly the flickering jewels she wore, and by their blazing sparkles of rippling fire, I knew that my long vigil would not have been in vain. As the lady drew I recognized her gown of silvery satin! I knew who was making those tantalizing flashes of appealing treasures. Katrina!

 

I watched as she approached, in all her glittering elegance. My heart and conscious was in turmoil, but I knew I probably would not get a second chance. I could not let her get away unscathed. Beside, from the shock of being confronted with a masked scoundrel wielding a wicked blade, she would be in no shape to recognize her assailant. She stopped, apprehensively looking back towards the bright lights of the Manor, Then turning back I saw she had a self-satisfied smile creeping upon her face. She reached up, and undoing her hair, shook it down, curls of softness cascading down, hanging loosely down. It was as she performed this provocative act, that I saw her eyes open wide in curiosity; she had spied my pretty little “prism”. The charming fish was hooked.

 

I waited, watching her approaching ever closer to fate, and from my concealment, I basked in her glow. My heart beating fast, my adrenaline pumping, for the remaining jewels (I thought of her necklace in my custody) that she possessed I already had witnessed were quite valuable. She passed my hiding spot and went to the hanging, shimmering object. As she reached up, looking around, she failed to see me approaching in the shadows. I came up from behind, jabbing a finger in her back as I reached her, I gruffly in no uncertain terms, snarled for her to freeze and make no sound. She stiffened under my touch, but made no move or outcry. I went around; pointing my knife in her direction, looking into her sad doe wide eyes as she realized what was going to happen next. She was trembling; from fear I guessed, and knew I had her right where I wanted. As I made my demands upon her, gimme them jewels sister, she, not surprisingly, was very compliant in giving them up to me. She reached for her necklace last, and looked entirely shocked to find her throat bare, as she searched the neckline of her gown I saw her look into my hand, now dripping with her precious jewelry, almost as if to see if she had not already removed it. She looked apologetically into my eyes, startled; almost pleading that she didn’t know what had happened to it. I just played dump. She than spoke for the first time, sir, may I ask to keep my purse? Her words would have instantly melted even the coldest chunk of ice, I looked down at the little silvery clutch hanging from her arm on its rhinestone chain, I nodded, indicating that she could, and saw relief wash over her face. I told her she now needed to turn around and walk off into the woods ahead of me. She hesitated, and I told her no harm would befall her, I had no intentions along those lines.

 

About 5 meters in I stopped her, and had her remove her shoes, as she bent over to undo the high heels rhinestone clasps I watched her gown tightly outlining her figure. She tripped on the hem of her gown, and as she attempted to keep her balance, accidently let her purse slip off her shoulder. Without thinking I reached down to pick it up for her as she tried reached for it simultaneously

 

The small purse was far heavier than it should have been. Curious I opened it, finding that it contained a rather extensive array of mismatched jewelry, glittering in unbelievably expensive fire . I looked into Katrina’s horror struck eyes dumb founded, as she looked guiltily into mine. The gig was up. The jewels belonged to the lady of the manor, my muse in silver was a thief, a female version of me very self.

 

Aye, what’s this than luv? I questioned her as she looked into my eyes, hers large with a mixture of fright and disbelief. She melted before me, fainting, I caught her in my arms, and it was no ruse. I held her as she came to, holding her warm, silky figure lovingly to mine. I did not know what to think. Nor could I ever explain what possessed me to do what I did next. As she came to, her eyes opened, and I removed my mask, looking back into them deeply.

 

Oh, she gasped, I’m glad it was you, startled that she had said the words out loud. She than started to coyly blushes, quite demurely. Something sparked in me, and unless she was an incredibly good actress, it did also for Katrina. Our eyes both looked into the others, melting away in the lust of the moment. We embraced, deeply, and I held her squirming warm slick figure tight in my enveloping arms. I looked over her shoulder, eyeing the glistening bracelet hanging from its branch. To catch a thief, the thought suddenly opened in my mind, what a great title for a novel I thought to myself, as I buried my nose into Katrina’s luxuriously soft hair.

 

We talked for a bit, walking off into the woods, then she looked into my eyes again, a coy, look that melted me on the spot, and that was the end of it, we embraced again, and wholly gave ourselves to one another. What about your man I asked suddenly remembering, my man she questioned , than oh, you mean the Lord, I was waiting for him to come down from smoking in his tower study, that’s where the lady’s jewels are kept. She broke into an Irish brogue as she said the last bit, and that I guessed was her natural tongue. she laid a hand on the side of my face, thanks for being jealous though, me lad.

I should collect my lure I said, which made her smile; it was such an enticing smile at that. We started to head back and watched as it dangled in front of us flickering. With a far off look in her green eyes, Katrina spoke as if in deep though.

 

The daughter of the house, she has a bracelet on like the one you have dangling, a bracelet of diamonds that I had taken a fancy to, wishing it had been in the safe along with the rest of the ladies of manors jewelry. I knew who she was talking about. The one in green taffeta I asked? Aye lad, that’s the one. Actually her necklace would be just as easy, and worth more I said. Just then her bright green eyes gleamed, Give me about a half an hour, she told me, we will put your little lure to use again. She noticed my hesitation, don’t worry luv she said soothingly placing a gloved hand to my cheek, no longer was it sparkly with its stolen bracelet and rings. I’ll leave my purse with you, can’t very well be carrying it around now can I? I nodded my consent, my mind burning with the thoughts she had alluringly placed there.

  

She turned, and then hesitated; turning back she said I probably should not go back in naked luv. I smiled, reaching in I pulled out her necklace and placed it around her throat. With a little gasp she blurted, so it was you, I was wondering who and when it had happened. It’s not the first time I’ve had me jewels lifted, but it’s a bloody annoyance to have to let them get away with it, crawls under my skin to have pretend not to notice so that I don’t draw any attention to me self before making my move to steal the posh ones jewels.

 

But you, mister, I never felt as much as a prickling. I was ready to assume my pretties had been a victim of a broken clasp this time. I gave a little nod in acceptance. That wasn’t exactly a compliment lad, she said in what I hopped was a subtle jest. Just last summer some clumsy bugger slipped of me earrings, my favorite pearls, as we were danc… she stopped, seeing the guilt in my eyes. Men! As thieves you are all of the same skin she spat out angrily, or attempted to sound angry, for the look in her eyes to me she wasn’t. I best be off, before I change me mind about out little endeavor.

 

With that she swirled around on her heels, and started off, but not before turning and giving me an extremely coy look of interest. As she swirled back around I heard her say loud enough for my ears, I’ll learn me self to be a picker of pockets, see how males like to be taken advantage of in their vulnerabilities! She nodded to herself as she said it. Then suddenly she stopped, than twirled on her heels, her gown swirling enticingly along her figure. Looking me dead in the eye she said, “Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie” !

 

What does that mean? I questioned in a low voice, perplexed.

 

Maybe, Mon Cheri, someday I will tell you… And with that she turned on her heel, her gown once again swirling about, and went, determinedly, swishing her way back up the path. I just watched. I had never heard anyone speak French with an Irish Brogue and I had found it to be rather provocative!

 

I watched as she swished and swayed her way back through the hedge and regained the path leading back to the manor. Her plan was simple; she would lead the daughter of the house to my corner and as she had done, go out with her to look at the swinging charm. I would then make my appearance, rob both ladies of their finery, and telling the daughter to wait until I released her friend, walk off with Katrina as a hostage, and we would both take off and make good our escape. A simple plan, so simple it should actually work.

 

So, there I was. Holding a purse with a small fortune in jewels, my pocket full of more jewels worth an additional pretty farthing, and her charms were wearing off by her leaving. And my thieving nature coming back, reawakened from the spell they had been under!

 

The devil of my conscious crept out on my shoulder, the angel markedly absent from the other.

 

Look mate, she may not be all she seems, and possibly has some other game in mind. Maybe she does have a male confidante helping her out… and was actually on her way to fetch him. He said in my inner ear. And, after all, you took her diamonds twice, didn’t ye now? Do you really think shell forgive you of that me lad?

 

And there is no honor amongst thieves, as the saying goes, he added as a closing argument...

 

I rolled it over in my mind…I could leave, absconding with it all, book a cruise to the states or down under where there lay untried fertile grounds to ply my trade. Not to mention working over my fellow passengers aboard the cruise ship while they attended the fancy affairs that were always going on, or so the brochures always seemed to show……

 

Then In the distance I caught a wisp of Katrina’s long silvery gown. She was coming, and not only with the daughter of the manor, but also with a spare. For I could see a purple coloured gown swishing alongside with the prey in rustling green taffeta.. I watched as all three ladies, resplendent with the rippling fiery gems they all possessed, came up the path, gowns sweeping out , shimmery from the now misty distance.

 

The thought of making my escape with all the loot continued to haunt me, there was still time now to take off without notice, or I could rob all three, and leave with purple silk as my hostage, Katrina would not be able to say anything on chance of giving up her part of the game, or I could just be a good lad and sty with the script that Katrina had written. Take a chance, roll the dice and believe that she was all she had me believing she could ever be.

 

As they came closer I knew my time was running out. The thoughts of just looking out for myself kept coming up playing the devil with my conscience as the precious seconds ticked away…

 

No honor amongst thieves…

What will it be, old boy I challenged myself,

What will you have it be?........

To see what his decision ultimately was, and the eventual path it led to, see the album question answered)

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Life is not about waiting out the storm, but about learning to dance in the rain.

Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie .

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Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives

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DISCLAIMER

All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents

 

The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.

 

No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.

 

These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only, and should never be attempted in real life.

We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website.

 

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"The richest man in the world couldn't have bought our Antarctic sunset tonight..."

 

- A. Kumar

 

Credits: ESA/IPEV/PNRA - A. Kumar

Today, surplus U.S. military planes are stored in the largest airplane boneyard in the world, operated by the 309th Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Group AMARG at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Tucson, Arizona

JOINT BASE PEARL HARBOR-HICKAM (Dec. 23, 2024) A Sailor throws a heaving line as the Virginia-class fast-attack submarine USS Montana (SSN 794) arrives at Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam during its change of homeport, Dec. 23, 2024. Montana is assigned to Submarine Squadron 1 and is capable of supporting various missions, including anti-submarine warfare, anti-surface ship warfare, strike warfare, and intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 1st Class Scott Barnes)

Taken at the falconry centre in Hagley, West Midlands.

Early morning at the Vancouver Seaplane Base on Sea Island.

Mercedes Ambulance, based on the W115/W114-Series Berline, designed by Paul Bracq, and introduced in Jan. 1968.

 

Production W115/W114 Series: Dec. 1967-1976.

Original Dutch reg. number: Summer 1975, but not officially registered anymore.

 

Found on the internet site of the Nationaal Ambulance- en Eerste Hulp Museum, Leiden.

See also: www.ambulancemuseum.com

Photographer unknown.

 

Leiden, Vondellaan, July 28, 2013.

 

© 2013 Nationaal Ambulance- en Eerste Hulp Museum/Sander Toonen Amsterdam | All Rights Reserved

This girl is based on the story of Midas, who wished that everything he touched would turn to gold. Warned of the consequences he persisted, and turned many of his possessions to gold. All went wrong when he touched his beloved daughter, and she too turned to gold.

 

Base doll is a wave 1 Cleo Denile. Her torso has been blushed and her forearms painted gold. He fingernails and toenails have been painted, and he love leg jointed have a very light spray of glitter.

 

Her gold eyes have glitter, as do her eyelids. Jewels adorn her forehead in the middle of rune inspired golden markings.

 

White flecks and transparent spirals decorate her cheeks, representing the sadness of Midas' daughter.

 

Lips are black matte with a golden stripe down the middle of the bottom lip.

 

Included is the doll as she is, along with the gold wrap.

 

Please FM me for details, or email me at hiritai@gmail.com.

A childhood dream come true: This is the Moon Base I would have loved to have when I was a kid: 9×3 baseplates filled with stations, vehicles and spaceships.

 

8/20: A walk around (5/6)

Custom made lego hoth base from the imperial side

Stagecoach Cumbria & North Lancashire's Kendal-based "The Lakes Connection" branded Dennis Trident 2/Alexander Enviro 400MMC 10555 (SN16 ONX) is pictured here alongside similar Stagecoach Manchester Ashton-based Dennis Trident 2/Alexander Enviro 400MMC 10580 (SN16 OTV) in the yard of Stagecoach Carlisle's Willowholme Depot, Carlisle, whilst on display during the Stagecoach Cumbria & North Lancashire Annual Family Open Day event. 27/05/17

 

Stagecoach Manchester Ashton-based Dennis Trident 2/Alexander Enviro 400MMC 10580 (SN16 OTV) is seen showing "We ❤ MCR" on its destination display. This display has been adopted by a number of the bus operators in Greater Manchester as a mark of respect for those lost their lives or were injured during a terror attack at the Ariana Grande concert at the Manchester which occurred on Monday 22nd May 2017.

  

Stagecoach Cumbria & North Lancashire celebrated its 22nd annual family open day in Carlisle on Saturday 27th May 2017. The event offers the opportunity to explore behind the scenes at one of the North West's biggest depots between 10am - 4pm, and see a variety of historic buses, both past and present.

 

Refreshment stalls were on-site, offering a range of hot and cold drinks, snacks and ice cream. Inside the workshop area there were stalls trading in transport related items; although aimed at transport enthusiast, they will be of general interest to all.

 

For younger visitors there was stalls with toys and models, the opportunity to get their photo taken with their name in lights on the front of a bus, and rides through the bus wash too!

The story you're about to read is based on a real event. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. Locations have been changed to protect the curious.

 

Blues In the Night

 

"But I've been planning this hike for a month," Teddi complained, plopping on her sofa beside Seth, who was applying polish to his toenails.

 

"Dearest heart, land lightly!" Seth cautioned her. 'There is art in progress."

 

"I am so sorry, baby girl. You know I'd rather be in the woods with you, but I can't get off," Erebus apologized again.

 

"And that sentence, taken out of context, sounds so stalker-adjacent," remarked Seth conversationally, blowing on his toes.

 

"Seth, be a man and volunteer to go with me in Erebus' place," Teddi ordered Seth.

 

"Definitely a man, definitely not going with you on your freaky forest tour," Seth declined. "These feet are for delicate nibbles, not monster chomps."

 

"There aren't any monsters in Dash Point," argued Teddi.

 

"Then why are they dashing around, if you get my point?" countered Seth. "Besides, I have a date. Why do you think I'm primping?"

 

"You've always got a date," Teddi debated. "Why can't you pass on this one?"

 

"Because 1, I will not be tart-shamed and 2, I don't wanna. I will not be dragged by my frillies into some terrifying near-death experience, again." Seth held up a hand when Teddi began to open her mouth. "End of conversation."

 

Erebus leaned over the couch, kissing Teddi's cheek. "Next weekend, baby girl, even if I have to call out sick, okay?"

 

"Okay," she agreed, watching him leave her apartment. Then, her eyes fell on Seth. "Well, if nobody's going to go hiking with me, I'm going to a movie. So, pack up your toes and go back to your place."

 

"But, I'm still drying," Seth complained, waving at his feet. "I'll just lock up when I leave, okay?"

 

"I should say, no, but okay," Teddi elbowed him. "You suck for being such a baby. I'm going to bring you back a souvenir binky."

 

Ignoring Seth making "baby sucking on binky" noises after her, Teddi grabbed her purse, keys, and swept out of the cozy apartment. Once she was inside her little Isa Cabrio she looked in the rear view mirror, smiling at all the camping supplies she'd loaded earlier, in anticipation of the overnight hike with Erebus.

 

"Who needs boys?" she asked herself, slipping on her large, pink sunglasses. "Girl power!" And she drove out of the parking lot, heading for the Dash Point Coastal Trail, Cyndi Lauper singing about girls wanting to have fun, on the radio.

 

The trail was everything Teddi hoped for; deep woods on one side, the roar of the Pacific on the other side, and wide, smooth trails that didn't tax her as she packed in. And, as a bonus, portable toilets every hundred yards or so, none of them close enough to the campsites to make them smelly, but near enough for a midnight run.

 

As the long afternoon wore on to early evening, she began looking for campsite. Other hikers had the same idea, many already setting up their various tents and kindling fires in the designated pits. She observed that AmazeOne must have had a sale on blue tents, because almost every other campsite that was occupied seemed to have an identical, blue-domed tent.

 

Eventually, she found a small site on the inland woods side of the trail rather than the strand of trees separating the trail from the ocean. While she wanted to camp on the ocean side, she decided the strong winds might rattle around her tent enough to disturb her sleep, so she opted for a tidy little spot just big enough for tiny, inflatable pink tent, and a cozy fire, setting up for the night.

 

After a dinner of PB&J sandwiches and water, Teddi snuggled into her tent to listen to an old, Sherlock Holmes radio play. Pausing the play for a moment, she unzipped the breathable mesh doorway to check on the status of the fire, planning to bank it for the night. A blue glow caught her eye and she could make out the hump of another of the dome tents she'd already spotted, possibly 3 campsites away from hers. Lit from within by a moderately powerful lantern, the tent looked like a fat, radioactive sapphire. Banking the embers of her fire, she scooted back inside her tent for some more of Holmes and Watson, but received a call from Erebus.

 

Teddi: Hello?

Erebus: Sorry I ruined your plans for today.

Teddi: Don't worry about it. We can hike next week. (she was grinning because that would make TWO hikes in a row! win-win)

Erebus: Want me to drop by? I can bring pizza.

Teddi: I already ate, and I'm actually in bed. Probably be asleep soon.

Erebus: On a weekend? You feeling okay?

Teddi: Just being lazy, y'know.

Erebus: Well, you have sweet dreams, baby girl. Call me tomorrow?

Teddi: As soon as I get home. (she clapped a hand over her mouth)

Erebus: Home?

Teddi: Yeah, from dreamland. (she giggled) Talk to you tomorrow.

Erebus: Good night, goofy.

 

The call disconnected, Teddi fell back on her blanket with a loud sigh. "You are SO bad at lying," she scolded herself.

 

She unzipped the door again, peeking out at her fire. The embers were red, dimming under ashes, and she threw a glance toward the tent, noting the light was out now. Oddly, with the light out, it looked as if the tent was closer, maybe 2 campsites from her. She shrugged at the trick of the light, zipping in again, settling back for some more radio mystery.

 

Teddi woke, surprised, because she didn't realize she'd dozed off. Holmes and Watson were silent, the radio play having ended, and she had her system set to ask if it should continue, just in case she fell asleep, so her battery wasn't wasted. Yawning mightily, she considered rolling over and going back to sleep, but she reminded herself to check the embers so she crawled out of the tent, stretching and taking a deep lungful of ocean air -- and holding it.

 

There was a tent in the campsite beside hers, separated by a fallen log sporting a nursery of huckleberry bushes.

 

She slowly exhaled, surprised that the late arrivals hadn't awakened her earlier. She checked the embers, and they were buried deep under ash, slowly dying. She covered them with more ash, just to be sure they didn't spark. Since she was up anyway, Teddi grabbed her flashlight and walked down the path to the portable toilet, gratified to find it clean, and ocean-breeze-scrubbed of lingering odors. Returning to her campsite, she slowed, realizing that the tent in the space next to her was one of the blue domed ones, which wasn't odd, but the tent that had occupied the farther space was gone.

 

Careful not to shine the light on the tent, so she didn't disturb the occupant, she walked back to her tent wondering if the tent in the space beside her was a new arrival, or if the people in the farther site simply moved closer to her. But why would they do that? She supposed there could be a number of reasons, the ground might be uneven in the other spots, and that was supposing that these weren't entirely different campers. But if they were, where had the others gone?

 

She shrugged it off, crawling back inside her tent, zipping the flap and settling back onto her blanket and inflatable pillow, hand laying on her purse. She wasn't particularly worried about the tent next door, it was just odd, but there were a lot of campers in the area so it wasn't as if somebody could get away with any antics. She was about to close her eyes and let the booming of the ocean lull her to sleep when -- something bumped her tent.

 

She sat up, listening. The ocean's roar permeated the air, so it was difficult to hear smaller sounds, like footsteps, or twigs breaking, that kind of thing, but she was sure that something outside the tent just bumped into it from the front side. Her right hand inside her purse, she used her left hand to slowly unzip the flap, but before it was even halfway open her eyes widened. Everything was blue! She quickly realized that a blue domed tent was sitting right up against her tent! It was either the side or the back of the tent since there was no opening.

 

"What the Woodsy Owl?" she exclaimed.

 

A light came on inside the blue tent, shining on the wall separating Teddi from whoever was inside the other tent. The silhouette of hands appeared, pressing against the plastic, seeming to reach for Teddi. At the same time, a strange sort of moaning came from the tent, low, almost plaintive, as if whatever made the noise wanted something, badly. She'd had enough.

 

"Hey, Blue Tent Boy, I want you to listen very closely. Can you identify this sound?" Teddi's right hand came out of her purse with a handgun, and she flipped off the safety, chambering a round. "What you just heard is the sound of a SIG-Sauer P232 .380 ready to fire." The light inside the tent went out, and the moaning stopped. "I am going to close the zipper on my tent, now. And in 30 seconds I'm going to open it again. If you are outside my tent, I will start shooting. If you are in any of the campsites near me, I will start shooting. I have several magazines with me, and I do not mind wasting ammo because I will shoot until I hit something. Closing my zipper, now. 30 seconds, and counting."

 

Teddi waited, watching the time on her phone, hearing nothing outside her tent beyond the crash of the ocean waves. When the time was up, she slowly unzipped the flap, prepared to start shooting, as promised.

 

The tent was gone.

 

Climbing out of her tent with her handgun and a flashlight, she scanned the area around her. The spaces near her were empty, the woods seemed unoccupied, and when she went out to the trail, shining her light in both directions, nothing moved.

 

"Huh," she observed, immediately breaking camp, packing up, and hiking out of the area, reaching her car as the sun rose.

 

"What is the first rule of hiking?" asked Erebus, after Teddi told him the story.

 

They were sitting on the deck outside her apartment, sipping sodas.

 

"Don't hike alone," she replied. "But you guys totally bailed on me."

 

He waggled a finger at her. "Ah, ah, ah. First rule?"

 

Teddi gave an exaggerated sigh. "Don't hike alone."

 

"And what do you have to do to make up for that, and for lying to me?"

 

"Homecooked meals for one week," she grumbled.

 

"Mama just loves it when you come to dinner." Erebus grinned, leaning back on the lounger.

 

"She pinches my cheeks," Teddi groused.

 

"My mama cooks like an award winning chef. Her meals aren't the punishment," Erebus clarified.

 

"My poor cheeks," Teddi sighed, ignoring Erebus' smirk.

  

(Thank you to Erebus and Seth for agreeing to be jerks who abandoned me -giggles- and special thanks to Bailey for the super cute camping clothes, hair, and pose.)

+++ DISCLAIMER +++

Nothing you see here is real, even though the conversion or the presented background story might be based on historical facts. BEWARE!

  

Some background:

During Operation Barbarossa, the Panzer Divisions were once again spearheading the German advance, as in the previous year in the West. Initially, the lightly protected Soviet early tanks (like the BT series and the T-26) proved to be easy prey for the advancing German Panzers. However, the Panzer crews were shocked to discover that their guns were mostly ineffective against the armor of the newer T-34, the KV-1 and KV-2. German infantry units also discovered that their 3.7 cm PaK 36 anti-tank towed guns were of little use against these. The stronger 5 cm PaK 38 towed anti-tank gun was only effective at shorter distances and it had not been produced in great numbers by that time. Luckily for the Germans, the new Soviets tanks were immature designs, plagued by inexperienced crews, a lack of spare parts, ammunition and poor operational use. Nevertheless, they played a significant role in slowing down and eventually stopping the German assault in late 1941. In North Africa, the Germans also faced increasing numbers of Matilda tanks which also proved to be hard to knock out.

 

The experience gained during the first year of the invasion of the Soviet Union raised a red alert in the highest German military circles. One possible solution to this problem was the introduction of the new Rheinmetall 7.5 cm PaK 40 anti-tank gun. It was first issued in very limited numbers at the end of 1941. It became the standard German anti-tank gun used until the end of the war, with some 20,000 guns being built. It was an excellent anti-tank gun, able to penetrate 87 mm of hardened steel at a 60° angle at 1.000 m (3.000 ft) with a muzzle velocity of 990 m/s – enough to knock out the armor of the Soviet KV-1 tank at 500 meters, and at 1.500m the gun was still able to penetrate up to 77 mm of armor, enough to eliminate most Allied medium tanks like the M4 Sherman. Maximum engagement range was 1,800 metres (5,906 ft) and the PaK 40 had an indirect range of 7,678 metres (25,190 ft) with a HE shell. A trained crew was able to fire 14 rounds per minute and more.

However, despite these impressive figures, the main problem with the PaK40 as a mobile field weapon was its heavy weight of 1,425 kilograms (3,138 lb), making it somewhat difficult to deploy and hard to manhandle. This also made it hard to adapt the weapon to existing battle tank designs: it was too large for the Panzer III turret and its narrow chassis that did not allow a bigger turret, but the adaptation to the slightly bigger Panzer IV as 7.5 cm KwK 40 succeeded. The gun was even adapted to aerial platforms as the BK 7,5 in the Henschel Hs 129B-3 and the Junkers Ju 88P-1 ground attack aircraft.

 

The solution to this mobility and deployment problem was to mount the PaK 40 on available tank chassis', creating SPGs. These new Panzerjäger (literally meaning “tank hunter”) vehicles all followed the same pattern: most were open-topped adaptations of not-so-state-of-the-art-anymore tanks, with a fixed gun with limited traverse in the hull, and with only thin armor. Notwithstanding these limitations, they were armed with an effective anti-tank gun, and usually with one machine gun for self-defense. Another beneficial factor: they were cheap and easy to build, and lent outdated vehicles a second frontline life. Panzerjägers were, in essence, improvised and temporary solutions, but effective, nevertheless. They were designed to engage enemy tanks at long ranges on open fields, or from well-hidden positions, usually on the flanks, with frequent changes of the location to avoid enemy fire. This mentality led to a series of such specialized German vehicles, all running under the family handle “Marder” (marten) that was developed using many different armored vehicles as a basis, including captured French armored vehicles (Marder I), the light Panzer II tank chassis (Marder II), the Czech LT vz.38 tank (Marder III) and, finally, the medium Panzer III (Marder IV).

 

The Marder IV, officially known as SdKfz. 144 'Panzerjäger III fuer 7.5 cm PaK 40/2', was the last member of the light Panzerjäger family, and it was designed as a lighter and cheaper alternative to the fully armored Sturmgeschütz III (Sd.Kfz.142), which had been introduced in early 1940 as an infantry support vehicle. By 1942 it had evolved into a capable assault gun and tank hunter, thanks to its new, long-barreled 7.5 cm StuK 40 L/43 gun (which actually was a development of the PaK 40). More than 10.000 StuG III SPGs were newly produced, but a small number (around 300) were converted between November 1943 and June 1944 from damaged and refurbished Panzer III battle tanks.

However, since this parallel production of the same vehicle was rather inefficient, the conversion line at MIAG gradually switched in early 1944 to the much simpler Marder IV. It had been developed in the meantime by Alkett as a successor for the Marder I and II SPGs, which suffered from many technical and tactical weaknesses. The Marder IV prototype was built by mid-September 1943, and on 20th October 1943 it was presented to the OKH. The vehicle proved to be satisfactory and thus was immediately adopted for production.

 

Even though the Marder IV still followed the earlier light tank hunter pattern with an open and just lightly armored superstructure that only gave inadequate protection for the crew, it was assumed that the stronger Panzer III chassis could better cope with the heavy 7.5 cm PaK 40 anti-tank gun and the vehicle’s relatively high center of gravity that frequently overstressed the earlier Marder I & IIs’ running gear.

Like the former Marder creations, the conversion was straightforward and followed the Marder II's pattern: the Panzer III battle tank basis lost the turret and the whole crew compartment was opened to provide the gun and the crew of four with more space. The engine remained the same and located in the chassis’ rear end, with the powertrain running all through the hull to the front under a fairing. Since the Marder IV was lighter than the Panzer III, the gear ratio was slightly altered, resulting in a higher top speed. However, the drive shaft in the lower combat compartment resulted in a relatively high position of the gun mount and consequently in a tall silhouette that made the Marder IV hard to conceal and an easy prey to enemy infantry, once detected. The boxy superstructure had slightly sloped armor at the front and at the sides (30 mm at the front, 11 mm elsewhere), which only protected against small arms fire or shrapnel. It was not suited against heavier weapons – but the Marder IV would try to avoid these, anyway. The new superstructure was widened at its base, so that ammunition racks and other equipment could be stored on both sides of the gun. The driver kept his original position and sights on the left side of the hull, the commander was typically standing behind him, and gunner and loader operated the main weapon at the rear of the compartment. In the front armor was an opening for the PaK 40 that was slightly offset to the right, where it replaced the former radio/machine gun operator position. The opening was protected by a square armor shield, 50 mm strong, and a machine gun could be mounted on top of the front glacis plate, operated by the commander against ground and aerial targets. This weapon was without any further protection, though, but many crews improvised armored shields, e.g. salvaged from StuG III or IV vehicles. The crew compartment's top remained open and the rear plate featured a double door for ease of boarding and re-supplying. A tarpaulin could be mounted to offer the a limited degree of protection against rain.

 

Beyond the enlarged combat compartment, the hull remained unchanged. The ammunition supply for the gun was thirty-two rounds – a weakness that the Marder IV inherited from its predecessors and limited its combat effectiveness. Some of the vehicles received additional, bolted-on 30 mm armor plates on the front, or simply retained them from their former Panzer III lives. 5 mm (0.20 in) Panzerschürzen spaced armor to protect the vehicle’s flanks and running gear could be mounted, too, but they were rarely fitted because they were short in supply and easily lost in the heat of battle.

 

The Marder IV just arrived after the breakout from Normandy at the end of July 1944 and the Allied landings in southern France in August 1944, when Allied forces advanced towards Germany more quickly than anticipated. The Marder IV was also used during the ‘Battle of the Bulge’ in the Ardennes in December of the same year. Units at the Eastern front received the Marder IV, too, and the type fought in frontline units until mid-1945. A total of 255 vehicles were produced until then, twenty of them were delivered to Hungarian forces. Some of the final production vehicles apparently had their PaK 40 replaced with a 8.8 cm Raketenwerfer 43 (also known as "Puppchen"), a reusable anti-tank rocket launcher that was much lighter and compact than the anti-tank gun.

However, the range of its missile, the RPzB. Gr. 4312, was very limited. Maximum range was just 750m, with an effective range of just 30 m (750 ft) against a moving target) and 500 m (1,600 ft) againts a stationary target. Coming that close into a firing position with the vehicle against an enemy battle tank was unlikely, if not suicidal, and most probably these Marder IVs were rather used as observation and command vehicles than as tank hunters. The number of these vehicles is uncertain, though, but probably less than 30 had been produced and delivered to frontline units until the end of the war.

  

Specifications:

Crew: Five (commander, gunner, loader, driver, radio-operator)

Weight: 18.5 tonnes

Length: 5.56 m (18 ft 3 in), hull only

6,62 m (21 ft 8 1/2 in) overall

Width: 2.90 m (9 ft 6 in)

Height: 2.46 m (8 ft 1/2 in)

Suspension: Torsion bar

Fuel capacity: 300 litres

 

Armor:

15 – 50 mm (0.6 – 1.97 in), sometimes up-armored to 80 mm at the front

 

Performance:

Maximum road speed: 48 km/h (30 mph)

Off-road speed: 28 km/h (18 mph)

Operational range: 185 km (115 mi) on roads with internal fuel

100 km (62 mi) off-road

Power/weight: 16.21 PS (11.92 kW)/tonne

 

Engine:

Maybach HL120 TRM water-cooled 12-cylinder gasoline engine with 300 PS (296 hp, 220 kW),

combined with a Maybach OG 55 11 77 semi-automatic transmission

 

Armament:

1× 75 mm (2.95 in) 7.5 cm PaK 40/2 L/48 anti-tank gun with thirty-two rounds

1× 7.92 mm MG 34 or 42 machine gun with 2.400 rounds

  

The kit and its assembly:

This project was the result of a surplus 1:72 Revell Flakpanzer III "Ostwind" kit that I had in my stash after I had used the gun and the octagonal turret for a Panther conversion with twin 3.7 cm FlaK guns in an open turret. And even though the Ostwind kit was still buildable as a standard Panzer III (it includes a complete standard turret), I wanted to create something whiffy from it. An SPG was a serious option, maybe a tank hunter (since there was, apart from the StuG III with the long gun no such vehicle on this chassis), and then I remembered the Marder family of converted, outdated tanks - all of them had open superstructures, though and were only lightly armored, for hit.and-run tactics.

 

But I accepted this challenge and the plan was to mount a PaK 40 on the Panzer III chassis, with a new, scratched superstructure. The gun came from an Italeri set with infantry weapons, which also includes a 37 mm Pak and a quadruple 20 mm anti-aircraft gun. Initially I wanted to use the PaK 40's shield and build the combat compartment around it, but that soon turned out to be too complex, so that the gun just fired through a hole in the font plate, protected by an externa shield left over from an Elefant SPAAG (Trumpeter kit). The rest was inspired by the cabin of the Marder III (Ausf. H), with sloped side walls that widened the combat section beyond the lower hull between the tracks. Unlike the Marder III, however, the Panzer III offered enough space to mount a rear wall, offering better crew protection.

 

Work started with the lower hull, with a raised floor (above the torsion bar suspension), new side walls and a tunnel for the cardan shaft from the engine to the driver wheels at the front - which seriously eats up lots of space and prevents a low mounting position for the main gun! Then the floors of the alcoves left and right were added and the side walls mounted to them. The front was the final challenge - after the gun position had been decided, I tried to build the front armore from segments around the necessary opening, which tunred out to be more complex than expected. But the Elefant front panel came to the rescue, I just had to cut the gun barrel to mount the matching shield and finally attach it to the gun inside of the hull.

 

The rest from the kit was taken OOB, I just added a driver seat inside and replaced the original segmented plastic tracks with aftermarket Panzer III/IV vinyl tracks from CMK - they match perfectly and are much easier to mount than a zillion of single track links that never look right...

  

Painting and markings:

Straightforward, following official regulations and inspired by a Wespe SPG with a similar camouflage concept: an overall countershading, with a Dunkelgelb (RAL 7928, Huimbrol 83 "Ochre") base and Olivgrün (RAL 6003, I used Humbrol 159 because it is slightly lighter than the recommended 86) mottles that become denser and denser the higher they are placed on the hull, with a "clean" running gear area (which provides shadow contrasts that break the vehicles outlines by themselves) and an almost exclusively green top of the superstructure. The visible interior remained Dunkelgelb, though.

 

Markings were minimal, and after securing the decals (taken from the OOBH sheet, the tactical code comes from a Hasegawa tank) with acrlyic varnish the model received a treatment with watercolors, a mix of umbra, burnt sienna and black that makes a great coat of dust and dirt at the small 1:72 scale. To break up the outlines even more I also added some camouflage nets to the superstructure - simple gauze bandage, drenched with olive green, dark brown and beige acrylic paint and mounted into place - and some branches - dry moss that was dyed with watercolors. Finally, after the painted vinyl tracks (with grey, brown and iron acrylic paint) had been mounted, the lower areas of the model were dusted with mineral artist pigments to simulate more dust.

  

It does not look complex, but this small Marder derivative was quite a challenge with its scratched superstructure and the implanted PaK 40, which remained visible and even movable! The result looks very plausible, though - a really subtle whif model.

Cekis,Faust,Sure,Baser,chefpants

Ford based Moss Monaco British sports car on Bristols historic harbour side on a summer's day.

 

Taken with a Nikon D90

the "colored" bricks will be covered up don't worry aha but i am not able to yet i need to receive my brick link first then back to building(:

Off da Bacardi goldd of course

Go North East's Saltmeadows-based "QuayLink" branded Optare Versa V1110/Optare 8316 (NK10 GOJ), which also sports the name "Thomas Berwick", is pictured here at Gateshead Transport Interchange, Gateshead, whilst working "QuayLink" service Q1 to Central Station. 28/12/14

 

Following funding withdrawals from Newcastle City Council and Gateshead Council, the future of the "QuayLink" services (which Go North East operates under contract to Nexus) was unknown. It has recently been announced that Go North East has stepped in to save the "QuayLink", and, from 26th July 2015, will operate the services commercially. It is believed that the services will be altered to fit in with the company's existing network of services, meaning that the frequency of the current QuayLink services is likely to decrease.

A VOSA registration confirms that service 'Q3' will also operate from this date, and it is believed that this service will replace "Great Park & Ride" service X40. Although Go North East gained the Great Park X40 contract as articulated vehicles could be allocated, the Scania L94UA/Wright Solar Fusion vehicles have become rather unreliable in their old age, leading to breakdowns and normal rigid vehicles being allocated on an almost daily basis. It is therefore thought that service Q2 will operate with a 20-minute frequency, and it will interwork with the new Q3 service to provide newer, more reliable vehicles, on service X40.

 

The "QuayLink" services are currently allocated Optare Versa vehicles. Go North East currently has a sizeable fleet of 59 Optare Versa vehicles, varying in length. Three examples are pictured here: 8316 is one of nine Optare Versa V1110 variants, featuring Next Stop Announcements. The unidentified "Orbit" branded example is also a Optare Versa V1110 variant, featuring the more modern style of bodywork, and the unidentified "Citylink" branded example is a Optare Versa V1170 variant, featuring Next Stop Announcements and free Wi-Fi.