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Berlin, captured in a brilliant light shown display in a blacked out warehouse called "Dark Matter". this was shot in really low red light and converted to monochrome as befits this sort of candid photography.
Agorà Antica - Tempio di Efesto.
Efesto era il dio protettore della lavorazione dei metalli, dell'artigianato e del fuoco.
C'erano numerose botteghe di vasai e officine per la lavorazione dei metalli nelle vicinanze del tempio, come si addice al destinatario del tempio.
Le prove archeologiche suggeriscono che non esistevano edifici precedenti sul sito, ad eccezione di un piccolo santuario che fu bruciato durante la seconda invasione persiana della Grecia nel 480 a.C.
Ancient Agora - Temple of Hephaestus.
Hephaestus was the patron god of metalworking, craftsmanship and fire.
There were numerous potter's shops and metalworking workshops in the vicinity of the temple, as befits the recipient of the temple.
Archaeological evidence suggests that no previous buildings existed on the site, except for a small sanctuary that was burned during the second Persian invasion of Greece in 480 BC.
_MG_3481m
One that befits the title - as it was taken from a taxi on a motorway though a dirty window it doesn't hold up to scrutiny at full size, but the scene looks fab I think!
This is one of the many small churches that stand above the Inn valley in Tirol - the scope for landscape and building photography is amazing out there... if anyone is interested in a workshop out there I'd be glad to lead one next year! :)
a close view of 75014 on bradnop bank--as befits a one time stoke based engine it carries a stoke shed plate--wonder if it ever found itself here back in the day ?
A follow up to my previous image of the Hot pipe
www.flickr.com/photos/17469730@N00/52769911741/in/datetak...
I have made a very contrasty different image here which I think rather befits the weather on the day it was taken, today is much the same if not worse a very strong South Westerly wind with intermittent rain .
Saint Laurence’s Church was established as a place of worship when the Normans founded Ludlow in the late 11th century. It is situated in the centre of Ludlow on the hill around which the medieval town developed.
The church is the largest parish church in Shropshire. It was described as the "cathedral of the Marches" and is rated by Simon Jenkins as being one of the finest hundred churches in England. The tower is 135 feet high and commands excellent views of the town and surrounding countryside.
During the late Middle Ages Ludlow became a wealthy wool town, to befit this growing prosperity St Laurence's underwent several further additions. The major works occurred between 1433 and 1471 with a virtual re-building of the nave, tower and chancel elements. The tower took on a Perpendicular style which was fashionable in England in the 15th century.
Hier haben wir also nicht Herbie, sondern Julietta auf den Türen. Wie sich das für eine Frau gehört, ist sie von Blumen umrahmt.
de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ein_toller_K%C3%A4fer
Here we do not have Herbie, but Julietta on the doors. As befits for a woman, she is framed by flowers
Bury St Edmunds Cathedral for most of its existence was simply the parish church of St James until the foundation of the new diocese of St Edmundsbury in 1914 when it was raised to cathedral status, one of the many new dioceses formed in the early 20th century that elevated existing parish churches to diocesan rank rather than purpose building a new cathedral. Many of these 'parish church cathedrals' sit slightly awkwardly with their new status, lacking in the scale and grandeur that befits such a title, but of all of them Bury St Edmunds has been adapted to its new role the most successfully, with in my opinion the most beautiful results.
The medieval church consisted of the present nave, built in 1503-51 under master mason John Wastell, with an earlier chancel that was entirely rebuilt in 1711 and again in 1870. Originally it would have seemed a fairly minor building at the entrance to the monastic precinct, overshadowed by the enormous abbey church that once stood immediately behind it. The absence of this magnificent church since the Dissolution and the scant remains of this vast edifice always sully my visits here with a sense of grievous loss, had history been kinder it would have served as the cathedral here instead and likely be celebrated as one of the grandest in the country.
The church never had a tower of its own since the adjacent Norman tower of the Abbey gateway served the role of a detached campanile perfectly. It is an impressive piece of Romanesque architecture and one of the best preserved 12th century towers in the country.
Upon being raised to cathedral status in 1914 the building underwent no immediate structural changes but plans were made to consider how best to transform a fairly ordinary church into a worthy cathedral. This task was appointed to architect Stephen Dykes Bower and work began in 1959 to extend the building dramatically. Between 1963-1970 the entire Victorian chancel was demolished and replaced with a much grander vision of a lofty new choir and shallow transepts, remarkably all executed in traditional Gothic style in order to harmonize with the medieval nave. It is incredible to think that this was done in the 1960s, a period in which church and cathedral buildings were otherwise constructed in the most self consciously modern forms ever seen, with delicate neo-medieval masonry in place of brick and concrete.
The new crossing of transepts and choir however remained crowned by the stump of a tower for the remainder of the century as funds were not available to finish Dykes Bower's complete vision of a lantern tower over the crossing: this was only realised at the beginning of the 21st century, aided by a legacy left in the architect's will and some subtle design changes under his successor as architect Hugh Matthews. The transformation from church to cathedral was finally completed in 2005 with most satisfactory results. A stunning fan-vault was installed within the new tower in 2010, an exquisite finishing touch.
Whilst it isn't a large building by cathedral standards its newer parts do much to give it the shape and dignity of one. This is especially apparent within, where the cruciform eastern limb draws the eye. The interior is enlivened by much colour, with the ceilings of Dykes Bower's choir and transepts adorned with rich displays of stencilling, whilst the nave ceiling (a Victorian replacement for the medieval one) was redecorated in similarly lively colours in the 1980s which helps to unify the old and new parts of the church.
Few fittings or features remain from the medieval period, most of the furnishings being Victorian or more recent, but one window in the south aisle retains a rich display of early 16th century stained glass, very much Renaissance in style. The remaining glass is nearly all Victorian, some of the windows in the new choir having been transferred from the previous chancel.
St Edmundsbury Cathedral is not filled with the monuments and fittings that make other great churches so rewarding to linger in but it is a real architectural delight and cannot fail to uplift the spirit.
Doré’s incomparable imagination befits Coleridge’s poem about a cursed sailor and his journey on a haunted ship to Antarctica, a voyage that he alone survives. The first depicts the Ancient Mariner amid the eerie aftermath of his encounter with a ghost ship crewed by Death. The second captures the moment when the curse is lifted and the ship lurches forward with unexpected force., knocking the sailor over and causing him to fall into a trance.
This car was seen kerbside during a local walk.
I did not like the Allegro during it's production years but age and rarity have worked magic and it quite like it now. As befits a car of this period the paintwork is in finished in gastroenteritis brown (I bought a Reliant Robin in this colour, my wife christened it...) I still think they looked silly as a Panda car finished in baby blue with white doors and an oversize blue pimple on the roof.
The car is a 1300 Austin Allegro, it was new in June 1979.
Copyright Geoff Dowling: All rights reserved
En este palacio el arte nazarí alcanza su máximo esplendor, en el que se alcanza una belleza de una sensibilidad y armonía incomparables, donde la luz, el agua, el colorido, la decoración exquisita, convierte a este palacio en una maravilloso placer para los sentidos, en el que se deja atrás el periodo anterior de decoraciones más abstractas y geométricas para dar paso a un estilo más naturalista, sin duda influjo de lo cristiano, acrecentado por la amistad que mantuvieron Mohamed V y Pedro I, el Cruel, por aquel entonces monarca cristiano.
Historia del monumento
Cuando Mohamed V sucedió a su padre Yusuf I (1377), no se limitó a terminar las reformas que éste había comenzado, sino que comenzó a construir lo que sería su gran obra, el magnífico legado que nos dejó en la Alhambra: el Palacio de los Leones. Este palacio constituía las estancias privadas de la familia real, y se construyó en el ángulo que forman los Baños y el Patio de los Arrayanes.
El palacio está compuesto por un patio central rodeado de galerías de columnas a modo de claustro cristiano, que permite el acceso a distintas salas: al oeste la de los Mocárabes, al este la de los Reyes, al norte la de Dos Hermanas, Ajimeces y Mirador de Daraxa y al sur la de los Abencerrajes y el Harén. No hay ventanas que miren al exterior, pero sí hay un jardín interior como corresponde a la idea musulmana del paraíso. Lo que hoy es tierra en el patio, fue jardín. De cada sala fluyen 4 arroyos que van al centro: los 4 ríos del paraíso. Las columnas se unen con paños calados que dejan pasar la luz. Fustes cilíndricos muy delgados, anillos en la parte superior, capiteles cúbicos sobre los que corren inscripciones. Las planchas grises de plomo son amortiguadores para los terremotos. Los dos templetes que avanzan a los dos lados opuestos del patio son como un recuerdo de la tienda de campaña de los beduinos. Son de planta cuadrada, decorados con cúpulas de madera que se apoyan en pechinas de mocárabes. El alero es obra del siglo XIX. Toda la galería está techada con artesonado de lacería.
Fuente de los Leones
Los últimos estudios hechos dicen que los leones proceden de la casa del visir judío Yusuf Ibn Nagrela (1066). No se sabe si se construyó antes de su muerte, se le acusó ya en la época de querer realizar un palacio más grandioso que el del mismo rey. Se conserva por el poeta Ibn Gabirol (S.XI) una descripción casi exacta de dicha fuente. Representan las 12 tribus de Israel. Dos de ellos tienen un triángulo en la frente indicando las dos tribus elegidas: Judá y Leví. Son del siglo XI. La taza lleva escrita en su perímetro versos del ministro y poeta Ibn Zamrak en los que bellamente se describe la propia fuente: "(...)A tan diáfano tazón, tallada perla,/ por orlas el aljófar remansado,/ y va entre margaritas el argento, /fluido y también hecho blanco y puro./Tan afín es lo duro y lo fluyente /que es difícil saber cuál de ellos fluye
In this palace the Moorish art reaches its peak, where a beauty unmatched sensitivity and harmony, where light, water, colorful, exquisite decor, makes this palace in a wonderful treat for the senses is reached in which it moves over the previous period of more abstract and geometric to give way to a more naturalistic style decorations certainly influence of Christianity, enhanced by the friendship that remained Mohamed V and Peter I, the Cruel, at that time Christian monarch.
History Monument
When Mohammed V succeeded his father Yusuf I (1377), he did not just finish the reforms it had begun, it began to build what would be his greatest work, the magnificent legacy he left us in the Alhambra Palace the Lions. This palace constituted the private rooms of the royal family, and was built in the angle between the Baths and the Patio of the Myrtles.
The palace is composed of a central courtyard surrounded by galleries of columns as a Christian cloister, which allows access to different rooms: west of the Mocárabes, east of the Kings, north of Dos Hermanas, Ajimeces and Daraxa Mirador and south of the Abencerrajes and the Harem. There are no windows to look outside, but there is an indoor garden as befits the Muslim idea of paradise. What is now land in the courtyard garden it was. Each room 4 streams flowing into the center: the 4 rivers of paradise. The columns are joined with openwork panels that let in light. Fustes cylindrical very thin rings on top, cubic capitals on those who run inscriptions. Gray lead plates are buffers for earthquakes. The two temples they move to opposite sides of the courtyard are as a reminder of the tent Bedouin. They are square, decorated with wooden domes that rest on stalactite squinches. The forward is the work of the nineteenth century. The entire gallery is covered with tracery coffered ceiling.
Fountain of Lions
Recent studies say that facts Lions come from the house of the Jewish vizier Ibn Yusuf Nagrela (1066). It is not known if it was built before his death, he was accused at the time and want to make a more magnificent than the palace of the king himself. by the poet Ibn Gabirol (S. XI) an almost exact description of the source is preserved. They represent the 12 tribes of Israel. Two of them have a triangle on the front indicating the two tribes chosen: Judah and Levi. They are the eleventh century. The cup carries verses written on its perimeter minister and poet Ibn Zamrak where the source itself is beautifully describes it: "(...) A so clear bowl, carved pearl / pearling dammed by borders, / and is among daisies Argento, / fluid and made white and pure. / Tan related is the hard and flowing / that it is difficult to know which one flows
Monasterio de Yuso, San Millán de la Cogolla, La Rioja, España.
El real monasterio de San Millán de Yuso (yuso significaba 'abajo' en castellano antiguo) está situado en la villa de San Millán de la Cogolla, comunidad autónoma de La Rioja (España), en la margen izquierda del río Cárdenas, en pleno valle de San Millán. Forma parte del conjunto monumental de dos monasterios, junto con el más antiguo monasterio de San Millán de Suso («de arriba»).
Este monasterio fue mandado construir en el año 1053 por el rey García Sánchez III de Navarra «el de Nájera». La historia de su fundación va unida a una leyenda basada en un milagro de san Millán (o Emiliano), un joven pastor que se hace ermitaño. Cuando en 574 muere Millán, a la edad de 101 años, sus discípulos lo entierran en su cueva, y alrededor de ella se va formando el primer monasterio, el de San Millán de Suso. San Braulio, cincuenta años después de muerto san Millán, escribe la vida de este.
El monasterio fue construido en estilo románico, como correspondía a la época. Es demolido en su totalidad y reconstruido en el siglo XVI, en estilo herreriano, de los siglos XVII y XVIII.
La iglesia es de tres naves, con bóveda estrellada y un bonito cimborrio. Se comenzó en 1504 por mandato del abad Fray Miguel de Alzaga y se termina treinta y seis años después. Gótico decadente. La iglesia era para uso de los monjes, por eso la parte delantera, desde el coro central, pasando por el presbiterio hasta el relicario, estaba destinada solo para ellos. La parte trasera, desde el trascoro hasta la puerta, era la zona que usaba el pueblo cuando éste podía acceder al templo. Son dos espacios litúrgicos dentro del mismo edificio.
The Royal Monastery of San Millán de Yuso (yuso meant "below" in Old Castilian) is located in the town of San Millán de la Cogolla, in the autonomous community of La Rioja (Spain), on the left bank of the Cárdenas River, in the heart of the San Millán Valley. It is part of the monumental complex of two monasteries, along with the older monastery of San Millán de Suso ("above").
This monastery was commissioned in 1053 by King García Sánchez III of Navarre "of Nájera." The story of its founding is linked to a legend based on a miracle of Saint Millán (or Emiliano), a young shepherd who became a hermit. When Millán died in 574 at the age of 101, his disciples buried him in his cave, and the first monastery, that of San Millán de Suso, was built around it. Fifty years after Saint Millán's death, Saint Braulio wrote his life.
The monastery was built in the Romanesque style, as befitted the period. It was completely demolished and rebuilt in the 16th century in the Herrerian style of the 17th and 18th centuries.
The church has three naves, a star-shaped vault, and a beautiful dome. It was begun in 1504 by order of Abbot Fray Miguel de Alzaga and completed thirty-six years later. It is in the Decadent Gothic style. The church was for the use of the monks, so the front part, from the central choir through the presbytery to the reliquary, was reserved for them only. The rear part, from the transept to the door, was the area used by the common people when they could access the temple. They are two liturgical spaces within the same building.
Doré’s incomparable imagination befits Coleridge’s poem about a cursed sailor and his journey on a haunted ship to Antarctica, a voyage that he alone survives. The first depicts the Ancient Mariner amid the eerie aftermath of his encounter with a ghost ship crewed by Death. The second captures the moment when the curse is lifted and the ship lurches forward with unexpected force., knocking the sailor over and causing him to fall into a trance.
Saturday night cruising in Paprihaven...
Now, Miss Charmin, you aren't going to win any races whatsoever in that Karmann Ghia. What's it got, 20 HP?
Mr. Whipple, I assure you, I do not intend to engage in something as common as racing. You spend all your time trying to get in position at some traffic light so you can wait for green and create all sorts of noise and smoke. For what purpose? Just to meet here again at the service station, purchase more junk food and argue over who actually won.* My purpose is to enjoy cruising in this fine automobile and display classic German style and engineering. I do not need to break any traffic ordinances in order for my Karmann Ghia to be seen in all her resplendent beauty. And she has 53 HP, thank you.
But, Miss Charmin, you just can't win a race in that. My Triumph will leave you standing!
Have you heard a word I said, Mr. Whipple?? Honestly, you are like a vulgarian at times. I'm not racing, I'm displaying my Karmann Ghia with class and dignity because that befits her.
Miss Charmin, take a look at my Triumph. I even have number on the side! It looks like a race car and it sure enough runs like a race car.
You do not even have a windscreen, Mr. Whipple. I shall be smiling freely as I cruise because I shall not have bugs in my teeth.
Miss Charmin, you captivate me. While our cars are being serviced, may I escort you inside the quick mart and treat you to a Pepsi and Ring-Dings?
... ... Yes, Mr. Whipple, I suppose you may.
__________________________
A year of the shows and performers of the Bijou Planks Theater.
Mattel
Hot Wheels
Triumph TR6
Made in Malaysia
Lesney
Matchbox
Volkswagen
Karmann Ghia
Made in Thailand
* That's what they do! As seen in BP 2020 Day 263:
The end of the flower left the final dry back of the petals and the further tightening of the pods to ready the seed distribution. The Sun was opening up the next year in the fulfilment of this one. Still the power of the rich yellow flowering was almost out of this world which well befits the Iris of the rainbow paths between the worlds.
This last yellow for this year from the Iris was promising a vibrant return near Kildonan Castle and Kildonan Standing Stone not far from the sea.
© PHH Sykes 2026
phhsykes@gmail.com
Kildonan (Arran) - Standing Stone (Menhir) in Scotland in Isle of Arran
www.megalithic.co.uk/article.php?sid=1011
Kildonan Standing Stone Menhir
www.themodernantiquarian.com/site/9077/kildonan
Arran, Kildonan
Kildonan Castle
Kildonan Castle
The end of the flower left the final dry back of the petals and the further tightening of the pods to ready the seed distribution. The Sun was opening up the next year in the fulfilment of this one. Still the power of the rich yellow flowering was almost out of this world which well befits the Iris of the rainbow paths between the worlds.
This last yellow for this year from the Iris was promising a vibrant return near Kildonan Castle and Kildonan Standing Stone not far from the sea.
© PHH Sykes 2026
phhsykes@gmail.com
Kildonan (Arran) - Standing Stone (Menhir) in Scotland in Isle of Arran
www.megalithic.co.uk/article.php?sid=1011
Kildonan Standing Stone Menhir
www.themodernantiquarian.com/site/9077/kildonan
Arran, Kildonan
Kildonan Castle
Kildonan Castle
Hagiang_VIETNAM_2013
The Mã Pì Lèng Pass
Up in the most northerly corner of Vietnam lies the Mã Pì Lèng Pass which takes travellers through some of the most dramatic hill country to be seen outside the Himalayas.
You may be able to see a truck in the picture (just below here), it is on the road beyond and to the right of the farmer. The truck is a couple of thousand feet below and toiling up to reach us.farmer The road runs into China some 10 miles away. The only other road through these mountains is the one from which the photo was taken and which runs from Mèo Vạac to Đồng Văn a distance of 14 miles though what must be some of the most spectacular scenery in the world. This is the beginning of the Mã Pì Lèng Pass.
A pass in English sounds like a bit of an effort, something to be got over, or through, with threats involved; famous battles and traps attend as in 'the Pass of Killacrankie O'. The Vietnamese have a different concept: these are the gates to heaven where the sense is of the 'heavens', both a place beyond and the firmament above. The image is of opening up and leading into light and space. And as the road runs out higher and higher onto the hillside, and the sky expands and mountains recede, so we ascend to these heavens, and stand at heaven's gate.
As hills go these are not big, but they make full use of their stature as befits the final throws and last outposts of the Himalaya, rolling and clambering up to full free standing mountains of near on 7,000butress feet, and then tumbling down in barren cascades and flinging themselves into the bottoms of deep gorges where apparently tiny rivers thread between the vast buttresses. It is as difficult to convey the scale of all this in pictures as it is in words. Any image that shows the top of the hill and the bottom of the gorge cannot show something as small as a house.
Inhospitable and barren the landscape may appear to be, but it is populated. Wherever a field can find soil it is fitted in, wherever a house can cling to the precipitous slopes it will be attached, although such attachments would seem to depend more on faith than physical security defying gravity as they do. Between these houses and fields people quietly go about their lives. Lives which to us would seem daunting for the slopes extend for thousands of feet from crest to the water below and some are steeper than 60 degrees. The people here are from the Black Dao ethnic group with their own language and traditions quite separate from those of the majority Viet population. We learnt from one of them that the inhabitants of such hamlets and houses, have to go down to that river for their water at certain times of the year. Imagine climbing, with your water, over a kilometre vertically upwards just as a part of the daily routine! blackdoaThese humans are clearly a different physical species from myself. But the acute slopes are not just a problem for collecting water, for every inch of the rather poor dry soil is cultivated, and this leads to extraordinary farming. The pattern shown in the picture is common: a curving ‘field’ of about 2 feet wide, terraced in steps of the same height which makes getting from one ribbon to the next, above or below, a major physical effort; and getting an ox and plough onto some point, a kilometre from a road, a sort of athletic miracle for both man and beast.
For the traveller on the road there are few such problems. The road was built to a high specification and is little used by vehicles larger than motor cycles. So it is in good condition by Vietnamese standards: one's body is offered a smooth ride. Amusingly the gradients are all modest, despite appearances, the signs assure you that you are rising at 9.64% or 9.37% and never reach 10%; one suspects a job lot of misprinted signs palmed off by the ministry that produced them, onto the ministry that had stipulated that gradients could not pass 10%! But for our heads it is less comfortable, the dizzying drops and towering cliff faces keep up a roller coaster of prospects that would satisfy the most jaded traveller. gorge
At the top of the pass there is a memorial to those who made the road through this impossible country, a task completed some 40 years ago. To add to the marvels of construction, it was undertaken at a time just after the French War had finished, when the country had few resources, except the charm to gain help from others. As you look out from here across the massive mountainsides you see a tiny thread cast round them, like a Lilliputian rope to Gulliver, and wonder how anyone thought of a road there, and then convinced another country that they should fund it.
The pass is not long and a glance at a map might suggest a half hour run between the two main towns at either end. But the map deceives. For each bend reveals a new extraordinary panorama and demands a new stop for photographs, and more time to take in the wonder of it all. A wonder appreciated by the locals who also find time to stop and watch over their land. So there we were together smitten, but we were the only strangers. roadThis place is far away, two days drive from the capital and the airport, so it is not an area that figures on the tours and treks that set out by the hundred from Hà Nội each day. Journey times are very slow, so for most tourists this marvelous scenery just does not exist. The Mã Pì Lèng Pass is the icing on the cake of the north of Vietnam: stunning scenery, friendly people and not another tourist in sight.
Memorial for the deported
Between 1940 and 1945 more than 8,000 Jews, Sinti and Roma originally from Hamburg and northern Germany were deported from the city, in particular via the former Hannoverscher Bahnhof railway station. They were sent to ghettos and to concentration and extermination camps in German-occupied regions: Belzec, Litzmannstadt/Lodz, Minsk, Riga, Auschwitz and Theresienstadt. Only very few survived. Responsibility for these deportations fell to Hamburg’s local authorities and administrative bodies as well as to state organisations at Reich level. The vast majority of German society either looked idly on or actively supported these crimes.
The Hannoverscher Bahnhof was severely damaged during the Second World War and, after 1945, it was largely forgotten about. What parts of the building complex remained were razed to the ground in 1955 and 1981. As Hamburg’s HafenCity district began to emerge, the general public once again became aware of the site in the early 2000s. Associations of former victims of Nazi persecution in particular have campaigned actively to this day for a memorial that befits the memory of the victims.
A brake from Brazil to report taht spring has sprung. This is the Tom Turkey dominating our back yard in day time, here displaying for the befit of a few indifferent hens. View large- hit "L" than "Z" twice
Commentary.
Childish excitement travelling from east to west in late winter.
You know soon, very soon, the West Coast “Munros” will gleam like incisor teeth above the forested landscape.
Forcan, left, and The Saddle, right, are such peaks that advertise the thousand metre micro-climate of semi-Alpine splendour.
Spin-drift sweeps off the upper slopes to accumulate in layers like royal icing.
The snowy back-cloth forms a pleasing contrast to the pastel tans and greens of the bracken and forest of the lower slopes of this historic Glen.
The West Coast beckons.
Such a grand mountain corridor befits the momentous land and seascapes that lie in prospect.
Aguttes
Autoworld - Auction & Motion
Estimated : € 80.000 - 100.000
Not Sold
Autoworld
Brussels - Belgium
October 2025
In the early 1950s, Chevrolet introduced one of the most iconic models in American production, the Corvette. The C1 was the first production car at the time to feature a fibreglass body. Its highly innovative design was taken directly from the EX-122 Roadster concept car unveiled in January 1953 at the Waldorf Astoria in New York. The car was powered by a 3.9-litre Chevrolet inline 6-cylinder engine coupled with an automatic transmission. Unfortunately, this Blue Flame engine did not deliver the power expected by its users. In order to correct this flaw and increase sales, a new engine was introduced in 1955. It was a V8, an architecture that would be used in future generations. Coupled with an automatic or 3-speed manual transmission, this 4.3-litre V8 engine developed 195 hp. It was really in 1956 that the range was equipped with engines powerful enough to meet market standards. The 4.3-litre V8 was available in three versions developing 210, 225 or 240 hp. Performance improved significantly, as did sales, which followed the same trend. A 4-speed manual gearbox was then offered in 1957. Engine sizes and power continued to increase until the model was replaced in 1963.
Beyond its performance, the Corvette legend was also born from the exceptional look of this first generation. The C1 is characterised by its unique styling, drawing inspiration from the world of aeronautics, its futuristic dashboard and its wraparound panoramic windscreen. Its bodywork underwent several stylistic changes, notably with the appearance in 1958 of a front end with four headlights.
Our model is equipped with a 283 ci (4.6 l) V8 engine developing 230 hp, coupled with a 4-speed manual gearbox, as befits this sports model. As was often the case at the time, it is two-tone, turquoise blue and white, a combination that perfectly highlights the original lines of this 1960 model. It is also one of the most sought-after vintages, with its four-headlight grille and rounded rear. Regularly and carefully maintained by its owner, this car is in beautiful condition and runs very well. It took part in a rally across the United States in 2017, the famous Tour America, via Santa Fe, Moab, Las Vegas and San Francisco.
See '1955: my father playing with my eldest brothers' On Black!
As befitted a professional musician and violin teacher like my father, he always encouraged his children to also learn to play an instrument. I don't know if he regrets none of us followed in his footsteps professionally (don't think so, actually) but we all played and enjoyed it, although, admittedly, some more than others!
Here he is with my two eldest siblings. The setting is our livingroom in Utrecht, towards the conservatory, where the grand piano stood. Brother B plays the cello, F the violin. The latter became actually quite good at it.
In later years, when all six of us were able to play somewhat, we even formed a little 8 piece classical ensemble, playing on occasions like my grandmother's birthday and such. For some that was not always the most enjoyable side of music making...
Note the poor foot gear: cheap 1950's gym shoes and plastics... Artistically and intellectually we may have been a 'classy' family, but that certainly did not translate into financial security (yet).
Bury St Edmunds Cathedral for most of its existence was simply the parish church of St James until the foundation of the new diocese of St Edmundsbury in 1914 when it was raised to cathedral status, one of the many new dioceses formed in the early 20th century that elevated existing parish churches to diocesan rank rather than purpose building a new cathedral. Many of these 'parish church cathedrals' sit slightly awkwardly with their new status, lacking in the scale and grandeur that befits such a title, but of all of them Bury St Edmunds has been adapted to its new role the most successfully, with in my opinion the most beautiful results.
The medieval church consisted of the present nave, built in 1503-51 under master mason John Wastell, with an earlier chancel that was entirely rebuilt in 1711 and again in 1870. Originally it would have seemed a fairly minor building at the entrance to the monastic precinct, overshadowed by the enormous abbey church that once stood immediately behind it. The absence of this magnificent church since the Dissolution and the scant remains of this vast edifice always sully my visits here with a sense of grievous loss, had history been kinder it would have served as the cathedral here instead and likely be celebrated as one of the grandest in the country.
The church never had a tower of its own since the adjacent Norman tower of the Abbey gateway served the role of a detached campanile perfectly. It is an impressive piece of Romanesque architecture and one of the best preserved 12th century towers in the country.
Upon being raised to cathedral status in 1914 the building underwent no immediate structural changes but plans were made to consider how best to transform a fairly ordinary church into a worthy cathedral. This task was appointed to architect Stephen Dykes Bower and work began in 1959 to extend the building dramatically. Between 1963-1970 the entire Victorian chancel was demolished and replaced with a much grander vision of a lofty new choir and shallow transepts, remarkably all executed in traditional Gothic style in order to harmonize with the medieval nave. It is incredible to think that this was done in the 1960s, a period in which church and cathedral buildings were otherwise constructed in the most self consciously modern forms ever seen, with delicate neo-medieval masonry in place of brick and concrete.
The new crossing of transepts and choir however remained crowned by the stump of a tower for the remainder of the century as funds were not available to finish Dykes Bower's complete vision of a lantern tower over the crossing: this was only realised at the beginning of the 21st century, aided by a legacy left in the architect's will and some subtle design changes under his successor as architect Hugh Matthews. The transformation from church to cathedral was finally completed in 2005 with most satisfactory results. A stunning fan-vault was installed within the new tower in 2010, an exquisite finishing touch.
Whilst it isn't a large building by cathedral standards its newer parts do much to give it the shape and dignity of one. This is especially apparent within, where the cruciform eastern limb draws the eye. The interior is enlivened by much colour, with the ceilings of Dykes Bower's choir and transepts adorned with rich displays of stencilling, whilst the nave ceiling (a Victorian replacement for the medieval one) was redecorated in similarly lively colours in the 1980s which helps to unify the old and new parts of the church.
Few fittings or features remain from the medieval period, most of the furnishings being Victorian or more recent, but one window in the south aisle retains a rich display of early 16th century stained glass, very much Renaissance in style. The remaining glass is nearly all Victorian, some of the windows in the new choir having been transferred from the previous chancel.
St Edmundsbury Cathedral is not filled with the monuments and fittings that make other great churches so rewarding to linger in but it is a real architectural delight and cannot fail to uplift the spirit.
Queen Maud Statue
as befits an exemplary democratic and egalitarian country, the royal palace gardens are the people's gardens, entirely open to the public
I am firmly resolved that next year I will conduct myself in a manner which more befits my years and my station in life … yeah right !
The hereios of the We're Here! group have paid a visit to the New Year's Resolutions group today.
Stuck for an idea for your daily 365 shot? Try the hereios of the We're Here! group for inspiration.
Respite for some, melancholy for others.
I love taking night shots, the interplay of light and shadows plus the absence of daytime distractions is calming. The artificial lighting along this ancient street is just about adequate, this helps avoid obscuring the boundaries of night and day like those in the over-lit cities which can disrupt our circadian rhythm.
The soft warm indoor lighting seeping out through the little gaps in the Kyo-Sudare (京すだれ, traditional Kyoto bamboo blinds) and Kōshi (格子, traditional wooden lattices) are signatures of this historical street.
Crisp, clean and without distracting burnt highlights or excessive blooming from point light sources, just the way I like it!
Have not bought any new lens this year but the rumored Panasonic Leica 9mm f1.7 Prime sure looks interesting. Hope it will perform better than the Panasonic 8-18mm f2.8-4 and Olympus 7-14mm f2.8 at 9mm! Have not been interested in any new m43 lenses since the Olympus 12-100mm f4.
Wished Sony would make a FE 18mm f1.8 G Prime of similar quality as their existing FE 20mm f1.8 G ($900). While there's an existing Basis 18mm f2.8, it's unnecessarily bulky and rather overpriced ($1,400).
Postscript
=========
Well, Sony has just announced an UWA Prime but for APS-C, the E 11mm f1.8 (181g, equivalent 17mm). Now Fuji also has a XF 8mm f3.5 on their roadmap. The new FE PZ 16-35mm f4.0 at 353g does not quite fit the bill being a power zoom, it is rather compact though.
Unfortunately, the Panasonic 9mm f1.7 does not seem to befit its “Leica” badge with weak corners that don't improve much stopped down. Its minimum focus distance at 9.5cm is however really attractive making it great for UWA perspective distortion being way closer than any m43 UWA lens.
Sombre light this morning befits a sombre occasion as Captain Tom Moore passed away yesterday.
GBRf 66731 was named in his honour by GB Railfreight & Porterbrook on his 100th Birthday back in April last year.
Due to Toms fundraising endeavours £29M has been raised to date for the NHS during the COVID pandemic. He was a true British inspiration.
* Pole @ 8m.
And in case you ask, we didn't buy it. There were no cup holders. Kate's very fussy about cup holders.
Cruise Night
Downers Grove, Illinois Near 41.794, -88.010
August 8, 2003 (almost kinda exactly 20 years ago)
COPYRIGHT 2003, 2023 by JimFrazier All Rights Reserved. This may NOT be used for ANY reason without written consent from Jim Frazier.
DSC03163-Edit1366x768
The end of the flower left the final dry back of the petals and the further tightening of the pods to ready the seed distribution. The Sun was opening up the next year in the fulfilment of this one. Still the power of the rich yellow flowering was almost out of this world which well befits the Iris of the rainbow paths between the worlds.
This last yellow for this year from the Iris was promising a vibrant return near Kildonan Castle and Kildonan Standing Stone not far from the sea.
© PHH Sykes 2026
phhsykes@gmail.com
Kildonan (Arran) - Standing Stone (Menhir) in Scotland in Isle of Arran
www.megalithic.co.uk/article.php?sid=1011
Kildonan Standing Stone Menhir
www.themodernantiquarian.com/site/9077/kildonan
Arran, Kildonan
Kildonan Castle
Kildonan Castle
In the wild lands of the Komi Republic, one can find one of seven wonders of Russia, the Manpupuner rock formations (in translation from the Mansi language, the mountain of stone idols). This sacred place of the Mansi tribe — seven high rocks of bizarre form — is surrounding by nothingness. There is no settlement within 100 kilometers. It is not easy to see to get there: one has to overcome a tough land route or reach the plateau by air. As befits a sacred place, the seven Mansi idols are unapproachable and keep their secrets with care. However, the number of those who want to come to Manpupuner is growing every year.
The huge stone pillars of irregular shape resemble a gigantic rock garden or a natural Stonehenge. Each of the rocks is as high as a 10-15-story building and has unique shape. From certain angles, the pillars collectively form the shape of a giant, or a horse's head. No wonder that Manpupuner has a reputation of an energy source for mystics. The locals still consider it sacred. In ancient times, ascending to Manpupuner was considered to be a great sin.
There are many legends about the rock pillars. According to one, the seven idols were terrible giant brothers, forever stopped by the forces of good spirits in the Yalpingnyor mountains. One of the pillars is located at some distance from others. According to the legend, he was the first giant to be turned into stone. Horror-stricken, he threw his drum away and his brothers suffered the same fate later when they tried to run away. This is how the locals were saved from powerful invaders.
However, scientists have their own, far less poetic version. Some 200 million years ago, gigantic mountains towered over the landscape here. Under the influence of wind and time softer rock formations were destroyed and the harder ones remained, perhaps as a reminder of former greatness. These separate rocks are called residual outcrops. This is how the stone pillars appeared in the Komi Republic.
Today, for the convenience of tourists, hiking trails with clear paths and rest areas have been laid to the Manpupuner rock formations. Guest houses are also available. The Manpupuner rock formations are usually uncrowded, as they are located in the Pechora-Ilych Nature Reserve, which limits the number of visitors.
I have it on authority that this Grumman VC-37A is allocated to the Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security. The ship taxied all the way in with one reverser deployed to maintain a slow dignified rate of knots as befits the rank.
This was the Light Show at the Gardens by the Bay, Singapore, with the lit-up Marina Sands Hotel 'boat-in-the sky behind. The bluish trees in shot are termed Supertrees. There are a lot of them in the three gardens and as befits the garden theme they are actually ventilators and are not organic or living. The nightly Light Show brings thousands of visitors to the hotel and the Sky Gardens and they are lit-up in many colours which change whilst beautiful live music plays..
Chandeliers, spotlights, skylight (the latter fake, but rather convincing). And the overall opulence of classic interiors, as befits a noble Institute of Chartered Accountants ;)
Graceful, historic Hoi An is known as Vietnam’s most atmospheric and delightful town. Once a major port, it boasts the grand architecture and beguiling riverside setting that befits its heritage.The face of the Old Town has preserved its incredible legacy of tottering Japanese merchant houses, Chinese temples and ancient tea warehouses – though, unfortunately, residents and rice fields have been gradually replaced by tourist businesses. And yet, down by the market I find life has changed little – Hoi An, Vietnam
Poem.
Childish excitement travelling from east to west in late winter.
You know soon, very soon, the West Coast “Munros” will gleam like incisor teeth above the forested landscape.
Forcan, left, and The Saddle, right, are such peaks that advertise the thousand metre micro-climate of semi-Alpine splendour.
Spin-drift sweeps off the upper slopes to accumulate in layers like royal icing.
The snowy back-cloth forms a pleasing contrast to the pastel tans and greens of the bracken and forest of the lower slopes of this historic Glen.
The West Coast beckons.
Such a grand mountain corridor befits the momentous land and seascapes that lie in prospect.
This delightful little old cottage also dates from the first half of the 19th century. It stands in the main street of Evandale and is cared for immaculately. Behind that lovely picket fence is a little garden that befits the simplicity and beauty of this brick cottage. And remember always, "Please shut the gate."
Not all heroes wear capes!
When Englishman Brandon Grimshaw was in his forties, he quit his job as a newspaper editor and started a new life. For 13 thousand dollars, he bought a small uninhabited island in the Seychelles in called Moyenne. and moved there.
At that time, fifty years ago, no human had stepped foot on the island.
As befits a true Robinson, Brandon found a mate (his Friday) among the Seychelles natives, and hired her. Her name was Rene Lafortin Together with Rene, Brandon traveled to the deserted island and began to set up his new home. While Rene came to Moyenne Island only occasionally, Brandon lived there for decades and never left.
Over a period of 39 years, Grimshaw and Lafortin planted 16,000 trees with their own hands and built nearly 3 miles of trails. In 2007, when Brandon was eighty one years old, Rene Lafortin died, leaving Brandon all alone on the island.
The island has attracted 2,000 new bird species to the island and introduced over a hundred giant turtles, which in the rest of the world (including Seychelles) were already on the brink of extinction. Thanks to Grimshaw's efforts, the once-deserted island is now home to two-thirds of Seychelles' wildlife. An abandoned piece of land has become a true paradise.
A few years ago, a Saudi Arabian prince offered Brandon Grimshaw $50 million for the island, but this modern Robinson turned it down. “I don’t want the island to become a favorite vacation spot for rich people. It better be a national park everyone can enjoy. "
Brandon did succeed in getting the island effectively declared a national park in 2008.
A title that would befit an image taken in the 1980's or early 1990's but in 2020? Ex 20168 now simply numbered '2' is seen on the headshunt of Earles sidings preparing to take a load of coal up to the Hope cement works for the kilns, The loco had propelled these hoppers down from Earles sidings and were later taken up the branch after being split into two smaller sets.
Given the virtual total demise of power station coal, this must be one of the very few remaining coal flows on the UK national rail network
Very much a fluke shot of being in the right place at the right time. My wife had wanted to do a walk to Win Hill (annual trek to the beautiful Peak District) which meant we parked in Hope and walked up the hill side. I had no plans to capture this working - all the more satisfyingly given the totally random nature and a Saturday morning bonus.
I could not determine from previous arrivals where this coal had originated from (Cwmbargoed ?) - any info welcome.
Image captured Saturday 11 July 2020
Puerta lateral del patio de los leones. Alhambra de Granada. Construido en 1377 por Mohamed V, hijo de Yusuf I rodeado por una esbelta galería con 124 columnas de mármol blanco de Macael (Almería), las cuales se agrupan, en conjunto de dos, tres, y hasta cuatro en las esquinas, sustentando, o bien sólo apuntalando, las arcadas de filigrana. Alrededor, las alcobas, salas privadas del sultán y esposas con piso alto abierto, falta de ventanas que miren al exterior, pero con jardín interior como corresponde a la idea musulmana del paraíso.
Side door of the playground. Alhambra in Granada. Built in 1377 by Mohamed V, son of Yusuf I surrounded by a gallery with 124 slender columns of white marble Macael (Almería), which are grouped in sets of two, three, and four in the corners, supporting, or While only underpin, filigreed arches. All around, the bedrooms, private rooms of the sultan and wives upstairs open, lack of windows to look outside, but inside garden as befits the Muslim view of paradise.
Esta foto tiene derechos de autor. Por favor, no la utilice sin mi conocimiento y autorización. Gracias.
Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reservats. Thanks.
Panzer's Nomad Bee, Nomada panzeri.
Body length; 7 - 12mm.
Flight period; March – July.
Habitat; A wide variety of habitats, as befits its wide range of hosts, but there is a strong association with woodland.
Fairly common and widespread in England and Wales, Panzer's Nomad Bee is one of the larger and more frequently encountered Nomada species. Similar to Nomada flava, females of these two species can be reliably told apart by the erect black hairs on the clypeus of N. panzeri (these are pale in N. flava), and has silvery rather than yellow hairs on the sides of the thorax. The males of these two species are extremely difficult to separate with any degree of confidence.
This species is found throughout Britain and is more frequent than N. flava in northern regions but less so in the south. Also recorded from Ireland and the Channel Islands.
It is widely distributed in Europe.
Like all nomad bee species, the Panzer's nomad bee is a cleptoparasite. As such, the females use the nests of targeted hosts and lay an egg in the wall of an unsealed nest cell, one that has already been furnished with adequate food provisions ready for the emerging host larva.
The grubs of nomad bees emerge from the egg at about the same time as the host grub. Nomad bee grubs have large, sickle-shaped mandibles which they use to destroy the host egg or grub. The nomad bee grub then consumes the food stores that were intended for the host's offspring.
In addition to Andrena fucata, Panzer's Nomad Bee will use the nests of other hosts, including Andrena fulva, Andrena helvola, Andrena lapponica, Andrena varians and Andrena synadelpha.
Boeing 707-300 OD-AFX of Trans Mediterranean Airways of Lebanon Lines up to depart Heathrow's Runway 28 Right on a cold and gloomy Winter's day back in 1975
Scanned from a highly challenged 35mm Ilford FP4 Negative which was not only poorly exposed but also being taken with an old Zenith E fitted with a Soligor pre-set 250mm lens, the left side was way over exposed as was common with those Russian cameras
Using the High-pass option in PS8 I managed to reduce that effect but decided to leave the sky looking moody as befitted a drab January day
Way back in 1994, when I visited Byron Bay on the east coast of Australia, the front of its community centre and literary institute was one gigantic, fabulous, celebratory mural – as befitted this laid-back Australian resort favoured by hippies and named after the poet Lord Byron’s grandfather who sailed with Captain Cook.
I think things have moved on since the ‘90s; even so, this is a cheerful 35mm colour print reminder of my few days there.
It was sunny, it was...
Joining the ever-growing list of Optare Solos that continue to morph onto the Herts/Essex border with Trustybus, ex First Cymru numbered 53815, an Optare Solo M850SL type registered WX05RUC, is seen passing along a misty Birchanger Lane through the aforemention named village on a Route 7A working to Bishops Stortford.
No doubt Central Connect livery and a reregistration are not far away in the future for this bus, as has befitted most of the other Solos purchased over the last few months 09/01/21
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however we are at Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie and his wife, Arabella. Lettice has been summoned to her old family home after an abrupt morning telephone call from her father, following the publication of an article in the publication, Country Life* featuring her interior designs for friends Margot and Dickie Channon’s Cornwall Regency country house ‘Chi an Treth’.
As Lettice elegantly alighted from the London train at Glynes village railway station, there on the platform amid the dissipating steam of the departing train and the smattering of visitors or return travellers to the village, stood Harris, the Chetwynd’s family chauffer. Dressed in his smart grey uniform, he took Lettice’s portmanteau, hastily packed in London by Edith her maid, and umbrella and walked out through the station’s small waiting room and booking office, leading Lettice to where the Chetwynd’s 1912 Daimler awaited her on the village’s main thoroughfare. As they drove through the centre of the village, Harris told Lettice through the glass partition from the front seat, that her article in Country Life* had caused quite a sensation below stairs. Quietly, Lettice smiled proudly to herself as she settled back more comfortably into the car’s maroon upholstery. Lettice is undeniably her father’s favourite child, but she has a strained relationship with her mother at the best of times as the two have differing views about the world and the role that women have to play in it. She only hopes as she nears her family home, that Lady Sadie, who does not particularly approve of her venture into interior design, will be proud of her achievement this time.
As the Daimler purrs up the gravel driveway and stops out the front of Glynes, Bramley, the Chetwynd’s butler, steps through the front door followed by Marsen, the liveried first footman. Marsden silently opens the door of the Daimler for Lettice and helps her step out before fetching her luggage.
“Welcome home, My Lady,” Bramley greets her with an open smile. “What a pleasure it is to see you looking so well.”
“Thank you Bramley,” she replies with a satisfied smile as she looks up at the classical columned portico of her beloved childhood home basking in the spring sunshine. “It’s always good to be home.”
“How was the train journey from London, My Lady?” Bramley asks Lettice as he falls in step a few paces behind her.
“Oh, quite pleasant, thank you Bramley. I have my novel to while away the time.”
“We were all pleased and proud to see your name in print in Her Ladyship’s copy of Country Life.”
“Oh, thank you, Bramley. That’s very kind of you to say. I take it that is why I have been summoned here today.”
The butler clears his throat a little awkwardly and looks seriously at Lettice. “I couldn’t say, My Lady, however they are expecting you, in the drawing room.” The statement is said with the gravitas that befits one of the country house’s finest rooms.
Lettice’s face falls. “Do I have time to refresh myself.” She peels off her gloves as she walks through the marble floored vestibule and into the lofty Adam style hall of Glynes. The familiar scent of old wood, tapestries and carpets welcomes her home.
“I was asked to show you into the drawing room immediately upon your arrival, My Lady,” Bramley says as Marsden closes the front doors and then the vestibule doors behind them. “Her Ladyship insisted, and His Lordship didn’t contradict her.”
“Oh. Do I sense an air of disquiet, Bramley?” Lettice asks, handing the butler her red fox collar and then shrugging off her russet three quarter length coat into his waiting white glove clad hands.
“Well My Lady, may I just say that your article caused somewhat of a stir both above and below stairs.” He accepts Lettice’s elegant picture hat of russet felt ornamented with pheasant feathers.
“Yes, so Harris told me. Good or bad above stairs, Bramley?”
“I think,” the older manservant contemplates. “Mixed, might be the best answer to that, My Lady.”
“Meaning?”
“Well, His Lordship, and Master Leslie were thrilled, as was the young Mrs. Chetwynd. However, as you know, My Lady, Her Ladyship has particular ideas as to your future.” He cocks an eyebrow and gives her a knowing look. “She’s had them planned since the day you were born, and you know she dislikes it when her plans go awry.”
“Oh.” Lettice says with a disappointed lilt in her answer. “Well, thank you Bramley,” she gives him a sad, yet grateful smile. “You are a brick for warning me.” She brushes down the front of her flounced floral sprigged spring frock, sighs and says with a sigh, “Then I best get this over with, hadn’t I?”
“I don’t see an alternative, My Lady.”
“Then don’t worry, I’ll show myself into the drawing room. I should imagine this will only be an overnight stay.”
Without waiting for a reply, Lettice turns on her heel and walks down the corridor, her louis heels clicking along the parquetry flooring, echoing off the walls decorated with gilt framed portraits of the Chetwynd ancestors, their dogs, horses and paintings of views of the estate. She stops before the pair of beautiful walnut double doors that open onto the drawing room, grasps one of the gilded foliate handles, turns it and steps in.
The very grand and elegant drawing room of Glynes with its grand dimensions, high ceiling and gilt Louis and Palladian style furnishings has always been one of Lettice’s favourite rooms in the house. It is from here that she developed her love for collecting fine Limoges porcelain to emulate the collection amassed by her great, great paternal grandmother Lady Georgiana Chetwynd. No matter what time of day, the room is always light and airy thanks to its large full-length windows and beautiful golden yellow Georgian wallpaper decorated in a pattern of delicate blossoms and paper lanterns which seems almost to exude warmth and golden illumination. Whilst decorated with many generations of conspicuous consumption, it is not overly cluttered and it does not have the suffocating feel of Lady Sadie’s morning room, which she loathes, and it smells familiarly of a mixture of fresh air, bees wax polish and just a waft of roses. Glancing around, Lettice can see the latter comes from two vases of roses – one white bunch and one golden yellow cluster – both in elegant porcelain vases. The room is silent, save for the quiet ticking of several clocks set about polished surfaces, the hiss of dusty wood as it burns and the muffled twitter of birds in the bushes outside the drawing room windows. And there, by the grand crackling fire, her parents sit in what she hopes to be companionable silence.
Lady Sadie sits in her usual armchair next to the fire, dressed in a grey woollen skirt, a burnt orange silk blouse and a matching cardigan with her everyday double strand pearls about her neck. With her wavy white hair framing her face in an old fashioned style she looks not unlike Queen Mary, as she sips tea from one of the floral tea cups from her favourite Royal Doulton set, lost in her own thoughts as she stares out through the satin brocade curtain framed windows. The Viscount on the other hand is sitting opposite his wife in the high backed gilded salon chair embroidered in petit point tapestry by his mother. Dressed in his usual country tweeds worn when going about the estate, Lettice notices that he is immersed in the very copy of Country Life that her interiors feature. Between them, tea and coffee in silver pots stand on a small black japanned chinoiserie occasional table along with the round silver biscuit sachet that has once been Lady Sadie’s mother’s.
“Well, here I am.” Lettice announces with false joviality, alerting both her parents to her presence as she closes the door behind her.
“Lettice!” the Viscount exclaims, jumping up from his seat, slightly crumpling the pages of the Country Life between his right fingers as he lets his hands fall to his side. “My dear girl!” He beams at her proudly. Thrusting out the magazine in front of him as if trying to prove a point, he continues. “What a surprise, eh?” He indicates to the article about ‘Chai an Treth’, which he was reading, as Lettice suspected.
“Pappa!”
Lettice hurries into the room, steps between the gilt upholstered chairs that are part of the Louis Quartzose salon suite that had been included in her mother’s dowery when she married her father and falls happily into the loving arms of the Viscount who smells comfortingly of fresh air and grass as he envelopes her.
“Don’t gush, Cosmo!” Lady Sadie chides, giving her husband a withering look of distain as she sips her tea with a crispness, passing judgement like usual over her husband and youngest daughter’s emotional relationship, which she unable to fathom.
“Hullo Mamma.” Lettice reluctantly removes herself from her father’s welcoming embrace and walks over to her mother, who places her teacup aside and tilts her head so that Lettice can give her an air kiss on both cheeks, their skin barely touching in the transaction.
“Help yourself to tea and biscuits.” Lady Sadie pronounces, indicating with a sharp nod to the low tea table upon which sits a third, unused, teacup and saucer nestled amongst the other tea things. “Mrs. Casterton has made her custard creams this week.”
“Thank you, Mamma.” Lettice sees a selection of vanilla and chocolate cream biscuits on a plate already as she helps herself to tea from the small round sterling silver pot, polished to a gleaming sheen by Bramley or the head parlour maid. She takes up one each of the two varieties of custard creams, ignoring the look of criticism from her mother by doing so, depositing them onto her saucer. She then settles down on the settee, closest to her father and puts her cup on the table next to her.
“My dear girl! My dear girl!” the Viscount repeats in a delighted voice as he tosses the copy of Country Life with the crumpling sound of paper onto the top of a pile of newspapers and periodicals atop a petite point footstool. “Exemplifying a comfortable mixture of old and new to create a welcoming and contemporary room, sympathetic to the original features.” he paraphrases one of Lettice’s favourite lines in Henry Tipping’s** article, giving away that this was hardly the first time he has read the article since the magazine arrived at Glynes. “What wonderful praise from Mr. Tipping.”
“Oh, do stop, Cosmo!” pleads Lady Sadie from her seat on the other side of the fireplace, toying with the pearls at her throat. “Gushing is so unbecoming,” She glares critically at her husband. “Especially from a man of your age. It’s emasculating.”
Lettice gives her mother a wounded glance before quickly looking at her father, however he bares a steeliness in his jaw.
“Why shouldn’t I gush, Sadie?” he replies in defence of himself and his daughter, looking over his shoulder at Lady Sadie, determination giving his voice strength. “This is our child we are talking about,” He turns back and smiles with unbridled delight at Lettice, his eyes glittering with pride. “And I’m damn proud that Lettice has her name in print in a periodical such as Country Life, even if you are less so.”
“I don’t know whether I am pleased at all, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie eyes her daughter. “I’d rather see your name printed in the society pages next to a certain eligible duke’s son’s name, Lettice.” she adds dryly as she picks up a custard cream and gingerly nibbles at it as though it might contain rat bait. “Then, I’d gush.”
“Mamma!” Lettice manages to utter in a strangulated fashion as disappointment at her mother’s reaction to the article grips her like a cold pair of hands around her throat.
“It’s your duty to marry, Lettice, and marry well. You know this.” Lady Sadie lectures in reply haughtily. “We’ve had this conversation time and time again. You don’t want to be a burden on poor Leslie when your father dies, do you?” She nibbles some more at the biscuit clutched between her fingers.
“Oh Sadie!” the Viscount gasps. “Don’t be crabby. You must concede that you are proud that one of the leading authorities on architecture and interior design in Britain has spoken so highly of our daughter’s work.”
The older woman pulls a face, cleaning mushy biscuit remains from her gums, but doesn’t dignify the statement with an answer.
“Can’t you be just a little happy for me, Mamma?” Lettice pleads as she reaches out and grasps her father’s bigger hand for comfort and support. “Just this once?”
“I’ll be happy when I see you married off.” She picks up her cup and saucer and takes a sip of tea. “Is it not bad enough that I have one wayward child? Perhaps I had better pack you off to British East Africa too.”
“Tipping said Lettice is a very capable interior designer.” the Viscount defends his favourite child. “And the photos prove that.”
“Capable!” Lady Sadie scoffs with a nod of disgusted acknowledgement of the magazine lying beyond the tea table. “The room looks barren – positively starved of furnishings and character. How can that be capable interior design? There is practically nothing in it, to design!”
“But paired back is the new style now, Mamma. People don’t want…”
“What?” Lady Sadie snaps, the fine bone china cup clattering in its saucer.
“Well they don’t necessarily want all this.” Lettice gesticulates around her, almost apologetically, to the furnishings around them. “People want cleaner lines these days, to better reflect their more modern lives.”
“So your father and I are old hat?” Lady Sadie quips. “Is that what you’re saying, Lettice?”
“No, of course not Mamma. I love you and Pappa, and Glynes is classically beautiful. You do a wonderful job at maintaining the elegance of the house. I did retain some of the original décor of Margot and Dickie’s house as part of my refurbishment, even though Margot told me to fling it all out. Mr. Tipping calls it ‘Modern Classical Revival Style’. You and Pappa taught me to always respect a house’s history, and that is what I did, whilst giving Margot the more modern look she wants.”
“Pshaw! That girl hasn’t an ounce of taste. Her family have always been new money.” remarks Lady Sadie dismissively. “You can always tell the difference between the old and the new. True breeding will always win out.”
“Margot is my friend Mamma! Please don’t say such hurtful things.”
“Well, whatever you may think of Lettice’s choice in friends, Sadie, you cannot deny the credit she has brought to the family name by being associated with the Marquis of Taunton.” retorts the Viscount.
“Only by association with this interior design folly nonsense of hers, Cosmo.” She flaps her bejewelled hand at her daughter, the lace trimmed handkerchief partially stuffed up the left sleeve of her knitted silk cardigan dancing about wildly with every movement. “At least you were good enough to have your name and business published in a respectable periodical, Lettice.” she concedes begrudgingly.
“Well, I’m proud of you, Lettice my girl, and there’s a fact.” He turns again and stares with a hard look at his wife before pronouncing, “And so too is your brother and Arabella, and the Tyrwhitts. Your mother is just bitter because she wasn’t the one who was able to announce the news to the whole village.”
“You had no right not to tell me about this article, Lettice!” Lady Sadie grumbles as she cradles her cup and saucer in her lap in a wounded fashion, whilst foisting angry and resentful looks at her daughter. “None at all! I hadn’t even had an opportunity to open the magazine and peruse it before I had the Miss Evanses up here, unannounced, crowing about your name in print in Country Life and how proud I must feel.”
Lettice cannot help but smile at the thought of her mother being assailed by the two twittering spinster sisters who live in Holland House, a Seventeenth Century manor house in the village. The pair are known for their love of gossip, and even more for their voracity at spreading it, as they attempt to fill their lives which they obviously feel are lacking in drama and excitement. The chagrin Lady Sadie must have felt would have been palpable.
“Don’t you dare smile at my humiliation, you wicked girl! I had to pretend, Lettice! Pretend to those two awful old women, fawning and toadying the way they do, that I had read the article, and there it sat, unopened on my bonheur de jour***, completely untouched.”
“I only wanted it to be a surprise, Mamma.”
“Well, it certainly was that.” The woman’s eyes flame with anger. “I had feign that I was only being a tease when I showed such surprise to the Miss Evanses about your name in that article. Luckily the two were more interested in their own delight at their association to you than my genuine surprise that they believed me.” She turns her head away from her husband and daughter and adds uncharitably, “Stupid creatures.”
“Now don’t be bitter, Sadie.” the Viscount chides his wife. “Bitterness doesn’t become a lady of any age.”
“I’m not bitter!” spits Lady Sadie hotly with a harsh laugh of disbelief.
“Yes, you are.” her husband retorts with a gentle laugh of his own. “The more you defend yourself, the more evident it is, Sadie. You are just upset that the Miss Evanses had done a successful job of spreading the news through the village before you had the chance to do so yourself. They took the wind out of your sails. Lettice meant it to be a delightful surprise, and it was, my dear girl.”
“She didn’t consider the consequences.”
“The petty rivalry between her somewhat misguided mother, who should know better, and two old village crones, should hardly be a concern of one of London’s newest and brightest interior designers, Sadie.”
“Well, shouldn’t I have the opportunity to boast about my own daughter, Cosmo?”
“Aha! There!” the Viscount crows triumphantly. “So, you are proud of Lettice then.”
Lady Sadie thrusts her cup noisily onto the side table and stands up, brushing biscuit crumbs from her lap with angry sweeps onto the Chinese silk carpet at her feet. “You do talk a lot of nonsense, Cosmo.” She mutters brittlely. “I need to go and attend to something. So, if you will please excuse me.” She prepares to leave, but then adds as an afterthought, “But when I come back, I hope you two will have finished your character assassination of me.”
Lettice and her father watch Lady Sadie stalk towards the door with her nose in the air.
“I just hope that the Duchess doesn’t read that article, Lettice.” Lady Sadie says with a meanness in her angry voice. “I very much doubt she would like a daughter in trade. I hope you realise that this little stunt of yours could have ruined the best match you’ll ever get.”
The older woman opens the door and walks out into the corridor.
“Just ignore your mother.” the Viscount waves his hand before his wife as if erasing her presence as the door slams behind her, making both he and his youngest daughter wince. “She really is just jealous of those two silly old spinsters because they were gossiping about you in the village before she was able to do so.”
“I just wanted it to be a lovely surprise for you and her, Pappa.” Lettice pleads with wide and concerned eyes welling with tears.
“I know, my girl. I know.” He takes his handkerchief from his inside pocket and passes it to Lettice, who dabs at her eyes.
“I even organised with Mr. Tipping for Mamma to get her edition early,” Lettice sniffs. “But I suppose the mail delivery let me down.”
“Well,” her father shrugs. “Any general worth his wait in salt**** will tell you that the very best laid plans can go awry.” He smiles at her consolingly. “Your mother is contrary at the best of times. She’ll never admit that she is happy with any success that isn’t of her own making. Why on earth you seek her approval, I don’t know.” he adds in exasperation. “Do you deliberately wish to punish yourself, dear girl?”
Lettice sighs and sniffs. “I just hope that one day she will be proud of me. I feel like I’ve always disappointed her.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-three, Pappa.”
“Then you are old enough to know that no matter how hard you try, your mother will never admit to you that she is proud of you. If you do end up marring young Spencely, I doubt even then that she will willingly admit to being proud of you.”
“You’re right, Pappa. I should know better. You know that Lally told me the Christmas before last that Mamma lords the perfection of her married life over me, whilst lording the glamour of my life over her.”
“Quite so.” the Viscount admits. “I always told your mother that playing that game would do her no god in the end.” He laughs sadly. “But you know your mother. She won’t be told anything. I’m glad that your sister told you what’s what. Sadie hasn’t that power over you any more, now that you know the truth, Lettice.”
“But why does she do it?”
“Like I said, your mother is sadly misguided. Whether you believe me or not, it isn’t done out of spite.”
“Then what?”
“She does it to try and get you to both emulate the good things in the other. She wants Lally to be ambitious like you. The truth is I don’t think she ever really approved of the match between Lally and Lanchenbury.”
“But Lally and Charles are very happy together.”
“I know, Lettice. I know.” He pats her hands. “I think she considers him to be a little below the expectations she had for her eldest daughter, coming from a good and wealthy, but relatively socially insignificant family. That’s why she aspires for you through the marriage bed, dear girl.”
“But marriage isn’t all I aspire to, Pappa.”
“I know that too, and both your mother and I know how decimated the options are for young ladies in the wake of the war, your mother probably far better than I. But you must forgive us for wanting you to fill the role we expect you to fill, and for us hoping that it is a financial and socially ambitious match you make.” He sighs wearily. “Although with the way the world is changing, that seems to be becoming a less likely thing. I’m only grateful your brother made me modernise the estate. Goodness knows if we would have survived this post-war world of ours, and even now, I wonder whether we actually will.”
“Don’t say that Pappa.”
“Whatever happens, don’t let your mother upset you, and don’t let her spoil your triumph. I repeat, your brother, Arabella, the whole district is so proud of you, and I’m sure that all your friends, and young Spencely are equally proud to know you.”
“Alright Pappa,” Lettice sighs as her father places a consoling hand on her shoulder and rubs it lovingly. “I won’t.”
“That’s my girl. Now, I’m sure your mother has gone to arrange luncheon for Lady Edgar, the vicar and any number of other members of the great and good of the county, all of whom she will be singing your praises to – not that she will tell you that.” The Viscount winks conspiratorially at Lettice. “So, what’s say you and I go and have luncheon at the Dower House with Leslie and Arabella? I know they would love to see you and congratulate you.”
“Thank you Pappa!”
Lettice and her father embrace, and the pair remain in position for a few minutes, enjoying the intimacy without the criticism of Lady Sadie.
*Country Life is a British weekly perfect-bound glossy magazine that is a quintessential English magazine founded in 1897, providing readers with a weekly dose of architecture, gardens and interiors. It was based in London at 110 Southwark Street until March 2016, when it became based in Farnborough, Hampshire. The frontispiece of each issue usually features a portrait photograph of a young woman of society, or, on occasion, a man of society.
**Henry Tipping (1855 – 1933) was a French-born British writer on country houses and gardens, garden designer in his own right, and Architectural Editor of the British periodical Country Life for seventeen years between 1907 and 1910 and 1916 and 1933. After his appointment to that position in 1907, he became recognised as one of the leading authorities on the history, architecture, furnishings and gardens of country houses in Britain. In 1927, he became a member of the first committee of the Gardens of England and Wales Scheme, later known as the National Gardens Scheme.
***A bonheur de jour is a type of lady's writing desk. It was introduced in Paris by one of the interior decorators and purveyors of fashionable novelties called marchands-merciers around 1760, and speedily became intensely fashionable. Decorated on all sides, it was designed to sit in the middle of a room so that it could be admired from any angle.
****Although these days we commonly say that someone is worth their weight in gold, to say that someone is “worth one’s salt,” is the more traditional saying. Its meaning is the same. It’s a statement that acknowledges that they are competent, deserving, and – to put it simply – worthwhile. The phrase itself is thought to be rooted in Ancient Rome where soldiers were sometimes paid with salt or given an allowance to purchase salt. Similarly, if a person uses the phrase “worth its weight in salt,” to describe an object, they are expressing that they think the item is worth the price they paid or that it otherwise holds immense value to them.
This grand Georgian interior may appear like something out of a historical stately country house, but it is in fact part of my 1:12 miniatures collection and includes items from my childhood, as well as those I have collected as an adult.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The gilt Louis Quatorze chair and sofa, the black japanned chinoiserie tea table and the gilt swan round tables table are made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.
The gilt high backed salon chair is also made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq, but what is particularly special about it is that it has been covered in antique Austrian floral micro petite point by V.H. Miniatures in the United Kingdom, which makes this a one-of-a-kind piece. The artisan who made this says that as one of her hobbies, she enjoys visiting old National Trust Houses in the hope of getting some inspiration to help her create new and exciting miniatures. She saw some beautiful petit point chairs a few years ago in one of the big houses in Derbyshire and then found exquisitely detailed petit point that was fine enough for 1:12 scale projects.
The Palladian console tables at the back to either side of the fireplace, with their golden caryatids and marble was commissioned by me from American miniature artisan Peter Cluff. Peter specialises in making authentic and very realistic high quality 1:12 miniatures that reflect his interest in Georgian interior design. His work is highly sought after by miniature collectors worldwide. This pair of tables are one-of-a-kind and very special to me.
The elegant ornaments that decorate the surfaces of the Chetwynd’s palatial drawing room very much reflect the Eighteenth Century spirit of the room.
On the centre of the mantlepiece stands a Rococo carriage clock that has been hand painted and gilded with incredible attention to detail by British 1:12 miniature artisan, Victoria Fasken. The clock is flanked by a porcelain pots of yellow, white and blue petunias which have been hand made and painted by 1:12 miniature ceramicist Ann Dalton. At either end of mantle stand a pair of Staffordshire sheep which have been hand made, painted and gilded by Welsh miniature ceramist Rachel Williams who has her own studio, V&R Miniatures, in Powys. If you look closely, you will see that the sheep actually have smiles on their faces!
Two more larger example of Ann Dalton’s petunia posies stand on the Peter Cluff Palladian console tables. The one on the left is flanked by two mid Victorian (circa 1850) hand painted child’s tea set pieces. The sugar bowl and milk jug have been painted to imitate Sèvres porcelain. The right table features examples of pieces from a 1950s Limoges miniature tea set which I have had since I was a teenager. Each piece is individually stamped on its base with a green Limoges stamp. The vase containing the yellow roses is also a Limoges miniature from the 1950s.
The silver tea and coffee set and silver biscuit sachet on the central chinoiserie tea table, have been made with great attention to detail, and come from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The wonderful selection of biscuits on offer were made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.
The gilt edged floral teacups and plate on the table come from a miniatures specialist stockist on E-Bay. The blue and white vase the white roses stand in comes from Melody Jane’s Dolls House Suppliers in the United Kingdom.
The white and yellow roses are also made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.
The copy of Country Life sitting on the footstool which is a lynchpin of this chapter was made by me to scale using the cover of a real 1923 edition of Country Life. The 1:12 miniature copy of ‘The Mirror’ beneath it is made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.
The hand embroidered pedestal fire screen may be adjusted up or down and was acquired through Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop.
All the paintings around the Glynes drawing room in their gilded frames are 1:12 artisan pieces made by Amber’s Miniatures in the United States, and the wallpaper is an authentic copy of hand-painted Georgian wallpaper of Chinese lanterns from the 1770s.
The Georgian style fireplace I have had since I was a teenager and is made from moulded plaster.
The Persian rug on the floor has been woven by Pike, Pike and Company in the United Kingdom.
Panzer's Nomad Bee, Nomada panzeri.
Body length; 7 - 12mm.
Flight period; March – July.
Habitat; A wide variety of habitats, as befits its wide range of hosts, but there is a strong association with woodland.
Fairly common and widespread in England and Wales, Panzer's Nomad Bee is one of the larger and more frequently encountered Nomada species. Similar to Nomada flava, females of these two species can be reliably told apart by the erect black hairs on the clypeus of N. panzeri (these are pale in N. flava), and has silvery rather than yellow hairs on the sides of the thorax. The males of these two species are extremely difficult to separate with any degree of confidence.
This species is found throughout Britain and is more frequent than N. flava in northern regions but less so in the south. Also recorded from Ireland and the Channel Islands.
It is widely distributed in Europe.
Like all nomad bee species, the Panzer's nomad bee is a cleptoparasite. As such, the females use the nests of targeted hosts and lay an egg in the wall of an unsealed nest cell, one that has already been furnished with adequate food provisions ready for the emerging host larva.
The grubs of nomad bees emerge from the egg at about the same time as the host grub. Nomad bee grubs have large, sickle-shaped mandibles which they use to destroy the host egg or grub. The nomad bee grub then consumes the food stores that were intended for the host's offspring.
In addition to Andrena fucata, Panzer's Nomad Bee will use the nests of other hosts, including Andrena fulva, Andrena helvola, Andrena lapponica, Andrena varians and Andrena synadelpha.
The Temple of Hephaestus, also known as the Hephaisteion or earlier as the Theseion, is a well-preserved Greek temple; it remains standing largely as built. It is a Doric peripteral temple, and is located at the north-west side of the Agora of Athens, on top of the Agoraios Kolonos hill. From the 7th century until 1834, it served as the Greek Orthodox church of St. George Akamates.
Hephaestus was the patron god of metal working and craftsmanship. There were numerous potters' workshops and metal-working shops in the vicinity of the temple, as befits the temple's honoree. Archaeological evidence suggests that there was no earlier building on the site except for a small sanctuary that was burned when the Persians occupied Athens in 480 BC.
After the battle of Plataea, the Greeks swore never to rebuild their sanctuaries destroyed by the Persians during their invasion of Greece, but to leave them in ruins, as a perpetual reminder of the war.Construction started in 449 BC, and some scholars believe the building not to have been completed for some three decades, funds and workers having been redirected towards the Parthenon. The western frieze was completed between 445-440 BC, while the eastern frieze, the western pediment and several changes in the building's interior are dated by these scholars to 435-430 BC, largely on stylistic grounds. It was only during the Peace of Nicias (421-415 BC) that the roof was completed and the cult images were installed. The temple was officially inaugurated in 416-415 BC.
Around 700 AD, the temple was turned into a Christian church, dedicated to Saint George. Exactly when the temple was converted to a Christian church remains unknown. There are assumptions however that maybe that happened in the 7th century. For the first time, the temple is mentioned as an official Christian temple of Athens in 1690 and until 1834, it was the church of "St George Akamates".
Info Source: Wikipedia, 2013.
Poem.
Childish excitement travelling from east to west in late winter.
You know soon, very soon, the West Coast “Munros” will gleam like incisor teeth above the forested landscape.
Forcan, left, and The Saddle, right, are such peaks that advertise the thousand metre micro-climate of semi-Alpine splendour.
Spin-drift sweeps off the upper slopes to accumulate in layers like royal icing.
The snowy back-cloth forms a pleasing contrast to the pastel tans and greens of the bracken and forest of the lower slopes of this historic Glen.
The West Coast beckons.
Such a grand mountain corridor befits the momentous land and seascapes that lie in prospect.