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Taken at Wicken Fen.
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Details:
Hair / L'Etre and DOUX Lala Hairstyle
Top / fleur. Stella Top Black
Shorts / evani. Mircella Vintage Shorts Black
Boots / [Gos] Lara Combat Boots Black
Stockings / erratic Ciri Pantyhose Fishnet
Necklace / Kibitz Ciara's Necklace Gold
Scrunchie / fleur. Daisy Scrunchie
CREDITS: THE BLOG
Location: London for Ara
So good to be out hearing live music again. This band play lots of 80s music - mostly from the New Romantic stable: Visage, Duran Duran, Spandau Ballet, Soft Cell, OMD, Japan - and this was from one of my favourite bands: a cover of Vienna, by Ultravox.
@pommery reims
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bODwgw9Lw0Q
made possible by : the direstraits :)
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This is a screen-grab from the blog of Grimsby-based Rod Collins (www.rodcollins.com), who posts old photos of my one-time home town. Even though I moved away back in 1963, I enjoy reminders of the place that helped forge my worldview.
Here, Rod posted a scene painted by transport artist G.S. Cooper, asking “Who remembers Rayner’s record shop?”, as advertised on the front of the bus. Plenty of us do, but more than that, a host of us omnibologists (aka superannuated bus spotters) came out of the woodwork to post chapter and verse on the bus depicted, plus comments on a couple of inaccuracies and anachronisms in the scene.
In brief, we see former London Transport AEC Regent II STL2689 (HGC222) in Old Market Place, Grimsby, on the 45 service (joint with Lincolnshire Road Car Co.) to Immingham Docks. The route was introduced in early 1960, to replace British Railways’ Grimsby & Immingham Electric Railway service. The bus is erroneously given the Grimsby-Cleethorpes fleet number of 48. In reality, it was 43. Sister bus No.47 survives in preservation, restored to its original identity of STL2692, one of a batch of 20 that were painted green and based in Watford.
Grimsby took six such buses in 1955, enabling trolleybuses to be withdrawn from the 10 route between Riby Square and Weelsby Road (Peakes Lane). Other buses from the batch went to Widnes and Dundee.
The Dulux ad on the side of the bus suggests a date of 1965. Trolleybus poles are also evident, although the wiring was removed with the ending of trolleybus operation in June 1960. A Trojan van, once modelled by Dinky Toys, is just behind. At the far left is the Yarborough Hotel of 1863, then as now one of GY’s more salubrious watering holes, these days in the care of JD Wetherspoon.
Whilst I have been dismayed by the wholesale demolition of the Grimsby landmarks of my childhood, this scene can almost be replicated today. In place of the AEC Regent, there would be a Stagecoach East Midlands Dennis Dart or Trident, without doubt cast-offs from other parts of the corporate empire.
Artist G.S. Cooper may have taken liberties with the livery and all-round presentation of the bus: Grimsby’s salty North Sea air quickly dulled the lustre of the blue and cream.
Down in the buckeye glade, this adult dark-eyed junco was staying in contact with its young with a steady, repetitive call
Missed Part I, II and III?
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Scar Face, breathing heavily, drunkenly, he blurts. "Andrei," he starts in German, but realizing it is impolite to speak in foreign language, or, more likely to make sure I understand what is being talked, and gaining my trust, so he switches to English. "Dammit, Andrei! This is the fourth dog in one month. You know how difficult to find such a kind!"
Andrei whirls and stares at us, cutting off whistling the tune off and lets out a smile of warning trouble. "Well, well, this turned out to be a fine day after all, welcome gentlemen, welcome. The ceremony's about to begin." says with a trace of British accent, like those who took three months summer English classes in England, but something tells me otherwise; that the accent is not genuine; this five-eight foot tall, Clive Owens look-like face, sparse and receding hair, blue eyes are telling me this man is not what SCAR FACE came to know or not what he claims to be.
"This must stop!" Andrei says firmly, obviously not amused. "Why do it again, Andrei?
Andrei looks upward for a moment and steeples his fingers before him, as if praying, glances at the mongrel which lies next to Galina's foot, a piece of meat half chewed dangling from the corner of its mouth. Andrei looks from me to Scar Face, a tiny smile tugs at his lips." Hold your breath, Gregoire!" he says. "Do you know how bloody difficult to explain every time you ask that stupid question--"
"Let me make it easier," I say, and I take a step or two like flash and punch Andrei across the face, "This is for the poor dog, you whore-breed-heartless-fuck!" I lie.
Andrei staggers backwards, and while his feet go off the ground, his right hand engaging, gripping firmly and wrapping his non-dominant hand around the left side of the pistol's frame, aligning his two thumps pointing toward downrange for not to allow air spaces between his grip, thumbs clearing the slide of hammer, aiming the gun at me in proper stance in less than a three seconds, before he hits the ground. "One step and I'll blow your fucking head off like a marshmallow!" Andrei or whoever he was says calmly.
Gotcha! Wowsome, winsome exposure, with a wowsome capture! You failed and passed the test, ass wipe! Now, I know; you're not a cop. Not Marine or Military trained agent. An assassin or Interpol or Mossad! Anything but your usual suspect.
Who are you, really, Andrei?
We stare at one another: Clint Eastwood squinting into Bad's eyes. The theme song playing but only internally, in our heads. Bad knows he fucked up!
The Good, The Bad and Ugly theme song stops abruptly.
I walk toward Andrei and I extend a friendly-hand, I pull him up. "My bad," I say, feign a pardon my foolish act. "Just love dogs...and, um, I guess I lost it. We cool?"
Bad tugs the gun where it belongs and grips my hand. "No harm done," he says. "I got this...what shrinks call Cyno--" he pauses, unsure how to pronounce it.
"Cynophobia," I complete the word somewhat in an ironic tone. "Fear of dogs. What, you were jumped on by an overexcited puppy or growled at by a large yet miserable sick watchdog?"
"You suddenly my shrink now?" Andrei says pungently, humiliated.
"No. But, if I were, I'd have you locked with a ferocious Bulldog in one of those cells back in there. The best way to cure phobia is not Sub Modality Restructuring; Swish Pattern; Hypnotherapy; Time Line Therapy or all the other bullshit, but to come face to face with your fear."
When I don't take my pills, I just...panic."
"I hear you," I say. "But, I prefer calling it panic disorder. And there are techniques to overcome this."
"Not interested! I suggest you stay the fuck out my sight or you'll be next lying beside that mongrel!"
During all this, Scar Face does nothing but watches dumbfounded. I turn to Scar Face. "This is a real killer," I say.
"Of course he is a real killer, Dr Stark, the dog is really dead." says Scar face.
"Doctor?" Andrei asks quickly, jumping on his feet, looking at me."No psychiatrists or dogs allowed to hump in here!"
"Calm down, Andrei!" scoffs Scar Face. "I still call the shots here! His credentials includes a Diplomatic Driver's License. Mr Stark is a psychologist. Treats diplomatic and consular personnel's in...
So, Scar Face knew from the moment I handed him the blue color Driver's License like blind Ray Charles would recognize the keys of a Blues song on a sheet of notes. Practice makes perfect in any field. I remember reading in American Science magazine that it took ten years or ten thousand-hours (not even 9,999 hours. And this made me go Hi mm! at the time) to be an expert in what you do; this be it art, fishing, science or crime.
Also See: Einstein
Also See: Newton
Also See: Michael Jackson in The Jackson 5
Also See: John Constable
Also See: Ansel Adams
"Spare me the lecture, Gregoire!" snaps Andrei. "I know what it means, you Putinka smelling, peasant cop! Diplomatic Immunity yak tack slash spy. Consider me impressed, but he shouldn't be here."
I wan to correct this Dog-Fearing-Dog-Killer soulless bastard that not all personnel in the Embassy are spies, but I let this one go. I have nothing to say to this Cynophobic lunatic who, without hesitation, would shoot both an old man petting his dog in the park. And I could easily made him believe that I was not a spy (even if I was) by just admitting to be one. The best way to conceal the truth is to tell the truth. That way you'll be dismissed as not "the genuine article'. If you were, you wouldn't say you were, right? However, I wouldn't recommend the spooks to do this at home or overseas.
My stomach growls. I feel hungry and suddenly I don't remember when I had something for it churn.
"If we all medicated and educated now," I quipped. "Can we get with the program, ladies? I'm starving with a capital S. You must've heard that the Cold War is over. We are all ein Berliner. I'm sure there's a Fast Food joint, even Mc Donald's nearby, right"
Drinking does that. It turns you into a scavenging, carnivores gull, which will take live or dead food, greedily and opportunistically, be it crabs or craps. Suddenly, a memory plays before my eyes. Me and Jim, an NBA player, who was transferred, bought more like it, to a funny sounding name of Finnish Team in Scandinavia and every time after club-closing hour on Friday or Saturday, with or without a lay, like a ritual, we would be standing in front of a 24 hours Hess burger hand-out Kiosk, (the best burger in the world and every Mc Donald's lover American would agree at the first bite instantly and the mention of a 'secret sauce of Mc Donald's' would be as a lame a joke as one of Robin Williams'. "Objection, your Honor! blips the Mc Donald's CEO appointed lawyer. "Argumentative speculations!" The sauce-er judge slams his gravel and says firmly. "Motion denied! Proceed, Mr Stark!), taking a heavenly bites while shooing the gulls away which were so adaptive to snatch your burger from your hand in a mind-boggling maneuver, finish it and come back for more less than a minute.
Andrei looks at Scar Face and laughs. "Yes, there is one, Mr Doc Hollywood " he says sardonically. "If you don't mind driving back three-hundreds kilometers back to the Austrian border. Huh! Hah!"
This chapter happend to be longer than usual. To read the rest: maventalk.blogspot.com
Pocahontas from Disney Store (2013 version) wearing a dress made by the Disney Store. It came in a pack with her wedding dress and a few animal friends.
Rollei 35 Black
Tessar 40mm f3.5
Kosmo Foto Agent Shadow EI400
Kodak HC-110 + ars-imago #9 45min @20° in Jobo1520
DSLR-Scan
Digitaliza on Essential Film Holder
Negative Lab Pro
As the sun rose above a valley in the North York Moors it cast an orange glow across the heather, just as a male Red Grouse called out.
Heat waves make for a surrealistic scene and the KB&S units cross the TP&W at Webster, IL. The operator's cabin still exists here, but the crossing is controlled by radio signal.
Photo by John Eagan
Airman 1st Class Neil Mooney watches simulated enemy targets at an observation point Nov. 1, 2013, at the Orchard Training Combat Center near Boise, Idaho. During the training with AH-64 Apache Helicopters from Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Wash., Mooney called in strikes to the simulated enemy targets. Mooney is a tactical air control party specialist from the 124th Air Support Operations Squadron. (U.S. Air National Guard photo by Master Sgt. Becky Vanshur/Released)
Montana de Oro / Central Coast / Calif
There's nothing like shooting down at Montana de Oro, always a challenge and always a complete journey into something other worldly and "jurassic". The most strange and uncanny coastline there is, and a complete blast! This is, not TO FAR off the bluff trail. Went down to a small cove and explored a region I hadn't been to before. As usual, I wasn't disappointed. The 3/4 moon was rising above the cliffs and I thought I would include it in this shot, made sure to get some water flowing back toward the beach to add a little bit of movement and character to what would have been a very "still" picture.
Nikon D5100
18mm
f/ 16
8 seconds
ISO 100
Cokin Grad
SLIK 500HD Tripod
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Calling all Raiders fans!!!
I am a Patriots fan but I made this card for my stepson. He was injured when he was a quarterback at his high school 30 years ago. He just went through a neck surgery. I found the helmet and football embellishments in my scrap drawer. The logo images were from Google. I think this speedy recovery card is very appropriate because he is so loyal to Raiders.
Just one shot before I hit the sack from tonight's Aerosmith gig.
The Bad Boys from Boston, American rockers Aerosmith headlined the first of two nights of the Calling Festival newly relocated to South London’s Clapham Common.
The Steven Tyler-led rockers brought their unique blend of entertaining rock to a damp London evening, re-energising the sodden crowd with a mixed set drawn from their extensive back catalogue as well a cover of The Beatles 1969 hit Come Together. They began the 18-song set with Mama Kin from their 1973 eponymous debut album before moving onto Get a Grip hit Eat the Rich and Pump classing Love in an Elevator.
Hits Walk This Way and Dude (Looks Like a Lady) also featured before the encore was opened with classic Dream On featuring Tyler playing piano and Joe Perry playing guitar … on the piano!
It’s surprising just how much energy the 66-year-old Tyler and 63-year-old Perry convey up on stage with such engaging performances and on-stage hijinks that kept the crowd enthralled from the outset until the closing bars of Toys in the Attic classic Sweet Emotion.
Night folks!
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