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{Log of CT-7869, “Greeves”}
-Republic Cruiser R950, “Destroyer”, travelling through hyperspace, 01:59, 21 BBY
-I never did get a chance to “get out of there”. We were whisked back to Kamino and spent time training there. After a while, Crash gathered us and told us that things were changing; we’d been training for over a year, and we were to get ready for some changes now that we were in the second year of what was becoming known as the “Clone Wars”. Kamino was very busy; I heard talk of a “phase 2” armour and how the production was slowed by something, probably the Separatist attack here a little while ago.
One night Crash entered my room and sat down on the bed next to me while I was reading.
“Are you alright, trooper?” He asked me. I shook my head.
“No, sergeant, I’m still angry with General Derbson. I know I shouldn’t be, but I am. It just... I didn’t like being played by that.”
He put his hand on my shoulder. “Greeves.” I was shocked that he had called me by my name; usually we were all just “trooper” or “you there” to him. “Greeves, I know who you feel. I wasn’t happy either. But we completed the mission; the mission always come first, y’know. I can garuntee that everyone in your squad was willing to give up their lives for the mission.”
“What do they think about being the distraction?” I asked him.
“They aren’t happy with it, but they know that it had to be done. They know that it was for the good of the Republic.”
“Even Mech and Packer?”
“Even Mech and Packer.”
He stood up.
“Tomorrow you will all be seperated into different parts of the company according to your skills. You will still be in the same company, but won’t see each other as much.”
I nodded. I knew this was coming.
“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, where are you going?”
He gave me a grave look. “I’m being transferred somewhere else. In truth, I was assigned to your squad as punishment; I didn’t follow orders from my original general, Pong Krell. He wanted to have me exectued, but the captain talked him out of it. I was to train rookies as punishment. But it has been an excellent experience; you have become far better trooperrs than I ever could.”
He began walking out the door.
“Sir, what legion are you being transferred to?” I asked him. He shook his head.
“I honestly don’t know.”
That was the last time I would ever see Crash; later I would find out that he was transferred to the 501st and died fighting on Umbara, under his original general, Pong Krell. The irony is sickening.
It turned out that Mech, Packer and Spastic were both going to be part of an elite squadron of commandos called Flare Squad. How Spastic got into that squad, I don’t know. Verb was going to do some additional training as a medic with another commando squad, and I was promoted to a sergeant. I would be one of many sergeants leading a squad of troopers handpicked from other legions to be part of the group under general Derbson, known as the 73rd Specialist Corps or “Sarlacc Company”, as it was nicknamed. The other members of my original squad would be part of that too but, just as Crash had said, we hardly saw each other.
As well as hardly seeing them, I also saw less and less of general Derbson. It seemed the war was taking its toll on him; whenever I did see him, he was wearing armour over his Jedi robes, his hair was long, messy and unkempt, and he looked increasingly tired. Some of the clones under me had only seen him once or twice. But whatever; even though I'd tried to forgive him, part of me still burned with anger.
About 4 months into the second year of the Clone Wars, our legion was called upon to take part in a major siege on some far-flung outer rim planet. I was leading my troops through the hangar when I saw him: I couldn’t tell from the face, but from the way he was talking and gesturing, I knew that had to be Mech. I turned to my squad.
“Stay here,” I told them, “I need to talk with someone.”
I walked up to a group of orange-clad troops; I tapped maybe-Mech on the shoulder. He turned.
“Hi, Mech,” I said boldly. I took off my helmet to reveal my trademark goatee. Recognition flickered in his eyes, and I found his eyebrows raise on his scarred face.
“Greeves,” he said, “it’s been so long. How are you?”
“Good, good,” I said, “I’m a sergeant now. I have my squad back there.” Mech nodded understandingly. He seemed older and more serious; maybe the Flare Squad had changed him. I coudn’t picture him being the geeky joker he always was with us.
“I see you still have the traditional colours,” he said, referring to the green on my armour.
“Yeah, I did it in honour of Crash.”
“He was a good sergeant. Hang on– PACKER!”
Another orange-clad trooper walked over us and removed his helmet; it was Packer. He removed his helmet and grinned, and I gasped; he had not only grown out his hair, but dyed it a sandy-colour.
“Packer, it’s good to see you,” I said. “How’s the Flare Squad?”
He and Mech exchanged looks.
“We’ve seen some pretty nasty stuff,” Packer exclaimed. “Once you do the things we’ve done, there’s no going back.” Mech nodded in agreement.
“How’s Spastic been?” I inquired.
“He hasn’t changed; he’s still an oddball. In fact–” Packer lowered his voice– “I think he enjoys shooting up the clankers, bugs–whatever we’re facing. I mean, it’s kinda fun and all, but he really gets into it, and it affects him off the battlefied, too; the sergeant’s had to isolate him a couple for fighting us.”
I raised my eyebrows in shock. Wow. So, Mech was now really serious, Packer had grown out his hair and dyed it–the former of which we all promised each other not to do, as we though it showed us being unified– and now Spastic’s going crazy. I wonder what Verb will be like?
An announcement went through the loudspeakers: “PLEASE GO TO YOUR SHIPS, WE WILL BE ARRIVING AT THE PLANET SHORTLY.”
I pointed at my squad; “Well, I’ve gotta go, it was nice seeing you,” I said. They both nodded.
“You too,” Packer said. “Be careful,” Mech added.
END OF LOG
Sorry this one was so long, thanks for getting this far!
The Cladance Moss operation of Sinclair Horticulture Ltd near East Kilbride on 29th March 2011, with 2ft 6in gauge Alan Keef 4-wheel diesel-hydraulic '05 581' (Works No.18 of 1985) heading a loaded train from the moss to the tippler, passing a peat harvesting machine, and one of two trains in operation that day. This was the last commercial narrow gauge peat railway in mainland Britain and sadly the railway operation was abandoned upon Sinclair Horticulture Ltd being taken by Westland Horticulture Ltd in August 2015. The Barclay had previously worked at Nobels Explosives Co. Ltd Ardeer Works, which was a subsidiary of I.C.I. Ltd, hence the company logo on the cab. This peat operation is believed to have commenced in the 1980s, but the railway was not installed until as recently as 1997.
© Gordon Edgar - All rights reserved. Please do not use my images without my explicit permission
Shot taken at the Pushkar Fair 2013
Early morning settles into the Presidio with a calm that feels earned rather than staged. Along a lightly traveled internal road, a low, wood-clad building sits beneath a pale sky, its form emerging gradually as night gives way. The light is cool and even, revealing weathered shingles, vented gables, and a long, sheltered porch that speaks to utility more than display.
This is the Presidio at its most characteristic. The building’s proportions are practical, its materials straightforward, shaped by climate and use rather than ornament. Repeating rooflines create a gentle rhythm across the façade, while shaded windows and boarded openings suggest a structure in transition — neither abandoned nor fully activated. An empty parking area stretches quietly in the foreground, reinforcing the sense of pause that defines these early hours.
What distinguishes the scene is its restraint. The Presidio has always been a place where buildings are asked to coexist with landscape, not dominate it. Trees frame the edges, grass rises unevenly along the slope, and the architecture holds its place without insisting on attention. There is no spectacle here, only continuity.
Moments like this reveal a side of San Francisco that often goes unnoticed. Before visitors arrive and before daily activity resumes, the Presidio reads as a working landscape with a long memory — layered, patient, and quietly present. The building doesn’t explain itself, and it doesn’t need to. It belongs to the morning, and to the ground it occupies.
Built in 1888, this Romanesque Revival-style building was designed by Henry C. Koch and Allan Conover to house the science department of the University of Wisconsin. The building is clad in red brick with a hipped roof, a tower with gables, arched bays, decorative patterned brickwork, and a rough-hewn stone base. The building is a contributing structure in the Bascom Hill Historic District, listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1974, and was listed individually on the National Register of Historic Places and designated a National Historic Landmark in 1993.
The Watcher in the woods
Pursuing the Posh
A Cat Burglar Saga
From the files of Chatwick University Criminology Department.
C.B. Case Study 13 , File B
Subset Source: Journal
Subject “Harley Q” -- Real name?
ORIGINATION STORY:
flic.kr/p/BcnW2J
Synopsis:
The young lady was approaching sweet sixteen if I estimated accurately. She was clad in a tailored dress of bronze velvet that shone richly over her lithe figure. Her long blonde hair tied in back, flickered like a horses’’ tail. She had come bounding from a ladies powder chamber, one of several located at either end of the grand ballroom that sat off the formal dining rooms.
I fell in step behind her, watching as her splendid jewelry bounced merrily as she pranced along like some untried colt, sorry filly. Her pearls were lovely things, a matched set, double strands all, real diamond clasps, shone gleaming with a pristine whiteness that reminded me of fresh snow.
The pearls were a sweet lure, of that there was no doubt; but apologies if I am prattling n a bit about them, for after all, what is a jewel thief who fails to notice a ladies jewels? A starving bugger, that’s who.
Now I have found out during my times here on the earth that I can make quite a profit from burgling the safes of wealthy ladies whilst they slept peacefully within their fancy chambres. But I had started out walking my morally tainted chosen path by picking the pockets of the unwary along the way. It was my fate to eventually discover the delightfully chilling sensation that was experienced when lifting the very jewels displayed by unsuspecting female targets. And this was still my guilty pleasure, to the point that I would still take that far riskier venture of lifting worn jewelry whenever opportunity arose, which was quite often in my travelled circles.
So, that is why I habitually started to follow this meandering youth, only because of her jewels, which I found to be quite vexing. Especially her earrings, a dangling set held to her ears by genuine diamond studded hinge clasps. I had seldom attempted sets of worn earrings, not for the lack of desire, and with this one’s head just reaching me chest, it was a very tempting prospect to try and pluck em both off just to see?
Fortunately, for her (not me), this pretty miss was a bit too young for my standards to make any attempt to lift from her any of the swinging pearls, earrings or otherwise. I do prefer my marks to be a bit older, a bit wiser, a bit more of a challenge to my abilities, thank you very much! Besides, I had already had my eye on a few other, challenging female prospects wearing some rather nice pieces in their own right. Including one sapphire laden Lass in a silky frock that had greatly provoked my attentiveness.
So I just followed this young one while she skirted the ballroom and entered a dining area. There she rejoined, what were quite obviously, her parents.
There were, it appeared, just the three of them, no older jewel laden siblings in sight. But, speaking of appearances, the Mother certainly presented a rather nice one, and so I stopped to drink it all in.
The mother/wife was fluidly clad in an all so elegant purple satin number, poured rather snugly along her still quite lovely figure. Said figure had been made even more eye catching (especially for me) by being emblazon with a matching set of jewels, all set with small 1 caret white diamonds, encircling her neck, wrists and fingers with energetic ripples of fiery colour.
She was with her husband, a distinguished looking gent in tails who may have passed as a Barrister, for which all I knew he was. Now Sandwiched in between was their charming young daughter, who was happily chatting away without a care in the world. Her pristine pearls still dangling, mocking me it would seem, to just make the one exception and attempt to take them home with me. I just smiled to wickedly to myself, maybe someday I would I promised them, once their young mistress had grown up a bit, then we would see who was mocking whom from the wickets!
But I did not dwell too long on such thought’s , or on the pretty family either, for, like I have revealed, I had other fish frying, and only am mentioning this particular incident because of what would occur in two days hence. So after a bit I turned and began wandering off.
But then, speaking of starving jewel thieves, I observed at the precise moment I turned away, a most stunning red head wearing a long black gown that fluttered about, here and there, in a most alluring fashion. She was making a beeline towards the very same powder chamber I had just passed. She was obviously in a rush to reach it, and once I laid my eyes on the pearls she was wearing, I moved towards her in an equally purposeful stride. I intercepted her, letting her bump against me, as I stepped on the hem of her long gown. She stopped abruptly, and I momentarily placed an arm around her smooth waist, steadying her as I apologized and begged the ladies pardon for my clumsiness.
She begrudgingly accepted my apologies, and I watched as she scurried off, having already pocketed the pearled bracelet I had slipped from her red satin gloved wrist, and made my own path. I smirked to myself that the bracelet was some consolation for not having an unscrupulous go for the pearls that had hung around the young daughter’s throat, hung from her ears, and encircled one petite wrist, as I stole one last look back towards the pretty families’ table.
I walked away, turning my attentions back to relocating a certain lady elegantly wearing a silky frock, displaying those magnificent sapphires. I was watching, waiting for her to leave, in order to follow to her next stop, eventually hoping to be led to her last, having decided to acquire the fair damsel’s collection of jewels enmasse!
***** Two productive evenings later ****************
It was at a wedding reception the 2 evenings later that I again, quite un-expectantly, spied the Barrister and his entourage.
I had been having a delightful chat with the newly minted wife of the titled Scion of a rather old family. I had won the sweepstakes of receiving a dance with the charming Miss. But alas my chat was cut short as she was whisked away to dance with yet another admirer. I watched as she swept off, my hand reaching into me breast pocket, fingering a still warm diamond brooch. That jewel had been merrily dangling down from her satin gowns’ cleavage, over shadowed by her ample bosom. As we had danced, I had managed to work open its silvery clasp, and lift the brooch cleanly away. My hidden vest pocket also contained at the time a rather pretty ring with a blue carbuncle surrounded by sparkly diamonds. Said ring had been wrapped around the finger of a rather vexing long raven haired lass. I had admired the silken dress she was wearing, and as she had happily swirled and twirled to give me a better look, I had taken the opportunity to relieve her finger of its burden. Since I was only allowing meself a couple of prospects with an affair this small, I now made my way, leisurely, contentedly, towards an exit (stage right as they say in the trades).
But, no sooner had I put me back to the dance floor, than whom do I spy across the room? That rather delightful miss with a long blonde ponytail, who was now dressed elegantly in cream lace, that I had spied at dinner a few evenings back. It was the very same young lady, wearing the same set of mocking white pearls, and as I discreetly draw near, I soon spied her parents.
The “Barrister” was dapper in crisp white shirt and tux, with a fancy gold pocket watch and fob at his waist. The daughter’s look alike mother was now smartly encased in a fitted red gown that shimmered delightfully as it swished about. She was also wearing a nice display of brite emeralds to boot.
This time I took closer notice of the Mothers Jeweles. Between the emeralds today and the diamonds the night before, this lady in red could be a nice meal ticket if the stars were aligned properly. And so it turned out they very happily (for me) did.
With a few discreet questions from some acquaintances quickly garnered for just such information, I found out where my “Barrister” and his family were spending their late evenings asleep. It so happened that they were staying in a penthouse suite 3 floors above my own modest single. So instead of leaving the reception to scout out a way to gain easy access to their rooms, I could stay and enjoy myself, already being all too familiar with the place. Which I did, later acquiring a gold jeweled bracelet from a charming maiden attired delightfully in teal satin, who had kept flaunting her jewels in me face as she told me all about her perfect self. Another jewel added for my growing collection of the evening.
Now, don’t ask me why I was so familiar with my hotels’ penthouse suites, being a cat burglar, the reasons should be quite clear! So when the pretty family left the reception early, around 9 pm returning to their rooms, I was able to follow them with less discretion then I usually do, but still with growing eager anticipation. Also, even more remarkably, they were in bed and asleep by 10:30 pm, which allowed me a much earlier window of opportunity than I had grown accustomed to having.
And so it was, that soon after the stroke of midnight, with the happy family deep in their slumbers that I, wearing my black burgling attire, climbed onto the balcony of their rooms. After jimmying open the double glass doors with my Fairborn dagger, I found myself in a small sitting room. Carefully allowing my torch to search around I spied a door on the far end. Opening it cautiously, the first thing I see are the daughters pricey pearls piled loosely on a vanity by the bed where she lay sleeping, dressed in white, looking ever so like the angel she is. I picked up the necklace of pearls, eyeing them as I watch the slumbering figure on the bed. But I passed the pretty things up, for even though I am a thief by nature, I do possess some scruples, albeit maybe a little warped! Besides, those taunting pearls had led me to the small treasure trove that was awaiting me in her Mothers’ chambers. So with a silent thanks, I replaced them upon the vanity, and move off…
The parents were found in the next room, soundly sleeping off their alcohol induced haze. The mother was draped over her husband, fetchingly clad in a long satin nightdress that looked almost like an evening gown. Her vulgarly large wedding diamonds flickered pleasantly from her finger as I let my torch sneak up along her shimmering figure. On the bed stand laid the “Barristers” gold watch and a rather pleasing selection of his wife’s gold “day” jewelry, but I passed the lot up, my eyes looking for the good stuff that would be snuggled inside the small room safe that I knew would be behind a false door in one side of the oak dresser ( having already discovered that fact a year previously in a different room of the same hotel)!
I went directly to it, and opening the cabinet door, began to use my finely attuned skills to crack it. It was a simple American lock and only took me a minute to have open. I than emptied the small collection of jewel cases ( lovely things) placing them into my small sack. I also find inside the mothers small clutch purse made expensively of red silk and rhinestones, that had been at her side all evening. Out of curiosity (why in the safe?) I placed it inside my bag with the jewels. After checking that the parents were still out cold, I closed the safe, flickering my torch around one last time, it settles upon her red gown, and its emerald rhinestone clips coming blazing into lively flame. I passed on them, and headed back out towards the door. I had almost regained it, and my freedom, when the husband let out a loud snort, and I heard rustling going on in the bed behind me. I froze and carefully looked back. Neither had woken, but the wife had turned onto her side, and her left hand was now hanging limply over the side of the bed. I watched as the diamonds set in the gold ring encircling her slender finger blazed into life (the ring was somewhat loose I keenly noticed)! Blimey, there was enough dosh in the value of that ring that would have paid for all the expenses of the Cardiff C.C. for an entire season, perhaps 2! But, Bird in the Hand, I am always telling meself, so I left the pretty thing dangling there, and finished my careful retreat. I made it out without further incident.
Passing the daughters room ( and her pearls again), I checked in. The young filly was still was sound asleep in her own pleasant dreams, her taunting pile of pearls still on the vanity, where they would remain. I regained the balcony and slipping over, made my way down to the window of my own room.
Back in my room I empty my sack, the pile of jewels flickering in a frenzy of colours. I admire the little darlings briefly before stashing them. I than pick up the purse and open it. Inside amongst the usual feminy items, I found a letter. Looking at it my heart, already beating quickly from the exhilaration of being on the prowl, skipped one beat, for it was addressed to the lady whose jewels I now possessed, and it was an address of an area I knew quite well. I thought about her address, the house she presumably shared with husband and daughter, the house which should be empty seeing its owners were sleeping just three floors above me. A house that was little over an hour away, only about ¾ of that hour by driving my Lotus. It was a house that I figuratively knew; being in the same neighborhood (relatively speaking) of a house I had reconnoitered and quite lucratively burgled the previous spring.
It was perfect. While the family was asleep snug in their beds here, I could reach their abode, with its jewel laden safe ( they all had jewel laden safes in that area), ½ hour to creep the place, an hour to do the job proper and I would be back in time to catch a two hour kip and be checked out and on my way before the pretty family have had breakfast. It, bears repeating, was perfect.
I looked at the envelope, was its contents that valuable that she felt the need to lock it up. More than mildly curious, I pulled it out and read it. It was from someone named Samuel. In no uncertain terms, he was informing the lady that for only ₤5000 sterling he would leave for the States and never bother her Daughter Claire again. I thought of the young girl asleep in the suite I had just left. What kind of Scoundrel would lure a young girl like that into his clutches with the intent of extorting her parents! For a moment I pondered this bit of information, before deciding that the opportunity was too ripe to pass up just because I felt a small twinge of compassion. Besides, if the parents could afford to cough up a cool 5 thousand, they weren’t hurting in the financial department.
I changed, and quickly gathered my things and headed out quietly via a back entrance. Placing my burgle kit (containing the ladies jewels) into the boot of me two seater, I fired up the lotus’s engine and was off on my little undertaking!
A half hour away I turned down a little used rutty road/path. Pulling over I grabbed my burgle kit and headed down to some ancient stone ruins. Checking to make sure none of my warning snares had been tripped, I entered a small stone building. Going down into one of its old, crumbling basements, I uncovered a small cubby and added the jewels to the growing collection of my recent takings.
Included in the collection were sets of pearls burgled from a coach stop overnight room occupied by a pair of fairly insufferable spinster sisters. Other burgled items were a rather pretty , if not vulgarly large, diamond set obtained from a naive damsel who thought hiding them under the pillow she slept on was safer than a safe, (always happy to enlighten someone upon the error of their ways that’s me), and of course the sapphires that the lass in the silky frock had been wearing 2 nights previous ( along with some rather nice sets of rubies and diamond adorned amethysts that had lain in the same safe, located above her soundly sleeping figure! ) The rest of the lot consisted of items I had “picked up” while on the prowl: a nice collection of brooches, rings, bracelets, and an eye-catching sapphire pendent hanging from a diamonded chain.
I than closed everything up, rechecked my warning snares, and headed back to my Lotus.
Another 30 minutes and I had reached my destination.
The house itself was pretty secluded, located by an intersection of two lanes. I drove its perimeter than doubling back found a pull off. I backed up and turned down and off the road hiding the small sports car in a grove of pines.
Already wearing some of my burglar attire, (black military trousers and sweater), I placed a hood over my head, pulled out my small kit, fastening a torch and military knife to my belt, I was off. The house appeared to be deserted, I found the servants quarters located at the back of the house over a small barn, the only cars were a small sports car in a shed, and a roadster sitting out front. A large garden surrounded by hedges lay to the west of the house, a larger Tudor, with several porches and balconies. Using the hedges as cover, I shimmed up an old tree located by a balcony, and slipping onto the balcony proper, I made my way to the door. Shimmed the latch with my Fairborn commando knife, and then entered into a side bedroom. I was looking for the master suite, and this was not it, the daughter’s by all appearances. I spied a small ornate silver box on a table, but passed it up , on the search for bigger game!
Turning on my torch I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. At the end was a set of double mahogany doors and this is where I set my sights. Along the hallway wall were several rather nice paintings (not copies) and I let the pool of my light flicker along them. Included in the lot was a small painting of a young fox, half asleep, eyeing something in the distance? I stood for precious seconds admiring it, and then turned my attention to the mahogany doors. They were not locked, and I cautiously, very slowly, opened one. Pay dirt! A large empty canopied bed stood in the middle of the room, a love seat to one side, a settee on the other, and directly across from the bed a large ornate sideboard with mirror. Along one side of the wall was a series of chains with different rooms labelled underneath, presumably connected to bells in those rooms. It definitely belonged to the mistress of the house, and, hopefully, her jewels.
I let my light flow over the room, avoiding the window and glass door that led out onto another balcony. I soon spotted the location of the safe; it was behind an old painting of a Harlequin. Said Harlequin was standing on a black and white checked tile floor, as he looked inquisitively into his own reflection from an ornate wall mirror. The painting was located on the wall between the corner and the intricately carved oak sideboard. I slid back the painting on its hinges, exposing the small safe.
It was exactly the same safe as their neighbors, the ones I had burgled clean in the spring. Quickly getting to work I spin the tumblers, listening intently for the correct paths of clicks. Bingo! , it opened up like a dream. Inside I found a bonanza of about a dozen small jewel cases handedly printed with the jewelers names (Cartier and Tiffany’s amongst them! ) I quickly open and empty their contents into my kit, pouring out a delightfully pricey array of colorful gems of all types and styles. Replacing the empty cartons, I rummage around, finding a small stack of gold and silver coins and a couple of bundles of notes, currency of the realm. I favorably pocket the lot.
Suddenly I freeze, hearing the unmistakable sounds of muffled giggling from down the corridor. Closing the safe and picture I back off and hide inside a closet, wishing I had had the foresight to have opened the balcony door to see if that had offered escape, but I had been so sure I would be alone that evening that I had let me guard slacken a bit. I hoped that whoever it was they were heading off to bed.
They were off to bed, problem was it was the bed in the room I was in for which they were heading. I heard the door open, and from the crack in the closet door, I saw a young couple come in, tipsy and fondling the heck out of one another. The female was obviously an older daughter of the house, a mini version of the mother and her sister. She was resplendent in a long flowing cream satin evening gown; her paramour was a beady eyed, weasely faced chap in loose fitting tux and tails. It must have been his roadster outside; the couple must have been snogging in the garden, and drinking wine, judging from the smell and the way they were acting. Again I kicked myself for not checking the grounds more thoroughly. But why hadn’t the bloody twit of a daughter been at the wedding with her family where she belonged? But a bit later I was to reason that if she had, I would have been tempted to lift a diamond bracelet, and me path may have ended there. Missing out entirely, the opportunity to burgle the contents of 2 bedroom safes, master and penthouse!
They headed right to the bed, (doing it on the parents bed, and old cracker that was) the lady not even taking off her long satin gloves, just falling onto the bed with her doe wide eyes gleaming, while her beady eyed lover was falling all over her. Oh god! Samuel, I heard her mummer in passion. My eyes were opened, this must be the daughter Claire, and the beady eyed bloke was the infamous Samuel. Now it made a little more sense, but not any less wicked. I watched them in a new light, my mind going a full mile a minute trying to see a way out of the situation. . “Si vous voulez faire rire Dieu , faire des plans” I muttered an old saying in French, chastising myself inwardly for taking on such a gamble rushed for time.
Now, I am certainly no voyeur, and my belief that some things private, are, well private! But actually, in this instance, there was no choice. I tried not to watch, but the couple’s raw, animal like lovemaking and all its trimmings were happening just feet away. I began to amuse myself by watching the flashy show put on by the daughter’s sparkling jewels and the fluidly movement of her shiny, slinking gown as they were caught in the moonlight that streamed thru the glass of the balcony door. It was the type of show that engrosses any jewel thief worth his salt (hell, any bloke worth his salt for that matter). My mind also kept going back to the letter that I had found in the red silk purse and I hoped that a way would open to cause “Mr.” Samuel some sort of grief.
Beady eyes comes onto her, driving her mind off everything but what he is doing, as her eyes are closed tight, his are open, looking about. I slink in a little more into the shadows, keeping his face in my view. Occasionally a white satin gloved hand appears, rings and bracelets sparkling in a frenzied flickering as her fingers grip his face. Suddenly his eyes open wide as he looks towards the painting of the Harlequin. Cripes I mutter as I look there also, for on the floor lies a diamond bracelet, the fancy bugger must have slipped out as I scurried to my hole. I prepare to bolt like a fox hiding close to where the hounds are heading (my mind went to the painting of the watchful fox in the hallway outside the bedroom).
But beady eyes says nothing..
He finished the job, with her squealing like a piglet, before she slumps back exhaustedly onto the bed. Her eyes were closed, her breathing became heavier as she lost all drink induced conscious. I watched as her lover’s half closed eye stayed focused on the bracelet, as he listened to her breathing become heavier. When he was sure she was asleep he slipped off and heading to the vanity scooped up the bracelet and placed it inside a pocket of his tux’s vest. He then crawls back next to her, gently fingering her diamond rings before (finally) joining her into heavy, wine induced sleep alongside.
It seemed like hours, but the whole episode, by me watch, lasted only a ¾ of hour, but it was a precious time I could ill afford to have lost atoll.
I was running late, but knew what I had to do next. Walking over to the pair I watched them for a few seconds, plotting my next course of action. Her jewels were flickering nicely in the moon’s light.
I reached down an lifting ever so gently one still gloved lifeless feminine hand, I slipped off a couple of sparkly rings from satin clad fingers, and unfastened a tight cuff bracelet emblazon with diamonds from around her wrist. Then I lifted the other hand, easily gliding off another brace of glistening rings from her fingers, and a second diamonded bracelet from her limp wrist. Than lifting her necklace of diamonds, I pulled it gently around admiring the way they rippled fire along her throat, till its jeweled clasp was exposed. Then I slowly pry open the jeweled clasp, and slipped the necklace away, watching it sway in the moonlight like a glistening snake. They were both still out cold, It wasn’t really very much of a challenge, not that I was complaining mind you.
I happily pocketed the lot, except for a cheaper ring. I swapped that ring for the diamond bracelet in Samuel’s vest pocket, hoping that the outcome would prove interesting. In the process of placing the ring in the Sammy boy’s vest, I came across his fat pocketbook, which I gladly lifted and added to the collection in my own now bulging pocket.
I then left the room, leaving quietly by stepping upon the soles of my feet. As I pass the small painting of the watching fox, I pull it off and stick it into my kit, a bonus for me extra worries. I than slip back through the daughter’s bedroom, its door now slightly ajar.
In a corner of the room lay the small silvery jewelry case I had passed up earlier thinking it was the younger daughters. But, I hesitated, wondering to which daughter the room belonged, for someone had slightly opened the door for a reason? I shook my head, no chances. But, wait a minute, I grinned as my thoughts grew ever more pleasing. I walked over to the small table that held the ornate silver jewel case (casket was what my Gram had called hers), above it was a small picture of the family daughters in full riding regalia, the older daughter, Claire, had a small pin of a fox in her shiny white satin caveat.
I bent down and opening the small case. There on top was the fox pin, glittering with brownish Sardonyx gemstones and bright red ruby eyes. I plucked it up and added it to my sparkling collection. Then I admired the shimmery collection of gold and pearled jewelry (no lowly silver for this lass). Selecting the better ones I placed them with the fox pin and the Mothers jewels in my kit, then scooping out the rest, I placed them in unceremoniously in a side pocket.
I then went back out the balcony and down the tree. I headed over to the roadster out front and taking out a few of the lesser jewels I had scooped into me pocket, and I began placing them in and underneath the passenger seat of the vehicle.
Finished I admired my handiwork, then looking leisurely around, let out a deep sigh of absolute relief, mixed with exquisite feelings of pleasure of an adventuer winningly pulled off, before melting off into the shadows of the woods. I soon reached my lotus, gunned the engine to life, and then proceeded to slowly drive off without headlights until I reach the main road.
I once again stopped at my hidden cubby and deposited my burglar’s kit and purloined jewels with the rest of my stash, reset my snares, and headed quickly back to the hotel.
I reached my destination just at cock crow, went upstairs and finished packing. It was later than I had anticipated, so no kip for the sinners. I just loaded my luggage into the boot of the two seater, checked my key in at the desk, settled my bill, and headed for a quick breakfast.
But I wasn’t quick enough, for about halfway through my breakfast The “Barrister” and his family came down to have the same. They appeared to be calm, so I knew that my activities earlier that morning had not been exposed yet.
I pushed aside my almost finished plate and standing, walked past them, allowing the daughter, who was clad in a silky skirt and matching satiny top, and wearing those taunting white pearls of hers, to bump into me as she pranced to their table. Steady girl I says, catching her as I eye for the last time her dangling jewelry. So sorry sir, she replied apologetically. I complimented her parents on their charming daughter. The father, in a formal suit and tie, grunts his thanks. The mother, in a scintillatingly swishing long red skirt, and heavy cream silk blouse, blushes prettily. I look over her plentiful “everyday” jewelry as I take their leave. What she was wearing for a normal day of activates was expensive enough to catch any thief’s desire to acquire.
As I walked away, a vision of her walking the streets, dressed as she was, back in Dickens London formed in my thoughts. She attracted the notice of a small street urchin, his devious heart pounding as he left huis vigil from the wall he had been leaning against too closely follow her as she swished by. Catching up to her in the hopes of brushing against her and with a sorry ma’am, walk away with some of it.
This was actually from a memory of mine ( long after Dickens time though) about an incident I had witnessed while working at my old uncles “eel and mash” shop.
A finely decked out young couple (the long haired lady wearing pearls as it so happened) had been inside the shop and finishing their meal, had walked out across the street. A street youth had been hanging out by the shop and had followed them across the street close on their heels. They all turned a corner, so I never knew what had happened, if anything ( which I sincerely doubted)! But that image had plagued many an unsettling adolescent dream with images of finely dressed ladies bending down to a begging young grimy faced lad, well ringed fingers and bracelets jangling as a coin was offered, gold lockets or pearls swaying out from tightly satin clad breasts to just within the reach of his grubby fingers….
I have come to believes that it was the seeds planted in my mind by those dreams that may have very well guided and nudged me onto the course I have continued following to this day.
So, naturally I guess, as I walked away my train of thoughts took a similar course as those dreams/nightmares. I imagined the mother I had just left, walking along a street alone, dressed as she was last evening, the jewels that were now in a cold small cubby, once again upon her figure, glittering their fiery beacon. Then suddenly her daughter, dressed as she was now, was strolling alongside her. The street urchin I had seen that morning so long ago was here also, following close, eyeing the ladies reflected jewels in a storefront window as they walked past……
But at that point in my daydream I realized that I had reached and was standing beside my two seater, and shaking my head clear of such thoughts (once again, sadly not seeing the outcome) I happily hopped over the door and into the driver’s seat, firing up the engine, and quite eagerly pulled away from the hotel and roared down the road.
I stopped by my secret cubby, and without haste, fully on the alert, made my way down to the basement. I collected my stash and made it back to the Lotus without incident. Lighting me pipe, I smiled to meself, promising a nice stiff one once I got back to the abode. I pulled away, slowly, cheerfully, driving down the warm sunlit road. I was now on to new quests, filled with promises of many lucrative acquisitions.
One of those quests was wrapped around a young lady in Soho, who recently had inherited a jewellery collection worth ₤25,000 which she loved wearing out in public, flaunting the richly jeweled pieces all about whenever she could. The quite, almost vulgarly rich, young lass had so many Beaus seeking her affections that she was being invited out almost weekly out to some special dress up affair. This all made her overly ripe for the plucking by some jewelry procurement minded thief. And being one meself, a jewel thief that is, I intended to be the first in line.
Once I returned home, I first visited my London banks strongbox to deposit my newly acquired ” glittering with fire” trophies to let them “cool” down a bit. Then I made sure the Yard received an anonymous post. Said post containing a red silk evening clutch, inside which was beady eyes’ pocketbook( sans money) along with the letter incriminating one certain rogish gent by the name of Samuel for attempting extortion of 5000 pounds sterling from the fair Claire’s Mother. I know how the chaps in the inspector’s squad so love a mystery!
And so, for now dear journal, I bid farewell, adieu.
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Si vous voulez faire rire Dieu , faire des plans
Roughly translated:
If you want to make God laugh, Make plans
Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
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Clad in scarlet robes, a buddhist monk strolls through the courtyard of Jakar Yugyal Dzong, a 350 year old fortress that houses the Jakar district government offices, Buddhist temples and monastery.
Bumthang, Bhutan, 2012
Here's another pic from my 2012 archives!
Sometimes I have this urge to show off my legs clad in silky fully fashioned stockings! I hope you like the view!
For my Fully Fashioned Stocking fans- a pic of me showing a lot of leg covered in silky smooth Secrets In Lace stockings!
This curve hugging little white off the shoulder minidress from coquetryclothing.com came in my April 2012 minidress shopping binge! I've matched it up with my white Glamour fully fashioned back seamed stockings and white Romance suspender belt from secretsinlace.com, worn over Hanes Alive Barely There support hose from onehanesplace.com and my 5" white stiletto pumps from electriqueboutique.com.
To see more pix of me in other tight, sexy and revealing outfits click this link:www.flickr.com/photos/kaceycdpix/sets/72157623668202157/
To see more pix of me in clothes from Coquetry Clothing click this link:
www.flickr.com/photos/kaceycdpix/sets/72157626739774869/
To see more pix of me showing off my legs click this link: www.flickr.com/photos/kaceycdpix/sets/72157623668202157/
To see more pix of me in my fully fashioned stockings & lingerie click this link: www.flickr.com/photos/kaceycdpix/sets/72157627113549549/
DSC_9293-43
Classical residential building like in many towns in Transylvania, where many balconies are usually modified in loggias.
“There is nothing in the world more beautiful than the forest clothed to its very hollows in snow. It is the still ecstasy of nature, wherein every spray, every blade of grass, every spire of reed, every intricacy of twig, is clad with radiance.” William Sharp
20 minutes before closing time.
Do you know:
(1) Canberra is an anglicised Aboriginal word meaning meeting place.
(2) The 48 marble-clad columns in the foyer of Parliament House are meant to represent a forest of eucalypts.
(3) In 1978, the design of Parliament House was awarded to New York based architectural firm Mitchell Giurgola and Thorpe who beat 328 entries from 28 countries.
Main foyer, Parliament House, Canberra, Australia (Monday 5 Apr 2010 @ 4:39pm).
Hemmings Motor News published this paean to the 1964 Dodge Custom 880:
Chances are, back then, you had no concept of what 90-odd cubic feet of storage space actually meant to an owner. While your sister sat on the sprawling bench seat behind your parents, you lounged contentedly in the third row, watching the world disappear over the horizon while counting the number of oncoming cars. Separating you from the family–until you got to the campsite at the lake–were four sleeping bags, a neatly folded tent, a small stack of luggage, mini barbecue grill and other assorted outdoor gear. With the high-tech world of cell phones, handheld video games and portable DVD players decades into the future, you kept yourself busy mile after seemingly endless mile with creative thinking.
ust about everyone has some memory of a particular station wagon: fond or otherwise. Your cousin might have used one to go on a fishing trip out in the country. Dad used it to haul lumber for a new back deck. Mom used it to bring the baseball team to the ice cream parlor after the game. Your older brother even drove it to pick up his date on prom night. It was a car with a million uses.
No matter the manufacturer, wagons began with a simplistic design: car chassis, seating for six and ample cargo space. In a series of one-upmanship, design deviations and a litany of convenience options peppered its long history. For instance, if you didn’t want four doors, you could try two. A third row of collapsible seating offered passengers a different traveling perspective. Some were clad in Di-Noc, that lovely faux wood paneling that kept the “Squire” badge in sales brochures well into the Nineties. Cargo space was increased by means of a Vista roof. And if that wasn’t enough, an all-out sales war resulted in the three-way tailgate versus the clamshell. It was a select few, however, that offered hardtop styling.
The pillarless look was a unique and short-lived idea born in the mid-Fifties; some might find it hard to imagine that Dodge used it first with the Polara, then with its new-for-1962 880 series. Our feature car, owned by Bisbee, Arizona, resident Pat Kennedy, is an unrestored, bona fide original 1964 Custom 880.
Lack of a B-pillar provides the illusion of easier access, although the hardtop design also enhances the cavernous feel of the interior. Unless you plan on adjusting the climate controls while in a panic stop, the two-tier dash is easily readable and reachable.
As other manufacturers had discovered, the pillarless station wagon was never a big seller. In fact, during the three years that the design lived on in Dodge’s 880 series, no more than 3,500 combined six- and nine-passenger examples were produced in a single sub-series during a single model year. But just how the 880, and its wagons, came to fruition is a worthwhile story in and of itself.
In the early days of the Sixties, rumors abounded of Chevrolet downsizing its entire fleet. As a result, Chrysler Corporation’s frenzied rush to keep up with the competition meant that everything in the Dodge camp was redesigned into a substantially smaller package. In a strange twist of fate, the poor-selling De Soto was nixed early in the 1961 model run, which effectively left the mid-price full-size car market wide open for the competition to absorb.
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Rod Run to the End of the World, Ocean Park, Washington, September 7 & 8, 2019.
I pass this fence every day on my way to work and I've thought about stopping everyday for months. Today was the day.
The cladding scandal after Grenfell uncovered bad building work. Residents now have to put up with months/years of scaffolding and noise.
Up to 3 million people affected
Cyaning things up for Chris :D. I have been down to the docks (not for what you think!) and trying to get some good abstract industrial forms without getting arrested by the police for taking reconnaissance shots for terrorism.
Temporary barriers set up around building work in progress in the city on King William Street, Adelaide.
Mandarin Duck in a country pond, rural Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. In traditional Chinese culture, Mandarin Ducks are believed to be lifelong couples, unlike other species of ducks. Hence they are regarded as a symbol of conjugal affection and fidelity, and are frequently featured in Chinese art. For Koreans, Mandarin ducks represent peace, fidelity, and plentiful offspring. Similar to the Chinese, they believe that these ducks mate for life. For these reasons, pairs of Mandarin ducks called Wedding Ducks are often given as wedding gifts and play a significant role in Korean marriage.
Part of the striking exterior decoration of The Three Tuns pub in Bull Yard, Coventry. The entire wall is clad in abstract concrete relief decoration by sculptor William Mitchell, made by casting from carved polystyrene molds in 1966.
www.coventrysociety.org.uk/public-art-in-coventry/william...
There are plans for a major redevelopment in this area of the city in the coming years, which threaten to sweep away this work and at least two other important commissions by William Mitchell nearby. I can only hope some attempt will be made to incorporate or relocate this piece (and the others) but given that the current proposals demand complete demolition of all buildings at this location (and the nature of this work being cast in situ making it harder to dismantle) the prospects for this work's long-term survival aren't encouraging.
Uploaded originally for the 'Guess Where UK?' Group.