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Headed out to Mulligans Flat (northern ACT) this morning in the hope of opening my account for this year. My hopes for a beautiful morning sunrise were dashed by heavy clouds and the birding was very slow to start off with. Fortunately, things picked up, and after some time I found a dam that had grebes and was conducive to photography.
Lying down at the bank's edge and hanging out over the water, I waited until one of the three young grebes did a close pass of where I was stationed. One of my first grebe photos. I got muddy hands and camera and almost got water on the lens glass by accident.
Playing around with CS5, having downloaded the free trial. I will get a full account once I start uni and can get it for a student price. I was having a fair bit of trouble with colour balance here, so tell me if it looks off. In the end I made it more red than it was because otherwise it looked too green.
I escaped from work on Saturday morning and dashed across to Healey House to try and Catch John Myers four motors on their way to join the Meltham War Weekend parade. I got there with a minute to spare, unfortunately, as on a previous occasion, it was difficult to catch the old motors without modern ones stuck between or behind the slow moving wagons. Having got what I could I drove in to Meltham and wandered around taking photos until the parade at 12.30. I ended up staying until 3.00-still in my filthy work clothes. The original plan was to go home and change but I'd got myself a handy parking place and due to my dodgy ankle not lending itself to walking far I decided to stay put. It was very dull until around 1.00 and then someone switched the sun on and it was a glorious afternoon. It certainly seemed to be very busy, it deserved to be as there was an awful lot going on, obviously a lot of hard work behind it so well done to the organisers. I took around 300 shots and I will upload in batches as I have time, at the time of writing (Fri) they are all edited.
I escaped from work on Saturday morning and dashed across to Healey House to try and Catch John Myers four motors on their way to join the Meltham War Weekend parade. I got there with a minute to spare, unfortunately, as on a previous occasion, it was difficult to catch the old motors without modern ones stuck between or behind the slow moving wagons. Having got what I could I drove in to Meltham and wandered around taking photos until the parade at 12.30. I ended up staying until 3.00-still in my filthy work clothes. The original plan was to go home and change but I'd got myself a handy parking place and due to my dodgy ankle not lending itself to walking far I decided to stay put. It was very dull until around 1.00 and then someone switched the sun on and it was a glorious afternoon. It certainly seemed to be very busy, it deserved to be as there was an awful lot going on, obviously a lot of hard work behind it so well done to the organisers. I took around 300 shots and I will upload in batches as I have time, at the time of writing (Fri) they are all edited.
I escaped from work on Saturday morning and dashed across to Healey House to try and Catch John Myers four motors on their way to join the Meltham War Weekend parade. I got there with a minute to spare, unfortunately, as on a previous occasion, it was difficult to catch the old motors without modern ones stuck between or behind the slow moving wagons. Having got what I could I drove in to Meltham and wandered around taking photos until the parade at 12.30. I ended up staying until 3.00-still in my filthy work clothes. The original plan was to go home and change but I'd got myself a handy parking place and due to my dodgy ankle not lending itself to walking far I decided to stay put. It was very dull until around 1.00 and then someone switched the sun on and it was a glorious afternoon. It certainly seemed to be very busy, it deserved to be as there was an awful lot going on, obviously a lot of hard work behind it so well done to the organisers. I took around 300 shots and I will upload in batches as I have time, at the time of writing (Fri) they are all edited.
I was walking out of KLPAC when a pair of eyes stared at me. I stood stunned at the beauty of those eyes, and dashed in to buy tickets to a show 1 month down the road.
Last night I finally saw the show. Mak Yong – Titis Sakti was amazing!
Based on Shakespeare’s Midsummer Nights Dream, the dance musical had buatiful dances, amazing charecterisation and provided such humour. We laughed our heads off.
I loved the crowds reaction and interaction, the casts improvisation at times to the live show. There was one point one of the cast members accidentally laughed when she was supposed to be frozen, and immediately one of them exclaimed “eh power tak cukup ni” “eh my magics power is not enough”! Or at the beginning when someones phone rang and they made a snide remark on that.
I had so many favourites – the absolute favourties were the 2 comedian palace helpers (jester?), Cempaka Sari’s father, cempaka sari (the heroine), titis sakti,
The father was going around the audience asking for his daughter, and at one point started asking me in English “you see my daughter?” I said NO “Oh no you didn’t!” lol
I was wondering earlier why I was being flashed with a red light and I guess I was picked to answer.
The musics awesome, the relevance to current times comedy, the use of handphones and the right scenes for the adaption really worked. Eventhough its in a thick kelantanese slang, I could understand most of it!
In/Visible runs from 1 – 14 June 2009 at KLPAC - Please sign up at our Facebook page here
Dashed into Mitsuwa Marketplace on a recent road trip and snatched up this issue of Sesame magazine (Japanese Kid's Fashion and Lifestyle). I was in a hurry and the two spreads included were the two spreads I happened to flip it open to...good enough for me. I don't mind that it is a past issue...it is a nice diversion to the cold.
Have not had time to really dive in...but I have managed one complete pass through...totally packed with cuteness.
I guess if I really wanted to, I could have dashed out to get some cream cheese, but you know what? I didn't, because the temperature outside is like sitting in a working fridge. From the picture you can see that my icing skills still suck. Maybe I should just forego the nozzles with the shapes and just stick to the ones...without shapes. Circles. Yes. I shall do that next time...if I haven't built up a high sense of deluded optimism again about how my icing/frosting technique has miraculously improved from the last time without any further practice. So this whole deal about the stuff on top of the cupcakes not being cream cheese frosting- here is the recipe for the frosting, should you like to try an alternative to the 'traditional' frosting: tastykitchen.com/recipes/desserts/thate28099s-the-best-fr... Do I think it's the best frosting I've ever tasted? Mm... probably not, for me. Me altering the recipe slightly might have contributed to the final taste (most probably, actually.) But after I quickly wolfed down the red velvet cupcake in the only yellow cupcake...thingy (the actual name has slipped my mind right now) the frosting seemed to pair relatively well with the cupcake. (Did you like my brilliant excuse to get rid of the odd colour out? I thought it was pretty quick thinking of me). I usually try to keep frosting to a minimum because the sugar content is usually quite high and not necessary.but in the cases of Red Velvet I do think that it needs a little bit of frosting to balance and really bring out the taste.
How did these cakes come about tonight? For the record, I am absolutely freaking exhausted. I've been milling around the kitchen since 5:30PM and now it's about 11:23PM. No, I have not been cooking for 6 hours, but I have been preparing dinner, washing and cleaning up, then I popped into the laundry to wash the clothes, iron and then I made these cupcakes. I was going to stop after doing the laundry but I really wanted to bake! (Sometimes I swear my brain just completely ignores how my body feels physically and just steamrolls on ahead) So I asked dad what kind of muffins he wanted to eat. Y'know what dad said? "can you make those...those...red... cherries again?" Had it been anyone else who said that to me, I would have gone, 'sure I can make red cherries, because I'm a tree! I'll get straight to it.' It was all kinds of cute :3 I'm pretty sure dad meant 'red velvet cupcakes' that I had made for his birthday and all he could remember of the name was the red colour he equates with cherries. Anyway, here they are! Dad was actually happily nomming on one before so I think I've done okay.
A firefly(green dashed trails from time-exposure) flies under a sky with the Andromeda Galaxy(M31, fuzzy dot just left of the tallest tree) and a glow of the Northern Lights in the distance. Taken June 23, 2015.
Three MANs rolled past our yard so I dashed up to have a look. In previous years one of the wagons delivering into this field ended up well bogged and nearly on its side. One of the three was in the wrong place so only two tipped. The one that left was the only one that was badged I think, a 35 400
The first beautiful dune in Mullamullang, foot prints of the first excited explorers as they dashed into the amazing new cave, not believing what they saw.
Walked around this dune on 5th Jan 1966 with 43lb pack, which Mary carried for me to the entrance before kissing goodbye and heading off to supply the camp.
Wednesday...05-01-66
Notes from my 1966 diary, entered here, 07-01-2017
Dick and I headed in at 2:30pm, passing few people on their way out. Got to the camp at about 7pm, made bed of rocks near Rick's, then Dick and I to the end of Mullamullang. Bruce and Glenn came too. My feet were getting sore! Photos of us at the end and then back to the Grotto. Photos of gypsum and then swimming in the lake. Camp, another swim, and to bed. Tea in bed & talked to Rick and Dick. Great to be there with them, gave them fresh water.
They had record player going as we were lulled to sleep about 12:30....
There's just something about the way the night changes into day, but I have no time to enjoy it for we're on the road again. Yesterday sho was a bit challenging. I mean, what's a trip without being late in this family!? We dashed down I-95 towards Petersburg, VA to the funeral of my Great Uncle and I just couldn't believe that we were late! We made it none the less but it pissed me off that my parents wanted to pick this day, of all days, to start beefing....
So here I sit contemplating what it is about being 'down south'. The sun seems to shine so much brighter, the people are more receptive to conversations, and definitely vocal about their beliefs. In fact, I've seen so many opinated billboards promoting a stop in abortions, stopping the killing of animals for fur, and you better not forget to buy your fireworks... My goodness... I'm quite happy that I remembered the Ipod and that our rental car has a built-in DVD player which has helped to pass the time away as we fly through Sorth Carolina...It's amazing how many times children can watch Shark Tales or Chicken Little and actually like it! Outside, the scenery is so bleak. Weigh stations, farm land, rest stops, and patches of houses here and there. I'm butt ass tired man. Just took my pain killers for my tired and overworked back, but you know, what has happened to South of the Border? I remember as a child craving to step foot on Hot Tomala land, but as we passed through looking for some grub, everything looked like a scene out of a horror flick. Damn, it seems that all good things do have an ending or maybe not an ending, but a breaking point when things just can't stay the same. Oh well, onto my favorite grub joint... BURGER KING, where the burger is king and I can have it any way I want it... =
J's future as a osteologist was dashed when the professor handed her the address of a clown college.
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Three MANs rolled past our yard so I dashed up to have a look. In previous years one of the wagons delivering into this field ended up well bogged and nearly on its side. One of the three was in the wrong place so only two tipped. The one that left was the only one that was badged I think, a 35 400
Some dream were fulfilled while others were dashed in various competitions at the 33rd annual Bed Races on Thursday, Oct. 10, at Maverick Stadium.
In between downpours, I dashed out of the house to run a quick errand. I turn right onto Hart Street and this stunning sight immediately leaps out to greet me.
TOKYO: Bahrain’s Eunice Jepkirui Kirwa won the Nagoya Women’s Marathon for the second year in succession on Sunday as Japanese runners jostled for Olympic spots behind her, reports BSS.
The Kenyan-born athlete, who holds the Asian Games gold, clocked 2hr 22min 40sec while...
thebangladeshtoday.com/2016/03/kirwa-wins-nagoya-noguchis...
A capture today on the wirral Marshes at high tide a Hare witch dashed across the marsh, paddled over small flooded part of the marsh and then onto safety.. Thankfully stopping off to pose for the cameras.. Good Hare :) A new Species for me.
Canon 7D | 400mm F5.6 L I iso 800 | Cropped to 2.8Mpx
I escaped from work on Saturday morning and dashed across to Healey House to try and Catch John Myers four motors on their way to join the Meltham War Weekend parade. I got there with a minute to spare, unfortunately, as on a previous occasion, it was difficult to catch the old motors without modern ones stuck between or behind the slow moving wagons. Having got what I could I drove in to Meltham and wandered around taking photos until the parade at 12.30. I ended up staying until 3.00-still in my filthy work clothes. The original plan was to go home and change but I'd got myself a handy parking place and due to my dodgy ankle not lending itself to walking far I decided to stay put. It was very dull until around 1.00 and then someone switched the sun on and it was a glorious afternoon. It certainly seemed to be very busy, it deserved to be as there was an awful lot going on, obviously a lot of hard work behind it so well done to the organisers. I took around 300 shots and I will upload in batches as I have time, at the time of writing (Fri) they are all edited.
Political scientist and independent researcher Sarra Majdoub shares her thoughts during "Algeria and Sudan: New Waves of Democratic Change or Dashed Dreams?"
Panelists:
Ezzaddean Elsafi
Program Officer, Economic Advancement Program at the Open Society Foundations MENA Program, expert on development and peace building in Sudan
Sarra Majdoub
Political scientist and independent researcher working on Sudan
Amine Ghali (moderator)
Director of Al Kawakibi Democracy Transition Center (KADEM) working on issues of democracy, reform and transition in the Arab region
Belkacem Boukherouf
University lecturer and researcher at the University of Tizi Ouzou and human rights activist
Mohamed Lamine Aissani
Development consultant on Algeria, civil society empowerment expert and former capacity building coordinator for Amnesty International Middle East & North Africa
June 19, 2019
Majestic Hotel
Tunis, Tunisia
Photo credit: Aly Bouzwida/Project on Middle East Democracy
Striding to the front, and holding his rifle aloft in order to keep the priming dry, he dashed into the stream. The rest followed with songs and with cheers. But the chilling water soon made these cease, for it became an irksome task to breathe. They staggered with fatigue, but their leader never faltered, and there was not a man who would have deserted him. On the seventeenth day of February they reached the eastern shore of the Wabash and came to the lowlands of the Embarrass River. It was nine miles to their goal: the fortress of Vincennes. Every foot of the way was covered with deep water.
The situation seemed to be desperate. Clarke, however, was not the one to despair. Taking a canoe, he made soundings to see if some path might not be discovered through this inland sea. There seemed to be none—the water everywhere reached to his neck. The men were alarmed. Their faces looked blanched and pale. Was their march of untold hardships to end in death by cold and starvation?
A surprising thing now took place. Whispering to[74] those nearest to him to follow his example, Clarke poured some powder into his hand, wet it with water and blackened his face as a sign that he would succeed, or die in the attempt. Then—uttering a loud whoop—he dashed into the water. The frontiersmen gazed wonderingly at him. Then they broke into song, rushed after him, and made for a ridge of high ground, which was followed until an island was reached. Here they camped, but next morning the ice had formed to the thickness of three-quarters of an inch. You can well imagine what were their prospects!
But Clarke was never daunted or dismayed. Making a speech to his half-starved and half-frozen command, he again plunged into the water.
“We must do or die!” said he. “On to Vincennes!”
With a rousing cheer his followers dashed in after him—pushed through the broken ice—and waded ahead. The water became more and more deep. Clarke feared, therefore, that the weaker members of the party would be drowned. Luckily he had a few canoeists with him, and these picked up the fainting ones and carried them to hillocks of dry land. The strongest were sent forward with instructions to pass the word back that the water was getting shallow, and they were told to cry “Land! Land!” when they got near the woods.
This cheered the drooping spirits of the faint-hearted. The water never did get shallow. Woodland was certainly ahead, but when the men reached[75] it water was up to their shoulders and they had to hang to the trees, bushes and logs, until rescued by the canoes. Some gained the shore in safety, some were so exhausted when they reached a small island that they could not climb up the bank and lay half in and half out of the water. Luck was with them, for a canoe came down the river in which were some Indian squaws and their children. They were captured, and with them was some buffalo meat, tallow, corn, and cooking utensils. Oh, lucky find! The weak were now rejuvenated by a hearty meal.
They were upon an island of ten acres. It was truly an Eden for these half-drowned frontiersmen. A long rest soon strengthened the weakest, and by means of the Indian canoe, and a few batteaus which had been brought with them, they ferried over to Warrior’s Island, within two miles of Vincennes, and within plain view of it. Every man feasted his eyes upon the log fortress and forgot that he had suffered.
Let me here quote from Clarke himself. He says:
“Every man forgot his troubles. It was now that we had to display our abilities. The plain between us and the town was perfectly level. The sunken ground was covered with water full of ducks. We observed several men out on horseback, shooting them, and sent out many of our active, young Frenchmen to decoy and take one prisoner,—which they did.
“We learned that the British had that evening completed the wall of the fort, and that there were a good many Indians in town. Our situation was now truly critical. There was no possibility of retreat in[76] case of defeat, and we were in full view of a town with six hundred men in it,—troops, Indians and inhabitants.
“We were now in the very situation that I had labored to get ourselves in. The idea of being taken prisoner was foreign to almost every man, as they expected nothing but torture. We knew that success could be secured only by the most daring conduct. I knew that a number of the inhabitants wished us well: that the Grand Chief—Tobacco’s son—had openly declared himself a friend of the Big Knives (Americans). I therefore wrote and sent the following Placard.
“TO THE INHABITANTS OF POST VINCENNES:
“Gentlemen:—Being now within two miles of your village with my army, determined to take the fort this night, and not being willing to surprise you, I take this method to request such as are true citizens to remain still in your houses. Those, if any there be, that are friends to the King, will instantly repair to the fort, join the ‘Hair buyer’ general, and fight like men. If any such do not go, and are found afterwards, they may depend on severe punishment. On the contrary, those who are true friends to liberty may depend on being well treated, and I once more request them to keep out of the streets. Every one I find in arms on my arrival, I shall treat as an enemy.
“G. R. Clarke.”
[77]
This was written by a pioneer general with two hundred half-starved, half-frozen, and undrilled troops. Behind the walls of the fort were twice this number of well-drilled, well-fed, well-clad men. We can but admire his audacity and impudence. But did he fulfil his promises to his people at home. And did he take Hamilton?
The frontiersmen were soon in motion and marched upon the town. A hill intervened, and when he reached it, Clarke deployed his men across it several times. When they would get over, Clarke would run them around the base to the rear of the knoll—where they would be out of sight of the people in the fort—and then would march them across again. In this way he made the inmates of the fortress of Vincennes believe that he had a much larger force than was really his. The borderers soon seized all the positions which commanded the fort and waited until dusk before beginning the assault. “I fear that they will know my numbers, if I attack during daylight,” said the Kentuckian, “and this I do not want them to know.”
As night began to draw near, the crashing of rifles awoke the echoes of the forest and the fort was hotly assailed from every point of vantage. The Kentuckians were able marksmen and soon silenced the cannon of the redoubt. No sooner would a porthole be thrown open than the gunners would be shot down as they stood. After an hour of such work the firing ceased, and the garrison was summoned to surrender.
[78]
Hamilton was dumbfounded at the audacity of the Kentuckians. He was also much disconcerted by the actions of one hundred of his redskin allies, who, seeing the boldness of the frontiersmen, immediately transferred their allegiance to them and were anxious to join in the assault upon the post. In spite of this he refused to surrender.
A far heavier rifle fire was now opened upon the fort, so that no defender could look out of a porthole or expose himself in any manner whatsoever, without being shot down. An assault was determined upon.
At this juncture a couple of figures emerged from the principal gateway of Vincennes, bearing a flag of truce. When the emissaries arrived before Clarke, they brought word that Hamilton proposed a three days’ truce and an immediate conference. Clarke did not wish the British to know his real numbers, so he declined the truce. But he assented to have a talk with the English commander, some distance from the fort, at a place where the Englishman’s eyes could not see the small numbers of the Kentuckians.
After a long interview nothing came of the pow-wow. Hamilton asked to march out with all the honors of war and to be allowed to depart to Detroit, after giving the assurance that neither he nor his men would ever again bear arms against the Americans. Clarke was afraid that the soldiers would not keep their word and demanded a greater amount of money and stores than the Britisher was willing to allow him.
“I have sufficient force to take the fort by storm[79] at any time I choose,” said Clarke. “Furthermore, I propose to capture all the detached parties that are now in the woods and are headed for Vincennes. Having put them out of the way, I intend to take the fort at my leisure. I will thus—at one stroke—put an end to all of those people that have been harassing the American frontier. In case I take you by storm, I intend to shut my eyes and let my men do their own pleasure, for such is the treatment that has been accorded to our own people by the officers of the Crown.”
The conference broke up, and so terrified was a Major Hay, who represented the English commander, that he could scarcely make his way back to Vincennes. As he wobbled along, a party of redskins—led by a white man painted as an Indian—was seen to approach the town. The newcomers apparently had no knowledge that the Kentuckians were foes, for they walked up as if they were nearing their own people.
When they had approached within a few yards of the men under Clarke, they were fired upon and two were killed. Three others were badly wounded. The remainder—six in all—turned in flight, but were soon taken prisoners. They were tomahawked by the red allies of the Kentuckians; their bodies were thrown into the river; and wild war-whoops announced this fact to the red men in the fort. These became enraged and frightened when they discovered that Hamilton was unable to protect them.
Clarke only smiled, for he had hoped that they would bring on a mutiny within the walls of Vincennes,[80] and it is exactly what occurred. Seeing that he was unable to hold the allegiance of his own red adherents, the once bold Hamilton decided upon capitulation. On February twenty-fourth a white flag was displayed over the log walls, and, after a short parley, a truce was decided upon. The Kentuckians secured fifty thousand dollars’ worth of military stores. Besides this they detached the Indians from the English and took away from the Britons the entire northeast territory, which would otherwise have been held by them when peace was concluded. Clarke, with his two hundred raw Kentucky riflemen, had won a notable victory.
Think of it! The long march, the terrible rivers of frozen ice, the lack of proper food, the toilsome journey through deep forests! Then the cheek and gall of that saucy message to Hamilton, safe in a strong fortress with twice the number of men as those half-frozen backwoodsmen outside! Then the daring attack, the wonderful accuracy of the rifle fire, and the final victory! Such men were heroes. Whether your sympathies be with Kentuckian or Britisher, you must admit it, and you must—I own—take off your hat to Clarke: the twenty-seven year old leader of this gallant band.
But what of the subsequent career of this wonderfully successful man? Alas! What we know of his thereafter does not abound to his credit. To the enthusiasm of youth he joined the daring ambition of the born soldier: never satisfied. Always anxious to move forward and on, he asked the Kentucky Assembly[81] for men and agreed to capture Detroit; to destroy the English power for all time; and to prevent further combination of unfriendly tribes of red men. He was promised both soldiers and ammunition, but they never came. It is said that in disgust at his forced inaction he took to drink for relief from his worries. He became dissipated, morbid, and a recluse.
For some time he rested in inactivity near the Falls of the Ohio, and about the year 1780 built Fort Jefferson on the Mississippi. He then journeyed to Richmond, Virginia, in order to appeal in person for the necessary means for taking Detroit. His plans were thought well of and were approved. But the measure never passed the legislature. Before it could be put into effect he was appointed to command a body of troops who were to check the aggressive operations of Benedict Arnold. He was made a Brigadier-General and was authorized to collect a large force, which was to meet at Louisville (the Falls of the Ohio) and was to fall upon Detroit and destroy this strong citadel of British authority.
Misfortune seemed to follow upon his footsteps. The force was never collected and the projected campaign had to be abandoned. He and his men had several brushes with marauding bands of Ohio Indians, and in 1782 took part in the unfortunate battle of Blue Licks, in Kentucky. Rallying a detachment of one thousand men, Clarke invaded the Indian towns, but the savages fled from their villages and scattered, so that there was no one to fight when the borderers entered. Fortune had forsaken George Rogers Clarke,[82] and, although in 1786 he led another expedition of one thousand men against the Indians on the Wabash River, it resulted in an absolute failure. His followers were mutinous. The campaign had to be abandoned. The hero who could inspire a march of two hundred miles through half-frozen forests had lost his former magnetism. He had begun to go down hill.
Dispirited, somewhat broken in health, and faint-hearted, the bold frontiersman sought the seclusion of his hut near the Ohio River. Here, he was offered and accepted a commission in the French armies west of the Mississippi, for this land was then under the lilies of France. An expedition was about to be made against the Spaniards upon the lower reaches of the river, but a revolution in France overturned the party in power and destroyed all the plans of those in America. Clarke was soon no longer Major General, and, forced to a life of inactivity, he returned to an isolated and lonely existence in his log hut. At forty years of age he was a prematurely old man, and in 1817 he died at Louisville, Kentucky: a town which was growing rapidly in size and which had been the scene of many of his early triumphs. Exposure and neglect of the proper laws of living had done their work.
George Rogers Clarke was a remarkable man. As a youngster he was brimful of enthusiasm, of vigor, of magnetism. He carried an expedition through to success in the face of fearful obstacles. Had he shown the white feather for an instant he would have met with ignominious failure. His courage, his cheerfulness,[83] his optimism impelled him on to victory. Had he been able to govern his appetite for liquor he would have been a man of splendid usefulness in his later years. His collapse at the early age of forty is full witness to the deplorable effects of the inability of a strong man to curb his passions. One can but look upon his career with sadness and regret.
— Famous Frontiersmen and Heroes of the Border: Their Adventurous Lives and Stirring Experiences in Pioneer Days By Charles Haven Ladd Johnston 1913
ill-087
What an amazing day!
I had to work this morning unfortunately, but I closed up early, dashed home and got changed, deposited H at Granny and Grandpa's for the night and Matt and I headed for Manchester!
We started off having cocktails at a few of our favourite bars in the Northen Quarter, grabbed a bite to eat and then the fun really began when we reached the Etihad stadium for the night we've been waiting for since last year - Coldpay!
The atmosphere was fantastic - everyone was really friendly and happy, the support act Robyn was good, but what we were all waiting rather impatiently for was Coldplay. Then they came on. What can I say? Fireworks, confetti explosions, strobe lights, a sea of flashing wristbands throughout the crowd, inftable confetti-filled balls floating around everywhere - and that was just to kick the concert off!
They were just amazing. The concert flew by. They even disappeared off stage and came down to another stage in the centre of the pitch area to do a few numbers at one point, which meant we were really close! Hence the nice clear shot of them all together. It was also a good test of my new p&s camera! It didn't disappoint.
I was completely torn between these 3 pictures as to which one to use for today's shot, then one of my lovely friends in a facebook photography group I'm in suggested a collage of the 3 - problem solved!
A truly fantastic evening that will remember for many years.
We heard the boom and dashed out to see...The start of the Canada Day Fireworks on the Toronto Harbourfront. Edited to 1 min, as the sequence was much longer, about 4 minutes in all. The fireworks were fantastic, very impressive.Taken with my Samsung Galaxy SIII.
The plan had been to have a lazy drive home from Southampton on Friday. Climate protesters meant I travelled back on Thursday, but any thoughts of taking this easy on Friday had been dashed by an emergency department meeting on Thursday, and the allocation of mentoring tasks.
So, I would have to do those as directed.
We slept through the alarm, but once up, Jools took a test and found she was COVID free, so she would go into work, meaning the dining room table and second screen were all mine!
Jools left for work, I put out the bins make a second coffee and think about work.
Sigh.
THere's no avoiding it, though.
So, I log on and access the spreadsheet of death, write the mails to case handlers either saying you done shit or you done great, did my working hours and spoke to my new boss.
At which point the migraine came.
Was likely to happen with the 16 hours on the go on Thursday, so the plan was to have a lie down and go back to work.
But when I went back, spots appeared in my vision, so I went back to bed.
I think I had done enough hours that week, so with my out of office message still set, I turned the computer off.
But I still had to take the hire car back for two. At which point I got a call from Gary: did I know there was a steam railtour coming through that afternoon?
I didn't.
Jools was going to pick me up at the car hire place at two, but Gary said he would pick me up half an hour earlier, and we could go to the footbridge at Shakespeare Beach.
Yes, that sounded very good.
So, I went round the car to check the car: no damage I could find, so down to Townwall Street where they confirm there is no damage, they sign the car off, and all I have to do is wait for Gary.
He arrives dead on time, so I climb in, and we go round down Castle Street then up and over Western Heights to Aycliffe, park the car, gather our cameras and walk under the A20, then down the steps to the bridge.
Half an hour to wait.
Time passses quickly as we talk to other snappers, and three other trains pass below us, so we can practice our shots.
At ten past two, in a cloud of smoke and steam, the locomotive brings the train round the sharp bend at Dover Harbour, then accelerates and cruises to a stop at the signal just 50 yards from the bridge. Giving lots of time to snap the steaming beast.
With a toot on the whilst, the driver lets out the regulator, and the train begins to mover forward, and with each beat of the piston, a puff of black smoke is belched out of the chimney.
It quickly gathers speed, passes below us, and is soon lost in a cloud of smoke as the train enters Shakespeare Tunnel.
All over.
Playing with the lens. The dashed lights are the new LED lights and the rest are the regular lights that have been around for years.
No other adjustments made - except file size.
Sc Name: Buteo lineatus
taken @ Saddlebrroks Resort, Florida, USA
He only allowed me one shot and dashed off.
Belkacem Boukherouf offers remarks during "Algeria and Sudan: New Waves of Democratic Change or Dashed Dreams?"
Panelists:
Ezzaddean Elsafi
Program Officer, Economic Advancement Program at the Open Society Foundations MENA Program, expert on development and peace building in Sudan
Sarra Majdoub
Political scientist and independent researcher working on Sudan
Amine Ghali (moderator)
Director of Al Kawakibi Democracy Transition Center (KADEM) working on issues of democracy, reform and transition in the Arab region
Belkacem Boukherouf
University lecturer and researcher at the University of Tizi Ouzou and human rights activist
Mohamed Lamine Aissani
Development consultant on Algeria, civil society empowerment expert and Former capacity building coordinator for Amnesty International Middle East & North Africa
June 19, 2019
Majestic Hotel
Tunis, Tunisia
Photo credit: Aly Bouzwida/Project on Middle East Democracy
On an evening stroll around my neighbourhood a few weeks ago I stumbled upon extremely personal litter, and a moral quandary. As a naturally inquisitive, nosey sort of person, seeing these strewn items – photographs, a notepad, photo albums, ripped paper – piqued my interest. It struck me as sad, romantic, melancholic, kind of beautiful, all helped by the dipping magic hour sunlight. Handwriting these days helps everything to appear so much more personal.
But was it a fair subject? Using someone’s trauma in this way? Somebody, probably in the heat of an emotional moment, had dumped a large part of their relationship history, apparently uncaringly into a public space where people walk.
It might have been hurled from the high-rise window of an apartment, or from a car; it was a strange place to find it. It was roughly anonymised and there was nothing which explicitly revealed an identity. Did that make it ok? Was it more or less intrusive than capturing a street photograph of an arguing couple?
If I had touched anything, flicked through a pad or photo album, it’s possible I could have discovered more about the couple, but that was bordering on creepy and wherever possible, I prefer not to touch things I photograph, so everything remained exactly as I had found it.
I decided to wait a few weeks before deciding whether or not to share, and I’m still not totally confident or comfortable about it. Sometimes it's good to go ahead with such things anyway; there are rewards and benefits in asking those questions.
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As I dashed through the Adelaide Central Market, I stopped at the flower stall to snap these beauties. I was attracted by the creamy swirls of these roses, just tipped with a red tinge on the edges.
Day 22 of 365 Days in Colour - Day 22 of August, Cream.
Taken with iPhone 4S.
she smells the open tupperware of food. actually she dashed down from the second floor of her cage to come begging downstairs. so alert!
she loves to stand like this a lot too. :) i love it that she does this too. :D in fact, i first fell in love with Muffin at the pet shop because she was the one who stood this way and looked at me when i was over their tank.
she's on Mint Tea's favourite snooze spot in the cage, the cooling marble tile i picked up last week at the pet shop.
We were driving when suddenly this monitor lizard dashed out a bush just next to the road. Seconds after I took this shot the lizard dashed out again running towards the other side of the road (towards water), scaring the hell out of the student I worked with lol
Unfortunately monitor lizards are much appreciated for their meat so they remain extremely fearful of humans.
Varanus niloticus (Nile monitor lizard, Varan du Nil).
Parc National de la Pendjari, Benin.
Political scientist and independent researcher Sarra Majdoub shares her thoughts during "Algeria and Sudan: New Waves of Democratic Change or Dashed Dreams?"
Panelists:
Ezzaddean Elsafi
Program Officer, Economic Advancement Program at the Open Society Foundations MENA Program, expert on development and peace building in Sudan
Sarra Majdoub
Political scientist and independent researcher working on Sudan
Amine Ghali (moderator)
Director of Al Kawakibi Democracy Transition Center (KADEM) working on issues of democracy, reform and transition in the Arab region
Belkacem Boukherouf
University lecturer and researcher at the University of Tizi Ouzou and human rights activist
Mohamed Lamine Aissani
Development consultant on Algeria, civil society empowerment expert and former capacity building coordinator for Amnesty International Middle East & North Africa
June 19, 2019
Majestic Hotel
Tunis, Tunisia
Photo credit: Aly Bouzwida/Project on Middle East Democracy
Blue and white dashed lines are railroads. Blue dots are schools.
(From Library of Congress Geography and Map Reading Room)
Right after I took this photo, her fawn jumped out of the weeds and dashed up the hill.
Day two of tedious meetings. I hope everyone is well. Thanks for Viewing.
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Three MANs rolled past our yard so I dashed up to have a look. In previous years one of the wagons delivering into this field ended up well bogged and nearly on its side. One of the three was in the wrong place so only two tipped. The one that left was the only one that was badged I think, a 35 400
Hanan Abdulhadi, the Project on Middle East Democracy's Program Director for Civil Society Partnerships, introduces the panel.
Panelists:
Ezzaddean Elsafi
Program Officer, Economic Advancement Program at the Open Society Foundations MENA Program, expert on development and peace building in Sudan
Sarra Majdoub
Political scientist and independent researcher working on Sudan
Amine Ghali (moderator)
Director of Al Kawakibi Democracy Transition Center (KADEM) working on issues of democracy, reform and transition in the Arab region
Belkacem Boukherouf
University lecturer and researcher at the University of Tizi Ouzou and human rights activist
Mohamed Lamine Aissani
Development consultant on Algeria, civil society empowerment expert and Former capacity building coordinator for Amnesty International Middle East & North Africa
June 19, 2019
Majestic Hotel
Tunis, Tunisia
Photo credit: Aly Bouzwida/Project on Middle East Democracy
They walked back up to the house while we dashed back in time to collect their mother from work at the "Toggery"
Flickr is now mostly getting the machine tags correct now, after a year of angst to Staff on the Forum by Pro members, who threatened to leave or waste time going through all their uploads to delete them!
My new BOSE SPEAKER WAS DELIVERED and left in the snow at the foot of the mailboxes…
I dashed around to the south end of Stonegate to capture the procession as they emerged into St Helen's Square and grabbed some shots in the melee.
Bishop Patrick Augustus Feehan of Nashville was taught by the Brothers in Ireland and that experience urged him to petition for the Brothers in 1684 to come to Memphis to open a school. He had Mr. Michael Gavin, prominent merchant and Catholic in Memphis, purchase land on Willington Street, between Vance and Linden in September of 18656 for $14,000.00. The plan for the Brothers to open their school in 1867 was dashed because Memphis was in the throes of a Yellow Fever epidemic. The land on Wellington was sold in 1869. In 1871 the Bishop again made his request to the Brothers to come to Memphis. The Memphis Female College on Adams had failed and its owners, Presbyterian minister C.G. McPherson of Germantown and William Mitchell of Florence, Alabama sold the property to the Brothers on September 23, 1871 for $35,000.00. The land extended from High Street east for one block, and from Adams north one block to Washington. The empty four-story brick square building erected in 1854 was substantial, but needed repairs. Brother Edward, the provincial of the Brothers' St. Louis District, arranged for the transfer of Brother Maurelian from Christian Brothers College in Pass Christian, Mississippi to come to Memphis in November and open Christian Brothers College. He paid his first visit to Memphis in late October and met with local priest, and laypersons. Of note in the meeting was Eugene Magevney, pioneer Memphis Catholic and school teacher. To assist Brother Maurelian in opening the school, Brother Edward summoned Brothers Anthony of Rome, Clement Bernward and Luperius to come to Memphis. These Brothers had fled Chicago following the great fire of October 9 1871 which had destroyed some of the Brothers' schools in that city. Brother Maurelian returned to Pass Christian to turn over his to duties to the President of Christian Brothers College there he moved to Memphis around November 12, 1871. He faced immediately the crushing debt on the purchase of the property on Adams and furnishing the building in time for opening the school later in the month. He and his community resided at St. Peter's Church with the gracious Dominican Fathers and their pastor, Father Kelly, OP. The John Shea family also opened their home to the Brothers to reside until the top floor of the 612 Adams building could be fitted up as residence for the Brothers. At St. Peter's Church the Brothers were given the use of the two front pews facing the altar of St. Joseph. On Sunday, November 19, 1871 at 3:00PM, Father Stephen Byrne, OP presided at the dedication of Christian Brothers College. A procession of persons from various Catholic fraternities and sodalities and the Catholic Sodality Band marched up Adams three blocks east the assembly from the front door. Diocesan priests prominent in early Catholic Memphis history...Fathers John Veale, Martin Walsh, Anthony Luiselli...along with Franciscan Father Ambrosius, and Dominican Fathers O'Brien and Casey, were present. Colonel Michael Magevney and John J. Duffy gave speeches. School was to open the next day, November 20, but the opening was postponed until the next day, November 21, 1871. Even though schools opened ordinarily in September, the November opening of CBC welcomed eighty seven boys, eight of whom boarded at the school. Christian Brothers College, at first, used the Charter of Incorporation from the Memphis Female College, and on July 15, 1872 the charter was revised under the name of Christian Brothers College. Christian Brothers in Memphis operated under this charter until 1965 when the high school department moved to 5900 Walnut Grove and received its own charter with the name, Christian Brothers La Salle High School. On Adams, Christian Brothers College operated three departments: elementary, high school and college. The college classes ceased with the onset of World War I and re-commenced following World War II. The elementary department ceased in 1926. The high school department operated without interruption since November 21, 1871.