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Allariz es un municipio de la provincia de Orense, comunidad autónoma de Galicia, (España).
El Ayuntamiento de Allariz se ubica en la mitad occidental de la provincia de Orense. Su villa se compone de un conjunto urbano interesante dentro de Galicia, la cual mereció en 1971 la declaración de Conjunto Histórico Artístico
En Galicia hay muchos pueblos pequeños con un gran encanto que son ideales para visitar durante una tarde o mientras vamos de viaje para descansar un rato. Es uno de los pueblos más bonitos de Galicia. A tan sólo 25 kilómetros por autopista de Ourense, este pequeño pueblo tiene una ribera de río perfecta para disfrutar de la primavera a la sombra de los árboles, así como un gran patrimonio histórico.
Cruzado el puente, llegamos a la Iglesia de Santa María de Vilanova, también románica. Aquí veremos uno de tantos cruceiros, símbolo típicamente gallego, que se ponía delante de las parroquias como protección contra la peste. No creo que sirvieran de mucho, pero por lo menos son bastante curiosos. Si los miramos de cerca, descubriremos detalles muy interesantes.
Continuando por el paseo de la Alameda, entraremos en el Casco Histórico, declarado Conjunto Histórico Artístico en 1971, y restaurado posteriormente, lo que le valió que le concedieran el Premio Europeo de Urbanismo. No nos extrañará la concesión del premio al pasear por estas estrechas callejuelas tan gallegas, flanqueadas por robustas casas de granito. Las cuestas parece que son obligatorias en cualquier pueblo con historia, y Allariz no iba a ser menos. Hacia arriba llegaremos a los restos del antiguo castillo, junto al barrio judío, y hacia abajo volveremos a orillas del río.
Seguro que tras recorrer las callejuelas empedradas acabamos llegando a una gran explanada, el campo de la Barreira, donde se encuentra otra iglesia más, en este caso la barroca Iglesia de San Benito, y un gran edificio rectangular muy sobrio. Este mastodonte no es otro que el Real Monasterio de Santa Clara, que en su interior alberga el claustro barroco más grande de España. Al ser un monasterio de clausura, no se puede visitar el claustro. Toda una pena, aunque sí se puede entrar a la iglesia y al museo.
El monasterio fue fundado por la reina Violante en 1268, mujer de Alfonso X el Sabio, ya que aquí fue donde el rey estudió y aprendió gallego, además del dialecto portugués que se hablaba en tierras lusitanas. Durante siglos el pueblo gozó de prosperidad, al principio gracias a ser villa real, y después por los talleres de lino. Tras un periodo de decadencia, en la actualidad la villa está resurgiendo, al igual que hizo una de sus fiestas más conocidas, la Festa do Boi, en la que un buey recorre el centro de Allariz para conmemorar como Xan de Arzúa asustó a los judíos en 1317.
The Intha are members of a ethnic group living around Inle Lake. They speak an archaic dialect of Burmese, They often live on Inle Lake, and support themselves through the tending of vegetable farms on floating gardens. Also, the Intha are known for their leg-rowing techniques, and are traditionally Buddhists.
The people of Inle Lake, some 70,000 of them, live in four cities bordering the lake, in numerous small villages along the lake's shores, and on the lake itself and live in simple houses of wood and woven bamboo on stilts; they are largely self-sufficient farmers.
Most transportation on the lake is traditionally by small boats, or by somewhat larger boats fitted with 'long-tail' motors that are necessary because of the usual shallowness of the lake. Local fishermen are known for practicing a distinctive rowing style which involves standing at the stern on one leg and wrapping the other leg around the oar. This unique style evolved for the reason that the lake is covered by reeds and floating plants making it difficult to see above them while sitting. Standing provides the rower with a view beyond the reeds. However, the leg rowing style is only practiced by the men. Women row in the customary style, using the oar with their hands, sitting cross legged at the stern.
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Le nom Intha qui veut dire les enfants du lac est le tout-à-fait approprié car la plupart des Intha vivent sur, ou autour du lac Inle, au sud de Taunggyi dans l'état Shan. Ils vivent littéralement sur l'eau et sont célèbres pour leur technique unique qui consiste à ramer leurs bateaux avec une main et une jambe tout en se balançant dangereusement sur l'autre. Cela leur laisse une main libre pour manier leur filet de pêche conique.
Talkin Tarn is a glacial lake and country park near Brampton, Cumbria, England. The lake is a kettle hole lake, formed 10,000 years ago by mass glacial action.
The name is of Brittonic origin. The Brittonic dialect known as Cumbric was formerly spoken in the area. The first element, tal, means "brow" or "end" in Brittonic and modern Welsh, Cornish, and Breton. The second element is unclear. It may come from the Brittonic word which appears in Welsh and Old Cornish as can ("white") and Breton as kann ("bland, brilliant"). Talkin may be a hill-name meaning "white brow".
'Tarn' is derived from Old Norse 'tjǫrn' and then Middle English 'terne' meaning 'small mountain pool' or 'small lake'.
Talkin Tarn Country Park is owned and maintained by Cumberland Council. It is home to the Boat House Tea Rooms, Brampton Sailing Club, and Talkin Tarn Amateur Rowing Club. The profits from the Tea Rooms and the pay and display car parking are reinvested in the up keep and improvement of the site.
Rowing is an activity at Talkin Tarn. The rowing club, Talkin Tarn Amateur Rowing Club, celebrated its 150th anniversary in 2009. Rowing races were first held on Talkin Tarn in the 1850s, and the Rowing Club was formed in 1859 by local townsfolk, several descendants of whom still live in the area. It is the oldest rowing club in the North of England, with the exception of Tyne Rowing Club, and is the 14th oldest non-university club in the country. Talkin Tarn Annual Regatta has grown considerably in recent years from a total entry of 20 in 1946 and 97 in 1988 to what it is today – very successful and one of the largest one-day regattas outside of London with total entries now in excess of 400.
On 9th November 1983 an Aerospatiale Gazelle Helicopter (reg G-SFTB) crashed into the tarn during a low level training flight from Carlisle Airport. The single occupant escaped the crash but the helicopter, once raised from the bottom, was damaged beyond repair.
Research on climate change carried out at Talkin Tarn was published in 2004.
Old buckles, stone axes, and urns have been found in the area.
#talkin #talkintarn #talkintarncountrypark
More photos of Talkin Tarn here: www.flickr.com/photos/davidambridge/albums/72157633050144969
The first of 2 bits of artwork I decided to put up on Threadless, had this drawing lying around for a bit so thought i might aswell make use of it
Brandwijk, of Braank in het plaatselijk dialect, is een dorp in de Alblasserwaardse gemeente Molenwaard in de provincie Zuid-Holland. Het dorp ligt ten noorden van de Graafstroom en heeft een oppervlakte van 1231 hectare. Op 1 juli 2012 telde Brandwijk 1341 inwoners en 472 woningen.
Van 1817 tot 1986 was Brandwijk een zelfstandige gemeente. Daarna ging het op in de gemeente Graafstroom.
Onderdeel van Brandwijk is buurtschap De Donk. Gelegen aan het waterschap de Boezem zijn vijf boerderijen gebouwd op een in het polderlandschap gelegen zandrug van ongeveer zes meter hoog. De zandrug (donk) werd al in de middeleeuwen bewoond, in die tijd stond hier het klooster Sint Maartensdonk. Een ander buurtschap in Brandwijk is Gijbeland.
In Brandwijk was meer dan honderd jaar geleden een pleisterplaats voor postkoetsen gevestigd. Deze herberg, genaamd de De Boerenklaas dateert van voor 1890 en bestaat nog steeds.
Verder zijn de wateren rondom Brandwijk, de Graafstroom en de Boezem
Manarola (Manaea in the local dialect) is a small town, a frazione of the comune (municipality) of Riomaggiore, in the province of La Spezia, Liguria, northern Italy. It is the second smallest of the famous Cinque Terre towns frequented by tourists.
Manarola may be the oldest of the towns in the Cinque Terre, with the cornerstone of the church, San Lorenzo, dating from 1338. The local dialect is Manarolese, which is marginally different from the dialects in the nearby area. The name "Manarola" is probably dialectical evolution of the Latin, "magna rota". In the Manarolese dialect this was changed to "magna roea" which means "large wheel", in reference to the mill wheel in the town.
Manarola's primary industries have traditionally been fishing and wine-making. The local wine, called Sciacchetrà, is especially renowned; references from Roman writings mention the high quality of the wine produced in the region. In recent years, Manarola and its neighboring towns have become popular tourist destinations, particularly in the summer months. Tourist attractions in the region include a famous walking trail between Manarola and Riomaggiore (called Via dell'Amore, "Love's Trail") and hiking trails in the hills and vineyards above the town. Manarola is one of the five villages. Mostly all of the houses are bright and colourful.
Manarola was celebrated in paintings by the artists Llewelyn Lloyd (1879-1949) ("I ponti di Manarola" [:The Bridges of Manarola, 1904] and "Tramonto a Manarola" [:Sunset at Manarola, 1904] and Antonio Discovolo (1874–1956).
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Source: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cologne
Cologne (German: Köln) is the largest city of Germany's most populous federal state of North Rhine-Westphalia, and its 1 million+ (2016) inhabitants make it the fourth most populous city in Germany after Berlin, Hamburg, and Munich. The largest city on the Rhine, it is also the most populous city both of the Rhine-Ruhr Metropolitan Region, which is Germany's largest and one of Europe's major metropolitan areas, and of the Rhineland. Centred on the left bank of the Rhine, Cologne is about 45 kilometres (28 mi) southeast of North Rhine-Westphalia's capital of Düsseldorf and 25 kilometres (16 mi) northwest of Bonn. It is the largest city in the Central Franconian and Ripuarian dialect areas.
The city's famous Cologne Cathedral (Kölner Dom) is the seat of the Catholic Archbishop of Cologne. There are many institutions of higher education in the city, most notably the University of Cologne (Universität zu Köln), one of Europe's oldest and largest universities, the Technical University of Cologne (Technische Hochschule Köln), Germany's largest university of applied sciences, and the German Sport University Cologne (Deutsche Sporthochschule Köln), Germany's only sport university. Cologne Bonn Airport (Flughafen Köln/Bonn) is Germany's seventh-largest airport and lies in the southeast of the city. The main airport for the Rhine-Ruhr region is Düsseldorf Airport.
Cologne was founded and established in Ubii territory in the 1st century AD as the Roman Colonia Claudia Ara Agrippinensium, the first word of which is the origin of its name. An alternative Latin name of the settlement is Augusta Ubiorum, after the Ubii. "Cologne", the French version of the city's name, has become standard in English as well. The city functioned as the capital of the Roman province of Germania Inferior and as the headquarters of the Roman military in the region until occupied by the Franks in 462. During the Middle Ages it flourished on one of the most important major trade routes between east and west in Europe. Cologne was one of the leading members of the Hanseatic League and one of the largest cities north of the Alps in medieval and Renaissance times. Prior to World War II the city had undergone several occupations by the French and also by the British (1918–1926). Cologne was one of the most heavily bombed cities in Germany during World War II, with the Royal Air Force (RAF) dropping 34,711 long tons (35,268 tonnes) of bombs on the city. The bombing reduced the population by 95%, mainly due to evacuation, and destroyed almost the entire city. With the intention of restoring as many historic buildings as possible, the successful postwar rebuilding has resulted in a very mixed and unique cityscape.
Cologne is a major cultural centre for the Rhineland; it hosts more than 30 museums and hundreds of galleries. Exhibitions range from local ancient Roman archeological sites to contemporary graphics and sculpture. The Cologne Trade Fair hosts a number of trade shows such as Art Cologne, imm Cologne, Gamescom, and the Photokina.
Source: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cologne_Cathedral
Cologne Cathedral (German: Kölner Dom, officially Hohe Domkirche Sankt Petrus, English: Cathedral Church of Saint Peter) is a Catholic cathedral in Cologne, North Rhine-Westphalia, Germany. It is the seat of the Archbishop of Cologne and of the administration of the Archdiocese of Cologne. It is a renowned monument of German Catholicism and Gothic architecture and was declared a World Heritage Site in 1996. It is Germany's most visited landmark, attracting an average of 20,000 people a day, and currently the tallest twin-spired church at 157 m (515 ft) tall.
Construction of Cologne Cathedral began in 1248 but was halted in 1473, unfinished. Work did not restart until the 1840s, and the edifice was completed to its original Medieval plan in 1880. The cathedral is the largest Gothic church in Northern Europe and has the second-tallest spires. The towers for its two huge spires give the cathedral the largest façade of any church in the world. The choir has the largest height to width ratio, 3.6:1, of any medieval church.
Cologne's medieval builders had planned a grand structure to house the reliquary of the Three Kings and fit its role as a place of worship for the Holy Roman Emperor. Despite having been left incomplete during the medieval period, Cologne Cathedral eventually became unified as "a masterpiece of exceptional intrinsic value" and "a powerful testimony to the strength and persistence of Christian belief in medieval and modern Europe".
Manarola
View of Manarola
Manarola village
Manarola (Manaea in the local dialect) is a small town, a frazione of the comune (municipality) of Riomaggiore, in the province of La Spezia, Liguria, northern Italy. It is the second-smallest of the famous Cinque Terre towns frequented by tourists.
The large wheel which can be at the origine of the name of the village
Manarola may be the oldest of the towns in the Cinque Terre, with the cornerstone of the church, San Lorenzo, dating from 1338. The local dialect is Manarolese, which is marginally different from the dialects in the nearby area. The name "Manarola" is probably a dialectical evolution of the Latin, "magna rota". In the Manarolese dialect this was changed to "magna roea" which means "large wheel", in reference to the mill wheel in the town.
Manarola's primary industries have traditionally been fishing and wine-making. The local wine, called Sciacchetrà, is especially renowned; references from Roman writings mention the high quality of the wine produced in the region. In recent years, Manarola and its neighboring towns have become popular tourist destinations, particularly in the summer months. Tourist attractions in the region include a famous walking trail between Manarola and Riomaggiore (called Via dell'Amore, "Love's Trail") and hiking trails in the hills and vineyards above the town. Manarola is one of the five villages of the Cinque Terre. Most of the houses are bright and colourful. Manarola was celebrated in paintings by Antonio Discovolo (1874–1956).
Manarola
Vista de manarola
Los edificios historicos de manarola.
Pueblo manarola
Manarola (Manaea en el dialecto local) es una pequeña ciudad, una frazione de la comuna (municipio) de Riomaggiore, en la provincia de La Spezia, Liguria, norte de Italia. Es el segundo más pequeño de los famosos pueblos de Cinque Terre frecuentados por turistas.
La gran rueda que puede estar en el origen del nombre del pueblo.
Manarola puede ser la ciudad más antigua de Cinque Terre, con la piedra angular de la iglesia, San Lorenzo, que data de 1338. El dialecto local es manarolés, que es ligeramente diferente de los dialectos en el área cercana. El nombre "Manarola" es probablemente una evolución dialéctica del latín, "magna rota". En el dialecto manarolés esto se cambió a "magna roea" que significa "rueda grande", en referencia a la rueda de molino en la ciudad.
Las industrias primarias de Manarola han sido tradicionalmente la pesca y la vinificación. El vino local, llamado Sciacchetrà, es especialmente famoso; Las referencias de los escritos romanos mencionan la alta calidad del vino producido en la región. En los últimos años, Manarola y sus pueblos vecinos se han convertido en destinos turísticos populares, especialmente en los meses de verano. Las atracciones turísticas de la región incluyen un famoso sendero para caminar entre Manarola y Riomaggiore (llamado Via dell'Amore, "Sendero del amor") y senderos para caminatas en las colinas y viñedos de la ciudad. Manarola es uno de los cinco pueblos de las Cinque Terre. La mayoría de las casas son luminosas y coloridas. Manarola fue celebrada en pinturas por Antonio Discóbolo (1874–1956).
From Wikipedia:
Tangkuban Perahu (spelt Tangkuban Parahu in the local Sundanese dialect) is a dormant volcano 30 km north of the city of Bandung, the provincial capital of West Java, Indonesia. It last erupted in 1826, 1829, 1842, 1846, 1896, 1910, 1926, 1929, 1952, 1957, 1961, 1965, 1967, 1969, 1983. It is a popular tourist attraction where tourists can hike or ride to the edge of the crater to view the hot water springs and boiling mud up close, and buy eggs cooked on the hot surface. This stratovolcano is on the island of Java and last erupted in 1983. Together with Mount Burangrang and Bukit Tunggul, those are remnants of the ancient Mount Sunda after the plinian eruption caused the Caldera to collapse.
These prints depict dances known in Neapolitan dialect as the sfessania. Such dances are characterized by violent and sometimes obscene physical contortions and gesticulations. Each plate features a pair of figures pulled from the repertoire of popular entertainers, their balletic interactions running a comic gamut from mock grace to blatant crudity. Lively little scenes fill out the backgrounds of some of the dances, offering engaging glimpses of fairground activity in Callot’s time.
Aurigeno (in Ticino dialect Aurìgen, in local dialect Aurigan) is a hamlet of 384 inhabitants in the Swiss municipality of Maggia, in Canton Ticino (Vallemaggia district).
In the Middle Ages it formed a community with Lodano and Moghegno. The village is located on the right side of the valley floor and lacks sunshine in winter; this induced the inhabitants to move during the bad season to the hamlet of Ronchini, on the opposite bank, or to Dunzio (on a promontory), practicing a kind of transhumance. The parish church of S. Bartolomeo, built around 1761 by expanding a 12th-13th-century oratory, contains valuable frescoes by local painter Giovanni Antonio Vanoni (1866), who also decorated houses and chapels. The chapel of St. Anthony (15th-16th cent.), with frescoes from 1508, is of undoubted historical and artistic interest. The parish of Aurigeno broke away from Maggia before the 16th century, along with Lodano and Moghegno, which later became autonomous in the 17th century. The demographic upswing in recent decades is due to the proximity of the urban agglomeration of Locarno; many secondary residences have also sprung up.
It is a unique and charming village, characterized by traditional old stone houses of owners who have decided not to abandon the village or of vacationers who adore peace and solitude.
© all rights reserved by B℮n
Please take your time... and enjoy it large on black
People from all around the world come to this quaint Dutch village located an hour’s drive north of Amsterdam. Enkhuizen is a beautiful city in the Netherlands in the province of North Holland. Enkhuizen was one of the harbour-towns of the East India Company - VOC, just like Hoorn and Amsterdam, from where overseas trade with the East Indies was conducted. It received city rights in 1355. In the mid-17th century, Enkhuizen was at the peak of its power and was one of the most important harbour cities in the Netherlands. However, due to a variety of reasons, notably the silting up of the harbours, Enkhuizen lost its position to Amsterdam. Nowadays, Enkhuizen continues the maritime tradition and has one of the largest marinas of the Netherlands. It is also the location of the Zuiderzeemuseum, an open-air museum reflecting life in the villages around the Zuiderzee throughout history. Enkhuizen is a great place to walk or cycle from one monument to another. The town is also a water lover's paradise. Boats abound; at times, every second street seems to be a canal.
In the 17th century, Enkhuizen was one of the wealthiest cities of Holland. It gained power and influence as a member of the VOC. Enkhuizen’s rich history is still noticeable today as you walk through the old inner city with its numerous state mansions, canals, churches, city walls and harbors. A walk across the Drommedaris-bridge brings you to a street called Dijk, which is lined with excellent examples of home styles from the 18th century - photo above.
Enkhuizen is een stad en gemeente in de regio West-Friesland, in de Nederlandse provincie Noord-Holland. De gemeente ligt aan zowel het Markermeer als het IJsselmeer. Enkhuizen staat bekend als de Haringstad vanwege haar verleden als centrum voor de haringvisserij. De geschiedenis van de Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie, kortweg VOC, is in Enkhuizen nog duidelijk zichtbaar. De VOC was in de 17e en 18e eeuw de grootste handelsonderneming ter wereld die met zijn prachtige schepen naar Aziatische landen reisde om handel te drijven. Door de gunstige ligging aan het IJsselmeer was het aantrekkelijke om hier een Kamer’ van de VOC te vestigen. De Drommedaris hier aan de linkerkant te zien, de verdedigingstoren aan de haven, en het centrum met de historische panden herinneren nog aan deze welvarende tijd. Vanzelfsprekend kan de watersporter hier zijn hart ophalen. De Westfriese Waterweken, de Klipperrace en het Jazzfestival zijn een greep uit de vele evenementen die ieder jaar in en om de haven worden georganiseerd. Ook aan cultuur is geen gebrek. In het Zuiderzeemuseum tonen ambachtslieden hun werk en krijg je een indruk van het leven aan zee. In Enkhuizen wordt nog Enkhuizens gesproken, een West-Fries dialect.
Looking east from the west side of the river Main. Photographed just south of Winterhausen.
"Franconia (German: Franken, pronounced [ˈfʁaŋkŋ̍]; Franconian: Franggn [ˈfrɑŋɡŋ̍]; Bavarian: Frankn) is a region of Germany, characterised by its culture and Franconian dialect (German: Fränkisch).
Franconia is made up of the three Regierungsbezirke of Lower, Middle and Upper Franconia in Bavaria, the adjacent, Franconian-speaking, South Thuringia, south of the Thuringian Forest—which constitutes the language boundary between Franconian and Thuringian— and the eastern parts of Heilbronn-Franconia in Baden-Württemberg.
Those parts of the Vogtland lying in Saxony (largest city: Plauen) are sometimes regarded as Franconian as well, because the Vogtlandian dialects are mostly East Franconian. The inhabitants of Saxon Vogtland, however, mostly do not consider themselves as Franconian. On the other hand, the inhabitants of the Hessian-speaking parts of Lower Franconia west of the Spessart (largest city: Aschaffenburg) do consider themselves as Franconian, although not speaking the dialect. Heilbronn-Franconia's largest city of Heilbronn and its surrounding areas are South Franconian-speaking, and therefore only sometimes regarded as Franconian. In Hesse, the east of the Fulda District is Franconian-speaking, and parts of the Oden Forest District are sometimes regarded as Franconian for historical reasons, but a Franconian identity did not develop there.
Franconia's largest city and unofficial capital is Nuremberg, which is contiguous with Erlangen and Fürth, with which it forms the Franconian conurbation with around 1.3 million inhabitants. Other important Franconian cities are Würzburg, Bamberg, Bayreuth, Ansbach and Coburg in Bavaria, Suhl and Meiningen in Thuringia, and Schwäbisch Hall in Baden-Württemberg.
The German word Franken—Franconians—also refers to the ethnic group, which is mainly to be found in this region. They are to be distinguished from the Germanic people of the Franks, and historically formed their easternmost settlement area. The origins of Franconia lie in the settlement of the Franks from the 6th century in the area probably populated until then mainly by the Elbe Germanic people in the Main river area, known from the 9th century as East Francia (Francia Orientalis). In the Middle Ages the region formed much of the eastern part of the Duchy of Franconia and, from 1500, the Franconian Circle. The restructuring of the south German states by Napoleon, after the demise of the Holy Roman Empire, saw most of Franconia awarded to Bavaria." - info from Wikipedia.
Summer 2019 I did a solo cycling tour across Europe through 12 countries over the course of 3 months. I began my adventure in Edinburgh, Scotland and finished in Florence, Italy cycling 8,816 km. During my trip I took 47,000 photos.
Now on Instagram.
Churlish Stories for Curious Children
An American in Gladstone
“Innocence abroad “
Acte 1
I stopped in my tracks…not believing my ears as they picked up on a conversation a couple was having at a nearby table.
I asked myself…
“Americans, here, at Gladstone?”
^^^^^^^^^^
Gladstone's Library was having its annual New Year’s Eve affair at a nearby venue.
I made it a habit to attend, for the library is a most interesting place for a visit and the annual affair has proven to be a viable source for me to ply my trade as it attracts the wealthier patrons amongst its guestbook, priggish ones who don’t mind showing off the bling.
So at this year's affair, I was dressed in nearly my best(a tight dress of green silk ) with my only jewellery being a gold pin on one shoulder shaped like a fox’s head with diamonds for eyes. It’s my good luck piece.
I was busy prowling the venue when I overheard the American couple speaking while sitting at the table I was passing.
Now on this island I call home, we have many dialects of our language. So one would think that a foreign dialect would not be too noticeable.
Professor Higgins may agree with that, or not. He definitely would be game in having an argument one way or another.
But there is one dialect that I find terribly interesting, especially how it stands out when heard in passing. And that is a Yanks’ accent from across the pond.
Heard so infrequently by me that it always makes me stop in my tracks to listen.
Which is what was happening now.
For this couple at the table I was passing were decidedly Americans. Chattering happily amongst themselves, unawares probably of how their words sounded upon our ears. Or at least my Welsh-born ones.
The dark-haired male with a mustache was wearing a black suit, no vest, blue silk shirt, and tie. He wore a fancy silver watch with a black face on his left wrist.
If it were not for the accent I would say he looked German.
The fair-haired lady he was with, his wife, was dressed in a pretty dress, deep blue like her husband's shirt, with silver Jewelry, a necklace, earrings, and a shiny bracelet.
Neither appeared wealthy, their bling was of an ordinary type, nice, but not expensive or presumptuous.
I listened for a bit to their absorbing talk. Catching their first names, or his anyways (George), for she was just being called honey. Of course, her name could be Honey, like Ian Flemings's Honeychile Rider, right?
I liked that thought and felt happy that I had happened across them. But then left before I was noticed.
For I have bigger fish to fry this evening.
And those fish, once found, would be wearing presumptuous jewels, the expensively presumptuous type.
It did not take long to find one. At these events it never does.
So soon I was instinctively following behind a most interesting prospect(s)
A happy family it was, a rather happily rich family.
As they got in line at the snack tables I stood off to one side and took a careful study.
Muscular Father was in a tux that looked a half size too small. He appeared to be a dominating specimen. But one could see in his eyes he was a pussycat. I would imagine the wealth of family was on his side, all of it inherited, passed down by at least 4 generations in my opinion.
The mum was very elegant in a long flowy white silk dress with a red and green flowery print. She was wearing her gleaming set of expensive pearls. A gold ring with a vulgarly large diamond on her pinkie finger denoted wealth. As did her demeanor. I pictured myself wearing that ring, and mulled over if I could skillfully lift it from her finger this night.
Now the third member was a younger version of the ring lady, who was standing next to her in the snack line. Her daughter no doubt, and She was enticingly wearing a very sleek, slick brown satin fully off-shoulder number that nicely outlined her petite figure as it poured along it down to her silver high heels.
Her Jewels were a sparkling collection that consisted of a wide V-shaped necklace that looked like a falling river of diamonds, amazingly sparkling chandelier earnings, and a very pretty diamond bracelet, along with several enticing rings.
But the real showpiece was the eye-grabbing broach she had pinned to the gown just at her cleavage. It had a sparrow egg-sized diamond at its centre.
It was quite unusual to see a wealthy child wearing better sparklers than her mother, but I didn’t waste time on whys. Just concerned myself with what was.
I decided then and there that my next burglary would be the place mother and daughter kept those delicious jewels.
And I had several tried and true methods to find out just where those jewels would be spending the night. A couple of my favorites would involve me lifting a piece of one of the two ladies' jewels.
I flipped heads or tails in my mind. With the broach winning over the ring.
I then went into full stalk mode. Appearing to be enjoying the affair, but keeping an eye out of the corner on the daughter. For she was the now key to my whole plan.
During the next few hours, I did my due vigilance on the family. Looking for the telltale signs that either made them desirable marks or ones should I should leave alone
One of my first tests is to do a preliminary bump, with no lifting. That bit comes later.
I will actually brush up against my marks and gauge how they react as I please myself by coping with a feel.
I did this for both women as I caught them off alone. Not feeling up their pretty gowns but observing their reactions. Neither appeared guarded, purses not checked nervously, that sort of thing. Open and friendly to strangers they both were. Which meant they passed my first test.
Even the father was charming and accepted my apologies as gracious as his two ladies when I “tripped” up against him. (By the way. The bloke kept his wallet in his pants, just an observation)
Satisfied I had made the right choice I went into a deeper study, watching with interest how they were interacting with others and amongst themselves.
The band playing that evening was alternating between slow standards and a more lively fast pace that attracted the younger crowd. The lights were dimmed and a disco ball showered the floor with strobing light for the faster songs.
The parents were up for the slowest songs while the daughter watched the table with their drinks and purses.
The faster dances they switched places.
I also spied with my little eye that the daughter was dancing with her girlfriends. No males appeared on the scene. And her girlfriends after dancing always split up to be with their families.
I watched with increasing desire the daughter's jewels flickering on the dance floor. Especially the glimpses I caught of the enticing broach that was falling out with a sparkling voice, from its position just below her perky breasts. Which I noticed, the plumping, tight gown outlined, breasts that is, the rich girl just loved to press up against her dance partners.
I bided my time ( not easily) until very late in the evening. All three members of my targeted family were freely drinking. And becoming nicely inebriated as the evening wore on.
Soon the time was ripe for the plucking of a broach from a scintillatingly lovely brown satin gown.
The fast music started, the strobe light came on, and I went in and joined the swooningnly sweating throng.
I had started on the far side of the dance floor and began making my way toward my targeted female.
I had her in sight when I was pulled, literally, into a group of three, grabbed in passing by a young lady(Michelle) wearing yellow chiffon with ropes of real pearls. She held onto me as we danced to the fast beats of the bass-heavy music.
Then I was snatched away by a single male member of the group. The third is a young lady winningly wearing a black taffeta a-line gown with diamonds twinkling.
The male was a trashed, sweaty specimen with red hair wearing a tweed suit that was scratchy as he danced close to me. He was wearing a gold Rolex which caught my eye and then caught up in my fingers as I slipped it off his wrist.
I was also eying up the diamond-wearing blonde in black taffeta from over his shoulder as she danced with the girl who had snagged me into their group. I studied intensely her diamond jewellery dripping and swaying quite deliciously against her ultra-shiny black gown.
I maneuvered him over(Fred was his name) to the two girls and passed him off to yellow chiffon, while I embraced black satin, Cecelia was this wealthy pup's name.
She was very pretty, and like her companions, drunk as a skunk.
I told her how gorgeous she was while my hands held her close to me as my fingers caressed her sleek gown. My hands slipped up along her divine figure as we danced in motion to the fast tempo.
I ran my fingers up into her long silky blonde curls, lifting her hair, I had a clearer view of Cecelia’s lovely long diamond earrings that were just dangling there on sweaty earlobes, which made it child’s play to lift them and out as I raised her hair.
She smiled at my praise as I let her hair back down and I hugged her, wrapping my hands around her scintillating gowned waist, my clenched fists holding tightly onto her earrings as I pressed her hot fiery little figure against mine.
She hugged back and I turned her around and pushed her back in between her two companions.
Pocketing the shimmery earrings, I danced off, locating the daughter just as the song ended.
So I then waited until the second song was being played as the daughter was still up on the dance floor I maneuvered my way until I was directly behind her. She was dancing close to one of her friends, brushing against her then pulled back laughing. It was a routine I had been watching her do all evening and I was ready.
As she pulled back I bumped into her, my hands grasping onto her breasts, tightly outlined by the satin gown. Double pleasures there, for both of us I could tell.
I apologized in her ear, those earrings she wore dangling down delightfully, as my fingers also went down and swiftly located her broach. Then I lifted it, my fingers prying open the clasp and I pulled the flash jewel off as she was turning around.
“No worries luv…” she said as we danced together in rhythm to the music. I held my hands (still holding her broach) behind my back.
Then I’ll be damn if her girlfriend didn’t come up behind her and copy the same stunt as I had.
I left the happily groping group as soon as the daughter turned her back to me to face her friends.
Then I sat at my table, waited, and watched, with bated breath.
The daughter finally came back to the table and rejoined her parents. No one noticed anything was amiss.
Then after a long, very long, 15-minute break, the band started back up, playing slow dance music.
I watched the parents rise and head to the dance floor. Leaving the daughter quite alone, and susceptible.
“I’m on stage.”
I thought as I stood up and zoomed right up to the daughter like I had something important to say.
Which I did….
She looked up at me with doe-eyed wonder as I placed a hand on her softshoulder.
“Pardon me miss. Remember me. I bumped into you on the dance floor. Well, I had admired your broach earlier.
She looks down discovering it's gone, her eyes opening wide in shock. They looked up questioning into my face.
I love it when I can see a victim do that.
“It’s for that moment of dawning comprehension that is one of the little things in life I live for.”
I quickly explained:
“I saw one being turned into the security office upstairs by some Americans who found it. I thought it might be yours. That’s why I came over. “
Seeing her hesitation as she looked at her mother’s purse.
“I’ll watch over your table luv if you want to go see. I know I couldn’t wait if mine had been lost!”
I said this stroking the gold fox headpin I was wearing.
She fell for it, hook, line, and Broachless figure.
“Thank you .”
She worriedly lifted her gown and scurried off. I watched her leave… such a pretty dress she was wearing.
Now, The security room is actually located in the basement, so I bought myself some time.
I sit and casually begin to have a look through their purses.
From the daughter’s purse I pull out a card from her wallet that listed her address, along with a fancy key. Her wallet contained about £50, which I pulled out and pocketed.
Inside her mums' purse, I find a fatter wallet. £325 which I also pocketed. Also, a solid gold compact which I placed inside my purse. What I did not find was a hotel key. Which must mean they lived locally. Which could be either a good thing or a bad thing.
The father had his suit jacket on a chair. I went over and making sure no one was watching, riffled through his pockets. No wallet, which I knew, but I found something better.
Three hatcheck claim tickets. I quickly smelled them. One of them smelled very strongly of expensive perfume which I hoped meant they had been handled by one of the ladies as she turned in her wrap. I kept this one and stowed it away.
Then I rise and left, planning on beating them home to scout out the area. I didn’t need to count down the new year to know it was already starting out to be wickedly brilliant.
But on my way out, I see the American wife in the snack lime...
Decide to myself that I would like some American souvenirs from these “innocents Abroad.”
As I walk past her, I suddenly stop and go right up to her.
“E’llo you're an American, that’s lovely.”
As I say that I lift her hand, my other patting her bracelet-bearing wrist in greeting.
She stammers taken by surprise
“Yes, my name is Martha King. What is yours?”
Which is what I needed, surprise. I was wiping my hand along her wrist reaching her bracelet which I clasped my fingers around.
I gave her the made-up name I had been using this evening.
“ Cheers then, my name is Cadence, and it’s a pleasure meeting you. That’s quite a lovely dress your wearing. Did you buy it here?”
Rapid series of questions keeps the mark confused and distracted.
As she answered I thought Martha is it, not Honey. I eyeballed the rest of the jewellery she was wearing.
A silver-hinged locket with an M engraved upon it. Engraved around the ‘M’ was a floral vine, and below the ‘M’ was a flower made of ruby chips. The locket was oval-shaped on a link chain that hung just above her breasts. Her earrings were slightly smaller than the locket but had the same floral design and ruby flower, no letter M however.
I pried my eyes off her locket and looked into hers as she was answering my question.
“No, this dress is one I brought from home. I was worried it might not be fancy enough for here.
With my free hand, I stoked it along her dress as I sigh, my hands still holding her wrist up, covering her bracelet as my fingers snapped it open.
“I thought so, we don’t have dresses quite that lovely here.”
“But yours is…”
She started to say, then looked up
At that point, I see relief in her eyes as she stopped in mid-sentence, then said ..”
“Here comes my husband George. He is American also.”
As we both look behind me, I was busy taking advantage of the distraction, lifting off from her wrist the shiny silver bracelet. Pocketing it as the man came up to us.
I was introduced and saw he was an amiable sort of chap. As I like to imagine most Americans are, not that I’ve met more than a couple of others.
We talked for a few minutes as they told me where they were from, and about their kids. The usual.
But I needed to be on my way without appearing to be.
The band was still playing slow songs so I tried to break away by saying.
“I would imagine you two would like to get onto the dance floor? Please don’t let me hold you back…”
The wife apologized to me that she was a wee bit tired and wanted to sit.
Great I thought, then she added something that blindsided me.
As she looked at her husband standing there sheepishly…
“I know my husband would like to though, dance I mean. Maybe he would like to…honey ?”
I caught myself.
“You would not mind then if I steal him for a dance then luv?”
“Please do. My George is the dancer in the family. The poor dear wears me out.”
I heard a wholesome laugh from George.
“You two ladies do realize I’m right here listening? And yes I would consider it a privilege to have a dance with you, Cadence.”
He takes up my hand and we go to the crowded floor. The lights are still dim. But there is no strobe.
He takes me into his arms and I allow him to lead me to the music. We swirl around the other guests. I tell him a little about me, my twin brother, the small cottage we grew up in, and the nearby ancient university-owned cemetery we played in(though I did not go into the detail the games we played centered around pickpockets). He told me a bit about himself. Scouts, camping, decorating for Halloween. Also how Martha and he were here as an anniversary treat.
I find that George is a very pleasant dance partner So it was with a bit of guilt that as he was looking over towards Martha, I ran my hand caressing his wrist, then without remorse, I lifted off his fancy silver watch with the black face.
“Just couldn’t help myself, now could I?”
The song was ending and I was getting ready to release George back to his table when I spied the broachless Daughter walking along the outside of the dance floor.
Quickly I looked up into George’s face with a pleading look that he had no clue over why.”
“That was lovely. Can we do one more?”
George shook his head, yes and we held firm our position.
The music started again, and I pulled his arm around my waist making him hold me closer. Over his shoulder, I watched as the Daughter disappeared out of sight. She looked very perplexed, but not alarmed.
Sighing I placed my hands on his sides. I felt something hard in his side jacket pocket. Without thought, I reached inside and wrapped my fingers around a small, but heavy lighter. Without looking at it, I pulled it from his pocket and put it inside one of mine. I could feel George’s heart thumping, so I knew he was not finding it unpleasant to dance with me. My own was beating fast, over the daughter, and the recent lifts I had made off of George King.
As the last notes of the second song drifted away, we broke apart
I walk with George back to his waiting wife Martha at the table.
The wife smiles.
“Thought you were stealing him”
He chuckles.
“I convinced her not to.”
We all laugh.
They offered for me to sit and join them for a drink.
I lied.
“Love to, but I have to track down my errant niece.”
George pats me on the back saying lovely to have met you and thanks for the dance, then takes his leave to go get more drinks for his wife and himself.
Martha who had stood up as we came to the table, leans in and gives me a warm caring hug…
“I also think it was lovely meeting you tonight Cadence, you are a very nice young lady.”
Now I hadn't planned on taking her locket, but my thief instincts kick in and I found myself reaching up and undoing the clasp of the necklace and slipping it off her pretty neck before the end of the hug.
While slyly pocketing her pendant and chain, I replied:
“Why thank you, Martha, it was brilliant meeting you and George also, and luv, I hope you will enjoy the rest of your stay here.”
Then I take my leave.
“Indeed Charming to meet both of you.”
I leave her as she sits down to wait on George and their drinks.
I made a direct beeline to the coat check.
Quickly I thrust to the cloak check girl my slip. She comes back with a luxurious red sable jacket.
The cloak check girl complimented me:
“That’s pretty miss.”
“Indeed it is. “
I agree as I slip it on and leave Walking boldly past the lone guard at the security desk.
I make it to the exit without a backside glance. No one challenged me as I opened it and walked outside into the cool evening.
I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. My breath sends up vapors in the cool night air. I wanted so very badly to lite a victory cigarette but was too far into my game to take the time just yet.
So I scurried off into the night, along the nearly deserted blocks, formulating the next steps in my plan.
To be continued …
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Source: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cologne
Cologne (German: Köln) is the largest city of Germany's most populous federal state of North Rhine-Westphalia, and its 1 million+ (2016) inhabitants make it the fourth most populous city in Germany after Berlin, Hamburg, and Munich. The largest city on the Rhine, it is also the most populous city both of the Rhine-Ruhr Metropolitan Region, which is Germany's largest and one of Europe's major metropolitan areas, and of the Rhineland. Centred on the left bank of the Rhine, Cologne is about 45 kilometres (28 mi) southeast of North Rhine-Westphalia's capital of Düsseldorf and 25 kilometres (16 mi) northwest of Bonn. It is the largest city in the Central Franconian and Ripuarian dialect areas.
The city's famous Cologne Cathedral (Kölner Dom) is the seat of the Catholic Archbishop of Cologne. There are many institutions of higher education in the city, most notably the University of Cologne (Universität zu Köln), one of Europe's oldest and largest universities, the Technical University of Cologne (Technische Hochschule Köln), Germany's largest university of applied sciences, and the German Sport University Cologne (Deutsche Sporthochschule Köln), Germany's only sport university. Cologne Bonn Airport (Flughafen Köln/Bonn) is Germany's seventh-largest airport and lies in the southeast of the city. The main airport for the Rhine-Ruhr region is Düsseldorf Airport.
Cologne was founded and established in Ubii territory in the 1st century AD as the Roman Colonia Claudia Ara Agrippinensium, the first word of which is the origin of its name. An alternative Latin name of the settlement is Augusta Ubiorum, after the Ubii. "Cologne", the French version of the city's name, has become standard in English as well. The city functioned as the capital of the Roman province of Germania Inferior and as the headquarters of the Roman military in the region until occupied by the Franks in 462. During the Middle Ages it flourished on one of the most important major trade routes between east and west in Europe. Cologne was one of the leading members of the Hanseatic League and one of the largest cities north of the Alps in medieval and Renaissance times. Prior to World War II the city had undergone several occupations by the French and also by the British (1918–1926). Cologne was one of the most heavily bombed cities in Germany during World War II, with the Royal Air Force (RAF) dropping 34,711 long tons (35,268 tonnes) of bombs on the city. The bombing reduced the population by 95%, mainly due to evacuation, and destroyed almost the entire city. With the intention of restoring as many historic buildings as possible, the successful postwar rebuilding has resulted in a very mixed and unique cityscape.
Cologne is a major cultural centre for the Rhineland; it hosts more than 30 museums and hundreds of galleries. Exhibitions range from local ancient Roman archeological sites to contemporary graphics and sculpture. The Cologne Trade Fair hosts a number of trade shows such as Art Cologne, imm Cologne, Gamescom, and the Photokina.
Source: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cologne_Cathedral
Cologne Cathedral (German: Kölner Dom, officially Hohe Domkirche Sankt Petrus, English: Cathedral Church of Saint Peter) is a Catholic cathedral in Cologne, North Rhine-Westphalia, Germany. It is the seat of the Archbishop of Cologne and of the administration of the Archdiocese of Cologne. It is a renowned monument of German Catholicism and Gothic architecture and was declared a World Heritage Site in 1996. It is Germany's most visited landmark, attracting an average of 20,000 people a day, and currently the tallest twin-spired church at 157 m (515 ft) tall.
Construction of Cologne Cathedral began in 1248 but was halted in 1473, unfinished. Work did not restart until the 1840s, and the edifice was completed to its original Medieval plan in 1880. The cathedral is the largest Gothic church in Northern Europe and has the second-tallest spires. The towers for its two huge spires give the cathedral the largest façade of any church in the world. The choir has the largest height to width ratio, 3.6:1, of any medieval church.
Cologne's medieval builders had planned a grand structure to house the reliquary of the Three Kings and fit its role as a place of worship for the Holy Roman Emperor. Despite having been left incomplete during the medieval period, Cologne Cathedral eventually became unified as "a masterpiece of exceptional intrinsic value" and "a powerful testimony to the strength and persistence of Christian belief in medieval and modern Europe".
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I'm stampolina and I love to take photos of stamps. Thanks for visiting this pages on flickr.
I'm neither a typical collector of stamps, nor a stamp dealer. I'm only a stamp photograph. I'm fascinated of the fine close-up structures which are hidden in this small stamp-pictures. Please don't ask of the worth of these stamps - the most ones have a worth of a few cents or still less.
By the way, I wanna say thank you to all flickr users who have sent me stamps! Great! Thank you! Someone sent me 3 or 5 stamps, another one sent me more than 20 stamps in a letter. It's everytime a great surprise for me and I'm everytime happy to get letters with stamps inside from you!
thx, stampolina
For the case you wanna send also stamps - it is possible. (...I'm pretty sure you'll see these stamps on this photostream on flickr :) thx!
stampolina68
Mühlenweg 3/2
3244 Ruprechtshofen
Austria - Europe
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great stamp Luxemburg 5F (Antoine Meyer, 1801-1857, dialect poet) Luxembourg timbre postage postal selo Lussemburgo francobollo Luxemburgo sellos 一张邮票 卢森堡 yī zhāng yóupiào Lúsēnbǎo марка Люксембург timbre stamp selo franco bollo postage porto sellos marka briefmarke francobollo revenue frankatur Luxemburg
Midyat (Kurdish: Midyad, Syriac: ܡܕܝܕ Mëḏyaḏ or Miḏyôyo in the local Turoyo dialect, Arabic: مديات) is a town in Mardin Province of Turkey. The ancient city is the center of a centuries-old Hurrian/Hurrian town in Southeast-Turkey, widely familiar under its Syriac name Tur Abdin.[citation needed] A cognate of the name Midyat is first encountered in an inscription of the Assyrian king Ashur-nasir-pal II (883-859 B.C.). This royal text depicts how his forces conquered the city and the surrounding villages. In its long history the city of Midyat has been ruled by various different leaders and nations.
In Venetian dialect : Campo San Anzolo
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Campo Sant'Angelo is a large square with a Z-plant, located in a major connection point, in the heart of the city streets that branch off from it leading to St. Stephen's (and therefore to the Accademia Bridge), in Campo Manin (and therefore).
The most important historical and architectural buildings that overlook the field, Palazzo Pisani Trevisan, Gritti Palace Morosini Palace Duodo and the complex of the monastery of St. Stephen, which has the particular value pointed portal, decorated with polychrome bas-relief with a bezel of school representative of Padua St. Augustine among the monks.
Find the place on the western side of the field, the small Oratory of the Annunciation, of ancient foundation (Morosini was wanted by the tenth century).
There are also two wells with a true fifteenth century, both among people and Palazzo Gritti Palace Duodo.
In the field stood the church of St. Michael the Archangel, demolished in the nineteenth century in the wake of Napoleon's repression of the year 1807-1810.
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©2014 François de Nodrest - All rights reserved.
© Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission
A breach of copyright has legal consequences
Churlish Stories for Curious Children L
An American in Gladstone
“Innocence abroad “
Acte 1
I stopped in my tracks…not believing my ears as they picked up on a conversation a couple was having at a nearby table.
I asked myself…
“Americans, here, at Gladstone?”
^^^^^^^^^^
Gladstone's Library was having its annual New Year’s Eve affair at a nearby venue.
I made it a habit to attend, for the library is a most interesting place for a visit and the annual affair has proven to be a viable source for me to ply my trade as it attracts the wealthier patrons amongst its guestbook, priggish ones who don’t mind showing off the bling.
So at this year's affair, I was dressed in nearly my best(a tight dress of green silk ) with my only jewellery being a gold pin on one shoulder shaped like a fox’s head with diamonds for eyes. It’s my good luck piece.
I was busy prowling the venue when I overheard the American couple speaking while sitting at the table I was passing.
Now on this island I call home, we have many dialects of our language. So one would think that a foreign dialect would not be too noticeable.
Professor Higgins may agree with that, or not. He definitely would be game in having an argument one way or another.
But there is one dialect that I find terribly interesting, especially how it stands out when heard in passing. And that is a Yanks’ accent from across the pond.
Heard so infrequently by me that it always makes me stop in my tracks to listen.
Which is what was happening now.
For this couple at the table I was passing were decidedly Americans. Chattering happily amongst themselves, unawares probably of how their words sounded upon our ears. Or at least my Welsh-born ones.
The dark-haired male with a mustache was wearing a black suit, no vest, blue silk shirt, and tie. He wore a fancy silver watch with a black face on his left wrist.
If it were not for the accent I would say he looked German.
The fair-haired lady he was with, his wife, was dressed in a pretty dress, deep blue like her husband's shirt, with silver Jewelry, a necklace, earrings, and a shiny bracelet.
Neither appeared wealthy, their bling was of an ordinary type, nice, but not expensive or presumptuous.
I listened for a bit to their absorbing talk. Catching their first names, or his anyways (George), for she was just being called honey. Of course, her name could be Honey, like Ian Flemings's Honeychile Rider, right?
I liked that thought and felt happy that I had happened across them. But then left before I was noticed.
For I have bigger fish to fry this evening.
And those fish, once found, would be wearing presumptuous jewels, the expensively presumptuous type.
It did not take long to find one. At these events it never does.
So soon I was instinctively following behind a most interesting prospect(s)
A happy family it was, a rather happily rich family.
As they got in line at the snack tables I stood off to one side and took a careful study.
Muscular Father was in a tux that looked a half size too small. He appeared to be a dominating specimen. But one could see in his eyes he was a pussycat. I would imagine the wealth of family was on his side, all of it inherited, passed down by at least 4 generations in my opinion.
The mum was very elegant in a long flowy white silk dress with a red and green flowery print. She was wearing her gleaming set of expensive pearls. A gold ring with a vulgarly large diamond on her pinkie finger denoted wealth. As did her demeanor. I pictured myself wearing that ring, and mulled over if I could skillfully lift it from her finger this night.
Now the third member was a younger version of the ring lady, who was standing next to her in the snack line. Her daughter no doubt, and She was enticingly wearing a very sleek, slick brown satin fully off-shoulder number that nicely outlined her petite figure as it poured along it down to her silver high heels.
Her Jewels were a sparkling collection that consisted of a wide V-shaped necklace that looked like a falling river of diamonds, amazingly sparkling chandelier earnings, and a very pretty diamond bracelet, along with several enticing rings.
But the real showpiece was the eye-grabbing broach she had pinned to the gown just at her cleavage. It had a sparrow egg-sized diamond at its centre.
It was quite unusual to see a wealthy child wearing better sparklers than her mother, but I didn’t waste time on whys. Just concerned myself with what was.
I decided then and there that my next burglary would be the place mother and daughter kept those delicious jewels.
And I had several tried and true methods to find out just where those jewels would be spending the night. A couple of my favorites would involve me lifting a piece of one of the two ladies' jewels.
I flipped heads or tails in my mind. With the broach winning over the ring.
I then went into full stalk mode. Appearing to be enjoying the affair, but keeping an eye out of the corner on the daughter. For she was the now key to my whole plan.
During the next few hours, I did my due vigilance on the family. Looking for the telltale signs that either made them desirable marks or ones should I should leave alone
One of my first tests is to do a preliminary bump, with no lifting. That bit comes later.
I will actually brush up against my marks and gauge how they react as I please myself by coping with a feel.
I did this for both women as I caught them off alone. Not feeling up their pretty gowns but observing their reactions. Neither appeared guarded, purses not checked nervously, that sort of thing. Open and friendly to strangers they both were. Which meant they passed my first test.
Even the father was charming and accepted my apologies as gracious as his two ladies when I “tripped” up against him. (By the way. The bloke kept his wallet in his pants, just an observation)
Satisfied I had made the right choice I went into a deeper study, watching with interest how they were interacting with others and amongst themselves.
The band playing that evening was alternating between slow standards and a more lively fast pace that attracted the younger crowd. The lights were dimmed and a disco ball showered the floor with strobing light for the faster songs.
The parents were up for the slowest songs while the daughter watched the table with their drinks and purses.
The faster dances they switched places.
I also spied with my little eye that the daughter was dancing with her girlfriends. No males appeared on the scene. And her girlfriends after dancing always split up to be with their families.
I watched with increasing desire the daughter's jewels flickering on the dance floor. Especially the glimpses I caught of the enticing broach that was falling out with a sparkling voice, from its position just below her perky breasts. Which I noticed, the plumping, tight gown outlined, breasts that is, the rich girl just loved to press up against her dance partners.
I bided my time ( not easily) until very late in the evening. All three members of my targeted family were freely drinking. And becoming nicely inebriated as the evening wore on.
Soon the time was ripe for the plucking of a broach from a scintillatingly lovely brown satin gown.
The fast music started, the strobe light came on, and I went in and joined the swooningnly sweating throng.
I had started on the far side of the dance floor and began making my way toward my targeted female.
I had her in sight when I was pulled, literally, into a group of three, grabbed in passing by a young lady(Michelle) wearing yellow chiffon with ropes of real pearls. She held onto me as we danced to the fast beats of the bass-heavy music.
Then I was snatched away by a single male member of the group. The third is a young lady winningly wearing a black taffeta a-line gown with diamonds twinkling.
The male was a trashed, sweaty specimen with red hair wearing a tweed suit that was scratchy as he danced close to me. He was wearing a gold Rolex which caught my eye and then caught up in my fingers as I slipped it off his wrist.
I was also eying up the diamond-wearing blonde in black taffeta from over his shoulder as she danced with the girl who had snagged me into their group. I studied intensely her diamond jewellery dripping and swaying quite deliciously against her ultra-shiny black gown.
I maneuvered him over(Fred was his name) to the two girls and passed him off to yellow chiffon, while I embraced black satin, Cecelia was this wealthy pup's name.
She was very pretty, and like her companions, drunk as a skunk.
I told her how gorgeous she was while my hands held her close to me as my fingers caressed her sleek gown. My hands slipped up along her divine figure as we danced in motion to the fast tempo.
I ran my fingers up into her long silky blonde curls, lifting her hair, I had a clearer view of Cecelia’s lovely long diamond earrings that were just dangling there on sweaty earlobes, which made it child’s play to lift them and out as I raised her hair.
She smiled at my praise as I let her hair back down and I hugged her, wrapping my hands around her scintillating gowned waist, my clenched fists holding tightly onto her earrings as I pressed her hot fiery little figure against mine.
She hugged back and I turned her around and pushed her back in between her two companions.
Pocketing the shimmery earrings, I danced off, locating the daughter just as the song ended.
So I then waited until the second song was being played as the daughter was still up on the dance floor I maneuvered my way until I was directly behind her. She was dancing close to one of her friends, brushing against her then pulled back laughing. It was a routine I had been watching her do all evening and I was ready.
As she pulled back I bumped into her, my hands grasping onto her breasts, tightly outlined by the satin gown. Double pleasures there, for both of us I could tell.
I apologized in her ear, those earrings she wore dangling down delightfully, as my fingers also went down and swiftly located her broach. Then I lifted it, my fingers prying open the clasp and I pulled the flash jewel off as she was turning around.
“No worries luv…” she said as we danced together in rhythm to the music. I held my hands (still holding her broach) behind my back.
Then I’ll be damn if her girlfriend didn’t come up behind her and copy the same stunt as I had.
I left the happily groping group as soon as the daughter turned her back to me to face her friends.
Then I sat at my table, waited, and watched, with bated breath.
The daughter finally came back to the table and rejoined her parents. No one noticed anything was amiss.
Then after a long, very long, 15-minute break, the band started back up, playing slow dance music.
I watched the parents rise and head to the dance floor. Leaving the daughter quite alone, and susceptible.
“I’m on stage.”
I thought as I stood up and zoomed right up to the daughter like I had something important to say.
Which I did….
She looked up at me with doe-eyed wonder as I placed a hand on her softshoulder.
“Pardon me miss. Remember me. I bumped into you on the dance floor. Well, I had admired your broach earlier.
She looks down discovering it's gone, her eyes opening wide in shock. They looked up questioning into my face.
I love it when I can see a victim do that.
“It’s for that moment of dawning comprehension that is one of the little things in life I live for.”
I quickly explained:
“I saw one being turned into the security office upstairs by some Americans who found it. I thought it might be yours. That’s why I came over. “
Seeing her hesitation as she looked at her mother’s purse.
“I’ll watch over your table luv if you want to go see. I know I couldn’t wait if mine had been lost!”
I said this stroking the gold fox headpin I was wearing.
She fell for it, hook, line, and Broachless figure.
“Thank you .”
She worriedly lifted her gown and scurried off. I watched her leave… such a pretty dress she was wearing.
Now, The security room is actually located in the basement, so I bought myself some time.
I sit and casually begin to have a look through their purses.
From the daughter’s purse I pull out a card from her wallet that listed her address, along with a fancy key. Her wallet contained about £50, which I pulled out and pocketed.
Inside her mums' purse, I find a fatter wallet. £325 which I also pocketed. Also, a solid gold compact which I placed inside my purse. What I did not find was a hotel key. Which must mean they lived locally. Which could be either a good thing or a bad thing.
The father had his suit jacket on a chair. I went over and making sure no one was watching, riffled through his pockets. No wallet, which I knew, but I found something better.
Three hatcheck claim tickets. I quickly smelled them. One of them smelled very strongly of expensive perfume which I hoped meant they had been handled by one of the ladies as she turned in her wrap. I kept this one and stowed it away.
Then I rise and left, planning on beating them home to scout out the area. I didn’t need to count down the new year to know it was already starting out to be wickedly brilliant.
But on my way out, I see the American wife in the snack lime...
Decide to myself that I would like some American souvenirs from these “innocents Abroad.”
As I walk past her, I suddenly stop and go right up to her.
“E’llo you're an American, that’s lovely.”
As I say that I lift her hand, my other patting her bracelet-bearing wrist in greeting.
She stammers taken by surprise
“Yes, my name is Martha King. What is yours?”
Which is what I needed, surprise. I was wiping my hand along her wrist reaching her bracelet which I clasped my fingers around.
I gave her the made-up name I had been using this evening.
“ Cheers then, my name is Cadence, and it’s a pleasure meeting you. That’s quite a lovely dress your wearing. Did you buy it here?”
Rapid series of questions keeps the mark confused and distracted.
As she answered I thought Martha is it, not Honey. I eyeballed the rest of the jewellery she was wearing.
A silver-hinged locket with an M engraved upon it. Engraved around the ‘M’ was a floral vine, and below the ‘M’ was a flower made of ruby chips. The locket was oval-shaped on a link chain that hung just above her breasts. Her earrings were slightly smaller than the locket but had the same floral design and ruby flower, no letter M however.
I pried my eyes off her locket and looked into hers as she was answering my question.
“No, this dress is one I brought from home. I was worried it might not be fancy enough for here.
With my free hand, I stoked it along her dress as I sigh, my hands still holding her wrist up, covering her bracelet as my fingers snapped it open.
“I thought so, we don’t have dresses quite that lovely here.”
“But yours is…”
She started to say, then looked up
At that point, I see relief in her eyes as she stopped in mid-sentence, then said ..”
“Here comes my husband George. He is American also.”
As we both look behind me, I was busy taking advantage of the distraction, lifting off from her wrist the shiny silver bracelet. Pocketing it as the man came up to us.
I was introduced and saw he was an amiable sort of chap. As I like to imagine most Americans are, not that I’ve met more than a couple of others.
We talked for a few minutes as they told me where they were from, and about their kids. The usual.
But I needed to be on my way without appearing to be.
The band was still playing slow songs so I tried to break away by saying.
“I would imagine you two would like to get onto the dance floor? Please don’t let me hold you back…”
The wife apologized to me that she was a wee bit tired and wanted to sit.
Great I thought, then she added something that blindsided me.
As she looked at her husband standing there sheepishly…
“I know my husband would like to though, dance I mean. Maybe he would like to…honey ?”
I caught myself.
“You would not mind then if I steal him for a dance then luv?”
“Please do. My George is the dancer in the family. The poor dear wears me out.”
I heard a wholesome laugh from George.
“You two ladies do realize I’m right here listening? And yes I would consider it a privilege to have a dance with you, Cadence.”
He takes up my hand and we go to the crowded floor. The lights are still dim. But there is no strobe.
He takes me into his arms and I allow him to lead me to the music. We swirl around the other guests. I tell him a little about me, my twin brother, the small cottage we grew up in, and the nearby ancient university-owned cemetery we played in(though I did not go into the detail the games we played centered around pickpockets). He told me a bit about himself. Scouts, camping, decorating for Halloween. Also how Martha and he were here as an anniversary treat.
I find that George is a very pleasant dance partner So it was with a bit of guilt that as he was looking over towards Martha, I ran my hand caressing his wrist, then without remorse, I lifted off his fancy silver watch with the black face.
“Just couldn’t help myself, now could I?”
The song was ending and I was getting ready to release George back to his table when I spied the broachless Daughter walking along the outside of the dance floor.
Quickly I looked up into George’s face with a pleading look that he had no clue over why.”
“That was lovely. Can we do one more?”
George shook his head, yes and we held firm our position.
The music started again, and I pulled his arm around my waist making him hold me closer. Over his shoulder, I watched as the Daughter disappeared out of sight. She looked very perplexed, but not alarmed.
Sighing I placed my hands on his sides. I felt something hard in his side jacket pocket. Without thought, I reached inside and wrapped my fingers around a small, but heavy lighter. Without looking at it, I pulled it from his pocket and put it inside one of mine. I could feel George’s heart thumping, so I knew he was not finding it unpleasant to dance with me. My own was beating fast, over the daughter, and the recent lifts I had made off of George King.
As the last notes of the second song drifted away, we broke apart
I walk with George back to his waiting wife Martha at the table.
The wife smiles.
“Thought you were stealing him”
He chuckles.
“I convinced her not to.”
We all laugh.
They offered for me to sit and join them for a drink.
I lied.
“Love to, but I have to track down my errant niece.”
George pats me on the back saying lovely to have met you and thanks for the dance, then takes his leave to go get more drinks for his wife and himself.
Martha who had stood up as we came to the table, leans in and gives me a warm caring hug…
“I also think it was lovely meeting you tonight Cadence, you are a very nice young lady.”
Now I hadn't planned on taking her locket, but my thief instincts kick in and I found myself reaching up and undoing the clasp of the necklace and slipping it off her pretty neck before the end of the hug.
While slyly pocketing her pendant and chain, I replied:
“Why thank you, Martha, it was brilliant meeting you and George also, and luv, I hope you will enjoy the rest of your stay here.”
Then I take my leave.
“Indeed Charming to meet both of you.”
I leave her as she sits down to wait on George and their drinks.
I made a direct beeline to the coat check.
Quickly I thrust to the cloak check girl my slip. She comes back with a luxurious red sable jacket.
The cloak check girl complimented me:
“That’s pretty miss.”
“Indeed it is. “
I agree as I slip it on and leave Walking boldly past the lone guard at the security desk.
I make it to the exit without a backside glance. No one challenged me as I opened it and walked outside into the cool evening.
I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. My breath sends up vapors in the cool night air. I wanted so very badly to lite a victory cigarette but was too far into my game to take the time just yet.
So I scurried off into the night, along the nearly deserted blocks, formulating the next steps in my plan.
To be continued …
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The Basel Town Hall (Rathaus Basel in German and Roothus in the local Swiss German dialect) is a 500-year-old building dominating the Marktplatz in Basel. The historic central portion of the building was erected in its current form in 1504-15. Basel joined the Swiss Confederation in 1501.
The Town Hall houses the meetings of the Cantonal Parliament as well as the Cantonal Government of the canton of Basel-Stadt. The Great Council Chamber at one time featured a series of frescoes painted in 1522 by Hans Holbein the Younger, which have been lost. Fragments of the work as well as some of the initial drawings are kept in the Kunstmuseum.
The German term "Rathaus" literally means "council house" while the local Basel German dialect term "Roothus" means both "council house" but also sounds like "red house," a pun with reference to the red sandstone façade of the building.
Information from: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basel_Town_Hall
Basel, also known as Bâle in French and Basilea in Italian, is a city in northwestern Switzerland on the Rhine. Basel is Switzerland's third-most-populous city (after Zürich and Geneva), with roughly 178,000 inhabitants within the city municipality limits in the 2020s. The official language of Basel is (the Swiss variety of Standard) German, and the main spoken language is the local Basel German dialect.
Basel is commonly considered to be the cultural capital of Switzerland and the city is famous for its many museums, including the first collection of art accessible to the public in the world (1661) and the largest museum of art in Switzerland. The University of Basel, Switzerland's oldest university (founded in 1460), and the city's centuries-long commitment to humanism, have made Basel a safe haven at times of political unrest in other parts of Europe for refugees and dissidents.
Information from: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basel
seen from Rifugio Col de Varda (Cadini group). In the background you can see the Cristallo group.
gesehen vom Rifugio Col de Varda (Cadini Gruppe). Im Hintergrund sieht man die Cristallo Gruppe.
Lake Misurina (Italian: Lago di Misurina; Cadorino dialect: Lago de Meśorìna) is the largest natural lake of the Cadore and it is 1,754 m above sea level, near Auronzo di Cadore (Belluno). The lake's perimeter is 2.6 km long, while the maximum depth is 5 m.
Near the lake there are about ten hotels with accommodation for around 500 people.
The particular climatic characteristics of the area around the lake make particularly good air for those who have respiratory diseases. Near the lake is the only center in Italy for the care of childhood asthma.
The lake was the theme of a famous song by Claudio Baglioni. Lake Misurina is also the theme of the theatrical representation of the Longane di Lozzo.
Lake Misurina is where the speed skating events were held during the 1956 Winter Olympics of Cortina d'Ampezzo – the last time Olympic speed skating events were held on natural ice.
Misurina lies on the route of the Dolomites Gold Cup Race.
Folklore
There are at least two different legends associated with Lake Misurina. In the first one, which was also made famous by a song named "Sabato pomeriggio" by Claudio Baglioni, Misurina is a little capricious and spiteful girl who lives literally held in the palm of the hand of her gigantic father, the king Sorapiss that, to fulfill another desire and obtain for her the magic mirror from the Queen of Monte Cristallo, he is transformed into a mountain. During the last stages of the transformation he sees his daughter fall and his tears flow like rivers and form the lake beneath which his daughter will forever live with the magic mirror.
In the second one, Mesurina (who is later nicknamed) is a daughter of wealthy merchants from Venice who send her away in the mountains by her father anxious not to fulfill a prophecy that would see the girl give away all their possessions. Following some tragic amorous events vaguely reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet, the girl dies, and she is recognized on the point of death by a lover whom she met in bloom and from whom she was brought away by deception from the stables of his father and a servant sent by him.
(Wikipedia)
Der Misurinasee (italienisch Lago di Misurina) ist ein See in den Dolomiten in der Provinz Belluno in Venetien, der seinen Namen aus der Siedlung Misurina annimmt. Die maximale Tiefe des Sees beträgt 5 m. Der 1756 m hoch gelegene See ist vom Südwesten von Cortina d’Ampezzo, vom Höhlensteintal im Norden oder von Auronzo di Cadore, zu dessen Gemeindegebiet der See gehört, im Osten erreichbar. Er ist umgeben von den Felsmassiven der Drei Zinnen, dem Monte Piana, der Cadini-Gruppe, dem Monte Cristallo und weiter im Süden von Marmarole und Sorapiss. An der Südseite des Sees befindet sich das Kurheim "Institut Pio XII" NPO, das einzige italienische Exzellenzzentrum für Diagnose, Höhenkur und Rehabilitation pädiatrischer Atemwegserkrankungen.
Der See war im Jahre 1956 Austragungsort der Eisschnelllaufwettbewerbe der Olympischen Winterspiele.
(Wikipedia)
As Peacekeeping Droid PD-Alpha-2S entered a particular damp area of the forest his behavior became increasingly erratic.
He showed brief episodes of sparking fluorescence as he muttered unintelligible phrases in the Sydorian dialects of Alpha Prime.
Fort Amherst Lighthouse guarding The Narrows at the entrance to St John's Harbour.
Film: Agfa slide.
Módena (Mòdna en dialecto modenés; Modena en italiano) es una ciudad italiana, capital de la provincia de Módena, en la región Emilia-Romaña. Cuenta con una población de 184 973 habitantes. La catedral, la Torre Cívica («Ghirlandina») y la Piazza Grande de la ciudad están declaradas Patrimonio de la Humanidad por la Unesco.
Módena queda en la llanura padana, y está rodeada por dos ríos, el Secchia y el Panaro, ambos afluentes del Po. Su presencia está simbolizada por la fuente de los dos ríos, en el centro de la ciudad, obra de Giuseppe Graziosi. La ciudad está conectada con el Panaro a través del canal Naviglio.
La cordillera de los Apeninos comienzan a unos 10 kilómetros al sur de la ciudad.
Módena es un importante centro industrial. La ciudad se ubica en el corazón de la «Motor Valley» que forma un conjunto de grupos industriales prestigios así como numerosos circuitos y museos. Las empresas Lamborghini, Pagani, Ferrari y Maserati tienen su sede dentro de un radio de 20 km alrededor de Módena.
Ubicado en la llanura Padana, el territorio modenés dispone de importantes riquezas gustativas. Su producto líder es el vinagre balsámico producido en los dominios agrícolas en el entorno de Módena. La base de su elaboración son las uvas cosechadas en los viñedos de la provincia. El lambrusco, vino rosado burbujeante, tiene como origen las viñas cercanas de Módena y Reggio Emilia. Además, Módena es la tierra del queso parmigiano reggiano y del jamón de Módena. Junto con Bolonia, Módena comparte el lugar de origen de la pasta tortellini.
El Duomo de Módena, la Torre Ghirlandina y la Piazza Grande están incluidos desde 1997 dentro del Patrimonio mundial de la UNESCO. El arquitecto Lanfranco y el escultor Wiligelmo erigieron el Duomo en el siglo XII por San Geminiano, obispo de Módena y Santo Patrón de la ciudad. Entre 1179 y 1319 se construyó la torre Ghirlandina asociada con el Duomo. Su nombre de Ghirlandina -guirnalda- resulta de su forma y recuerda la torre Giralda de Sevilla.
Durante más de dos siglos, la familia Este tenía como sede el Palazzo Ducale (palacio ducal). Hoy en día, este palacio recibe la Academia militar.
El Palazzo Comunale –ayuntamiento– cuya la fachada está en la Piazza Grande abarca un conjunto de edificios más antiguos. Dentro del edificio se encuentra la Secchia rapita –el cubo raptado- uno de los símbolos de la ciudad. La estatua de la Bonissima, símbolo de bondad, está posada en la esquina exterior del Palazzo Comunale.
Iglesias. Módena es una ciudad rica en iglesias, se cuentan más de quince en el casco histórico. También es importante nombrar a la iglesia de Santa María Pomposa, la iglesia del Voto o la iglesia de San Vicenzo. Existe también una sinagoga ubicada cerca del Palazzo Comunale.
En el mercado Albinelli se reúnen cada día productores locales de vinagre balsámico, jamón curdo o queso, entre otros.
es.wikipedia.org/wiki/M%C3%B3dena
Modena is a city and comune (municipality) on the south side of the Po Valley, in the Province of Modena, in the Emilia-Romagna region of northern Italy.
A town, and seat of an archbishop, it is known for its car industry since the factories of the famous Italian upper-class sports car makers Ferrari, De Tomaso, Lamborghini, Pagani and Maserati are, or were, located there and all, except Lamborghini, have headquarters in the city or nearby. One of Ferrari's cars, the 360 Modena, was named after the town itself. Ferrari's production plant and Formula One team Scuderia Ferrari are based in Maranello south of the city.
The University of Modena, founded in 1175 and expanded by Francesco II d'Este in 1686, focuses on economics, medicine and law, and is the second oldest athenaeum in Italy. Italian military officers are trained at the Military Academy of Modena, and partly housed in the Baroque Ducal Palace. The Biblioteca Estense houses historical volumes and 3,000 manuscripts. The Cathedral of Modena, the Torre della Ghirlandina and Piazza Grande are a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1997.
Modena is also known in culinary circles for its production of balsamic vinegar.
Famous Modenesi include Mary of Modena, the Queen consort of England and Scotland; operatic tenor Luciano Pavarotti and soprano Mirella Freni, born in Modena itself; Enzo Ferrari, eponymous founder of the Ferrari motor company; Catholic priest Gabriele Amorth; chef Massimo Bottura; comics artist Franco Bonvicini; the band Modena City Ramblers and singer-songwriter Francesco Guccini, who lived here for several decades.
Talkin Tarn is a glacial lake and country park near Brampton, Cumbria, England. The lake is a kettle hole lake, formed 10,000 years ago by mass glacial action.
The name is of Brittonic origin. The Brittonic dialect known as Cumbric was formerly spoken in the area. The first element, tal, means "brow" or "end" in Brittonic and modern Welsh, Cornish, and Breton. The second element is unclear. It may come from the Brittonic word which appears in Welsh and Old Cornish as can ("white") and Breton as kann ("bland, brilliant"). Talkin may be a hill-name meaning "white brow".
'Tarn' is derived from Old Norse 'tjǫrn' and then Middle English 'terne' meaning 'small mountain pool' or 'small lake'.
Talkin Tarn Country Park is owned and maintained by Carlisle City Council. It is home to the Boat House Tea Rooms, Brampton Sailing Club, and Talkin Tarn Amateur Rowing Club. The profits from the Tea Rooms and the pay and display car parking are reinvested in the up keep and improvement of the site.
Rowing is an activity at Talkin Tarn. The rowing club, Talkin Tarn Amateur Rowing Club, celebrated its 150th anniversary in 2009. Rowing races were first held on Talkin Tarn in the 1850s, and the Rowing Club was formed in 1859 by local townsfolk, several descendants of whom still live in the area. It is the oldest rowing club in the North of England, with the exception of Tyne Rowing Club, and is the 14th oldest non-university club in the country. Talkin Tarn Annual Regatta has grown considerably in recent years from a total entry of 20 in 1946 and 97 in 1988 to what it is today – very successful and one of the largest one-day regattas outside of London with total entries now in excess of 400.
On 9th November 1983 an Aerospatiale Gazelle Helicopter (reg G-SFTB) crashed into the tarn during a low level training flight from Carlisle Airport. The single occupant escaped the crash but the helicopter, once raised from the bottom, was damaged beyond repair.
Research on climate change carried out at Talkin Tarn was published in 2004.
Old buckles, stone axes, and urns have been found in the area.
#talkin #talkintarn #talkintarncountrypark
More photos of Talkin Tarn here: www.flickr.com/photos/davidambridge/albums/72157633050144969
© all rights reserved by B℮n
Please take your time... and enjoy it large on black
People from all around the world come to this quaint Dutch village located an hour’s drive north of Amsterdam. Enkhuizen is a beautiful city in the Netherlands in the province of North Holland. Enkhuizen was one of the harbour-towns of the East India Company - VOC, just like Hoorn and Amsterdam, from where overseas trade with the East Indies was conducted. It received city rights in 1355. In the mid-17th century, Enkhuizen was at the peak of its power and was one of the most important harbour cities in the Netherlands. However, due to a variety of reasons, notably the silting up of the harbours, Enkhuizen lost its position to Amsterdam. Nowadays, Enkhuizen continues the maritime tradition and has one of the largest marinas of the Netherlands. It is also the location of the Zuiderzeemuseum, an open-air museum reflecting life in the villages around the Zuiderzee throughout history. Enkhuizen is a great place to walk or cycle from one monument to another. The town is also a water lover's paradise. Boats abound; at times, every second street seems to be a canal.
In the 17th century, Enkhuizen was one of the wealthiest cities of Holland. It gained power and influence as a member of the VOC. Enkhuizen’s rich history is still noticeable today as you walk through the old inner city with its numerous state mansions, canals, churches, city walls and harbors. A walk across the Drommedaris-bridge brings you to a street called Dijk, which is lined with excellent examples of home styles from the 18th century - photo above.
Enkhuizen is een stad en gemeente in de regio West-Friesland, in de Nederlandse provincie Noord-Holland. De gemeente ligt aan zowel het Markermeer als het IJsselmeer. Enkhuizen staat bekend als de Haringstad vanwege haar verleden als centrum voor de haringvisserij. De geschiedenis van de Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie, kortweg VOC, is in Enkhuizen nog duidelijk zichtbaar. De VOC was in de 17e en 18e eeuw de grootste handelsonderneming ter wereld die met zijn prachtige schepen naar Aziatische landen reisde om handel te drijven. Door de gunstige ligging aan het IJsselmeer was het aantrekkelijke om hier een Kamer’ van de VOC te vestigen. De Drommedaris hier aan de linkerkant te zien, de verdedigingstoren aan de haven, en het centrum met de historische panden herinneren nog aan deze welvarende tijd. Vanzelfsprekend kan de watersporter hier zijn hart ophalen. De Westfriese Waterweken, de Klipperrace en het Jazzfestival zijn een greep uit de vele evenementen die ieder jaar in en om de haven worden georganiseerd. Ook aan cultuur is geen gebrek. In het Zuiderzeemuseum tonen ambachtslieden hun werk en krijg je een indruk van het leven aan zee. In Enkhuizen wordt nog Enkhuizens gesproken, een West-Fries dialect.
"The Devil's Bridge (dialect: Tüfelsbrugg) is a historic road bridge constructed as an arch bridge that crosses the Sihl in the Egg district of Einsiedeln in the Swiss canton of Schwyz. It connects Einsiedeln with the Etzelpass and is part of the Way of St. James, which is also called the Swabian Way between Constance and Einsiedeln.
The first bridge was built by Abbot Gero von Frohburg in 1117. In 1517 the first stone bridge was built. In the 17th century this was replaced by a roofed new building, which was reinforced by Brother Jakob Natter in 1794 and at the same time supplemented with a chapel niche created by Johann Baptist Babel for St. Nepomuk.
Restorations were made in 1833 and 1908. In 1984 the Devil's Bridge was taken over by the Einsiedeln district.
From 1987 to 1992 it was restored again and placed under the protection of the Swiss Confederation and the Canton of Schwyz." - info from Wikipedia.
During the summer of 2018 I went on my first ever cycling tour. On my own I cycled from Strasbourg, France to Geneva, Switzerland passing through the major cities of Switzerland. In total I cycled 1,185 km over the course of 16 days and took more than 8,000 photos.
Now on Instagram.
Become a patron to my photography on Patreon.
"Schaffhausen (German: [ʃafˈhaʊzn̩]; Alemannic German: Schafuuse; French: Schaffhouse; Italian: Sciaffusa; Romansh: Schaffusa; English: Shaffhouse) is a town with historic roots, a municipality in northern Switzerland, and the capital of the canton of the same name; it has an estimated population of 36,000 as of December 2016. It is located right next to the shore of the High Rhine; it is one of four Swiss towns located on the northern side of the Rhine, along with Neuhausen am Rheinfall, the historic Neunkirch, and medieval Stein am Rhein.
The old portion of the town has many fine Renaissance era buildings decorated with exterior frescos and sculpture, as well as the old canton fortress, the Munot. Schaffhausen is also a railway junction of Swiss and German rail networks. One of the lines connects the town with the nearby Rhine Falls in Neuhausen am Rheinfall, Europe's largest waterfall, a tourist attraction.
The official language of Schaffhausen is (the Swiss variety of Standard) German, but the main spoken language is the local variant of the Alemannic Swiss German dialect." - info from Wikipedia.
During the summer of 2018 I went on my first ever cycling tour. On my own I cycled from Strasbourg, France to Geneva, Switzerland passing through the major cities of Switzerland. In total I cycled 1,185 km over the course of 16 days and took more than 8,000 photos.
Now on Instagram.
Become a patron to my photography on Patreon.
Us devotees of our Norfolk dialect would say 'can yer get it on ketchup'. 57 channels of course ;-))
Bus de la Lum (which in the evocative and mysterious Veneto dialect of northeast Italy means literally “hole of light”) is the name of a large natural cavity right in the heart of the forest of the Cansiglio plateau, not far from the artist’s studio.
It took me a long time to research these three sculptures that lie in the ground, in the outside Art Gallery of the Whitworth.
I could remember from what our guide said that it was distressing, but I could not recall the detail. After a lot of search I chanced across artmap.com/monitor/exhibition/nico-vascellari-2011
The casts are representations of people that were in WW2 thrown into the cavity, in chains, and shockingly sometimes when they were still alive.
Lest we forget - though in this case I was unaware of what happened until this sculpture was explained, war is responsible for an unbelievable amount of harm.
On a lighter note I also found an article on how the outside sculptures are protected from the Manchester weather aplacebetweenthetrees.com/2022/04/20/collection-care-diar...
Arsch huh= COLOGNE DIALECT = ass up
Number of my portrait photo shoots 2020: 0 =(
I hope 2021 won't be exactly like 2020 ;)
Date: 04/2016
Location: Indoor/Germany
Light: Availble Light /Flash
Set: backlight Available Light / Flash lightning softbox from above
Camera: Canon 5DIII
Lens: Sigma 35mm 1.4f Art
Edit: Lightroom
Model: N
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Le nom hellébore semble venir du terme « helibar » ou « helebar » tiré d'un dialecte sémitique qui signifirait : remède contre la folie. L'hellébore fétide était en effet utilisé contre les troubles psychiques, mais cette utilisation est à proscrire en raison de sa toxicité qui peut entraîner la mort. Elle est qualifiée de fétide en raison de l'odeur repoussante de la plante quand on la touche.
Cette variété plus compacte que le type développe un feuillage remarquable, que l'on croirait glacé d'argent. Ses feuilles persistantes sont divisées en longs segments retombants d'un gris-vert-bleuté aux reflets presque métalliques. Elle produit en hiver de belles grappes de fleurs curieuses mais très lumineuses, en forme de cloches vert chartreuse.
Cudillero (en asturianu Cuideiru) es un concejo y una parroquia de la Comunidad Autónoma del Principado de Asturias, España. Limita al oeste con Valdés, al sur con Salas y Pravia y al este con Muros del Nalón y Pravia de nuevo. El concejo tiene una población de 5568 habitantes (INE 2013), sus núcleos principales son: la villa de Cudillero (Cuideiru en asturiano), que es su capital, Villademar (Villamar), La Atalaya (La Telaya) y Aroncés.
Relevante puerto pesquero, durante los meses de verano es un importante atractivo turístico. Entre sus monumentos más destacados hay que citar la Quinta de Selgas, lujoso palacio del siglo XIX con amplios jardines y cuadros de Goya.
Geografía
Su relieve se divide en tres partes. La primera es la rasa litoral que se eleva unos 100 metros sobre el nivel del mar con unos acantilados a veces rotos por numerosas playas o ensenadas, destacando en su geografía costera el Cabo Vidio (Cabu Vidíu en asturiano). En una segunda parte los valles interiores de gran fertilidad, atravesados por los ríos Esquieru, Uncín, Ferrera y Piñera. Su tercera parte más al sur, es la zona montañosa con sus picos Peñas de Cueto de 783 metros y Pico Paradiella de 720 metros que son las mayores altitudes de concejo.
Parte de su costa está declarada Paisaje Protegido y la turbera de las Dueñas está considerado Monumento Natural.
Tiene buenas comunicaciones como la N-632 y está a una distancia de 56 kilómetros de Oviedo.
Evolución demográfica
Este concejo ha pasado por las mismas fases de emigración que todos los concejos que están situados en la misma zona de la costa Asturiana.
En las primeras décadas del siglo XX, alcanza su cota máxima con 11.150 habitantes, pasando luego a una época migratoria en la que pierde unas 1.000 personas y llegando a su última fase que es un éxodo de emigración, pero que se concretó en la población del campo, empezando una etapa de retroceso demográfico.
Las tres fases de emigración se movieron según las oportunidades de trabajo del momento. En la primera fase fue una emigración hacia Hispanoamérica, la segunda fase a los países centro europeos y la tercera a los centros industriales de la región.
Este concejo también conoció a las familias indianas, a quienes la suerte les fue propicia, siendo a su vez grandes benefactoras de su lugar de origen, colaborando en la construcción de edificios escolares, viviendas y en cualquier actividad sociocultural y recreativa.
Como casi todos los concejos costeros, la mayoría de sus núcleos están en las zonas rasas de la costa, siendo su núcleo más representativo la villa de Cudillero.
El gentilicio
Su nombre de pixueto/a es debido a que es gente que ha vivido de la pesca (pix: pez, uetus: actividad) para que se diferencien del resto de habitantes del municipio que tienen actividades agrícolas o ganaderas. A los habitantes de la parte alta de la villa (La Cai), dedicados tradicionalmente en muchos casos a actividades comerciales, se les denominaba caízos/as.
Otra teoría afirma que este gentilicio proviene del término pixín, palabra asturiana para denominar al rape, pez muy pescado en el lugar.
Economía
Su economía se basa en la agricultura y la ganadería, su flota pesquera fue más importante antes que ahora y otro sector que está creciendo en los últimos años es el turismo.
Transportes
Ferrocarril
Por el concejo pasa la línea Ferrol - Gijón que cuenta con los apeaderos de Ballota, Santa Marina, Novellana, Valdredo, San Cosme, San Martín de Luiña, La Magdalena, Villademar y El Pito-Piñera, y las estaciones de Soto de Luiña y Cudillero. En todas ellas efectúan parada los regionales Ferrol - Oviedo, y además existe la línea de cercanías Gijón - Cudillero, con parada en "El Pito-Piñera" y en la propia estación de Cudillero.
Fiestas
Sus principales fiestas son:
Las de San Pedro: (los días son: San Pedro (29 de junio), San Pablo (30 de junio) y San Pablín (1 de julio)). El día de San Pedro, se celebra la L´Amuravela, un marinero se sube a un barco en la Ribera (zona del Puerto) para "echar l'Amuravela", sermón laico, en verso y dialecto pixueto. En el pregón se cuentan, dirigiéndose al Patrón (San Pedro), con socarronería, los acontecimientos relevantes que se han tenido durante ese año en la villa, dando también el punto de vista pixueto de algunas de las noticias nacionales e internacionales más destacadas. Tiene su origen en el siglo XVI. Durante el siglo XX fue prohibida varios años, pues en ocasiones algunos de los comentarios no eran del agrado de la Iglesia.
El día de San Pablín, se realiza una procesión marinera.
En los últimos años se celebra una procesión marinera de la Virgen del Carmen, patrona de los marinos, en vez de celebrar el día de su Virgen, la Virgen del Rosario, patrona de los marineros.
es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cudillero
Cudillero (Asturian: Cuideiru) is a small village and municipality in the Principality of Asturias, Spain. These days, Cudillero's main economic activities are related to tourism, but it is also known for its fishing ships. A legend says that it was founded by the Vikings. People from Cudillero speak Spanish and a dialect called Pixueto. Its capital is Cudillero.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cudillero
Cuideiru ye un conceyu d'Asturies. Llenda al oeste con Valdés, al sur con Salas y Pravia y al este con Muros del Nalón y Pravia de nuevo.
L'actividá principal y más reconocida de Cuideiru foi la pesca, especialmente sonadía tien la merluza del pinchu. Cuenta con una Cofradía de Pescadores, "Virxen del Carmen", que nel añu 2006 ruló 86.138 Kg de pescao (especialmente la citada merluza del pinchu, con un total de 74.423 Kg). Tamién tien importancia l'actividá del marisquéu de percebes yá que la Cofradía xestiona un plan d'esplotación del recursu.
Otra de les principales actividaes económiques de Cuideiru ye la del turismu, especialmente pelos meses centrales del añu.
Especial relevancia tien el pregón de L'Amuravela, lleíu dende va munchos años nes fiestes de S. Pedro. Trátase d'un pregón en forma versificada nel que se fai un repasu a los acontecimientos más reseñaos del añu d'una forma irónica y empleando la variedá dialectal local, el pixuetu. Nun entamu, foi la escritora local Elvira Bravo la encargada de redactar los versos que yeren lleíos pol so fíu Totó. Anguaño, l'encargáu de lleelos ye Cesáreo Marqués.
Iceland[4][5] i/ˈaɪslənd/ (Icelandic: Ísland, IPA: [ˈislant]; see Names for Iceland), officially called Republic of Iceland[6][7][8] and sometimes its counterpart Lýðveldið Ísland in Icelandic (for example this is a part of the name of the Constitution of Iceland, Stjórnarskrá lýðveldisins Íslands), is a Nordic European island country in the North Atlantic Ocean, on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge.[9] The country has a population of about 320,000 and a total area of 103,000 km2 (40,000 sq mi).[10] The capital and largest city is Reykjavík,[11] with the surrounding areas in the southwestern region of the country being home to two-thirds of the country's population. Iceland is volcanically and geologically active. The interior mainly consists of a plateau characterised by sand fields, mountains and glaciers, while many glacial rivers flow to the sea through the lowlands. Iceland is warmed by the Gulf Stream and has a temperate climate despite a high latitude just outside the Arctic Circle.
According to Landnámabók, the settlement of Iceland began in AD 874 when the chieftain Ingólfur Arnarson became the first permanent Norse settler on the island.[12] Others had visited the island earlier and stayed over winter. Over the following centuries, Norsemen settled Iceland, bringing with them thralls (serfs) of Gaelic origin. From 1262 to 1918 Iceland was part of the Norwegian and later the Danish monarchies. Until the 20th century, the Icelandic population relied largely on fisheries and agriculture. Industrialisation of the fisheries and Marshall Aid brought prosperity in the years after World War II. In 1994, Iceland became party to the European Economic Area, which made it possible for the economy to diversify into economic and financial services.
Iceland has a free market economy with relatively low taxes compared to other OECD countries,[13] while maintaining a Nordic welfare system providing universal health care and tertiary education for its citizens.[14] In recent years, Iceland has been one of the wealthiest and most developed nations in the world. In 2011, it was ranked as the 14th most developed country in the world by the United Nations' Human Development Index,[3] and the fourth most productive country per capita.[15] In 2008, the nation's entire banking system systemically failed and there was substantial resulting political unrest.
Icelandic culture is founded upon the nation's Norse heritage. Most Icelanders are descendants of Norse (particularly from Western Norway) and Gaelic settlers. Icelandic, a North Germanic language, is closely related to Faroese and some West Norwegian dialects. The country's cultural heritage includes traditional Icelandic cuisine, poetry, and the medieval Icelanders' sagas. Currently, Iceland has the smallest population among NATO members and is the only one with no standing army.
Camera: Canon EOS 5D Mark II
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#Oitylo (Greek: Οίτυλο, pronounced Ítilo), known as "Βίτσουλο", pronounced Vitsoulo, in the native Maniot dialect, is a village and a former municipality in #Laconia,# Peloponnese, #Greece.
This saying from my dialect can summarize well this day. Its translation would be something like "If you enjoy doing something you can tolerate any effort". I woke up at 1.30 a.m. and started my walk at 3.55 a.m. toward Corno Grande. I reached the summit at 5.50 a.m., where I waited 40 minutes to see this sunrise while the temperature was -2 Celsius degrees. Would you tolerate these efforts? You know my answer :-) [ View Large ]
The language of flowers is an ancient dialect. Colours, fragrance and shape all adding to the dialogue. They speak to their owner, they speak to their giver, they speak to the receiver. A single flower can hold an entire conversation in one simple second. A comprise of emotion, a moment of desire, a recognition of what needs to be said in complete silence. Every bloom speaks and expresses something different. Freesia, delicate, gentle. Innocence and thoughtfulness. Hydrangea, bold, bright. Heartfelt emotions, gratitude, understanding. Roses, red roses, the sign of the heart. Passion, love, desire. To give a flower is to give of yourself. You are asking to be heard and you are asking to listen. To give a flower is speaking the silent language, the one that no one hears, and everyone listens to.
“The language of flowers is nonnegotiable" - Vanessa Diffenbaugh
Copyright © 2017 Amy Morris. All Rights Reserved.
Disputes over a hot dog - You said you wanted onions - no I didn't.
I had a burger with onions!
Verbal communications is not without its problems; language, dialect,volume, background noise, double meanings and local meanings (especially in English).
According to Wikipedia, there are some key characteristics to West Country accents:
A slower rhythm to speech, partly caused by the lengthening of vowel sounds (the Cornish are exceptions, they actually speak quite fast).
Initial letters in words can often be replaced with closely related letters - hence "s" is pronounced as "z" and "f" may become pronounced "v"
"r"s are stressed far more than in Standard English.
It says in various districts there are also distinct grammatical and syntactical differences:
"You" becomes "Ye" in Devon dialects
Objects are referred to using the male gender rather than a neutral one; put he over there = put it over there.
A letter 'a' may be added to a word to denote past tense; a-went = gone.
they may be used in place of them or those; they shoes be mine = those shoes are mine.
Candid dark shot at the Honiton show in Devon , 2022.
A Occitânia é uma nação sem Estado na Europa, que compreende as regiões históricas da Provença, o Limousin, o Auvergne, a Gasconha, e o Languedoc.O sistema linguístico e cultural do Occitâno também incluí alguns vales alpinos na Itália e o Vale de Arán na Catalunha. Embora a língua natural do país seja o Occitâno fragmentado em meia dúzia de dialectos diferentes, estima-se que apenas 4 milhões de Occitanos (16% da população) tenham este idioma como o materno. A progressiva substituição do Occitâno pelo francês começou no século XVIII e continua na actualidade, já que as crianças da Occitânia não podem ser escolarizadas nesta língua. A Occitânia também, por vezes, (le País d'Oc, o País d'Oc), é a região do sul da Europa, onde o Occitâno foi historicamente a principal língua falada, e onde às vezes é usado ainda, na sua maior parte como uma segunda língua. Esta área abrange de forma cultural metade do sul de França, assim como o Mónaco e localidades menores de Itália, Espanha e o Vale de Arán.
A Occitânia tem sido reconhecida como um conceito cultural e linguístico desde a Idade Média, mas nunca foi legalizada, como uma entidade política, embora o território estivesse unido no início da Idade Média com a Aquitânia ou o Reino Visigodo de Toulouse, antes da conquista francesa que começou no século XIII. Actualmente, cerca de meio milhão de pessoas dos 14 milhões na área têm um conhecimento aprofundado do Occitâno, embora as línguas mais faladas na área normalmente sejam o francês, italiano, catalão e espanhol. Desde 2006, a língua Occitana tem sido uma das línguas oficiais da Catalunha, que inclui o Vale de Arán, onde o Occitâno ganhou status oficial em 1990. A maioria da Occitania era conhecida como Aquitânia, por si só parte de sete províncias com a maior sendo a Provença, enquanto as províncias do norte do que hoje é a França foi chamada de Gália. Assim, o histórico Ducado da Aquitânia não deve ser confundida com a região francesa moderna chamada Aquitânia: A língua da Occitânia aparece em textos latinos já a partir de 1242-1254 até 1290 e durante os anos seguintes do início do século XIV, existem textos em que a área é referida indirectamente como: O país do idioma Occitâno (Pátria Linguae Occitanae.) Isso deriva do nome Língua d’Oc (que foi usado em italiano por Dante no século XIII. A língua d'Oc começou a ter um interesse determinante para os historiadores com o estudo aprofundado que foi sendo desenvolvido á volta do povo que aqui viveu durante a idade Média: nomeadamente os Cátaros. Povo este que viria a ficar ligado a estas terras de uma forma trágica e indelével, Por terem persistido em manter o sua forma de vida e princípios singulares mesmo sabendo que tudo iria acabar na fogueira. Independentemente de concordarmos com a sua maneira de pensar e agir ou não, cabe a cada um de nós pelo menos respeitar essa ideologia, e é sem dúvida graças a pessoas com essa forma de pensar, que hoje conhecemos um pouco mais desse povo que para muitos foram os hereges, mas que para outros foram simplesmente os Cátaros, Pessoas que pensavam e agiam de uma forma diferente da maioria, e que só por isso lhe foi retirado o direito de pensar e agir de uma forma dramática e cruel. Mas afinal quem foi este povo?
Os Cátaros
O único testemunho concreto de sua existência, além dos documentos eclesiásticos, são os castelos em que habitavam. É comum suceder com frequência com todas as culturas que mais nos atraem, e talvez por isso são aquelas das quais não ficou quase nenhum rastro e das quais não dispomos de muitas referências para as podermos estudar e conhecer mais profundamente, como é o caso dos cátaros, de onde o único testemunho mais concreto da sua existência advém dos castelos onde habitavam. É por isso que todas estas culturas e religiões despertam grande curiosidade e interesse, e são envolvidas numa bruma e um alento de mistério.
A Idade Média é uma etapa da história da humanidade muito marcada pela pressão religiosa, imposta desde Roma e materializada através da tão temida Inquisição e nas suas Cruzadas, tanto na Terra Santa como na Reconquista da Península Ibérica aos mouros. Durante muito tempo os cátaros foram tolerados e eram relativamente poucos. Sem embargo o Catarismo, com o tempo, foi-se tornando forte e começou a estender-se por toda a Occitania, até chegar a um ponto em que se tornou demasiado incómodo tanto para Roma como para a própria França. Um bastião religioso no centro da Europa não fazia mais que estorvar a implantação do cristianismo de Roma no continente, e um território não católico era o pretexto ideal da Coroa Francesa para anexar as terras do Languedoc e expandir-se por toda a zona que hoje conhecemos como Sul de França.
Por esta razão, e também pela força que assumiu o Catarismo em 1209, o Papa Inocêncio III estimulou os fiéis a ir para as cruzadas contra os hereges, sendo esta a primeira cruzada feita contra cristãos num território franco. O presente que o santo Padre prometeu em compensação para aqueles que participassem da campanha, era a partilha e a doação das terras aos barões que as conquistassem, ou seja, converter-se-iam em senhores feudais.
O Carrasco Dos Cátaros
O Pontífice incitou então o conde de Toulouse a perseguir os seus súbditos hereges.
Raimundo VI fez jogo duplo, expulsando alguns deles, mas por outro lado permitindo que um grupo de soldados tivessem assassinado o legado papal, Pedro de Castelnau em1208. Inocêncio III não esteve com meias medidas e excomungou o Conde, usando o seu direito e poder que era conferido a um papa na idade média, desligando assim os seus súbditos do juramento de fidelidade, e pregou uma cruzada contra os albigenses. Entretanto, o rei da França, Felipe Augusto, suserano de Raimundo VI, e por isso mais directamente responsável pela cruzada, não acorreu ao chamado do Papa por estar em guerra contra João Sem-Terra, da Inglaterra. Mas libertou os seus vassalos para esse fim.
Uma multidão deles atendeu de imediato ao apelo do pontifício, entre os quais o conde Simão de Montfort, que foi eleito capitão general da empresa e chefe supremo do braço armado da igreja. Simão IV, conde de Montfort, foi o segundo filho de Simão III e de Amícia, filha de Roberto de Beaumont, conde de Leicester, na Inglaterra. Nasceu aproximadamente em 1150.Tendo sucedido a seu pai como barão de Montfort em 1181, casou-se em 1190 com Alice de Montmorency, de quem teve três filhos. Em 1198 partiu para a Palestina com uma tropa de cavaleiros franceses, mas obtiveram poucos êxitos. Em 1202 participou na IV Cruzada. Mas ao ver que os seus companheiros se desviavam do fim piedoso que os tinha movido, ao tomarem de assalto Constantinopla, separou-se deles e foi para a Terra Santa, onde se cobriu de glória. Alguns anos mais tarde, em 1209, aderiu à cruzada convocada pelo Papa Inocêncio III contra os albigenses, no sul da França. Foi dito sobre ele (que era feito da madeira com que se fazem os fundadores de Estados.) Era um homem formoso, hábil, prudente, intrépido, de heróico valor, incansável, eloquente, e afável; soube inspirar nos seus súbditos uma fervorosa adesão, e exercia sobre os seus inimigos uma forma de fascínio que os paralisava. O Papa, temendo o desaparecimento da Igreja naquelas paragens, incentivou Simão a combater tenazmente todos os hereges: Olhai o paladino de Cristo, o sangue dos justos, Deus clama por ti para que ponhas diante da Igreja o escudo da fé contra os seus inimigos! Levanta-te e cinge-te da espada! Eis os princípios pelos quais Simão De Montfort se pautou para dar inicio á sua sangrenta campanha contra os Cátaros:
Acusa-se Simão de Montfort de excessos na sua campanha, mas há que ter em conta os usos bárbaros que ainda persistiam naquele século, e muitas das injustiças e barbaridades que praticou, telas-á feito com a convicção de quem está a defender uma causa em que acredita piamente. E nem sequer admite a sua contestação. Sobretudo é necessário ressalvar a crueldade com que também, os albigenses desferiam os seus ataques às igrejas e mosteiros, e o seu ódio à Religião católica aliado ao seu fanatismo religioso que causavam a justa indignação no ânimo dos seus adversários católicos. Teremos de ter em conta que o maior inimigo da razão, seja na politica, no desporto ou na religião e sem duvida o fanatismo, e nada nos diz que na Idade Média o fanatismo se tenha apoderado de muitos dos chamados cátaros ou albigenses, mas que na realidade pouco ou nada sabiam das bases em que essa religião se fundamentava, como muitas das pessoas que hoje em dia dizem mal do seu clube de futebol ou do seu partido politico e quando questionados sobre a causa da sua discórdia em relação á atitude tomada por os seus lideres não sabem responder, e a maior parte das vezes nem sequer sabem a historia dessas organizações, dizem mal ou bem consoante aquilo que está na moda. Ademais, aquela guerra adquirira ainda o carácter e o sentido de uma guerra de civilizações, por o ódio que dividia então as duas religiões – os franceses do norte e os Franceses do sul – tão diferentes pela sua língua, cultura, costumes e grau de civilização.
Se não fosse o valor e a energia de Simão de Montfort, provavelmente a chamada heresia albigense teria dominado não só o sul da França, mas também ter-se-ia estabelecido na Itália e outros países europeus, e quem sabe, hoje talvez estivéssemos a falar da religião Cátara coma a rainha de todas as religiões e do cristianismo como uma seita de heréticos da idade média. Eu, pessoalmente, fico imensamente triste quando verifico que vivemos num mundo que por mais democrático que pareça ainda pende para as organizações políticas e religiosas que prevalecem só porque são a maioria. Quem é que me garante que a razão não possa estar do lado da minoria? Em 1213 Simão derrotou o Rei Pedro de Aragão, genro de Raimundo, na batalha de Muret.Os albigenses foram então esmagados, mas Simão continuou a guerra como sendo uma guerra de conquista, tendo sido indicado, pelo Conselho de Montpellier, como senhor de todos os recém- conquistados territórios, foi-lhe atribuído o Titulo de Conde de Toulouse e Duque de Narbonne em 1215. O Papa confirmou essa indicação, entendendo que ele completaria efectivamente a supressão da heresia. Mas não era o fim da guerra. Em 1218 Raimundo de Toulouse voltou de Espanha, para onde fugira. Com a ajuda do seu sobrinho Jaime I, de Aragão, formara um poderoso exército, e com ele cercou Toulouse. Simão de Montfort estava a assistir à Missa quando lhe foram dar a notícia. Era antes da Consagração. Respondeu ele: “Não vou para a guerra enquanto não tiver visto o meu Salvador”. E quando o sacerdote elevava a Hóstia, ele estendeu as suas mãos ao céu e exclamou: “Senhor, deixa que este teu servo morra em paz, se é a tua vontade”. E logo montou o cavalo correndo para o lugar da batalha, quando viu o seu irmão Guido de Montfort a cair do cavalo, ferido de morte por uma seta. Nesse momento uma pedra, atirada por uma máquina de guerra, rebentou-lhe a cabeça. Simão De Montfort morre de imediato recomendando a sua alma a Deus. Foi enterrado no mosteiro de Haute-Bruyère. A morte do intrépido comandante provoca a retirada dos cruzados para um acampamento fortificado, enquanto na cidade os rebeldes cheios de alegria, fizeram tocar a repique os sinos de todas as igrejas, anunciando a morte daquele que terá sido o responsável por a maior das atrocidades cometidas contra o seu próprio povo na Idade Média.
Dos três filhos do heróico comandante, o mais velho, Amaury, herdou as suas possessões francesas; e o jovem, com o mesmo nome do pai, torna-se seu sucessor como barão de Leicester, desempenhando mais tarde um importante papel na história da Inglaterra. Amaury, filho de Simão, estava longe de ter o valor do pai. Tanto ele quanto Raimundo VII, que também sucedera ao pai, cederam os seus direitos sobre o território ao rei da França. O Concílio de Toulouse, em 1229, confiou a vigilância religiosa do território à Inquisição. Mais tarde, em 1233, esta passou para os (Dominus-Canis Cães de Deus) ou mais vulgarmente conhecidos por Dominicanos. Mas esta suposta e perniciosa heresia, só iria desaparecer no final do século XIV. Entretanto, Simão de Montfort tinha dado um golpe murtal a este povo que apesar de todas as historias, negativas ou positivas que chegaram aos dias de hoje, mereciam certamente ter tido uma oportunidade que lhes tivesse permitido por em prática as suas crenças. Eu sempre achei que independentemente de sermos muitos ou poucos, tanto as maiorias como as minorias devem ter os mesmos direitos e merecer o mesmo respeito das entidades que nos governam, pois o nosso sentimento não depende directamente de sermos muitos ou poucos, mas sim daquilo que realmente somos….
*===****===* Todos os direitos reservados ==***== Todos los derechos reservados ==***== All rights reserved ==**== Tutti i diritti riservati ==**== Alle Rechte vorbehalten ==**== Tous droits réservés =**=
Talkin Tarn is a glacial lake and country park near Brampton, Cumbria, England. The lake is a kettle hole lake, formed 10,000 years ago by mass glacial action.
The name is of Brittonic origin. The Brittonic dialect known as Cumbric was formerly spoken in the area. The first element, tal, means "brow" or "end" in Brittonic and modern Welsh, Cornish, and Breton. The second element is unclear. It may come from the Brittonic word which appears in Welsh and Old Cornish as can ("white") and Breton as kann ("bland, brilliant"). Talkin may be a hill-name meaning "white brow".
'Tarn' is derived from Old Norse 'tjǫrn' and then Middle English 'terne' meaning 'small mountain pool' or 'small lake'.
Talkin Tarn Country Park is owned and maintained by Carlisle City Council. It is home to the Boat House Tea Rooms, Brampton Sailing Club, and Talkin Tarn Amateur Rowing Club. The profits from the Tea Rooms and the pay and display car parking are reinvested in the up keep and improvement of the site.
Rowing is an activity at Talkin Tarn. The rowing club, Talkin Tarn Amateur Rowing Club, celebrated its 150th anniversary in 2009. Rowing races were first held on Talkin Tarn in the 1850s, and the Rowing Club was formed in 1859 by local townsfolk, several descendants of whom still live in the area. It is the oldest rowing club in the North of England, with the exception of Tyne Rowing Club, and is the 14th oldest non-university club in the country. Talkin Tarn Annual Regatta has grown considerably in recent years from a total entry of 20 in 1946 and 97 in 1988 to what it is today – very successful and one of the largest one-day regattas outside of London with total entries now in excess of 400.
On 9th November 1983 an Aerospatiale Gazelle Helicopter (reg G-SFTB) crashed into the tarn during a low level training flight from Carlisle Airport. The single occupant escaped the crash but the helicopter, once raised from the bottom, was damaged beyond repair.
Research on climate change carried out at Talkin Tarn was published in 2004.
Old buckles, stone axes, and urns have been found in the area.
More photos of Talkin Tarn here: www.flickr.com/photos/davidambridge/albums/72157633050144969
Got close in with my phone to try and show the detail on the image of the great door, and there was also a lot of reflected light. Like the effect of light to dark right to left.
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