View allAll Photos Tagged different
The Ancient Art of Kushti
The ancient traditional art of Indian wrestling, known as ‘kushti’, thrives in wrestling gyms, or ‘akhara’, scattered around the country. Akhara are one of the few places in India where Hindu men who come from different castes are considered equals.
Guru Hanuman Akhara is a wrestling training centre. Established in 1925 at Shakti Nagar, near Roshanara Bagh in North Delhi soon became an epicentre of Indian wrestling. Situated in the Old Delhi region, this akhara is said to have produced some of the brightest Indian wrestlers.
Guru Hanuman Akhara (Wrestling Gym)
Shakti Nagar, Delhi, 110007, India
mémoire2cité - Sols absorbants, formes arrondies et couleurs vives, les aires de jeux standardisées font désormais partie du paysage urbain. Toujours les mêmes toboggans sécurisés, châteaux forts en bois et animaux à ressort. Ces non-lieux qu’on finit par ne plus voir ont une histoire, parallèle à celle des différentes visions portées sur l’enfant et l’éducation. En retournant jouer au xixe siècle, sur les premiers playgrounds des États-Unis, on assiste à la construction d’une nation – et à des jeux de société qui changent notre vision sur les balançoires du capitalisme. Ce texte est paru dans le numéro 4 de la revue Jef Klak « Ch’val de Course », printemps-été 2017. La version ici publiée en ligne est une version légèrement remaniée à l’occasion de sa republication dans le magazine Palais no 27 1, paru en juin 2018. la video içi www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uwj1wh5k5PY The concept for adventure playgrounds originated in postwar Europe, after a playground designer found that children had more fun with the trash and rubble left behind by bombings -inventing their own toys and playing with them- than on the conventional equipment of swings and slides. Narrator John Snagge was a well-known voice talent in the UK, working as a newsreader for BBC Radio - jefklak.org/le-gouvernement-des-playgrounds/ - www.collectorsweekly.com/articles/chasing-the-vanishing-p... or children, playgrounds are where magic happens. And if you count yourself among Baby Boomers or Gen Xers, you probably have fond memories of high steel jungle gyms and even higher metal slides that squeaked and groaned as you slid down them. The cheerful variety of animals and vehicles on springs gave you plenty of rides to choose from, while a spiral slide, often made of striped panels, was a repeated thrill. When you dismounted from a teeter-totter, you had to be careful not to send your partner crashing to the ground or get hit in the head by your own seat. The tougher, faster kids always pushed the brightly colored merry-go-round, trying to make riders as dizzy as possible. In the same way, you’d dare your sibling or best friend to push you even higher on the swing so your toes could touch the sky. The most exciting playgrounds would take the form of a pirate ship, a giant robot, or a space rocket.
“My husband would look at these big metal things and go, ‘Oh my God, those are the Slides of Death!'” - insh.world/history/playground-equipment-of-yesterday-that...
Today, these objects of happy summers past have nearly disappeared, replaced by newer equipment that’s lower to the ground and made of plastic, painted metal, and sometimes rot-resistant woods like cedar or redwood. The transformation began in 1973, when the U.S. Congress established the Consumer Product Safety Commission, which began tracking playground injuries at hospital emergency rooms. The study led to the publication of the first Handbook for Public Playground Safety in 1981, which signaled the beginning of the end for much of the playground equipment in use. (See the latest PPS handbook here.) Then, the American Society for Testing and Materials created a subcommittee of designers and playground-equipment manufacturers to set safety standards for the whole industry. When they published their guidelines in 1993, they suggested most existing playground surfaces, which were usually asphalt, dirt, or grass, needed to be replaced with pits of wood or rubber mulch or sand, prompting many schools and parks to rip their old playgrounds out entirely.
Top: A Space Age rocket-themed playground set by Miracle Playground Equipment, introduced circa 1968, photographed in Burlington, Colorado, in 2009. Above: Two seesaws and a snail-shaped climber, circa 1970s, photographed in Vandergrift, Pennsylvania, in 2007. (Photos by Brenda Biondo)
Top: A Space Age rocket-themed playground set by Miracle Playground Equipment, introduced circa 1968, photographed in Burlington, Colorado, in 2009. Above: Two seesaws and a snail-shaped climber, circa 1970s, photographed in Vandergrift, Pennsylvania, in 2007. (Photos by Brenda Biondo)
That said, removing and replacing playground equipment takes money, so a certain amount of vintage playground equipment survived into the next millennium—but it’s vanishing fast. Fortunately, Brenda Biondo, a freelance journalist turned photographer, felt inspired to document these playscapes before they’ve all been melted down. Her photographs capture the sculptural beauty and creativity of the vintage apparatuses, as well as that feeling of nostalgia you get when you see a piece of your childhood. After a decade of hunting down old playgrounds, Biondo published a coffee-table book, 2014’s Once Upon a Playground: A Celebration of Classic American Playgrounds, 1920-1975, which includes both her photographs of vintage equipment and pages of old playground catalogs that sold it.
Starting this November, Biondo’s playground photos will hit the road as part of a four-year ExhibitsUSA traveling show, which will also include vintage playground postcards and catalog pages from Biondo’s collection. The show will make stops in smaller museums and history centers around the United States, passing through Temple, Texas; Lincoln, Nebraska; Kansas City, Missouri; and Greenville, South Carolina. Biondo talked to us on the phone from her home in small-town Colorado, where she lives with her husband and children.
This 1975 Miracle catalog page reads, "This famous Lifetime Whirl has delighted three generations of children and still is a safe, playground favorite. Although it has gone through many improvements many of the original models are still spinning on playgrounds from coast to coast." (Courtesy of Brenda Biondo)This 1975 Miracle catalog page reads, “This famous Lifetime Whirl has delighted three generations of children and still is a safe, playground favorite. Although it has gone through many improvements many of the original models are still spinning on playgrounds from coast to coast.” (Courtesy of Brenda Biondo)Collectors Weekly: What inspired you to photograph playgrounds?Biondo: In 2004, I happened to be at my local park with my 1-year-old daughter, who was playing in the sandbox. I had just switched careers, from freelance journalism to photography, and I was looking for a starter project. I looked around the playground and thought, “Where is all the equipment that I remember growing up on?” They had new plastic contraptions, but nothing like the big metal slides I grew up with. After that, I started driving around to other playgrounds to see if any of this old equipment still existed. I found very little of it and realized it was disappearing quickly. That got to me.I felt like somebody should be documenting this equipment, because it was such a big part—and a very good part—of so many people’s childhoods. I couldn’t find anybody else who was documenting it, and I didn’t see any evidence that the Smithsonian was collecting it. As far as I could tell, it was just getting ripped up and sent to the scrap heap. At first, I started traveling around Colorado where I live, visiting playgrounds. Eventually, I took longer trips around the Southwest, and then I started looking for playgrounds whenever I was in any other parts of the country, like around California and the East Coast. It was a long-term project—shot over the course of a decade. And every year that I was shooting, it got harder and harder to find those pieces of old equipment.
This merry-go-round, photographed in Cañon City, Colorado, in 2006, is very similar to the Lifetime Whirl above. In the background are a rideable jalopy and animals, including four attached to a teeter-totter. (Photo by Brenda Biondo)
This merry-go-round, photographed in Cañon City, Colorado, in 2006, is very similar to the Lifetime Whirl above. In the background are a rideable jalopy and animals, including four attached to a teeter-totter. (Photo by Brenda Biondo)
Collectors Weekly: How did you find them?
Biondo: I would just drive around. I started hunting down local elementary schools and main-street playgrounds as well as neighborhood playgrounds. If I had a weekend, I would say, “OK, I’m going to drive from my home three hours east to the Kansas border, stay overnight and drive back.” Along the way, I would stop at every little town that I’d pass. They usually had one tiny main-street playground and one elementary school. I never knew what I was going to find. In a poorer area, a town often doesn’t have much money to replace playground equipment, whereas more affluent areas usually have updated their playgrounds by now. It was a bit of a crap shoot. Sometimes, I’d drive for hours and not really find anything—or I’d find one old playground after the other, because I happened to be in an area where equipment hadn’t been replaced.
I couldn’t get to every state, so I had to shoot where I was. I think there certainly are still old playgrounds out there, especially in small towns. But there’s fewer and fewer of them every year. My book has something like 170 photographs. I would guess that half the equipment pictured is already gone. Sometimes, I’d go back to a playground with a nice piece of equipment a year later to reshoot it, maybe in different lighting or a different season, and so often it had been removed. That pressured me to get out as often as I could because if I waited a few weeks, that piece might not be there anymore.
A 1911 postcard shows girls playing on an outdoor gymnasium at Mayo Park in Rochester, Minnesota.
a 1911 postcard shows girls playing on an outdoor gymnasium at Mayo Park in Rochester, Minnesota.
Collectors Weekly: What did you learn about playground history?
Biondo: I didn’t know American playgrounds started as part of the social reform or progressive movement of the early 1900s. Reformers hoped to keep poor inner-city immigrant kids safe and out of trouble. Back then, city children were playing in the streets with nothing to do, and when cars became more popular, kids started to get hit by motorists. Child activists started building playgrounds in big cities like Boston, Chicago, and New York as a way to help and protect these kids. These reformers felt they could build model citizens by teaching cooperation and manners through playgrounds. These early main-street parks would also have playground leaders who orchestrated activities such as games and songs.
“I started driving to playgrounds to see if any old equipment still existed. I found very little of it and realized it was disappearing quickly.”
In the late 1800s, Germans developed what they called “sand gardens,” which are just piles of sand where kids can come dig and build things. There were few of those in the United States as well. But by the early 1900s, the emphasis of playgrounds was on the apparatuses, things kids could climb on or swing on.
Soon after I started researching playground history, I happened to stumble on an eBay auction for a 1926 catalog that the playground manufacturers used to send to schools. At that point, I wasn’t thinking of doing a book, but I thought I could do something with it. I won the catalog; I paid, like, $12 for it. And it was so interesting because I could see this vintage equipment when it was brand new and considered modern and advanced. The manufacturers boasted about how safe it was and how it was good for building both muscles and imaginations.
After that, I would always search on eBay for playground catalogs, and I ended up with about three dozen catalogs from different manufacturers. My oldest is 1916, and my newest is from 1975. So I would take a photograph of some type of merry-go-round, and then I might find that same merry-go-round in a 1930 catalog. Often in the book, I pair my picture with the page from the catalog showing when it was first manufactured. I discovered a couple dozen manufacturers, which tended to be located in the bigger industrial areas with steel manufacturing, like Trenton, New Jersey, and Kokomo and Litchfield, Indiana. Pueblo, Colorado, even had a playground manufacturer. Burke and GameTime were big 20th century companies, and actually are among few still in existence.
The cover of a 1926 catalog for EverWear Manufacturing Company. (Courtesy of Brenda Biondo)
The cover of a 1926 catalog for EverWear Manufacturing Company. (Courtesy of Brenda Biondo)
Collectors Weekly: I recently came across an old metal slide whose steps had the name of the manufacturer, American, forged in openwork letters.
Biondo: I love those. One of the last pages in the book shows treads from six different slides, and they each had the name of their manufacturer in them, including Porter, American, and Burke. One time when I was traveling, I did a quick side trip to a small town with an elementary school. In the parking lot was this old metal slide with the American step treads, lying on its side. You could tell it had just been ripped off out of the concrete, which was still attached to the bottom, and was waiting for the steel recyclers to come and take it away.
I thought, “Oh my gosh, just put it on eBay! Somebody is going to want that. Don’t melt it down.” But nobody thinks about this stuff getting thrown away when it should be preserved. If you go on eBay, you can find a lot of those small animals on springs that little kids ride, because they’re small enough to be shipped. Once I saw someone selling one of those huge rocket ships, which had been dismantled, on eBay, but I don’t know if anybody ever bid on it. It’s rare to see the big stuff, because it is so expensive to ship. It’s like, “What kind of truck do you need to haul this thing away?” I don’t know of anyone who’s collecting those pieces, but I hope somebody is.
A metal slide in Victor, Colorado, had step treads with the name "American" in them. Photographed in 2008. (Photo by Brenda Biondo)
A metal slide in Victor, Colorado, had step treads with the name “American” in them. Photographed in 2008. (Photo by Brenda Biondo)
Collectors Weekly: It seems like an opportunity for both starting a collection or repurposing the material.
Biondo: I photographed many of the apparatuses as if they were sculptures because they have really cool designs and colors. Even when they’re worn down, the exposed layers of paint can be beautiful. Hardly anybody stops to look at it that way. People drive by and think, “Oh, there’s an old, rusty, rundown playground.” But if you take the time to look closely at this stuff, it’s really interesting. Just by looking at these pieces, you can picture all the kids who played on them.
Collectors Weekly: Aren’t people nostalgic for their childhood playgrounds?
Biondo: While I was taking the pictures, I visited Boulder, Colorado, which is a very affluent community. I was sure there would be no old playground equipment there. When I was driving around, all of a sudden, I looked over and saw this huge rocket ship. It turns out that one of the original NASA astronauts, Scott Carpenter, grew up in Boulder, and this playground was built in the ’60s to honor their hometown boy. Because of that, the citizens of Boulder never wanted to take down the rocket ship. One of the first exhibitions of this photography project happened in Boulder, and at the opening, I sold four prints of that rocket ship. People would come up to me at the exhibition, and they’d go, “Oh my gosh, I grew up playing on this when I was a little kid! Now, my kids are playing on it, and I’m so excited that I can get a picture of it and hang it in their bedroom.” So people have a strong nostalgic attachment to this equipment. It’s sad that most of it’s not going to be around for much longer.
A 1968 Miracle Playground Equipment catalog features the huge rocket-ship play set seen at the top of this story. (Courtesy of Brenda Biondo)
A 1968 Miracle Playground Equipment catalog features the huge rocket-ship playset seen at the top of this story. (Courtesy of Brenda Biondo)
Collectors Weekly: Besides slides and animals on springs, what were some other pieces that were common in older playgrounds?
Biondo: I didn’t come across as many old swings as I expected. I thought they would be all over the place, but I guess they’re gone now because they were so easy to replace. I tended to find merry-go-rounds more frequently—you know, the one where you’d run around pushing them and then jump on. When my kids were younger, they’d go out playground hunting with me, and the merry-go-rounds were their favorite things. They’re just so fun. The other thing you don’t find often is the seesaw or teeter-totter, and that was my favorite.The Karymor Stationary Jingle Ring Outfit appeared in the 1931 playground catalog put out by Pueblo, Colorado's R.F. Lamar and Co. (Photo by Brenda Biondo)
The Karymor Stationary Jingle Ring Outfit appeared in the 1931 playground catalog put out by Pueblo, Colorado’s R.F. Lamar and Co. (Photo by Brenda Biondo)
Before I started this project, I didn’t know there was such a variety of equipment. I figured I’d see seesaws, swings, slides, and merry-go-rounds. But I had no idea there were such things as revolving swings, which would be attached to a spinning pole via outstretched metal arms. Many mid-century pieces had themes from pop culture like “The Wizard of Oz,” “Cinderella,” “Denis the Menace,” cowboys and Indians, and Saturday-morning cartoons. During the Space Age, you started to see pieces of equipment shaped like rocket ships and satellites, because in the ’60s, Americans were so excited about space exploration. What was going on in the broader culture often got reflected in playground equipment.
Pursuing the catalogs was eye-opening. I live about an hour and a half south of Denver, so I often looked for playgrounds around the city. There, I’d find these contraptions where were shaped like umbrella skeletons, but then they had these rings hanging off the spindles. I’ve never seen them outside of Colorado. Then I bought a 1930s catalog from the manufacturer in Pueblo, Colorado, which is only 45 minutes from me, and it featured this apparatus. Later, I met people in Denver who’d say, “Oh, yeah, I remember that thing as a kid. It’s kind of like monkey bars where you had to try and get from ring to ring swinging and hanging by your arms.” There was so much variety, and even so many variations on the basics.I have a cool catalog from 1926 from the manufacturer Mitchell, which doesn’t exist anymore. I looked at one of the contraptions they advertised and I was like, “Oh my God, this looks like a torture device!” It was their own proprietary apparatus and maybe it didn’t prove to be very popular. I had never seen something like that on a playground. There probably weren’t very many of them installed.
This strange Climbing Swing from the 1926 Mitchell Manufacturing Company catalog looks a bit like a torture device. Brenda Biondo says she's never found one in the wild. (Courtesy of Brenda Biondo)
This Climbing Swing from the 1926 Mitchell Manufacturing Company catalog looks a bit like a torture device. Biondo’s never found one in the wild. (Courtesy of Brenda Biondo)
Collectors Weekly: After a while, were you able to date pieces just by looking at them?
Biondo: From looking at the catalogs, I certainly got a better idea of when things were built. But there were a handful things I couldn’t find in the catalogs. You can guess the age by knowing the design, as well as by looking at the amount of wear and the height of the piece. Usually, the taller it was, the older it was. One of the oldest slides I photographed was probably from the ’30s. I climbed to the top to shoot it as if the viewer were going to go down the slide. Up there, the place where you’d sit before sliding had been used for so many years by so many kids that I could see an outline of all the butts worn into the metal. You can imagine all the children who must have gone down that slide to wear the metal down like that.
This 1930s-era slide, found in Sargents, Colorado, in 2007, developed a butt-shaped imprint. (Photo by Brenda Biondo)
This 1930s-era slide, found in Sargents, Colorado, in 2007, developed a butt-shaped imprint. (Photo by Brenda Biondo)
Collectors Weekly: How did Modernism influence playground design?
Biondo: In 1953, the Museum of Modern Art in New York held a competition for playground design. Modern Art was just getting popular, and the idea of incorporating the theories of Modernist design into utilitarian objects was in the air, and was translated into playgrounds for several years. I have a 1967 catalog that features very abstract playground equipment made from sinuous blobs of poured concrete. And you’ve probably seen some of it, but there’s not too much of that around. That’s another example of how broader cultural trends were reflected in playgrounds.
When most people think of playgrounds, they say, “Oh, that’s a kiddie subject. There’s not much to it.” But when you start looking into them, you realize playgrounds are a fascinating piece of American culture—they go back a hundred years and played a part in most Americans’ lives. These playground pieces are icons of our childhood.
Collectors Weekly:What was the impact of the Consumer Product Safety Commission, which launched in 1973?
Biondo: Things started to change after that, which is why I limited to book to apparatuses made before 1975. New playgrounds were starting to be build out of plastic and fiberglass. I looked up the statistics, and according to the little research I’ve done—contrary to what you’d expect—there’s not much difference in the number of injuries on older equipment versus injuries on equipment today. A “New York Times” article from 2011 called “Can a Playground Be Too Safe?” explains that studies show when playground equipment was really high and just had asphalt underneath it and not seven layers of mulch, thekids knew they had to be careful because they didn’t want to fall. Nowadays, when everything is lower and there’s so much mulch, kids are just used to jumping down and falling and catching themselves. So kids learned to assess risk by playing on the older equipment. They also learned to challenge themselves because it is a little scary to go up to the top of the thing.
This old postcard of Shawnee Park in Kansas City, Kansas, circa 1912, shows how tall slides could get.
This old postcard of Shawnee Park in Kansas City, Kansas, circa 1912, shows how tall slides could get.
At my local park where you have new equipment, the monkey bars aren’t that high and there’s mulch below it, but a child fell and broke their arm last year. When I was talking to the principal at the school where they had just torn out that old American slide, I asked her, “Why did you replace the equipment?” She said, “We felt the parents in the community were expecting to have a little bit newer and nicer equipment. And this stuff had been here for so long.” And I said, “Have you seen a difference in injury rates since you put up your newer equipment?” She replied, “I’ve been a principal here several years, and we never had a serious broken-bone injury on the playground until four months ago on the new equipment.”
There were some nasty accidents in the ‘60s and ’70s, where kids got their arms or their heads caught in the contraptions. Those issues definitely needed to be assessed. What’s interesting is the Consumer Product Safety Commission never issued requirements, just suggested guidelines. But manufacturers felt that if their equipment didn’t meet those guidelines, they’d be vulnerable to liability. Everybody went to the extreme, making everything super safe so they wouldn’t risk getting sued.A 1970s-era climbing-bar apparatus, photographed in Rocky Ford, Colorado, in 2006. (Photo by Brenda Biondo)
A 1970s-era climbing-bar apparatus, photographed in Rocky Ford, Colorado, in 2006. (Photo by Brenda Biondo)
In the last decade, people have been looking at playground-equipment design and trying to make it more challenging and more encouraging of imaginative play, but without making it more likely someone’s going to get injured. And adults, I think, are realizing kids are spending more time indoors on devices so they want to do everything they can to encourage kids to still get outside, run around, and climb on things.
Collectors Weekly: You don’t need a playground to hurt yourself. When I was a kid, I fell off a farm post and broke my arm.Biondo: Oh, yeah, kids have been falling out trees forever—they always want to climb stuff. Playground politics are always evolving. Even in the 1920s, the catalogs talked about how safe their equipment was, and they were selling these 30-foot slides. Sometimes, I’d be out with my family on a vacation, and we’d make a little side tour to look for an old playground to shoot. My husband would look at these big metal things and go, “Oh my God, those are the Slides of Death!” because they were so huge and rickety. But back then, these were very safe pieces of equipment compared to what kids had been playing on before.
A page from the 1971 GameTime catalog offering rideable Saddle Mates. (Courtesy of Brenda Biondo)
A page from the 1971 GameTime catalog offering rideable Saddle Mates. (Courtesy of Brenda Biondo)
Collectors Weekly: Growing up in the 1980s, I always hated the new fiberglass slides because I’d end up with all these tiny glass shards in my butt.
Biondo: Yeah, I remember that, too. It’s always something. It is fun to talk to people about playgrounds because it reminds them of all the fun stuff they did as kids. When people see pictures of these metal slides, they tell me, “Oh my gosh, I remember getting such a bad burn from a metal slide one summer!” The metal would get so hot in the sun, and kids would take pieces of wax paper with them to sit on so they’d go flying down the slide. I have some old postcards that show playgrounds from the early ’20s. The wood seesaws not only were huge, but they had no handles so you had hold on to the sides of the board where you sat. I’m looking at that like, “Oh my God!” It’s all relative.
playground_postcard_milwaukee
Kids ride the rocking-boat seesaw at a Milwaukee, Wisconsin, park in this postcard postmarked 1910.
(To see more of Brenda Biondo’s playground photos and vintage catalog pages, pick up a copy of her book, “Once Upon a Playground: A Celebration of Classic American Playground, 1920-1975.” To find an exhibition of Biondo’s playground project, or to bring it to your town, visit the ExhibitsUSA page. To learn more about creative mid-century playgrounds around the globe, also pick up, “The Playground Project” by Xavier Salle and Vincent Romagny.) insh.world/history/playground-equipment-of-yesterday-that...
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however we are following Lettice’s maid, Edith, who together with her beau, local grocery delivery boy Frank Leadbetter, have wended their way north-east from Cavendish Mews on their Sunday off, through neighbouring Soho to the Lyons Corner House* on the corner of Oxford Street and Tottenham Court Road. As always, the flagship restaurant on the first floor is a hive of activity with all the white linen covered tables occupied by Londoners indulging in the treat of a Lyon’s luncheon or early afternoon tea. Between the tightly packed tables, the Lyons waitresses, known as Nippies**, live up to their name and nip in and out, showing diners to empty tables, taking orders, placing food on tables and clearing and resetting them after diners have left. The cavernous space with its fashionable Art Deco wallpapers and light fixtures and dark Queen Anne English style furnishing is alive with colour, movement and the burbling noises of hundreds of chattering voices, the sound of cutlery against crockery and the clink of crockery and glassware fills the air brightly.
Amidst all the comings and goings, Edith and Frank sit at a table for two just adjunct to one of the glass fronted cabinets filled with delicious cakes on display, engrossed in a conversation over the film that they have just seen together in an East Ham cinema.
“Oh I did enjoy ‘The Notorious Mrs. Carrick’***, Frank.” Edith enthuses. “That Cameron Carr**** is such a handsome film star!” she sighs.
“Hey!” splutters Frank as he deposits his teacup back into its saucer. “I would hope you only have eyes for me, Edith Watsford, and not some flicker of light up on a screen at the Premier in East Ham*****.”
“Are you jealous, Frank Leadbetter?” Edith laughs, her amused giggles blending in with the vociferous chatting going on around them.
“Certainly not!” Frank retorts blusteringly, stiffening in his seat. “Don’t talk such rubbish!”
“I declare, you are!” Edith giggles.
“Am not!”
“You are, Frank, and don’t pretend you aren’t.” she teases. “I can tell when you are, and your flushing cheeks give you away.”
“Oh really?” Frank gasps, raising his hands to his cheeks and pressing his palms into them to hide the rising colour in his face.
“Oh Frank!” Edith continues to chuckle. “You know you have nothing to worry about. Those film stars are just matinee idols******. They aren’t flesh and blood like you are. They are…” She pauses for a moment to think of the right words. “They are creatures made of stardust and dreams.” She gesticulates waving her hands elegantly through the air between them. “They aren’t real. I’m just like most girls, Frank. I like the moving pictures for their fantasy and their escapism into another world, far away from the hand graft of our everyday lives.”
“Well, so long as you don’t become like those crazy girls who scream hysterically in the street about that Rudolph Valentino*******, making a scene, and fools of themselves.” Franks says with distain.
“As if I would, Frank!” Edith retorts, lifting her cup of tea to her lips. “You know me well enough to know I’d never do anything like that! If anything, Miss Lettice or some of her flapper friends strike me as being more inclined to behave like that, and even then Miss Lettice would only do it just to shock her parents.”
“Well, she does influence you,” Frank replies sagely. “Even if you don’t know it.”
“Oh, don’t talk such rubbish, Frank.” Edith scoffs with a wave of her hand. “It is true that I admire Miss Lettice - it makes it easier to work for her that I do – but I would never let her influence me like that! She already tries to fill my head with ideas about my place in this new post-war world, but I’m not prepared to be quite as revolutionary as she would have me be.”
Their conversation is interrupted by a Nippie carrying a blue and white china plate on which some dainty triangle sandwiches are prettily arranged and garnished with parsley sprigs. “Tongue and jelly sandwiches********.” she announces cheerily over the hubbub of chatter around them before lowing the plate onto the empty space on the white linen covered tablecloth between their plates and teacups.
“Thank you, Miss.” Edith says politely to the Nippie, who’s grateful smile brightens her slightly tired looking visage beneath her stiff linen cap. After the Nippie leaves, Edith turns her attention back to Frank and adds, “I was always taught that ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’ go a long way, in this world, and that you should always thank anyone who is serving you, whether it is a shop girl, or a Nippie.” She slips her starched linen napkin out from underneath her knife and shakes it out before draping it across her lap. “And my Mum taught me that by the way, not Miss Lettice.” she continues, as she makes a selection from the sandwiches on the plate, removing the top one from the stack.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it, Edith.” Frank says as he shakes out his own napkin and places it across his lap before selecting a sandwich for himself. “I’ve always admired you for your manners and how polite and kind you are to others. Your mother taught you well.”
“And your parents and grandmother taught you well… Francis.” Edith adds Frank’s proper name at the end of the sentence cheekily, teasing him.
“I wish Gran had never let that slip.” Frank mutters begrudgingly. “I’m Frank now. No-one at the trades union will take me seriously if I’m called Francis.”
“Oh, I’m only teasing, Frank.” Edith reaches out her right hand and grasps his left as it rests on the tablecloth next to his plate. She smiles in an assuring way towards Frank.
Edith takes a bite of her sandwich, enjoying the soft white bread and the spiced meat as she rolls it around her mouth, and sighs contentedly.
“Oh, and thinking of the trade unions, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about, Edith.” Frank remarks as he chews on a mouthful his sandwich.
Edith swallows her mouthful of sandwich hard and picks up her teacup. Sipping her tea she remarks, “That sounds very serious, Frank.”
Frank looks earnestly at Edith. “Well, I suppose it is, Edith.”
Replacing her cup into its saucer, Edith smiles sweetly at Frank. “What is it then, Frank?”
Frank reaches inside the inner breast pocket of his tweed jacket and withdraws an advertising leaflet. Slightly dogeared, he hands it over the table to Edith.
“What’s this then?” She glances at the colourful brochure. On its cover is a stylised drawing of a Tutorbethan style********* two storey house with a tiled pitched roof set amidst an idyllic and lush English cottage garden. “Metro-Land, price twopence.” she reads the golden yellow wording on a dark brown background in a vignette at the bottom of the booklet.
“How would you like to live there, Edith?” Frank asks, his voice breathy with excitement.
Edith looks up from the brochure with wide and startled eyes. “Have you broken the bank at Monte Carlo********** Frank?” she laughs. “We couldn’t afford to live in a house like this, even with my extra four shillings a month as part of our combined wages! I won’t be earning a proper wage after we get married*********** don’t forget, Frank.” she cautions. “Where is this anyway?” She flicks the pamphlet open. “Chalk Hill Estate.”
“For around five shillings a week, we could rent a nice little two-up two-down************ semi************* just like that, in the Chalk Hill Estate: maybe a little bit more if we want one that’s furnished.”
“You’re dreaming, Frank. We can’t afford this.” she scoffs as she runs her hand over the brightly coloured cover. “This is for the aspiring middle-classes, not for the likes of us.”
“Ah, but that’s where your reckoning is wrong, Edith.” Frank replies, picking up his cup and taking a sip of his milky tea. “You see, when I was at the trades union meeting the other week, I met up with my friend Richard, and well, he told me that there might be an opening or two in one of the new grocers shops being built in places like the Chalk Hill, Grange and Cedars Estates for an assistant manager position, which would lead eventually to a position where I’d be running my own corner grocer. Even as an assistant manager, I’d be earning a decent wage: we might be lower middle-class dare I suggest it.” Frank smiles proudly. “Richard gave me that pamphlet.”
“So where are these Metroland************** estates then, Frank?”
“Well, they are these new London suburbs being built north-west of London: Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire, Middlesex.”
“Buckinghamshire?” Edith splutters, nearly choking on the mouthful of tea she has just drunk. “But that’s where Miss Lettice’s married sister lives! That’s miles away! It’s the country!”
“Well not any more it isn’t Edith.” Frank assures her. “It’s all being subdivided now and served by the Metropolitan Railway. They are the ones who are developing it.”
“But I don’t want to move to Buckinghamshire, Frank!”
“It’s not so bad, Edith. The Chalk Hill, Grange and Cedars Estates are all being built along the railway line not too far from Wembley Park, so you’d be able to visit your parents easily, and they’d be able to come and visit us too. In fact, you’d be closer to them than you are at Cavendish Mews. We’d live in a nice little house behind the shop, with all the mod-cons like indoor plumbing and electricity, just like Miss Lettice’s flat at Cavendish Mews.”
“That all sounds splendid, Frank, but the country!”
“They aren’t the country. They are called the ‘new suburbs’. Anyway, don’t forget that Harlesden was once a country area too. You’ve heard your mother tell stories about how she and your grandparents lived on a farm when she was growing up.”
Edith contemplates what Frank says for a moment. “Well, I think they might have lived a bit further out than Harlesden, then Frank.”
“But even so, Edith, Harlesden was a rural area once. Anyway, if I were running a corner grocer, or even being an assistant manager of one to begin with, we would be right in the heart of the shopping strip, so you wouldn’t be far from anything.”
“I remember what Queenie told Hilda and I about life in a country village, and I saw it for myself,” Edith tempers, remembering the trip that she and her best friend took to visit their friend and fellow housemaid, Queenie, in Alderley Edge in Cheshire. “Everyone there knows everyone else’s business, and the ladies there were all horribly snobbish and mean to Queenie, and were equally snobbish to Hilda and I once they knew that we were maids – not that there’s anything wrong with being a humble domestic.”
“Of course there isn’t, Edith. However, Alderley Edge is different to one of these estates, Edith.” Frank assures her.
“I don’t see how, Frank.”
“Well, Alderley Edge was a village and an old one at that, and Cheshire has some very fancy people living in it. These estates like Chalk Hill,” He points to the leaflet hanging limply in Edith’s hand. “Are new. There are no existing big families with fancy titles and histories and all that. There’s no pecking order. It would be made up of working people – yes, many middle-class families looking to solve their housing problems, but aspiring working people like us, too. It would be far more…” He thinks for a moment. “Egalitarian.”
“And what does that mean, Frank?” Edith spits.
“Well, it’s a belief, a belief based on the principle that all people are equal and deserve equal rights and opportunities.”
“Hhhmmm…” Edith contemplates. “Well, we’ll see about that. That all sounds fine in theory, but in my experience there are people who look down on other people everywhere, like nasty old Widow Hounslow,” She utters the name of her parent’s doughy landlady with distaste. “In Harlesden. I think people wanting to start new lives and lord that fact over others might live in these new paradise suburbs of yours, Frank.”
“Oh now don’t be like that, Edith! You sound like your mother when you talk like that.”
“Well, you can hardly blame me, Frank. This,” She hands the pamphlet back to Frank with an air of distain. “Is a big change you’re suggesting we make.”
Frank accepts the thin booklet and slips it somewhat reluctantly back into his inner breast pocket. “But just think, we could have a lovely home together: a real home with a little garden.”
“Dad has an allotment.” Edith defends.
“I know, but imagine a proper garden for the children to run around and play in. The children we have, Edith, can grow up attending local schools and getting lots of fresh air. There would be no pea-soupers*************** for them to suffer through.”
Edith considers the great clouds of thick, dense fog enveloping the streets of London and seeping into the corners of even places as fine as Cavendish Mews during the winter months, and how everyone coughs badly during them and in their aftermath.
“Well that’s true.” she admits begrudgingly. “But…”
“And if we lived in a little house like this,” Frank pats his jacket where the pamphlet now resides. “We’d have room for Hilda or Queenie to come and stay. Wouldn’t that be nice.”
“Very nice Frank.” Edith replies a little disbelievingly. “But what about your Gran?”
“What about her, Edith?”
“Well, if we moved to one of these new Metroland estates of yours, we’d be closer to my parents, but further away from Upton Park, and your Gran is older than my parents are.”
“Oh!” Frank dismisses. “Gran will be fine with it. She’s been telling me that I should get out of London if I can for years now. Don’t forget that before she married my grandfather, Gran lived in a little Scottish village. London is the only big city she has ever lived in, and she still doesn’t like it even to this day.”
“But what about when she gets older, Frank? She’s already infirm now.”
“Well,” Frank admits a little sheepishly. “I’ve been thinking about that too.”
“And?”
“And I was thinking that she might come to live with us when the time came that she couldn’t be on her own any more, since we’d have a bit more room with a house of our own.”
“It sounds like this house of yours that you imagine for us might be made of elastic, Frank,” Edith snorts with mild amusement and disbelief. “What with our children, my parents, Hilda and Queenie visiting, and now you Gran coming to live with us. Where will everyone fit? Someone will have to sleep in the inside privy!”
“We’d make it work, Edith.” Frank assures her. “Together.”
“Well, it’s a lot to consider, Frank.” Edith says after taking a few minutes to chew another mouthful of sandwich, the bread, tongue and jelly suddenly heavy in her mouth and stomach.
“But you will consider it, Edith?” Frank asks, the hopeful lilt in his voice echoing the optimistic glint in his bright blue eyes and anticipative stance as he sits across from his sweetheart.
“Metroland.” Edith utters.
“Our future… in Metroland.”
Edith sighs heavily. “You have rather sprung this on me, Frank.”
“Well, I hadn’t even considered the idea until Richard mentioned it to me at the trade unions meeting.”
“It’s a lot for me to consider, Frank. It means a major shift in where I’d envisaged us living after we were married, and how we would live.”
“Oh, me too, Edith. The most I’d hoped for was to take a position as a buyer or merchandiser at another grocer, maybe one south of the Thames.”
“So, you have to give me time to warm to the idea.”
“I don’t see what’s to warm to, Edith. Imagine our live…”
Edith holds up her worn right hand to silence Frank’s immediate defence of his idea. “You know me, Frank. I’m not as enthused as you are about new ideas. You have to give me time, or this will never work.”
Frank smiles as he settles back more comfortably in his seat and picks up the remains of a triangle of tongue and jelly sandwich. “I’ll wait for as long as you need to be convinced that our future in Metroland will be for the best, Edith.” He takes a bite of the sandwich in his hand. “Anyway, it’s not like I’m marrying you tomorrow and whisking you away to Buckinghamshire.”
“And you won’t be, Frank Leadbetter.” Edith cautions him. “Just the other side of Wembley is one thing. Buckinghamshire is quite another.”
Edith picks up her teacup and takes a sip of her tea.
*J. Lyons and Co. was a British restaurant chain, food manufacturing, and hotel conglomerate founded in 1884 by Joseph Lyons and his brothers in law, Isidore and Montague Gluckstein. Lyons’ first teashop opened in Piccadilly in 1894, and from 1909 they developed into a chain of teashops, with the firm becoming a staple of the High Street in the United Kingdom. At its peak the chain numbered around two hundred cafes. The teashops provided for tea and coffee, with food choices consisting of hot dishes and sweets, cold dishes and sweets, and buns, cakes and rolls. Lyons' Corner Houses, which first appeared in 1909 and remained until 1977, were noted for their Art Deco style. Situated on or near the corners of Coventry Street, Strand and Tottenham Court Road, they and the Maison Lyonses at Marble Arch and in Shaftesbury Avenue were large buildings on four or five floors, the ground floor of which was a food hall with counters for delicatessen, sweets and chocolates, cakes, fruit, flowers and other products. In addition, they possessed hairdressing salons, telephone booths, theatre booking agencies and at one period a twice-a-day food delivery service. On the other floors were several restaurants, each with a different theme and all with their own musicians. For a time, the Corner Houses were open twenty-four hours a day, and at their peak each branch employed around four hundred staff including their famous waitresses, commonly known as Nippies for the way they nipped in and out between the tables taking orders and serving meals. The tea houses featured window displays, and, in the post-war period, the Corner Houses were smarter and grander than the local tea shops. Between 1896 and 1965 Lyons owned the Trocadero, which was similar in size and style to the Corner Houses.
**The name 'Nippies' was adopted for the Lyons waitresses after a competition to rename them from the old fashioned 'Gladys' moniker - rejected suggestions included ‘Sybil-at-your-service’, ‘Miss Nimble’, Miss Natty’ and 'Speedwell'. The waitresses each wore a starched cap with a red ‘L’ embroidered in the centre and a black alpaca dress with a double row of pearl buttons.
***”The Notorious Mrs. Carrick” is a 1924 British silent crime film directed by George Ridgwell and starring Cameron Carr, A.B. Imeson and Gordon Hopkirk. It was an adaptation of the novel Pools of the Past by Charles Proctor. The film was made by Britain's largest film company of the era Stoll Pictures. It was released in July 1924.
****Cameron Carr was an English actor of the silent era, born in 1876, he died in 1944. He made many films between 1918 and the early 1930s. Then like many stars of the silent era, the advent of talking pictures put an end to his career in films as he found the transition to talkies to difficult. He starred as the lead actor, of the 1924 silent film, “The Notorious Mrs. Carrick”, playing Mr. Carrick.
*****The Premier Super Cinema in East Ham was opened on the 12th of March, 1921, replacing the 800 seat capacity 1912 Premier Electric Theatre. The new cinema could seat 2,408 patrons. The Premier Super Cinema was taken over by Provincial Cinematograph Theatres who were taken over by Gaumont British in February 1929. It was renamed the Gaumont from 21st April 1952. The Gaumont was closed by the Rank Organisation on 6th April 1963. After that it became a bingo hall and remained so until 2005. Despite attempts to have it listed as a historic building due to its relatively intact 1921 interior, the Gaumont was demolished in 2009.
******A matinee idol is a handsome actor, admired for his good looks.
*******Rodolfo Pietro Filiberto Raffaello Guglielmi di Valentina d'Antonguella was born in May 1895, and was known professionally as Rudolph Valentino and nicknamed The Latin Lover, was an Italian actor based in the United States who starred in several well-known silent films including The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, The Sheik, Blood and Sand, The Eagle, and The Son of the Sheik. Valentino was a sex symbol of the 1920s, known in Hollywood as the "Latin Lover" (a title invented for him by Hollywood moguls), the "Great Lover", or simply Valentino. His early death at the age of 31 in 1926 caused mass hysteria among his fans, further cementing his place in early cinematic history as a cultural film icon. In spite of his appeal to women of the 1920s, it is now believed that Valentino was gay, or at the very least bisexual, with relationships with actress Pola Negri and actor Ramón Novarro in addition to his second wife Natacha Rambova. Despite claims of him being a “Latin Lover”, his first marriage to lesbian actress Alla Nazimova was never consummated.
********Tongue and jelly is a gelatinous food made from braided calves tongues, boiled with onions, celery, cloves, herbs, brandy and sugar which is then preserved in gelatine. Back in the 1920s, it is more likely that aspic would have been used, rather than gelatine. It was a very popular savoury topping on picnic sandwiches in the Victorian and Edwardian eras.
*********Tudor Revival architecture, also known as mock Tudor in Britain, first manifested in domestic architecture in the latter half of the Nineteenth Century. Based on revival of aspects that were perceived as Tudor architecture, in reality it usually took the style of English vernacular architecture of the Middle Ages that had survived into the Tudor period. Tudorbethan is a subset of Tudor Revival architecture that eliminated some of the more complex aspects of Jacobethan in favour of more domestic styles of "Merrie England", which were cosier and quaint. It was associated with the Arts and Crafts movement.
**********"The Man Who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo" (originally titled "The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo") is a popular British music hall song published in 1891 by Fred Gilbert, a theatrical agent who had begun to write comic songs as a sideline some twenty years previously.[1] The song was popularised by singer and comedian Charles Coborn. Coborn wrote in his 1928 autobiography that to the best of his recollection he first sang the song in 'the latter part of 1891.'[6] An advertisement in a London newspaper suggests, however, that he first performed it in public in mid-February 1892. The song remained popular from the 1890s until the late 1940s, and is still referenced in popular culture today. Coborn, then aged 82, performed the song in both English and French in the 1934 British film “Say It with Flowers”.
***********Prior to and even after the Second World War, there was a ‘marriage bar’ in place. Introduced into legislation, the bar banned the employment of married women as permanent employees, which in essence meant that once a woman was married, no matter how employable she was, became unemployable, leaving husbands to be the main breadwinner for the family. This meant that working women needed to save as much money as they could before marriage, and often took in casual work, such as mending, sewing or laundry for a pittance at home to help bring in additional income and help to make ends meet. The marriage bar wasn’t lifted until the very late 1960s.
************Two-up two-down is a type of small house with two rooms on the ground floor and two bedrooms upstairs. There are many types of terraced houses in the United Kingdom, and these are among the most modest. The first two-up two-down terraces were built in the 1870s, but the concept of them made up the backbone of the Metroland suburban expansions of the 1920s with streets lined with rows of two-up two-down semi-detached houses in Mock Tudor, Jacobethan, Arts and Crafts and inter-war Art Deco styles bastardised from the aesthetic styles created by the likes of English Arts and Crafts Movement designers like William Morris and Charles Voysey.
*************A semi-detached house (known more commonly simply as a semi) is a house joined to another house on one side only by a common wall.
**************Metroland is a name given to the suburban areas that were built to the north-west of London in the counties of Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire and Middlesex in the early part of the Twentieth Century that were served by the Metropolitan Railway. The railway company was in the privileged position of being allowed to retain surplus land; from 1919 this was developed for housing by the nominally independent Metropolitan Railway Country Estates Limited (MRCE). The term "Metroland" was coined by the Met's marketing department in 1915 when the Guide to the Extension Line became the Metro-land guide. It promoted a dream of a modern home in beautiful countryside with a fast railway service to central London until the Met was absorbed into the London Passenger Transport Board in 1933.
***************A term originating in Nineteenth Century Britain, a pea soup fog is a very thick and often yellowish, greenish or blackish fog caused by air pollution that contains soot particulates and the poisonous gas sulphur dioxide. It refers to the thick, dense fog that is so thick that it appears to be the color and consistency of pea soup. Pea-soupers were particularly common in large industrial cities like Manchester and Liverpool and populous cities like London where there were lots of coal fires either for industry and manufacturing, or for household heating. The last really big pea-souper in London happened in December 1952. At least three and a half to four thousand people died of acute bronchitis. However, in cities like Manchester and Liverpool, where the concentration of manufacturing was higher, they continued well beyond that.
An afternoon tea made up with tea and a selection of triangle sandwiches like this would be enough to please anyone, but I suspect that even if you ate everything you can see here on the table in and in the display case in the background, you would still come away hungry. This is because they, like everything in this scene are 1:12 size miniatures from my miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau:
The plate of sandwiches in the centre of the table was made by an unknown artisan and was acquired through Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop in the United Kingdom. The coffee pot with its ornate handle and engraved body is one of three antique Colonial Craftsman pots I also acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop, as is the silver tray on which they stand. The milk jug and sugar bowl are made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The Lyons Corner House crockery is made by the Dolls’ House emporium and was acquired from an online stockist of miniatures on E-Bay. The J. Lyons & Co. Ltd. tariff in the foreground is a copy of a 1920s example that I made myself by reducing it in size and printing it. Edith’s handbag handmade from soft leather is part of a larger collection of hats and bags that I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel.
The table on which all these items stand is a Queen Anne lamp table which I was given for my seventh birthday. It is one of the very first miniature pieces of furniture I was ever given as a child. The Queen Anne dining chairs were all given to me as a Christmas present when I was around the same age.
In the background is a display case of cakes. The Victoria sponge (named after Queen Victoria) on the cake stand is made by Polly’s Pantry Miniatures in America. Whilst the cupcakes have been made in England by hand from clay by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination. All the cakes in the display cabinet came from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop in the United Kingdom. The glass and metal cake stands and the glass cloche came from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The glass cake stands are hand blown artisan pieces. The shiny brass cash register also comes from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures.
The wood and glass display cabinet and the bright brass cash register I obtained from a seller of 1:12 miniatures on E-Bay.
Yet another photo of the sunrise over the New York City skyline.
Some of you may think that it looks just like my other sunrise picture, but if you compare the two they're actually pretty different.
The reason is in the way I edited the two images.
The other pic used HDR (high dynamic range), creating a very detailed and crisp image.
Today, I focused more on creating an almost surreal colored sky, the way one of my favorite photographers ( Sam Javanrouh of daily dose of imagery) does.
The result is a much darker and much differently colored image. Regardless of whether it's good or bad, it's is undeniably different.
A slightly different angle from last nights post but went way a different direction with processing and quite like how this turned out
Both from bygone eras, one replacing the other over 70 years ago. As 4-6-2 Pacific No. 110 runs light engine to Coldwater station to collect the Christmas Express for the day's excursions, Indiana North Eastern GP-7 No. 1601 sits silently in a siding waiting for its next daily call for revenue service.
Model & Styling: Monika
Photo & Processing: Me
I think this is totally different from everything else I have done before.
This was taken with my Canon 350d and processed with Adobe Lightroom and Photoshop.
My friend Ulrike - who also wants to start her own photography business - just called to tell me she is now on Flickr too.
So please lovely Flickr friends. Visit her stream (she is working on uploading) and show her some love :) Thank you
Here is another of my mini seahorses with a slightly different twist. Instead of using a combination of silver and gemstone beads to fill the body, I used ALL gemstones. Over 100 tiny faceted tundra sapphire rondels fill the head and neck, and fan across the arched neck and spiral tail, and a golden briolette of Baltic amber suggests a belly full of babies. The dorsal fin is a rich red, faceted briolette of rhodolite garnet, and bright red rubies make the eyes.
This is the same eagle from the previous photo. I cropped it to make it look wide.
In viewing large size, guess I should have made it bigger.
Araschnia levana f. prorsa, 2nd brood.
These butterflies have two broods each year, but unusually both broods have a different form and look completely different, the first brood looks similar to a small tortoiseshell while this second brood looks more like a smaller white admiral.
Limoges, France.
Beauty Nails and Nanitas Designa have decided to join forces and create a collaboration - ARCANA SPEACIL COLLABORATION.
This collab is inspired by the Netflix series Arcane and the character Jinx from League of Legends - It will be available only at Gothcore event that runs from December 23rd - January 14th. (available in both stores after the event)
What does this collaboration contain?
- BN Arcana Nails and Pedicure #1 - compatible bodies: LEGACY - EBODY REBORN - MAITREYA - KUPRA - BELLEZA
- BN Arcana Nails #2 - compatible bodies: LEGACY - EBODY REBORN - MAITREYA - KUPRA - BELLEZA
- Nanitas Designa - Arcana Body Tattoo #1 - BOM Tattoo, 3 opacity Levels, 5 different colors for: Green,Pink,Purple,Red and original Blue.
-Nanitas Designa - Arcana Body Tattoo #2 - BOM Tattoo, 3 Opacity Levels, Black and White and EvoX Face Tattoo.
*There is an option to Buy the FULL Collab too for those of you who are #1 fans of this series and won't pass up a single product from this fantastic collaboration*
Taxi to Event:http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/CORE/74/97/3500
Mainstore ND:http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/xLUMINOUS%20HALLWAYx/185/97/21
Mainstore BN: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/xLUMINOUS%20HALLWAYx/65/95/21
Standing together in Swansea Bus Station park on 17-06-14 are East Yorkshire 78 YY63 OEJ and First South Wales 20321 YN57 BVU.
Diferentes pH del suelo dan como resultado diferentes colores: el de la izquierda en la imagen uno es el mismo árbol que en la imagen dos, la imagen uno son las flores que florecieron el año pasado y la imagen dos son las flores de este año. El pH del suelo diferente da como resultado diferentes colores.
La antocianina es el pigmento más importante que forma el color de las flores. Es como un camaleón y es sensible al pH. Siempre que el pH cambie ligeramente, su color cambiará en consecuencia. Por ejemplo, bajo diferentes valores de pH del fluido celular, los resultados de coloración de las antocianinas son diferentes. Cuando el valor del pH sea ácido, se volverá rojo, cuanto más fuerte sea la acidez, más rojo será el color; cuando el valor del pH es neutro, aparecerá de color púrpura; cuando el valor de pH es alcalino, se vuelve azul, que es más alcalino cuando se vuelve azul-negro.
Además, las antocianinas de algunas plantas también mostrarán diferentes grados de respuesta y cambiarán bajo diferentes condiciones de luz, temperatura, suelo y otros entornos. Esto hace que el color de algunas flores cambie tres veces al día. Por ejemplo, los pétalos de la gloria de la mañana son de color rosa temprano en la mañana, luego se vuelven rojo púrpura y finalmente azules.
La foule a souvent tort, il ne faut pas avoir peur de ses convictions même à contre-courant.
--~~~~~~
The crowd often wrong, do not be afraid of his convictions even against the current.
Another view of the 353 pulling up to top off its water tank. Taken at the WMSTR (Western Minnesota Steam Threshers Reunion) in Rollag, Minnesota. They even have their own steam engine #353 and railroad track that travels through the grounds. On the car behind the engine and coal/water car is an early 1900's Minneapolis Threshing Machine Company tractor.
Ian's on the road again, wearing different shoes again.
Or something.
Yes, have audit will travel is taking me back to the north west and head office (UK) in Warrington.
I wasn't keen to go, as I would be one of those being audited, rather than being the auditor.
So it goes.
Up even earlier than usual, Jools went swimming first thing, while I woke up and packed.
It was to be a bright if cold day, and the promise of actual snow once I reached Manchester, so that was something to look forward to. No?
Jools dropped me off on the prom so I could have a walk, take some snaps before picking up the car.
It was cold.
Not Canada cold, clearly.
Minus three. And too cold to linger to watch the actual sunrise, so made do with snapping the reflected light of the hotels and a ferry coming into the harbour. I walked over Townwall Street, now cold to the bone, hoping the car hire place would be open on time.
It wasn't, but a couple of minutes later, a guy came to open up and let me inside where it was slightly warmer.
My old ruse of getting an automatic thus getting a larger car was ruined this time was I was given a Toyota Yaris. It struggled to get up Jubilee Way without the engine screaming. You'd better behave yourself for the next three days I told it.
Back home for breakfast, load the car and say goodbye to the cats. One last look, and I was off. The car had no sat nav, so had to use the phone.
Before going to the hotel, I was going to visit a former colleague who lives in Warrington, or nearly St Helens as I found out later, so programmed her address in, and off I went, along our street and towards the A2 and the long slog up to Dartford.
I connected my phone to charge, and straight away tunes from my Apple music store started playing. So, apart from the free U2 album it forced on all users, the rest was good if a little Skids and Velvet Underground heavy.
The miles were eaten up, even if I had to turn the music way up to drown the sound of the screaming engine.
Like all trips, I had something extra to sweeten the time away, and in this case it was a church. But not just any church, as you will see.
I watched a short documentary on Monday about Mary Queen of Scots, and remembered that she had been imprisoned and executed at Fotheringhay Castle in what is now Northamptonshire, and if I went over the Dartford Crossing, up the M11 to Cambridge, then were the A14 crossed the Great North Road, ten miles north was Fotheringhay.
So, I pressed on, under the river and into Essex, then along to the bottom of the M11, and north past Stanstead to Cambridge. Traffic wasn't bad, so I made good time, my phone telling me I would reach Fotheringhay at midday.
Turning off the A1, down narrow lanes, then the view to the church opens up, in what is possibly one of the finest vistas in all of England. St Mary and All Saints, 15th century and in its Perpendicular finest, it looks too good to be that old, but is.
Not only is the church mostly as it was, if plain inside, this was the parish church of the House of York, of several Kings including the final, Richard III.
This is real history.
I crossed over the narrow hump-back bridge that spanned the fast flowing, and nearly flooding, River Neane, into the village and parked outside the church. A set of grand gates lead off the main road to the northern porch, lined with fine trees, naked it being winter.
The tower seems over-large for the Nave and Chancel, it stands 116 feet tall, and is a chonker, the rest of the church seems small beside it, but the interior of the church is a large space, high to its vaulted roof.
I take shots, not as many as perhaps I should, but the church doesn't have centuries of memorials, but does have two House of York tombs, or mausoleums.
I had some time, so I thought I would visit any interesting church I might see before getting back on the A14.
That was the plan.
The road took me round Oundle, which had at least two interesting looking churches, but them being what you might call "urban", I passed both and carried on over the rolling hills of Northamptonshire, much hillier than you might have thought.
Just before the A14, I see a large tower, and a lane lead to the village of Titchmarsh.
Titchmarsh is the name of a very famous TV gardener over here in Britain, not sure if this is where he hails from.
The village itself is set along a long high street, lined with half-timbered houses, most thatched, which was very picturesque.
I parked up, screams from the primary school, out for lunch, filled the air. But I had eyes on the church.
Oddly, on the north side, the churchyard is marked by a haha, or half of one.
A ha?
Certainly not a ditch, but there was a grille in the wall to allow water to get out.
Access to the church was over a small bridge, the grand porch in front.
The door opened easily, and I saw first, lots of wall paintings. Not old, perhaps Victorian.
I set to work taking shots, using the compact to snap close ups of the windows.
In truth, not much of great interest, and I was aware from the radio there being talk of snow.
Better get going and head north.
Back outside, my phone tells me I should be in Warrington by four, my friend, Teresa, wouldn't be home until half past, so I could have another break on the way.
The sat nav took me back to the A14, and from there it is just a 60 mile drive to the bottom of the M6 and then the hike two hours north.
At least it was a sunny day, though clouds were building, and was it my imagination, or did it look like snow falling already?
No, it was snow. big, fat, wet flakes at first, not much to worry about, but I pressed on past Coventry to the toll road, I sopped for half an hour there, enough time to have a drink and some crisps, then back outside where darkness was falling, as well as more snow.
The M6 might have had its upgrade complete, but a trip on it is rarely without delays. And for me, an hour delayed just before Warrington due to a crash, so we inched along in near darkness.
Teresa lived the other side of Warrington, so I had to press on further north, then along other main roads, round a bonkers roundabout before entering the town. Roads were lined with two up/two downs, doors leading straight onto the pavement. Cozy and northern.
They have two dog-mountains, I'm not sure of the breed, but think of something like a St Bernard and go bigger. They had just been for a walk, were damp and happy to be inside, laying on the kitchen floor. Taking up all the kitchen floor.
We talked for an hour, then I received a call from a guy I was supposed to be meeting up with: heavy snow was falling, I should get there sooner than later. So, I said my goodbyes and programmed the route to the hotel. Sorry, resort. Golf resort.
16 miles.
Snow was falling heavy, not too bad on main roads back to the motorway, though traffic on that was only going 40, it was fast enough. But the final six miles was long a main road, but it was covered in snow, with more falling.
The the fuel warning light went on.
Ignore that, I just wanted to get to the hotel safe and have dinner. Not end up in a hedge.
The final mile was very scary, snow only an inch deep, but slippery. There was a gatehouse marking the entrance to the golf club, I turned in and parked in the first space I came to.
Phew.
I checked in, and the place is huge, swish, but full of golfers.
But it does a sideline in conferences, training centre and a hotel. It was full.
I checked in, walked to the room, which is huge, and very comfortable, dropped my bags and went to the bar for dinner of beer and burgers. The place was almost empty, I watched cricket live from South Africa while I ate and drank.
Would I be tempted by the cheeseboard?
I would, dear reader, I would.
To my room to watch the football and relax while snow fell outside.
--------------------------------------------------
Another bike ride into the wilds and wolds of Northamptonshire. I set off from Huntingdon railway station, and after a sixteen mile slog into the wind I crossed the county boundary at Clopton, a church I visited three weeks ago. Now, the real bike ride could now begin. Resisting a revisit to the church, I turned off on a very lonely, narrow lane through the woodlands. The Cambs/Northants borderlands are often like this, remote and lonely, wooded and rolling, devoid of houses outside the villages and with only the rare car, horse or other cyclist. It reminds me of parts of France.
After a couple of miles I came to Titchmarsh, and its splendid church, a big church in a pretty stone village. The tower is enormous ('The finest church tower in England outside of Somerset' - FJ Allen) and there is no spire. The churchyard is surrounded by a haha, with a little bridge across the moat. The church was being prepared for a rock concert, with a stage built up under the tower and tables and chairs in the nave. Not a huge amount to see in any case, although I liked the memorial to a servant who saved his master's life by getting in the way of an assassin's knife, only to later drown in the Nene. As you'd expect in this part of the world, good stone capitals in the arcades, with stiffleaves you could cut yourself on as well as dripping fruit.
And then it was on past the IKEA warehouse ('the largest building in the British Isles') into the town of Thrapston.
Simon Knott, July 2017.
www.flickr.com/photos/norfolkodyssey/35483761652/in/photo...
----------------------------------------------------
The Parish Church of St Mary the Virgin, standing in a prominent position on the higher ground to the North of the village, has been the centre of the Christian community in Titchmarsh for some 800 years.
The name of Tichmarsh (or the modern version Titchmarsh) seems to date from Anglo-Saxon times when a piece of land was granted to one Ticcea and became known as Ticcea’s marsh (Ticceanmersce, Tychemerche, etc).
The earliest records of the church date from 1240. It was from Tichmarsh that Viscount Lovell left his manor to fight with Richard III at Bosworth. Before that he had employed his Somerset mason to build what Pevsner described as “the noblest village tower outside Somerset”, on top of which in 1588 an Armada beacon was lit.
The church is remarkable for its magnificent tower, its long and lofty clerestory, its spacious chancel, and for its light and uncluttered interior. It also houses a collection of unique and interesting wall monuments, fine stained glass windows and a recently restored 1870 TC Lewis organ. (see separate links)
The building that you see today is not the first church to have existed on this site. The remains of a 12th century doorway in the chancel is the only relic of the Norman building, and the subsequent centuries have each made their distinctive architectural contribution. The building assumed its present appearance when, late in the 15th century, the tower, clerestory and porch were added, and the present perpendicular style windows were inserted. In the late 17th and early 18th century the Pickering family contributed a number of important memorials, including one to John Dryden the poet- laureate, who spent his childhood in Titchmarsh. In the 19th century a number of the windows had stained glass inserted, a vestry was added in the northwest corner, and much of the internal woodwork was replaced (including the pews, recently adapted to provide more mobile seating).
The focus of the church, both architecturally and spiritually, is the Altar. This is God’s table, at which the faithful share in the power of Christ’s Risen Life, by feeding on the Sacrament of his Body and Blood under the forms of bread and wine. The reredos of Caen stone and Derby alabaster (1866) depicts the Old Testament scenes of Melchizedek’s offering of bread and wine, and Abraham’s offering of his only son Isaac, illustrating different aspects of the eucharistic theme.
The semi-circular Norman arch to the south side is a visible reminder that Christian worship has been offered on this site for at least some eight centuries.
The two-level sedilia and the piscine are of the 13th century, as is also the arcading which opens into the north chapel (now occupied by the organ). The opening known as a hagioscope or squint, gave additional visual access from the north chapel to the High Altar. The low, pointed 13th century doorway to the north of the Altar probably led to a tomb or chantry adjoining the Chancel on the north side. Much of this work can be attributed to the patronage of the Lovel family, who were Lords of the Manor from about 1268 until 1485.
Piercing the north-west corner of the Chancel wall are the remains of the stairway which originally led to the Rood-loft.
Dimly discernible in the apex of the Chancel arch is a crowned head. Experts suggest that it most closely resembles Edward IV who died in 1483 when Francis 1st (and only) Viscount Lovel was Lord of the Manor. The last years of the reign of Edward IV covered a peaceful period, favourable to the rebuilding of a church. In 1486 Henry VII granted the Manor of Tichmarsh to Sir Charles Somerset when Francis Lord Lovel who had supported Richard III was deprived of his estates at the end of the War of the Roses. This is the Lovell, who as Richard III’s Chamberlain and friend, was lampooned in the contemporary rhyme:
‘The Cat, the Rat, and Lovell our dog
Rule all England under the Hog’.
The walls and windows of the chancel were much embellished in Victorian times. The stained glass in the chancel windows is all by Messrs. Hardman of Birmingham. The east window depicts Christ’s Nativity, Baptism, Crucifixion and Ascension, and several episodes from the life of the Blessed Virgin Mary, to whom the church is dedicated. The windows on the south side of the chancel depict various incidents from the New Testament, giving particular prominence to St Mary Magdalene and St Peter.
The reredos of Caen stone and Derby alabaster were completed.
The organ, a good example of the work of TC Lewis was installed and first used in 1870. (fully restored in 2016). We learn from the Parish Magazine that prior to the installation of the instrument, music for Devine service had been supplied by a barrel organ, the introduction of which in 1837 replaced the services of the eight singers who had occupied a musicians gallery under the tower, and sang very loud. Singing was also led by string and woodwind instruments until 1861.
According to the parish magazines, the paintings on the chancel walls were by Miss Agnes Saunders, who was sister-in-law to the Rev. F M Stopford, (rector 1861-1912). The fine limed oak chancel screen was the gift of Canon A M Luckock, (rector 1912-1962).
The North Chapel and Transept
This was largely rebuilt in the 14th century, and now houses many mural memorials to the Pickering family
Gilbert Pickering bought the manor of Tichmarsh from Charles Somerset’s grandson in 1553, and for more than two hundred years it remained in the possession of his descendants. When the direct line came to an end, the estates were acquired in 1778 by Thomas Powys, later the first Lord Lilford.
John Pickering married Susannah Dryden of Canons Ashby in 1609, and twenty-one years later, Susannah’s brother Erasmus married John’s cousin Mary Pickering. Of these unions were born two men well known in the highest circles of their day, the notorious Sir Gilbert Pickering (1613-1668) and the famous John Dryden the poet (1631-1700).
Sir Gilbert was a convinced Parliamentarian, and became Lord Chamberlain to Oliver Cromwell. John Dryden’s upbringing in Tichmarsh is mentioned in one of the memorials. This and another were painted by Sir Gilbert’s daughter, Elizabeth, who became the wife of John Creed.
A woman of talent with needle, pen and brush, Elizabeth Creed was responsible also for the wording of the altar tomb and wall angle memorials of the south aisle as well as the Dryden monument which has been moved to the north transept.
The South Aisle
Here we find Mrs Creed lamenting the death of her husband, a boon companion of Samuel Pepys, of their son Christ’s family. By ancient custom the Font stands near the main (west) door of the physical building, as a reminder that it is through Baptism that we enter Christ’s Church.
The West Window
The tracery of the tower window is 15th century, (extensively restored in 2016). In 1904 the west window was filled with stained glass, the gift of Rev’d F M Stopford to mark his 50th year in Holy Orders. It is a powerful representation of Christ’s Second Coming and the Day of Judgement, and approximately balances the episodes of Christ’s first Advent depicted in the east window. The same firm of artists, Messrs Hardman of Birmingham, was employed for the work, and it is interesting to notice how the passage of some forty years makes a considerable difference in style and taste between the tower window and their earlier work.
The Bells
The tower houses a fine ring of eight bells. All were recast and re-hung in 1913 as a memorial to Rev’d F M Stopford who died in office in 1912 having been rector for 51 years, and a chaplain to Queen Victoria, Edward VII and George V. Before recasting, the oldest bells dated from 1688, with additions in 1708 and 1781. The ring was completed in1885 by the gift of two bells in memory of Florence Augusta Stopford, the rector’s first wife. At the same time the present church clock, which strikes the hours and quarters, replaced the previous one made by George Eayre in 1745.
At the base of the tower are some interesting photographs of the re-hanging of the bells.
The South Porch
The original porch was a single storey structure, with window openings to east and west. The upper storey was added in1583 and housed the Pickering family pew, complete with fire place! After the death of the last Tichmarsh Pickerings the wall opening was blocked up. It was reopened in 1931, when Canon Luckock (rector 1912-1962) and his wife put in the present glass panel and hung the massive oak south door as a thanksgiving for their silver wedding. The seating around the walls of the porch is a reminder of its earlier function as a place of meeting.
The Exterior
The large and splendid tower is built in four stages, richly decorated with triple bands of quatrefoils in circles on the ground storey and similar bands on the second and third stages. The niches on the west face contain modern stone figures representing Moses and Aaron, the Blessed Virgin Mary and St. Peter, and the archangels Michael and Gabriel. The parish magazine for 1901 records that the rector’s wife paid for the replacements by breeding and selling black fantail pigeons.
The ‘crown’, ie. parapet and pinnacles above the fourth stage is considered by experts to date from about 1500. The will of one Thomas Gryndall, dated 1474, bequeaths money towards the building of the tower, probably completed except for the ‘crown’ in about 1480.
The prominence and size of the tower made it a significant landmark. In 1585 when the country prepared to resist the threatened invasion from Spain, the Lord Lieutenant, Sir Christopher Hatton of Kirby Hall, gave order for Beacons to be made in places accustomed and that ‘Tychemershe Beacon’ be sett upon Tychemershe church steeple
On the south wall of the tower is a painted sundial, dated 1798, and below it a disused clock face made in 1745. There are three scratch dials on the south side of the church – on the porch and on two of the buttresses.
The churchyard, which contains many good examples of local stonemasons’ work of the 18th and 19th centuries, is remarkable and perhaps unique in being bounded almost entirely by a ha-ha.
Acknowlegements: The Victoria County History of Northamptonshire; Northamptonshire by Niklaus Pevsner; and to various numbers of the Titchmarsh Parish Magazine; Titchmarsh Past and Present by Helen Belgion, published 1979
titchmarsh.info/church-of-st-mary-the-virgin/church-history/
Don Henley - Everything Is Different Now
Nothing is better than the original one..... !!!!
www.myspace.com/video/nikos-deja-vu/nikos-deja-vu-don-hen...
Is food for the body somehow different?
I have always loved food, perhaps even more than flowers. My whole family enjoyed food. In fact, on my grandmother’s deathbed, her last conversation with my father was to ensure that he knew all the ingredients to all the family recipes. (Sometimes my grandmother would withhold the identify of one ingredient so that no one else could make a dish exactly as she did.)
My mother’s family was Polish and Russian, and my father’s family was Spanish and Mongolian, so I had a pretty broad exposure to food as a kid. In addition, we owned a large farm, which produced all sorts of fresh produce. One of my happier memories as a child was sitting down to special summer meals, which consisted of one fresh crop of food: strawberries, for example, or corn. We would gorge ourselves on the fresh produce to celebrate its arrival.
However, as much as I love food, I didn’t really think about photographing it, except to document certain recipes. Occasionally, I might take a snapshot of something that I bought, but such pictures were usually spur of the moment activities that took place only because my camera was near where I unloaded the groceries.