1977 Porsche 934.5 driven by Gunnar Jeannette in Group 4A at the 2017 Rolex Monterey Motorsports Reunion.

 

If you are interested in this, or any of my other photos from this event please visit my website. prints.swankmotorarts.com/f923231362

Lamborghini Aventador SVJ in Budapest during Carformance 2021

I was driving back to Summerside from Charlottetown on a road I'd never driven defore, but it was going in the right direction and I was enjoying the foggy landscape when I encountered this church and its cemetary. I stopped for a driving rest and to take some photos. When I came to posting this, I realized that I had no idea where it was. It took an hour of scouring maps to figure out that I was on highway 225 and that this is the Presbyterian Church near Hartsville.

 

Mind you, it was a day for exploring, and shortly after finding this church, I discovered a red dirt road heading more or less north, which I also explored before reaching the Number 2 Highway that got me the rest of the way to Summerside. What a cool day that was, and a great drive!

Driven by the owner here Joe Rothery tells me this truck has got over 3 million Kilometres on the clock & still looks the Dogs ...!!!!!

Here YJ53 KFU SCANIA R580 V8 164L of JOE ROTHERY INTERNATIONAL @ THE LIMES CAFE , A614 Bilsthorpe , Thursday 30th JUNE 2016

Driven by the proprietor, Selwyn Motors CC55 OCT turns into the Yorkshire Wildlife Park. It is a VDL SB4000 with Van Hool Alizee T9 coachwork. New to Cosgrove, Preston in April 2006, it was registered YJ06 LCT until December 2006 when it became CC55 OCT. It is a recent acquisition by Selwyn Motors.

My first completed work this year; a Lancia 037 from the official Lancia Martini rally team. Once more I have built this out of genuine Lego in 1:11 scale.

In the early eighties, a new rally class was launched: Group B. It allowed manufacturers to enter with a car that was made in small series (only 200 road cars and 20 competition cars), that allowed dedicated purpose built designs. The Fiat Group had been successful with the 131 and Lancia Stratos, and decided to develop a new car based on the Lancia Montecarlo type together with Abarth. The name “037” was not just a number. It was actually the 37th project Lancia and Abarth did together.

 

The car was purpose built for rallying , with a tubular frame and Kevlar lightweight bodywork. The small 2.1 litre engine had a compressor and in its final version boosted around 350 hp. It entered competition in 1982, but as the car lacked 4WD it became soon outclassed by the Audi Quattro and Peugeot 205 Turbo16 during 1984 and 1985. Before that it was however quite successful; especially in 1983 when it took the World Championship. Late 1985 the “037”was replaced by the more powerful four-wheel driven Delta S4; Lancia’s second and last Group B car. The class proved quite dangerous, and after a number of accidents was stopped in 1986.

 

My Lego model is based on the 1985 Monte Carlo rally entry by Henri Toivonen. It is scaled 1:11, and has around 1800 bricks. It is fully functional with detailed suspension, opening doors and hood/bonnet. Every aspect of the car is recreated in detail. It is also a “scratchbuilt”, and one-off. There are no instructions available for this model.

 

The stickers are once more a great cooperation with my buddy “JaapTechnic” (www.jaaptechnic.com/), and are about as big an effort as building the car.

Spotted whilst strolling through Zürich this afternoon.

This one was Explored - thanks for all the comments & awards, folks!

Acolyte

 

The Prologue:

Julie had come alone. Having missed her ride with a friend to deal with some pressing servant related issues, she had taken her father’s roadster out and had driven the curving, often bumpy road into the city by herself. Parking it, she had made her way to where the festivities were already in full swing.

She now stood at upstairs entrance, allowing herself a minute to unwind from her driving to breathlessly take it all in. As she stood to one side, allowing the swarming mass of guests to pass uninhibited by her as they headed downstairs to the party chambers below, her eyes grew wide with the splendor below.

Julie still possessed some of the awkwardness of youth, and it showed by the way she carried herself. From her constantly gawking eyes, to her nervously moving hands, down to the high heels on her feet that occasionally still tripped her up as she walked. But despite all that, she still managed to present a total picture of elegance and grace, the result of years of etiquette being forced down her pretty throat.

Now, anyone down below who happened looked up at the entrance, would have given Julie a second look, and they did.

With that second look the following would have been taken in; long brown hair hung down in silken masses past her shoulders. The hair framed an oval face, with large, innocently wide, eyes, heavy with the mascara that always gave her face a perpetually surprised look. Resplendent in a long soft gown that seemed to pour down forever over her quite perky youthful figure, a purple satin sheet of flowing liquid, broken only by the black bolero jacket with its shimmering ornament. The hem of her gown almost covered the pointed toes of her coal black high heeled shoes.

A diamond necklace blazed in rippling fire hung from Julie’s throat, its brilliance matched by the long diamond earrings that peeked in and out as they swayed vibrantly, like a twin beacons. A sparkling diamond brooch with swinging sapphire’s that matched the colour of Julies eyes , had been placed high on one side of her black satin bolero styled jacket. She wore no gloves, and her bare fingers were home to a rather lively assortment of gem encrusted rings.

Soon two ladies also broke away from the crowd and joined Julie in her observation, as they commented to one another about the scene below. They then asking Julie if she agreed, as if the strangers and she were old acquaintances, Julie gave them both the once over as she reluctantly agreed with them.

Both Ladies were red heads, although the younger one, with pretty hazel eyes, was more of a ginger ( like Julies maid), Julie finished giving both a swift appraisal before turning her attention back to the crowd, looking for an opening to make her escape. The ginger, a young miss stunning in a gown of deep green brocaded satin with silken emerald frills, apologized for the intrusion, then let out a small squeal, commenting on how adorable Julie’s jacket was, as she lifted it up, of Jules of Paris( Pariee is how she pronounced it), and your gown, it’s of the house of Yevonne, is it not, the young lady asked? No Julie said, starting to shake her head, which made her earrings sparkle even more erratically, as the other lady continued admiring Julie’s satin jacket, momentarily covering the bright brooch from view. At the same time the other lady, a bit older ,becomingly clad in a fine gown of red wine colured Taffeta, placed a hand on Julies other shoulder, asking the now disconcerted girl if she knew how late the orchestra was playing, Julie continued shaking her head, as she looked into the older lady’s deep green eyes, mesmerized as they just oozed kindness , No, sorry ma’am she answered obediently . The younger one finished her admiration of Julie’s s attire by patted Julie’s shoulder, well nice meeting you, and with a cheerful tootles, both women left, melting ahead into the crowd.

Julie watched them for a few seconds as the pair swished downstairs, straightening her jacket as she did. Suddenly all thoughts of the two ladies were pulled from her mind as she realized something was amiss. It took her but a second to realize the brooch her maid had pinned onto her jacket was now absent. Bother she said under her breath as she looked around her on the empty floor, it must have fallen off in the roadster! Under her breath she chastised both the roadster, and the road, remembering the way the vehicle had lurched to and fro on the bumpy roadway in her haste to reach the city. She must have words with that maid of hers for not fastening it properly, that brooch was simply too valuable for her to be so careless... Julie then puts the brooch out of her mind; she decides she will have the maid search the roadster for it in the morning.

And she makes her way out into the stream of guests and begins her descent, carefully as her high heeled feet negotiate the stairs…..

***

The Tale

Dazzling!

This was the word that best described the vision enclosed within the massive chamber that evening. Filled wall to wall with a seemingly endless swarm of guests, presenting an endless sea of colourfully be gowned, be gloved, and bejeweled ladies, escorted by a small army of tuxedoed and top hatted male chaperones. The crème del a crème of the huge cities finest citizens were there, displaying a good portion of what their all the hard cold pounds and guineas could buy.

The guests had entered via a large double stair case that led down into the sub street level chamber. On the east end was a mammoth stage, which stood about 4 feet above the dance floor, easily holding the 30 piece orchestra with room to spare. The music that was played was as diverse as the guests in attendance, appealing to every age group present.

Couples and singles milled about talking merrily, just a low murmur heard just below the music. A jazz number was being played and a number of the “young bright ones” were on the floor dancing earnestly with various random moves.

A stream of fresh guests had entered, making their way downstairs, gaining the attention of a few of those already in attendance. Jewels sparkled radiantly as many a satin gloved hand was raised in greeting, many a female head was turned to point out someone they could spread gossip about, and in the process exposing a multitude of jeweles in various sparkling colours.

One of those newcomers, a raven haired, black eyed woman with a dark features, possessing an almost feline like beauty, came onto the upstairs landing. She was probably aged in her mid-twenties, surprisingly alone and unescorted. She was waved to by no one, pointed out to by many. Looking around she suddenly spied something down below that made her smile, a wide Cheshire cat like grin that quickly spread across her wickedly pretty face. She scurried down the stairs, pushing, not gently, a young miss in in a purple satin gown and black jacket, who had been moving slowly ahead of her, wobbling in her high heels, the poor girl fell against the wall, clutching it for support with well ringed fingers.

The raven haired beauty parted several more pairs of guests as she made her way down, moving too slow for her, without a word of apology. At the middle landing, she shoved her way past a pair of ladies, moving slowly as they regarded the pretty scene being played out below in the well lite chamber. One was red head wearing a tailored wine coloured taffeta gown that made a swishing noise as the lady passed, and her companion, about the same age as the intruder, (a kid sister, or cousin of taffeta gown?) was dressed in gown of deep green brocaded satin with silken emerald frills, her long hair done up in a high bun, held by dangling rows of rhinestone ropes. She looked at the lady who was unexpectedly cutting between them, but said nothing; as the lady paid neither one no never mind. The raven haired lady continues down, and still never uttering a word or wearing even the slightest look of apology, trips up yet another lady, clad in a long pure white satin gown, with emerald bracelets dangling from her white gloved wrists, who actually had started to fall, and would have if the pair of red headed ladies in wine and emerald gowns had not caught and steadied her, and in the process an emerald bracelet is lost to sight.

The raven haired, dark beauty finally landed onto the chamber floor and began snaking through the crowd, licking her vibrant red lips as her eyes darted about searching for any distractions to avoid keeping her from her selected designation, (and prey)! Her long thin figure was sleekly covered by a lengthy body-hugging black satin sheath, her heavy mascara, and long flowing hair matching the dress. She wore opera length satin gloves, red as her lips. Her jewels were all white diamonds, earrings, necklaces bracelets, and a large brooch hanging from the low cut of her gowns neckline. She wore a number of fancy rings, one of which was a large diamond cocktail ring on her left hand, while her right, gripping a red satin clutch purse, was home to 3 smaller versions of the same ring. She slowed down suddenly, and opening the purse pulled out a long telescoping holder, and opening a gold (14k) case extracted a long white cigarette and inserted it.

She than bee lined and circled around, flanking a young miss wearing(limply) a long pretty satin dress of pink coral, white pearls hanging expensively down from her ears and neckline. She wore white wrist length satin gloves, with a diamond merrily glittering from a long slender finger on her left hand. She was talking to a rather handsome youth her own age, dapper in his tails and top hat, a precision trimmed Saxon style beard, and a face with solid Welsh features, and hazel coloured twinkling eyes. A long gold chain and fob held a solid gold engraved pocket watch to his chest (all 14 k) and he wore a ruby pin in his black ascot.

As she stole behind the back of the poor princess in coral, she gave her a venomous gaze, which quickly changed as she touched the young man on the shoulder, as he turned to her, the raven haired beauty, whose name was Lilith, eyes were now brimming with contrived admiration.

Hello darlings Lilith said, in a syrupy low voice, addressing them both, although she did not even glance at the girl. Both hoarsely said hello back, and the boy took the offered hand and kissed it, her large ring shinning, blindingly in his eyes. Would you be a dear then? She asked, waving the cigarette holder in front of his face. He obligingly lit it, and she let out a puff of smoke, aimed directly in the girls face, who started coughing Lilith smirked, panting her on the back, sorry dearie, mind if I borrow him for a bit, and she led the young gentleman away, before the pretty girl in coral and pearls could regain whatever composure she had left. Charles! Be a dear and buy me a drink please Lilith asked him, and he (with proper breeding of the titled) led her off without question, abandoning the young miss who watched them trot off with tears brimming in her blue eyes.

 

The drinks came, and Lilith sat her cigarette holder down next to them, dance with me Charles, and she took his arm and led him off to the dance floor, just as his fiancé in the coral gown and borrowed pearls had managed to catch up.

 

Charles held Lilith in his arms, as one might hold a cold blooded serpent. She moved close, appropriately hissing in his ear. Why are you wasting time with that silly Ginny creature, don’t you know her parents are about to lose all their money, and that Ginny’s only interest was in his title, and his parents fortune, silly bean. Charles looked warily at Lilith, than over at the forlorn Ginny, just standing there. He genuinely liked , maybe even loved, Ginny, even had given her a friendship ring, signifying his desire to become closer , But there were the rumors of her father being swindled of his fortune, and if his parents ever found out!. He looked back into his dance partners beady black eyes, they held a seductive fire which played immensely to his vanity. She was smiling winningly at him, she had made her selection, and although it would never show in her eyes, in the back of her devious mind, she was starting to think how the letter would go that his parents would anonymously be soon receiving concerning Ginny, the little pipsqueak, Lilith called her silently in her mind.

***

Meanwhile the pair of red haired ladies who had had the cheekiness to stop on the middle landing of the grand staircase, impeding Lilith’s progress, were now walking the perimeter of the mammoth chamber, meandering, taking in all of the sparkling and shininess of the surroundings, their eyes missing very little as they talked. The young, ginger haired one, pretty in her gown of deep green brocaded satin with silken emerald frills, seemed a little peeved about something, and her companion noticed that her grey eyes had turned a certain shade of green, always a sign of something amiss. She stopped her and asked her to please spill it out.

Oooh how I despise that witch, a seething Lydia said to her companion in the wine coloured taffeta gown, spitting out each word like a hissing cat, even Lydia’s back was arched a little like a feline. Her friend, whose longish flaming red hair was lying over her left shoulder, hanging down in a picturesque manner over her full bosom, was surprised at Lydia’s reaction. Who dear? Asked her friend, Angie. The lady in white satin Angie asked? No, spit out the usually collected Lydia, not her, she was really fuming. Angie continued, I was going to say, if it was, than taking her emerald bracelet should have been revenge enough, Angie stated, then continued. So just who are we talking about Lydia?

 

That one!, Lydia snarled, nodding her head, the witch in black who rushed through us on the stairs and went that way! Angie stopped, looking off in the direction Lydia had nodded. Oh her, she said, the one in black satin. Lydia just glared, and Angie knew she had gotten it right. She asked Lydia, does this witch have a name? Lilith! Lydia spat it out like a swear word, followed by a gushing tirade. She is a backstabbing creature who can charm any man into submission while making a girl cringe and wince with the merest of glances. She is a gold digger extraordinaire with two ex-grooms who couldn’t see her for her true colours until they had been gutted by her gilded claws!!

Really exclaimed Angie, her green eyes becoming brighter! Two of them? Yes, Lydia went on, both wealthy, both became available when their parents received anonymous poison letters about their then betrothed.

I’d give anything to knock her down a few pegs, Lydia continued through clenched teeth.

Angie mulled it over; realizing anything more she said would just add fuel to Lydia’s fire. She decided to let her simmer down on her own, and then perhaps they could get on to their business. She suggested a drink, and they moved off, passing a forlorn young lady in a limp coral coloured gown, wearing a nice display of pearls, who seemed to be staring off in the distance at something with tear filled eyes.

Skirting the dance floor, they soon attained the lounge and settled in……..

 

***************************************************

It had now been four years since Angie had taken the charmingly talented young Lydia under her wing.

She had encouraged her blossoming skills, abilities that Lydia herself had self-taught by playing games with her siblings, until she encountered a professional she could learn from. That professional had been Angie. Lydia now possessed the little dog eared ancient pamphlet that had been the secret to Angie’s success as a light fingered lady pickpocket, focusing mainly on the fine jewels worn out and about by rich girls and women in society.

 

(Please visit our albums section and peruse the various Angie Albums for more background stories on Angie and her “light fingers” the Eds.)

 

It had cost Angie a necklace to acquire the pamphlet, and it had been worth it. It had cost the younger, ginger haired Lydia her brooch and ring for a chance to do the same. Lydia caught on quickly, mastering certain moves in half the time it had taken Angie, and for which Angie gave her high praise.

 

But sadly it was now less frequently that they worked as a team, each after a time branching off on their own paths.

 

Lydia was a different creature than Angie in the respect that coming from a wealthy family she was supported, even though most of the family lands, money and titles would go to the heir, Lydia’s twin brother. For her lifting items from her wealthy friends and relations had started out as an edgy game. Now it had evolved into a challenging pastime, a trophy hunt of sorts where she collected jewels like her father collected animal relics. Some of her lesser trophies were passed onto Angie, who had the connections to dispose of them, turning them into ready pound notes.

 

Whereas Angie had been born to impoverished English parents who had immigrated to Canada. They made her, their only child, an orphan at age 6 upon their untimely deaths in an epidemic. At the crowded orphanage the nuns taught her a little about manners, how to act properly for a lady, and the rest she had learned on her own, what she needed to say to please them and avoid the “floggings” that they administered to those who refused to “fit” in. She fled the orphanage when she was 14 and forged her own, often lonely path in the years that followed. For her lifting a ladies valuables was a means of lively hood as much as it brought her thrills. And she had accomplished it all without Lydia’s advantages, which had been a pair of a willing accomplices, AKA a sister and brother, to practice on!

 

But the pair remained in constant touch and it had been at Lydia’s beckoning that Angie had met her in London a few days prior. From London they had travelled by rail to attend this once a year function, and to attend the various balls and other affairs that were the natural outgrowths of the Gala.

 

It had been an eventful journey, the train ride had proven to be even more profitable than usual for the two light fingered ladies.

 

Lydia had written Angie a letter (to Angie’s solicitor who she saw at least one a month) telling her about the upcoming gala, and how would she would like Angie to join her in for the hunt. Their plans were to attend the gala and its outgrowths, then spend a few months of the upcoming party season continuing Lydia’s education. They had met at the London station, and after checking their bags found themselves with a little time to kill before boarding. Now outside the station there was a sprawling green where several vendors had set up their wares, a haven for those possess a light fingered touch. The two ladies meandered, catching up on what had been happening in their lives since they last time they had been together.

 

Now as they walked the green, they also kept their eyes open, and it was the second time they had passed a group of small benches, across a path from where an organ grinder was performing with a pet monkey, which they stopped, giving some serious attention to something they had both glanced at the first time in passing.

 

There was a trio of young ladies by one of the benches. Later they learned the trio were three sisters awaiting for the arrival of their parents and older brother. All three wore eye catching outfits, the younger 2 siblings in silk dresses of canary yellow and butterscotch, the elder sister was in a long flowing black skirt with a glistening silver coloured ruffled satin blouse. The jewels the three were innocently wearing in public were also worth a second look. The youngest (12) wore a pretty selection of silver, the middle (14) wore gleaming pearls, their older sister and chaperone (19) was wearing gold bracelets, a fine collection of rings and (probably unwisely) an expensive sapphire brooch at her throat.

 

Now the first time they had passed the oldest was seated at a bench reading a magazine, while her siblings played on the lawn. They had stopped to watch the sisters, under the pretense of watching the crowd around the organ grinder and his monkey. They watched both groups with some interest, but were distracted when Lydia pointed out a pickpocket working the crowd across the way. Angie spotted him immediately, he was chatting to a pair of ladies wearing fashionable day gowns of shiny damask. It looked to be a wealthy mother and her younger sister. As the grey top hated gentleman thief engaged the mother in conversation, he was reaching around and gingerly lifting the silver watch of the younger sister, her attention being paid out to her two young nephews. They watched until he had pocketed the watch, his skill level about average for the type, before Lydia and Angie headed off for the far side of the green.

 

The second time around they saw that the oldest had fallen asleep, sitting on the bench and the younger two were sitting on the grass, watching the monkey from across the way. The grey top hated man who had relieved the lady of her watch, was now lurking on the scene, eyeing the two sisters sitting on the grass, their dresses splayed out, making the small glistening pools that had probably been what first caught his attention, before noticing their jewels, which were ripe for the picking now that their chaperone eyes were closed.

 

Lydia and Angie, without a word between them, moved in for the kill. Lydia went straight to the younger sisters, while Angie made a wide circle, cutting in front of the top hatted gentleman, who nodded to the pretty, clever faced, red head. Angie than seated herself on the far end of the bench, primarily to keep the grey top hated man and any other opportunist who may also have designs on the sound asleep older sister’s jewelry, at bay.

 

Lydia meanwhile had come up behind the younger pair of sisters, laying a hand on the older ones shoulder as she chirped a happy hello to them. Asking them if they would give some coins to the monkey for her, they got up and allowed Lydia to lead them across the path.

 

The girls called to the little monkey and handed him their coins, while they all laughed at the tricks he performed for them. The younger one was looking up at Lydia who handed her another coin; she scrunched down, and gave it to him, as they waited for him to perform again. Lydia placed her hand on thy older sister’s silken covered shoulder, than her fingers quickly slid up to the necklace of pearl, and with two fingers, flicked open the hook and eye clasp, and pulled away the pearls in one motion. She then moved back, leaving the younger siblings to play with the monkey and melted back into the crowd,

 

Watching all this, Angie made a noise after Lydia had vanished from sight, waking the sleeping lass, who immediately looked around for her wayward sisters. Spying the pretty red head sitting at the end of the bench, she smiled (girls always felt more at ease around other women), Angie smiled back, and looked towards the monkey, and the sister also looks, and spies her siblings. She calls out to them, and as they come back Angie sees with satisfaction that Lydia had been busy. The sister also notices something amiss; the middle one is missing her pearls.

 

They begin to look, with the concerned red head kindly offering her” a hand” in their search. After a fruitless 15 minutes spent searching through the crowd of huddled people watching the organ grinder and his monkey, the nice red headed lady gave her apologies’, saying she must leave to make her train. The pretty lady takes her leave, holding the girls hand as she earnestly expresses her hopes that the pearls are found. She holds out her arms, and is given a hug for helping by the grateful older sister. Angie places a hand on her shoulder, looking her in the eyes, as her other hand reaches up and unhooks the sapphire brooch from the sisters satin blouse, palming it effortlessly.

 

As Angie disappears in the crowd the search goes on in earnest, It is not much after the red headed lady had swished her way through her crowd towards the train, that the older sister discovers she is wearing on less ring! As she in bewilderment places a hand to her silk covered chest, her fingers feel nothing, and start to feel around fruitlessly for her brooch, her sapphire brooch, its gone, not even so much as a tear on her satin blouse where it had been pinned by her maid that morning. The older sister feels a hand placed on her shoulder, she looks up into the smiling eyes of a dapper gentleman in a grey top hat, I something wrong my dear? He asks her, showing genuine concern in his smiling eyes.

 

As the gentleman in the grey top hat was giving his upmost attention to the young lady Angie had been “helping”, Angie entered the train, and walking to the end of the last passenger car, settled into the seat next to Lydia.

Lydia Turned towards Angie, and speaking in French, Commented:

La levée de suite les bijoux d'une jeune femme est comme une plume prise !

Dear, Angie said in an almost motherly tone of voice, I really wish you would not go about quoting that Arsène Lupin wretch, as a pickpocket the man is a butcher.

Angelica, Lydia teasingly chided, you say that about all men with light fingers, like our gray hatted friend back there.

Honey, Angie smiled, most men like that are serpents, and Lupin is still a butcher.

Lydia watched Angie settle back in her seat with a secret smile. She did not know too much about Angie’s past, but there was something there about Monsieur Lupin, (whose exploits had been made into print, tickling her young girls fancy, as she poured over them), that seemed to get at Angie’s goat. A lot about Angie’s past life was a secret to Lydia, but she knew well enough when to let sleeping dogs lie..

Lydia than settled in as the train lurched forward, taking them safely away from the London park, along with the sister’s “trinkets “the pair had obtained.

 

A little later, it became Lydia’s turn to show her mettle.

 

An hour after leaving London Station, the train stopped at a fashionable suburb. Lydia watched with half opened eyes, the disembarking passengers, and the new arrivals now walking to and fro along the wooden platform. Suddenly her eyes opened wide, and she made a small noise. Angie looked up from her book with interest, immediately spotting it too.

 

A young couple was walking past their window. He was wearing a 3 piece suit, walking stick, a silver timepiece, and a small brown derby. It was his wife, though, upon which the ladies interest lay. She was sporting a slinking satin frock, pretty in itself as it lay along her voluptuous figure, but it was her necklace that stole the show, and as she walked it was noticed by more than a few of the people she passed. It was a buoyantly bright gold drop necklace that encircled her neck, with a large stone ruby in the center of the drop that lay along her bare throat. The necklace really vexed Lydia’s interest and she watched it, and the lady who wore it for as long as she could before finally losing sight and settling back in the seat with a long sigh.

 

Only a few short minutes later she her heart leapt in her throat. The couple had entered their car, probably heading for one of the private cars at the end of the train she reasoned, as her eyes took in every detail. But no, the couple stopped at the empty seat just before the one Angie and Fiona occupied.

 

Now Lydia and Angie had the end seats in the car, their back was to the cars wall, and directly across from them was a small storage room, , so the seating across the aisle started up about three rows, which meant that basically no one could see them unless they were walking past. Lydia continues to watch with interest as the couple settled in, the wife taking the window seat, in front of Lydia a. Angie just kept her nose buried in the book she was holding; this was all Lydia’s show. Lydia watched the lady as she sat back, her and her necklace reflected in the windows, The ladies shoulders were just above the seat, and after she had settled in, she made a show of doing up her long hair in a bun, giving Lydia ample time to study the valuable necklaces gold box clasp, and plan her way to it.

 

After listening to the few sharp words the lady gave her husband, Lydia decides this elegantly coiffured lady was somewhat a prima donna. Her husband tries to place his arm around her, but is chased off. They both finally fall off to sleep, and as the twilight outside takes over, Lydia sees her chance and seizes it. Lydia reaches over, and after licking her fingers, plays with the man’s ears. He groggily wakens, still aroused now that he thinks his wife is also now amorous, he reaches over and pets her affectionately. She wakens, angry and pushes the husband away. But Lydia is prepared, as the wife leans towards her husband, and away from the window, Lydia’s fingers have already flicked open the box clasp and whisked of the gold necklace from the opposite direction, towards the window, where she catches its reflection as slips over the back of the ladies seat and curls up in Lydia’s open palm.

 

Lydia and Angie now had private, “front” row seats for when the wife’s loss was discovered. It was always a performance that Angie never tired of watching when she could chance it. And Lydia? Sticking around and watching her victim’s reaction at being pickpocketed was one of the reasons she started lifting jewelry in the first place. Neither of them was disappointed on this occasion.

 

Now wide awake, the wife settled back down to read her book, playing with a strand of her hair that had fallen while she was chastising her husband. As she did her fingers brushed her neck, she stopped reading, and carefully felt around her throat, before letting out a yelp that woke her husband, and several of the other passengers ahead of her. She cried out (in a heavy Italian accent) my jewels, La mia collana , è svanito, it is gone? In panic she rose and started to look around, her hand to her throat, giving everyone watching a nice display of her pretty figure in its shiny dress and of her remaining jewelry. Angie, Lydia, a Stewart and the couple two seats ahead got up and helped in the fruitless search. Her necklace had somehow mysteriously vanished.

After things finally settled down Angie and Lydia made friends with the husband, but his wife remained angry and distant….

The rest of the trip had been uneventful, mainly because Angie and Lydia had had their fill of their appealingly pretty little games for the time being.

*******************************************************************

Angie suddenly perked up, letting go of her thoughts. She looked over at Lydia who was nursing her drink, her eyes looking a little less peeved. Did you see her, she asked? Who? Answered Lydia, Lilith? No answered Angie patiently. Not the Girl in the coral gown and pretty pearls, that one looked miserable enough without our help, stated Lydia? No, not her, but Angie reflected, Her pearls were nice, I almost suggested a go at them, but glad we didn’t, your right she did seem sad enough as it is. No, I mean that one over there, and she threw her eyes over to the entrance of the lounge.

Oh, Lydia exclaimed, I see what you mean. In the corner just outside the enclosed lounge area stood a lady in teal velvet, carrying a purse, her silver satin gloved wrist and fingers, home to a rather nice set of blazing emeralds and diamonds, matching those around her throat and hanging from her ears. Lydia looked over the situation.

 

The new mark wearing the teal velvet, was idling looking around, obviously trying to spot someone. Lydia looked at Angie, her Hazel eyes turning green with anticipation. Who gets her, she asked sweetly. Angie nodded,( wanting something to take Lydia mind off …..) she is all yours princess ( a nickname that Angie sometimes used on Lydia, and about the only person in the world Lydia could tolerate calling her that).

And watch her movements, added Angie in an instructing tone, See how she jumps up to peer over the crowd? Try and use it to your advantage. Lydia smiled and watched, licking her lips in anticipation.

 

Now Lydia’s forte was lifting necklaces, so that whenever it was Angie’s turn to be the spotter, she would always be on the lookout for Ladies wearing necklaces that would be within easy reach of Lydia’s talented fingers. Likewise Lydia, when spotting for Angie, kept an eye out for brooches. So, when Angie told Lydia the mark was hers, it was her emerald necklace that received close study first.

 

Lydia waited until the lady had her back to them, and she rose and carefully threaded herself through the maze of tables to the entrance of the lounge, her gown rustling against any object it touched. She came up on the lady in teal. Violet she cried out, as she raised one arm, wrapping around it around the girl’s back, while the other gripped the girl’s arm as Lydia drew the lady up against her figure in an embrace..

 

The girl tried to turn, squirming in Lydia s clasp, and as she did so, Lydia’s hand had already snaked up to the studied necklaces clasp, popping it open. I’m not Vio…. the startled girl tried to say, but as she turned around, Lydia exclaimed, you’re not Violet, oh I ‘m so sorry she said, asking for forgiveness sweetly,( undoing the clasp of the necklace and lifting up one end) I thought you were my cousin violet, Lydia apologized profusely, while her one hand squeezed the girls arm, finger bails digging in, as the other one holding the end of the necklace on her shoulder, moved down behind teal velvets back, slipping away the fiery necklace with it.. As Lydia balled up the necklace in her hand, she begged her leave, expressing regrets that she did not have time to chat with her new friend, have to find where Violet wandered off to she explained, squeezing the girl’s arm.

 

The mark was only too glad to accept the pretty stranger’s apology at not being able to stay and chat. The lady watched Lydia swish off into the swarming crowds. Her eyes slightly puzzled, before she remembered that she was also looking for someone, and went off, soon forgetting the entire incident ( and later, when the loss of her necklace was discovered, her brief encounter with Violet’s confused cousin was not even thought of)!

 

As Lydia sauntered off she stowed away the emerald necklace, and then meandered about the chamber, taking her turn to spot fresh victims, whose jewels were doomed to disappear under Angie’s talented fingers.

 

Meanwhile across the Ballroom another scene was being played out…..

********

Lilith was now holding court at the edge of the dance floor; her second straight dance had ended with the young gentleman she was leading to believe fascinated her. She was busy continuing chatting him up, expressing her utter delight at the wonderful dancer he was, when Ginny timidly approached. She drew near her erstwhile boyfriend, asking him for their dance, as she desperately tried to keep her lips from trembling. Lilith’s eyes lit up in false apology (Ginny could see that all too well), darling! Lilith exclaimed, could I borrow your young man for a bit more, he promised me a drink. She placed her arm around him, isn’t that right darling? The overly polite boy, choked up a bit, unsure of what to do, his breeding not letting him wanting to hurt either Ginny, or Lilith, despite what his true desires actually were, and that was to be alone with Ginny! Although the seeds of doubt that had been planted in his mind by Lilith were beginning to take root and he was starting to have worries about what if future with Ginny would become an actuality.

 

Ginny, Charles started, faltered, than tried again, Ginny, the band is going to play The Charleston, you know how you like to dance to it, why don’t you go and I’ll catch up with you soon, promise. Yes darling, Lilith chirped maternally at poor Ginny, It will be just a quick one darling, and taking Charles by the arm, led him off, leaving Ginny standing there, wilting away as the Lilith’s words and actions burned through to her very soul. The music stared, and she reluctantly, if not a little obediently, did as Charles wished. Three dances later, he still had not shown up as promised, and Ginny danced on, a burning hole opening ever wider in her heart.

**********

Meanwhile, as poor Ginny started dancing to her second of three solo dances, we visit another end of the chamber, where Lydia is found talking merrily with three girls around her own age that she had collected around her. She had lured them into her web by engaging the considerable charm, elegance and sophistication that had been bred into her by her parents pretty much since birth.

 

Three pretty maids all in a row, overloaded with a multitude of dripping jewels, and Lydia was waiting for Angie to make an appearance and lighten their load! A blond haired lady in shiny red satin, a brown haired maiden in bright blue, and a tow headed damsel in silky gold. As Lydia was chatting up the three girls, her eyes, discreetly and unobtrusively, take an account of their jewels, their placement and their value.

 

Amongst the jewels the lady in red is wearing the most valuable is a necklace of small diamonds and a ring around her right hand’s pinky that is a large diamond cluster that shimmers spectacularly as she plays with a locket of her lion’s mane like blond hair.

 

The pretty maiden in blue was displaying a nice collection of gold jewelry, braided chains with small flecks of silver woven in. But above her left breast, was her only jeweled piece, pinned with a simple c-clasp, a gold brooch with a center stone of blue topaz surrounded by dazzling ½ caret diamonds.

 

Then there was the damsel in the pretty gold coloured gown, woven of some type of exotic, overly expensive, material that just shimmered in the massive chandelier’s light. She was also wearing opera length gold satin gloves, from which were dangling a pair impressive jeweled bracelets, their stones a multitude of rainbow coloured gems. She also wore a long pair of dangling diamond earrings, held loosely by rather ancient hinge clasps. Although her many other jeweled pieces were pretty valuable, these two twin sets were by far the most valuable pieces that anyone in the group was wearing.

 

Lydia feasted on the show her three marks jewels were displaying as she won them all over, soon bringing them into fits of giggling and laughter as they started to talk about the things most groups of women by themselves talk about, men! Out of the corner of her eye Lydia spied Angie coming up and around to see what’s up. She circled past each of the girls, slowly, nonchalantly, attracting no notice from the others in Lydia’s little group.

 

As Angie passed behind the blond in red satin, Lydia adjusted one of her rings, like it was bothering her, the motion caught Angie’s eye. Then Angie passed behind the gold gowned miss, and her eyes darted to Lydia, who lifted up her hair, exposing her ears, than absentmindedly started playing with a bracelet. Then Angie went behind the little blue gowned miss, and saw Lydia suppressing a cough, patting her chest to stifle it, her fingers splayed just above her left breast. Nodding, as much to herself as Lydia, Angie melted back into the crowd, and made a wide circle before approaching Lydia’s side.

 

Angie touched Lydia on her shoulder and she swirled, delighted that her “new friend” had shown up. (for whatever the reason, it always makes the mark(s) more comfortable when a pair of newcomers are related or are friends, Gaston Monescu, page 15 paragraph 2), Lydia excitedly introduced Angie to her three new chums, explaining to them how Angie and her had met on the train and had bonded, and how nice Angie was, and how very interesting a life she had led, along with other bits of flummery.

 

Angie’s first formal introduction was to red satin, Jessica. Whom Angie took by the hand, then reached around and hugged her, receiving a warm embrace in return. After the embrace, Angie clasped Jessica’s right hand in both of hers, praising Jessica on her pretty gown. As Jessica looked down, lifting a portion of the gown’s skirt with her left hand to show it off better, all eyes looked down. As everyone’s attention was diverted for that fraction of a second, Angie released Jessica’s right hand, slipping off from Jessica’s satin clad pinky, the large diamond clustered ring. Angie discreetly passed off the ring to Lydia, who was standing close to one side.

 

Then Lydia introduced Angie to the elegantly gold gowned young lady, Abby. Angie raised one arm, wrapping it around Abby’s back, while the other gripped her wrist, flicking open the jeweled bracelet‘s safety chain, as she drew the gold gown wearing Abbey up against her figure. The girl tried to turn, squirming in Angie’s embraces. Angie’s hand patted the girl on the back as the girl halfheartedly did the same, feeling Angie’s face bury itself in her shoulder. Effectively blocking from view the hand the held her wrist, which was picking open the bracelets clasp. Angie pulled away, looking the young miss in the eyes, everyone else eyes were also on Angie, which is what she was aiming for. And as she told the sweet young thing that it was her pleasure, she patted the ladies wrist, squeezing open the bracelet, slipping it off and into the slightly open purse at her side. As she does, her other hand goes up to the lady in gold’s dangling earring,( all eyes follow this movement) admiring the earring openly, taking its clasp into consideration for possibly an attempt later if they meet somewhere outside after hours. One never knows.

 

The last one to be introduced was the pretty Miss wearing the blue gown, Meria. Lydia, laughingly teasing her about being last, led her by the elbow and pulled the Meria towards Angie, and while she was turning, Angie took a small step forward and made sure her left side would bump against her. As Angie drew her in for an embrace, her right hand right hand was on the brooch while Angie’s left was grasping Meria’s left shoulder. Performing a move so familiar and well-practiced it was almost second nature, her middle finger pushed the c clasp out of its hook releasing the brooch into Angie’s palm. Pulling her hand down, she deposited the brooch into her purse, as she enveloped the girl in a hug. Then she stepped back, and began chatting with all three, soon winning them over like Lydia had done, keeping them distracted from themselves and their missing fine trinkets. Angie told them a quick, funny story about a man she had met on the train recently, which soon had them all giggling.

 

Angie took her leave after about 5 minutes, making an excuse that she needed to freshen up, she again took each ladies hand in goodbye, including Lydia’s, whom Angie slipped off a ring from her finger, so if things got sticky, she would be one of the victims also.

 

Lydia stayed behind to keep the three darling ladies occupied. She noticed one by one the missing jewels of each girl. The three shimmering silken lambs had been most professionally sheared, the most expensive of their jewels disappearing in such a manner that requires a ladies touch, no mere male, not even the talented Arsène Lupin, could have done better in the same scenario. As she looked them over, Lydia mused that with the mass quantities of jewelry each of the three were wearing, it would be some time before any of them realized some were missing.

 

********

 

Meanwhile across the ballroom, as Angie had been introduced to her last of the three ladies and their jewels that Lydia had lined up; another scene had started being played out…..

 

Lilith had just finished her second drink with Charles, while the third song of a five song set had just started, fast and one meant for singles (favored mainly by the ladies, one of who was the wretched Ginny). Lilith looked at Charles, and suggested he should join the gentlemen up in the smoke room (she had seen him watching them mass exodus of gentlemen heading that way when the current set of songs had started). Charles hesitated, I should really see about Ginny, he cautiously stated, not sure of Lilith’s reaction. Lilith smiled, licking her re lips, don’t you worry yourself over the poor dear, I will go and keep her company until you return, she promised happily.

 

Defeated, Charles wearily accepts her suggestion, and Lilith watches him depart, then smugly looks in the direction of the dance floor, and exultantly plucking the fag from the gold holder, squashes it down quite hard in an ash container. She snaps closed the telescoping holder, and with a positively wicked grin, leaves her seat with a pounce and heads onto the dance floor, her hips swinging her black satin gown with a fluid motion, not unlike like a black cat making a move against a frightened mouse, or perhaps a snake slithering towards its victim.

 

It is a known fact that in the wild herding animals will avoid any member who is ill or dying. This may explain that, with Ginny’s 3rd dance of the 5 song set, she was still alone. It was like her wretchedness was felt by others and so kept their distance, leaving poor Ginny alone in her own empty circle, dancing at a far end of the chamber. This is also why she was not hard to spot by one who was now specifically seeking her out.

 

Ginny jumped as a hand grasped, not softly, her shoulder, and a voice said her name, with an evil hiss into her ear…

 

Ginny turned to face Lilith, whose look of utter hatred made that she gave the poor girl, made Ginny cringe as she backed away, dancing was now the last thing on the poor girls mind.

 

Darling, Lilith said spitting out the word as she looked around to make sure no one else was listening in, I have some very bad news….

 

Lilith launched into a tirade filled litany of reasons of why “Her” dear Charles would simply never be able to have anything more to do with her. Starting with her jewelry( really dear, you had to borrow them?) jumping to her moneyless parents( penniless in-laws, really darling it just isn’t done ), her now lowered position in society, (not to worry though , after she(Lilith) and Charles were marred she would find Ginny a maids position somewhere). And finally, that Charles was leaving because he was angry with the jealous way the sniveling Ginny had been acting.

 

With each sentence that was thrown in poor Ginny’s face she stepped back, the hateful words (some of which she knew had truth in them) slicing like a knife into the already tormented girls soul.

 

Finally she could take it no longer, and openly weeping she turned and tried to flee, looking fruitlessly around for Charles, but Lilith was quick, and grasped the poor girl before she could make good her escape..

 

Oh, you poor darling, I haven’t hurt your feelings have I spat Lilith in mocking tones, her , and she drew Ginny to her in a tight embrace, feeling the girl squirming in her arms, much like a mouse would squirm under a cat’s clawed paw, or perhaps wrapped in a serpents coils( both scenarios fit Lilith). Lilith finally released the poor thing, who fled recklessly away.

 

Lilith stayed and watched Ginny bolt, an indulgent smile creeping upon her face. She started to move in rhythm with the music, extremely pleased with herself, her sleek, slinky black gown and gloves flowing down along her devastatingly pretty figure making her appear like some slithering serpent rising up from the bowels of some glittering hell….

It was no more than 2 minutes later that a hand was placed from behind on Lilith’s shoulder.

********

As Charles headed off to relish his cigar, and Lilith headed off to relish tormenting Ginny; Lydia was continuing to entertain the three young ladies, while biding her time until the next conquest of the evening.

 

Suddenly Angie appeared from the crowd, again behind the three unsuspecting girls still under Lydia’s spell. Angie gave her a subtle signal, indicating that she has spotted fresh prey in dire need of being shed of her jewels, and needed Lydia’s help with the shearing. Lydia encourages the three ladies to meet her a little later, she sees a gentlemen (winking) whom she had promised a dance. They let their friend go, thinking she should wait for a slow dance, the music being played now was no way to dance close and personal, but they unknowingly were quite wrong.

 

After leaving the 3 young ladies, Lydia soon reached Angie’s side by the edge of the dance floor. Angie turned and nodded her head indicated one side of the floor, is that Lilith? She asked Lydia’s eyes followed Angie’s nod, soon eyeing the solitary lady in black standing at one end talking with the girl in coral and pearls.

  

Yes it is she answered, why? Attend, said Angie, and Lydia listened as Angie laid out her plans before her, as Lydia watched her witch, and the diamonds she wore that flickered around her black encased figure like so many evil tongued serpents. Suddenly she saw the girl in coral whose pearls the ladies had admired earlier, suddenly turn and flee, crying. Still up to your dirty tricks, are you Lilith!, Lydia thought spitefully.

Ready, the pair of scheming red heads than made their move.

*********

Lilith turned to see whose hand it was, half expecting to see Ginny, she checked herself quite nicely when turning, when she saw Lydia’s beaming face.

The two ladies dance in step for a few seconds, than Lilith gushes, why Lydia dearest, I hadn’t noticed you were here. Perfectly lovely darling, then Lilith added, but who brought you this evening? She asked, appearing very casual.

 

Lydia stayed silent on the subject; she wouldn’t give Lilith the satisfaction of knowing that she had not found anyone since Lilith had stolen Lord St. Claire, her longtime Beau, from under her nose.

 

Instead, Lydia praised Lilith, her lovely figure and gown, false praise, and Lilith knew it. They both continue dancing, almost sparing like a pair of fencers, with sharp eyes, and tongues rather the swords.

 

***********

Having been pre-warned by Lydia that the situation would become volatile very fast, Angie had come up behind Lilith very quickly, and started to dance behind her, coming ever closer, unnoticed by Lilith whose guard was totally centered on Lydia.

 

Angie saw her chance and tripped on Lilith’s Gown, sending her into Lydia’s waiting arms. Angie’s hands at the same moment had flew up to clasp of Lilith’s diamond necklace, unsnapping it, and sending the necklace falling into Lydia’s hands as she pushed away Lilith, who was in the process of turning and rounding on the person who dared ruin her expensive gown. As she spat at Angie, reprimanding her for her careless ness, Lydia moved in between, flicking the clasp of Lilith’s diamond broach in the process. Pushing the pair apart, Lydia apologies, as her right hand neatly slipped of the opened broach from Lilith’s satin gown, saying it was her fault for dancing so close to Lilith that she had backed poor Lilith into the lady.

Lydia took Angie’s hand, apologizing, slipping her the necklace and broach into Angie’s half open purse in the process. And with that, Angie turned and went on her way, never looking back, Hearing Lilith saying something to Lydia about the clumsy bitch, as she left.

 

************

 

Later that evening found Angie walking through the lounge of an upscale hotel, having joined in with the spillover from the fancy dress ball that had gathered there. She had stashed in her hotel room the shimmering collection of purloined jewels that Lydia and her had lifted while attending the Ball proper.

For the past half an hour she had been having an enjoyable conversation with the sparkling (both in personality, and attire) tow headed lady in silky gold that Lydia had introduced her to at the ball, and who still had not noticed she was shorn of a one of her bracelets from her gloved wrist,. Angie had come across the damsel sitting alone by the bar, her friend (The pretty maiden in blue who had been displaying the nice collection of gold jewelry- less one brooch) had left her to party on with a male friend of hers.

Angie had just left the pretty ladies side, also leaving her without the bother of placing her earrings and one of her twin bracelet in the hotel safe that evening. She as of yet failed noticed that now her dangling diamond earrings that had been loosely held by their ancient old fashioned clasps, had gone the same route as her Bracelet. Angie had slipped off the earrings while giving her a generous hug of greeting after watching and waiting for her to be alone.

 

*******************************

 

Lighting a cigarette Angie left through the lobby and headed into a late night pub. As she nursed her first scotch, neat over ice, a familiar figure approached and slid onto the empty stool next to her. Thought I’d find you here, chirped a much happier Lydia. Just wanted to pop to give you an update, She waited and made small talk until after the bartender had taken and served her drink (a whiskey Soda) then began to fill in Angie.

So what was her reaction when you pointed out her jewels were missing, Angie asked Lydia with great expectations of what had happened? Well when I pointed them out, instead of thinking you (Angie) had been the culprit, Lilith assumed they had been taken by” Ginny” (the sad one wearing the coral gown and pearls) when Lilith had been hugging her. That little toad, Lilith had spat out to Lydia, and turned to hunt Ginny down.

Poor dear, said Angie, felling a small pang of sorrow for the little Ginny creature. No, answered Lydia, not really, and she continued…

Lydia had followed, realizing that Lilith was out of control, worried that someone innocent may be hurt.

And she was correct, because Lilith approached Ginny and lit into her something fearsome.

Lilith literally grabbed Ginny and started shaking her, demanding that she give them back. The girl was petrified, and Lilith started calling her some pretty nasty names.

A crowd started gathering.

Then all of a sudden this bloke wearing a gold pocket watch, cuts through the crowd and rescues the poor girl from Lilith’s clutches. Like a white knight Angie commented. Well he was in black tails, and boy was he angry with Lilith, he held the girl in coral tight as he looked at Lilith lividly, his face the reddest I have ever seen on an angry young man.

Lilith finally, collected herself, and I saw all fire drain from her face, and she turned around and stormed out of the chamber. I don’ know, nor care what became of her, stated Lydia.

 

Feel better now, princess? Angie asked Lydia.

 

Lydia smiled perking up, actually for the small bit of solace it may have been worth, it had made her feel better now that she had thought about it.

 

She smiled at Angie, producing a necklace of pearls, it seemed easier to do when she was so happy, Lydia confessed. So you do feel better Princess, Angie stated happily.

 

Lydia smiled, and the pair finished their drinks in thoughtful silence.

 

Lydia was the first to leave, smiling she bade Angie a good night, and began walking away.

Lydia had only gone a few feet, when she turned, and looked at Angie who had been watching her.

Lydia, a sly smile brightening her face and eyes, happily quoted “Assistez à un oeil de demoiselles dans vos s , chatouiller les dames de fantaisie avec une main”

Angie finished Lupin’s quote quote with a faraway look in her eyes

“tout en soulevant ses bijoux avec l'autre”

Till the morrow, Princess, Angie said in parting.

Till Tomorrow answers Lydia, turning with a skip, her gown flowing out behind her as she, now in very good humor, leaves into the smoke swirled darkness of the city to walk the few blocks to her hotel.

*****

The Epilogue:

Late afternoon of the next day, after attending an early afternoon Garden Soiree, Lydia and Angie are strolling through a park, both still dressed in their party dresses, both still wearing their fancy day jewels, (worn so they would fit in with the well to do female attendees), and both with secret pockets holding jewels lifted from some of said female attendees.

Lydia looks back at Angie, Lifting that silver dragon brooch with the ruby eyes and diamond scales was a nice move on your part Angie, she praises.

It was a lot easier with your help Lydia, Angie responded.

Lydia turned her head back onto the path, her pony tail whipping around, the pearls she had woven into it shining a bright white.

Angie said to Lydia’s back, that girl in the crème satin dress, you know I was going to go for her gold braided necklace, then you came out of nowhere and beat me to it.

Lydia just smiled satisfied to herself, I know she responded,, I wanted it to be my coup, she did not turn back to look at Angie’s reaction., but continued.. you laid down the gauntlet ,(or in this case satin glove) Angie when, as you commented on how pretty the necklace looked as it slithered along the front of her crème satin dress, you said it would take extremely deft fingers to slip it off her throat. Although I though her sisters pearls were a better score.

Angie, still walking behind her now had a secret smile on her face, and her eyes had glazed over as if her mind was drifting a million miles away from that quite park in the English countryside where the pair were now walking.

The two pretty red heads continue to walk on a bit, both in the silence of their thoughts.

Angie, Lydia asks, plopping down on a bench.

Yes dear, Angie says, her train of thought broken.

Lydia pulled out a long her gold braided necklace and was admiring it. The lady in the Crème satin dress who wore this lovely thing,; her sister, the one wearing the emerald silk gown and the pearls I fancied, you said she reminded you of a story you promised would tell me sometime? Could you tell me it now?

Angie smiled, Princess, you certainly are an inquisitive one! Let me think a minute…

Angie settled down next to her, and after mulling it over a bit, finally began…

It was during my first time in Monte Carlo, I had left the states soon after I had scored a major haul, and decided to ply my trade in new waters. It was during the fall of…

Lydia interjected, It was because of your haul at that politicians daughter’s wedding, (see album Angie being receptive)

Yes princess, that and a few other functions helped fund that trip. Angie confirmed, then went on…

I had met this pretty young like in an emerald silk gown, positively dripping in gold jewellery with rubies and emeralds…

Lydia cut in again, please start at the beginning; we have the rest of the day all to ourselves.

Angie smile, very well, I will start at the beginning: …….

 

( We will post in the album’ Angie “holidays” in Monte Carlo’ the rest of the tale stated in the epilogue. Once the story we recently unearthed in previously unknown chronicles of Angie’s life have been modified …The eds)

  

The lifting away a young lady’s jewelry is as a feather taken

La levée de suite les bijoux d'une jeune femme est comme une plume prise

 

Editor’s Notes:

Our Thanks to Mr. J. Gardner for pointing out the existence of Mr. Monescu’s 1826 guide

If you enjoyed our little story, please like and leave a comment.

And if you wish, describe what intrigued you the most about it…

Thank You

 

And last, but not least,

Kudos to the Light Fingered Lady who planted the seed of the flower that became Lydia

 

Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives

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Driven by:

Dominic Chappell, Jonathan Baker and Phil Andrews. They did not finish the race.

Dominic Chappell is now serving six years in jail for tax evasion. He has been declared bankrupt three times.

Operated by Gilbraith Tankers of Accrington this Leyland/ AEC Marathon 4x2 tractor unit Reg No UFV 817V was registered new to Gilbraiths on the 1st of August 1979.

 

Driven by Russell Taylor, who is pictured at the wheel, this was in fact a Gilbraiths publicity shot which was taken at the gates of Blyth Chemicals Accrington in 1980.

 

The outfit would normally have worked out of Saltend for British Petroleum.

 

In May 2006 Hargreaves (Bulk Liquid Transport) Ltd acquired the business of Gilbraith Tankers Ltd for £2 million.

 

Sooooo much cooler than my car which is still driven by stinking old gasoline! Like gazillion times cooler.

 

This is going to be my "Words" cliche entry for Cliche Saturday scavenger hunt. I was not driving when I took this, I swear. I had to restrain myself plenty of times from pulling out an iPhone while on the road and trying to take a shot of a fun bumper sticker on a car right in front of me. I may still do it one day, but this will be the whole new level of crazy! HCS, everyone!

1960 Aston Martin DB4 GT owned and driven by Adrian and Harrison Newey

Show Must Go On

W x H (“): 70 x 60

Oil painting on Cotton (dock canvas)

Signed

Early Period

  

(1)Mechanism of Inspiration

  

From a title or period of painting’s execution it is believed that Jaisini was driven in its creation by an influence of a song with corresponding title and the death of its author and singer Freddie Mercury. The interpreting of emotions resulted and transferred by Jaisini in his painting is unexpected development of the theme of Show Must Go On painting rich in color combination, with dynamic composition, nerve and emotion urging to attempt read into it’s concept. At a first glace the picture’s space reminds of an outlandish or even sci-fi landscape with elements that may support the impression, a red sun against a silhouette that reminds a dinosaur. On the right upper side there is a depiction of what looks like a water tower. The color develops from the front ground’s almost black cobalt blue that changes gradually to the lighter value of blue enriched by additional colors and finally to fuse in a sun light spot in the upper left corner that holds a voluptuous female figure with bulging thighs. Her position is either gymnastic of erotic. Her figure is touched by some phallic finger and seems to carry little information except being a compositional space brake.

The figure’s configuration is light almost weightless as is she was a balloon navigating the space. In contrast to this image’s lightness there is another female figure, located below. Her image is independent but at the same time she delineates a right hand of a central man. This is a reclining female torso of intense transparent red color of stain-glass.

This color of transparent red is a highlighting color of the entire picture that is dominated by blue and yellow. The inclusion of such pure sound red fires up accents and add to Jaisini’s painting special power.

He is a great color master developing his composition with complimentary tonal highlights of pure colors and contrasting inclusions that always light up the paintings with additional dimension as multi faceted precious stone that casts color sparkles. His established rule is the inclusion of pure brisk color accents. To justify such pure and intense red in the predominately cobalt composition is a complex task Jaisini successfully accomplishes in SMGO.

The work as most paintings is painted in one go in detection of light and immediate lines that create the whole compositional swirl.

This mode of work in oil called a-la-prima painted without preliminary

sketch and sure is exhausting way of creation.

It will always remain puzzling how is it possible to paint monumental, finished version of a single painting without minimum preparation. In the interview Jaisini confirmed that it takes long time, months if not years to think about future painting. If he is not capable to construct a vision of his future work in his mind until this “vision” occurs, the artist is not ready to paint or if he would persist the result can’t satisfy the artist.

The notion of having direct influence of the music and events that inspired Jaisini to paint SMGO enter the analysis and to understand the immediate mechanics of Jaisini’s creativity is a challenging task.

What moves him in this particular work to bring out strange, unexplainable images to interpret the signer’s death and the musical tune and poetic meaning of the song with theatrical slogan that “show must go on”?

In the picture the central man is in the middle of composition and picture’s concept as a main figure. As in Forbidden Fruit same here the man’s figure is depicted in a rushing forward movement that could read symbolically and remain statuesque. Such duality of being dynamic and still at the same time is always found in the best works of art that can be looked at from different aesthetic points as Rodin’s Thinker, who seemed to be so lively but at a standstill.

In SMGO the central man’s body has an athletic anatomy but also a grotesque exaggerated body part that look like a blown out of proportions phallus, erected from the man’s lower body having no anatomical detailing.

The color serves to divide phallic element in two parts. It enters a figure of a bending down man of light yellow tone. The phallic part of a central man on the point of entering into the bending man’s backside becomes the painting’s red color inclusion with transparent effect of stain glass.

The central man seems to interact with the other in internal game that can be physical game of power. The central man opens his mouth in scream from the own pain that is caused to him by a double-jawed sward-fish who in turn enters his body from the back.

On the entering the swordfish’s nose is ultramarine and then red.

There is also an interesting image of a grieving profile that fills the space between the shark and reclining woman’s torso. The sward-fish is moving out of a dark space where scalaria fish of enlarged size demarcates the side of darkness and light.

Corrals in the front ground add more ambiguity to the space with the red color and rounded shaping.

In the right corner there is a third figure of a man who could fit the definition of submissiveness or weakness by the depiction.

Such personages are often found in Jaisini’s works where they find a place to contrast images of the masculine males.

To conclude the count in SMGO I should mention a profile with a grotesque dinosaur’s long bending neck. This profile is situated between spatial contrasts of almost black concave opening.

Inside the round enclosure of the neck the space is light but indicative of shaping by the reflexes of light.

The interest to understand the work, the birth of the above-described images and their relevance to the painting’s theme, why and how did they arrive in association with prime impulse of the artist, his favorite song and sorrow.

As a formulation of the artist’s reaction to the song he liked and death of its singer in the outcoming painting is most unusual. The painting’s formal quality is complete in its dynamical and color elaboration.

When you try to see the picture in its entirety you see a great contrast of spots, beautiful combination of colors enriched by unusual color choices.

The dynamic development of picture’s space divided endlessly to create vigorous effect of foliage washed by sunlight. The yellow color parts are offset by cold deep ultramarine and refined by bold inclusion of red.

Space of the painting can’t be defined as perspective.

As in most Gleitzeit works space is multi perspective with Cubist principle of space being observed from different angles but at the same time unified by Jaisini’s plastical line unlike cubism’s straight angles.

This painting has strong sense of spontaneity with little predictability of the images. The execution of the work holds perfectly an outburst of emotions into a formulation of unlikely response to the initial drive. Jaisini’s ability to work in a style of direct painting that is loaded with philosophical meaning is a unique gift. If abstract art is mathematical it is possible to formulate its principal’s production. In such works as of Jaisini the formula would be with all unknowns.

The artist expresses his deep understanding of social conflict in Show Must Go On uniting images of violence with concept of grief for the lost such as death of singer who inspired the artist to paint.

In this work Jaisini unites man’s violent act with the concept of “show must go on” that means aggression is a primary purveyor of rebellion and its revolutionary radicalism.

In SMGO the portrayal is of a cry that informs universe of raw demands of man desperate to know whom he is and where is he going.

The title of the song and painting is a dynamic addition to the concept.

The central man is shown vulnerable as the shark enters his body. It seems to freeze the effect of his outcry by physical threat. Jaisini reflects in this work the deep-seated fundamental concept. Men transform their fear of male violence into a metaphysical commitment to male aggression.

For Freud a criminal act-aggression and death, restrictions, and suppressed desire lay at the origins of human society. He establishes conflict between Eros and Thanatos as a primal, constant human condition.

Freud proclaims: “Every individual is virtually an enemy of civilization.”

Humans are unfit for civilization because their destructive urges are antagonistic to the fundamental demands of civilization.

The situation has become particularly dire in modern times, Freud argues for there are increasingly fewer outlets for these urges even as more and more restrictions are imposed. If during time of Surrealist art Andre Breton called the “crisis of consciousness” here is the “crisis of existence”.

The subject of absurdity and extinction of male purpose is not a gender-politicized theme in the Gleitzeit works of Jaisini.

It is an artistic questioning of the potential creativity that is hidden in every man but is restricted by rules and social responsibilities.

And still the artist calls for art to continue for show to go on even through death.

The portrayal of violence and victimization has the effect of the sacrificial ritual of ancient tradition that is echoed in the painting. Life will go on through death and sacrifice. There is recognition of life within death as well as death within life. In SMGO the concept of continuance is in the effort that could be described as violent, deviant, inherently shocking. The imagery of the picture focuses on the bonding between aged long that was and is necessary for creativity, agony and ecstasy, violence and sexuality, all inescapable and vitalizing forces of life emphasized in art tradition.

Struggle between instinct of life and instinct of destruction is the struggle that entire life essentially is about.

The picture seems to illustrate what was Freud’s view of the inclination to aggression to be an original, self-subsisting instinctual disposition in man while civilization is a process in the service of Eros and death, between the instinct of life and the instinct of destruction.

This struggle represents and portrays creation and life.

In SMGO Jaisini united the symbolic of fight with transgression of taboo subject of human rage having cruelty with social purpose to continue create.

 

While I have driven past Keiss Castle many times, this is the first time I have been down to look closer. Usually I have been in too much of a hurry to be somewhere else, of the weather has been wrong.

 

Where is it? Keiss Castle stands within the grounds of the Scottish Baronial house that replaced it in the 18th century, which is also called Keiss Castle. They stand towards the northern end of Sinclair's Bay, 7 miles north of Wick. This great sandy bay, so different from the rest of the Caithness coast, which is otherwise almost entirely precipitous, is also home to Ackergill Castle, Girnigoe and Sinclair Castles and (depending on where you draw the northern limit of the bay, Bucholly Castle - not to mention innumerable brochs.

 

To get there, you drive down and park at Keiss Harbour and then follow the path northward up the coast for half a mile.

crop based on suggestions by glenbourne at home

I decided to crop like glenbourne suggested, as this one is far closer to what I saw that moment. the other crop might be more interesting with regards to composition, shadows and details - but I did not really notice this part of the scene rather than the whole scene..

BMWTN at Driven June 4th 2022

Grain grinder at Dillard mill on the Huzzah river.

"A bold performance is accompanied by a bold presentation. The newly designed lines of the Mercedes-AMG C 63 S Coupé are enhanced with attributes that are distinctly AMG: wider wheel arch flares, the aggressive lines of the AMG hood, the recognizable expressive vehicle face and an overall stance that conveys the commanding nature of the vehicle that lies beneath. noiselessly in just over 20 seconds, using electrohydraulic power from two actuators..."

  

Source: Mercedes-AMG

  

Photographed during Driven Club event in Northern Ireland.

  

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We've driven by this old school building many times without knowing its history or even that it is now a community center, an unlikely feat for a hamlet such as Chinook, Washington.

 

I took artistic license with this photo. Part of the school building's renovations included a new cement sidewalk from the street to the front door. Since it's new, it's blindingly white. Before the renovation, there was no such walk, so I used Photo Shop to reverse that part of the project.

 

Here's a Chinook Observer article from 2005, when today's superbly restored buildings were just a gleam in the eye of dedicated volunteers:

 

CHINOOK - About 300 people stormed Joanne Friberg Leech's Sanctuary Restaurant in Chinook last week for the first Friends of Chinook School fundraiser dinner. The spaghetti-and-all-the-trimmings event brought in about $7,500 to help with the restoration of the historic school and gymnasium.

 

Leech, who was born and raised in Chinook and went through all eight grades at the school, donated the restaurant for the evening. The food was donated, including 100 pounds of hamburger. "We even sold the leftovers," Leech said. "I'm so glad I had the sauce made the day before because people came in the doors early."

 

An assortment of cakes was supplied by Chinook Coffee Company.

 

Eileen Wirkkala, president of the Friends group said besides paid admissions to the dinner, lots of people added donations at the door. "The silent auction held during the event was very successful," she said. "A highlight of the auction was an original watercolor by Carol Johnson, a Friends board member, a 'mosaic' of the school and children at play.

 

"It wasn't just the money that made the event a success," Wirkkala said. "Everybody had so much fun. We're happy so many people support our project. It was such a diverse group of people who came not only from Chinook, but Ocean Park, Ilwaco, Long Beach and Astoria. The school is dear to the hearts of many people, not just old-time residents but people new to the community."

 

Board members Loma Leback Billups, Carol Johnson and Ron Williams all graduated from Chinook Grade School and at least two graduates who have moved away from the area came to join the fun.

 

Dawn Church Wallace, who is a math teacher in Columbia, Mo., came to Chinook with her husband. She attended Chinook School for eight years and said she was "the tallest one in the school. There were five people in my class," she said, with first through eighth grades in two rooms. "I had a great time" all through school, she said. "We had really good teachers - Julia Hall, Mr. Sundstrom, Mr. Pilafian, Miss Melhuishgat and Irene Tinker. Mrs. Tinker taught first and second grades and she was fabulous. She could teach a carrot to read."

 

Wallace remembered that her uncle Joe was in the eighth grade when she was in the first grade. "He got to ring the bell for recess," she said. "I have such good memories of Chinook School."

 

Stories of the good times at the school were flying at the dinner. It wasn't just the students, Wirkkala said. "It was also the warmth the school provided to the community during the Depression and war years when the people of the town needed a safe place to go." She said USO dances for the troops stationed at Fort Columbia were held at the school as well as baseball games and hometown basketball from the 1930s to the '50s which is still discussed at coffee shops. Plays were staged by Angus Bowmer while he was a teacher in Chinook and before he went on to achieve worldwide fame as the founder of the Ashland, Ore., Shakespearean Festival.

 

Ron Williams, of Chinook, said he spent five years at the school before he transfered to Long Beach. He remembers first, second and third grades all taught in one room. "There was one person in first grade and three each in the second and third grades," he said. "It was great. We basically all learned the same thing." His grandfather, David R. Williams, was the clerk of the school board when the gym was built in 1921 and that his father, brother, aunts and cousins all attended the school. His aunt, Ellla Williams Gottberg, was a school board member when he was attending the school.

 

"It's the soul of the community," Williams said. "We had halloween parties, Christmas plays and sports in the gym. There was a big rivalry with Ilwaco." His great-uncle, Lewis R. Williams, was the school's principal and superintendent in the 1920s and wrote two books - "Chinook by the Sea" and "Our Pacific County."

 

Patty Timmen Krager and her husband attended the school, grew up and got married. She said they had been looking at an old school yearbook and discovered her future husband was standing behind her in a school picture. "He said he always knew me," she remembers. "It must have been love at first sight although I was younger than he was when we were in school." The Kragers, both retired teachers, keep a home in Chinook and have taught Yupik Eskimo children at the village of New Tok in Alaska for seven years. They also taught in Ilwaco, Long Beach and Naselle.

 

Judy Church Williams, who still lives in Chinook, attended all eight grades at Chinook and says her eldest daughter was at the school for three years. Williams said she will always remember the fifth-grade teacher, whose name she couldn't remember, because he was always late for school.

 

With the kind of support for the school project that was apparent last week, the Friends group, founded in 2000, can look forward to success with their mission - to have the school and gymnasium once again the center point for the community, utilizing the facilities for cultural, educational, social, recreational and economic uses.

 

The school and gymnasium were indeed the soul of the community after the school was built in 1924. It closed in the 1970s and Friends members want it to once again be a center of services to Chinook and surrounding communities. A $24,000 pre-planning grant was received from the state and an evaluation of the facilities has been completed by an architect for the estimated $1.3 million restoration.

 

"Our plan for Chinook School is to make it available for low- to moderate-income youth and elderly," Wirkkala said. "Numerous service groups and agencies will participate and they will help provide the operating revenue for the school once the restoration is complete. In addition, we want the buildings available for community use for public and private meetings and gatherings." She said the Chinook Indian Tribe will continue to occupy office space and operate a food bank. The school field will continue to be used for T-ball, baseball and soccer.

 

"The Friends of Chinook School are very appreciative of the cooperation, assistance and support give by the Ocean Beach School District Board of Directors and the Pacific County Commissioners for the school project," Wirkkala said.

 

Membership in the group is open and donations are always appreciated, Wirkkala said, and more fund-raisers are on the horizon.

www.chinookobserver.com/news/fans-of-historic-chinook-sch...

 

To see how those dreams came true, click here:

 

www.chinookeventcenter.com/home

These cars were driven to scrap by some students. I shamefully admit that I was part of the group that wrecked the already crappy Saab 'BAAS' 9000 Turbo. Apparently it was exported after our adventures. Tough car, Saab.

We've driven past Tintwistle on the main road, many times but never been to the centre of this little old village before our walk, two weeks ago. We managed to time it just right to have lunch in the Bulls Head (seen in the centre, at the back of the shot) en-route. It's a lovely old and interesting pub that dates back many centuries - and the food and beer was good too!

 

Another shot of the village and a couple of shots inside the pub in the comment below.

I have not done a music vid for a bit, so I thought I'd just do a quick vid of one of my warm up exercises- based off the riff from Rush's song Driven from Test For Echo.

Leyland Olympian / Roe A97KUM about to leave Dewsbury on its mammoth journey for a new life and future. Quite fitting it came back to West Yorkshire for old times sake and did very useful work serving as an outreach at a local church for around 4 years. It will be replaced by a newer less interesting vehicle shortly. Lovely to drive something which fits like a pair of old slippers, rather than something which is a headache or gives you one. "Bonne Chance" friend.

Wednesday, 20 July 2016, was a day of adventure for me. I drove further than I have ever driven before (way, way SE of the city) - must remember to check my mileage when I next go out in my car, but it must have been somewhere between 400 and 500 km total. No big deal for many of you, but for me (and as someone with a driving phobia), it WAS a big deal : ) I am totally exhausted and my poor shoulder rotator cuffs are complaining like crazy. BUT, I had a great time - just a couple of moments of 'panic', when I thought I was lost, and when I noticed that I was seeing different wildflowers and definitely a different landscape.

 

I eventually left home at 11:00 am, a good couple of hours later than I had intended. I wasn't sure how long it was going to take me to get to where I wanted to get, so had wanted to allow plenty of hours for this journey. I had been on the road for about three hours by the time I got there, but did stop at various places en route. The first part of my drive was along familiar roads - called in at Frank Lake just to check the gravel road leading to the gate. An Eastern Kingbird was the only species I saw.

 

From there, I kept driving east on h'way 23, stopping briefly to photograph one of my favourite old houses. This highway eventually bends southwards and leads to Vulcan. I had only ever once driven as far as Vulcan, and that was on 30 March 2015. I had to stop again, like last year, and take a few photos of the cluster of old sheds, barn and house, before continuing on my way. From here until I reached my destination, was all new to me. Exciting and anxiety-causing, all at the same time. I drove further east and then turned south and found myself in a different kind of landscape, with a few interesting birds and plants to see and photograph, including a Ferruginous Hawk (three, actually) and wild sunflowers. I was in tall wind turbine country - which told me how far south I had come. The colours of some of the fields were unusual, too, as seen in this photo. Along one road, I had a Swainson's Hawk who perched nicely on a fence post at first and then circled overhead and followed my vehicle further down the road. Think it may have been a juvenile, screeching for its parents to come and feed it. Also saw a Mourning Dove on a fence post and what I think must be a juvenile Horned Lark. Actually, there were a lot of Horned Larks this day. I tend to forget that we can see them in summer time.

 

After travelling westwards and then north and west again, I found myself heading towards Frank Lake. It was along this road that I spotted some kind of shorebird perched on a fence post. Too late to stop, so I turned around and then slowly drove back to the bird - a Marbled Godwit, giving me a nice, sideways pose. It was still daylight, so I decided to try one more time along the gravel road leading to the gate at Frank Lake. Here, I had another nice sighting - friend, Debbie : ) Good to see you and have a nice, long chat. A great day with an enjoyable ending.

Driven by AJ Foyt & Dan Gurney

Maserati Ghibli - Mequon, WI

The only time I had ever driven to Kananaskis (the mountain area closest to Calgary) was just over two months ago, on 10 September 2016, when my daughter came with me. I wasn't too impressed with the photos I took on the first drive, especially of the little Pikas (Rock Rabbits) that we went to see, so I wanted to go and spend a bit more time with them. A drive like this also helps me get a bit more used to my newish car - before the roads are covered in snow and ice! Actually, there was a bit of snow on the ground in places close to the trees when I got to where I see these Pikas.

 

These little Pikas/Rock Rabbits are only 6-9 inches long and are usually seen far away, running backwards and forwards over the scree (talus) slope that they call home. Very occasionally, one happens to come close, usually for just a quick moment. This one was busy collecting plants to take back to its cave.

 

"The American Pika is a generalist herbivore. It eats a large variety of green plants, including different kinds of grasses, sedges, thistles and fireweed. Although pikas can meet their water demands from the vegetation they eat, they do drink water if it is available in their environment. Pikas have two different ways of foraging: they directly consume food (feeding) or they cache food in haypiles to use for a food source in the winter (haying). The pika feeds throughout the year while haying is limited to the summer months. Since they do not hibernate, pikas have greater energy demands than other montane mammals. In addition, they also make 13 trips per hour to collect vegetation when haying, up to a little over 100 trips per day." From Wikipedia.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_pika

 

A couple of short YouTube videos in case anyone wants to hear and see these absolutely cute creatures:

 

youtu.be/US_Hy_eGPtg

 

youtu.be/OQ2IgcjVIfc

 

I left home at 8:45 am, later than I had intended, and drove southwards via Millarville and the back way to Highway 40. When I Googled the distance via that route, it gave me 134 km, 1 hr 41 mins from home to the Highwood Pass. Needless to say, I kept stopping to take photos, so it took me quite a bit longer than that. By the time I got back home around 5:00 pm, I had driven 299 km. This day was a Monday, so not too much traffic anywhere, which makes a huge difference.

 

The weather cooperated very nicely. A little chilly to start with and a sky full of beautiful cloud formation early morning. This time, I only drove as far as the Pikas, just north of the Highwood Pass, especially as I wanted to make sure that I wasn't driving home in the dark. The Highwood Pass, at an elevation of 2,206 m (7,238 ft) is the highest paved pass in Canada. In past years, I have hiked the Ptarmigan Cirque, Pocaterra and Arethusa Cirque trails, but can no longer do hikes like these. The scenery is breathtaking in this whole area (indeed, for the whole drive), some mountain slopes covered in forest and other mountain faces displaying bald, breathtaking folds above the treeline.

 

There was only one 'scary' incident on this trip. I had stopped to take a few scenic shots when I was on the backroad to join Highway 40. I didn't close my car door completely and when I went to open it, I discovered it was locked! Pressing the fob to open all the doors did nothing. I just could not get into my vehicle. Thank goodness, I had read on the Internet that there is a key hidden away inside the fob - otherwise I would never have known and might still be standing there, lol!

 

Feels so good to know that I am now comfortable enough to do this drive on my own, after so many years of wishing I had the courage to do it. Thank you, little Pikas, for being so adorably cute, that I was determined to drive back to see you : )

renovation of gyldenrisparken social housing, copenhagen denmark 2005-2012.

architects and engineers: a collaborative effort by vandkunsten, witraz & wissenberg.

original architects: svend fournais and hans ole christiansen, 1964.

 

I worked on the competition for this project back in 2005 and, seeing that prince charles is visiting the place today (no, really), I thought if it is good enough for him, it is good enough for you guys.

 

we have been through a few discussions here on how to treat our modernist heritage, not least the troubled post-war housing projects which have seen such social decline since construction, and so many practical problems too, all while bearing the brunt of modern migration and its consequences, a drama still unfolding. there is plenty to talk about.

 

in denmark, we rarely demolish social housing, favouring physical renovation in combination with local social work, but more often than not, the renovation effort is done in a sort of hostility towards the original architecture. we know better. not very likely.

 

in a way, defending 1960's plattenbau is about as backward as you can get in architectural conservatism, but the problem of what to do with these buildings, especially the ones that don't immediately call for the protection of their unique architecture, is one of the central questions of our trade these years.

 

elsewhere, most notably in britain, a number of related buildings, considered classics by some of us, are being torn down and their sites redeveloped with a much higher density, suggesting that the shrill debate surrounding their destruction is partly driven by financial interests - that this most important subject is the victim of spin, and not from the people directly involved.

 

neither approach seemed attractive and it was with some trepidation that we entered the competition for an overall plan for the 1964 gyldenrisparken area, including new facades, combining smaller flats into larger ones, a new nursing home, and a new kindergarten. how should we respond?

 

it was obvious from our first visit, that the original architects hadn't quite been the crooks "popular opinion" would have us think of that period's practitioners. the plans were good, the green spaces generous, the buildings well-proportioned. and the scale was humane. don't forget that copenhagen has just been through a horrid phase of 8 to 12-storey housing blocks in ørestad. none of that here.

 

the buildings we found, their exteriors in particular, were strangely devoid of details. anything that could be solved with pre-fab concrete was. balcony fronts were a single slab of concrete effectively blocking daylight from entering the flats. it is tempting to say that the architects were married to the concrete industry, but it is perhaps more correct that they were wedded to the idea of industrial production of architecture and that it occasionally got in the way of doing the right thing. but not always.

 

the available narratives did not fit. there were no victims, no perpetrators. no righteousness possible on behalf of the architects and, thankfully, no drama. plenty to be done, though.

 

and so, we proposed that the original architecture be respected; that after insulating the houses to a high, modern standard, we reclad them in white concrete. and that the biggest changes were to happen at detail level. one image we used during our discussions was that, looking only at the concrete, these blocks could have been by jacobsen or one of the other masters working in the thirties or fifties - that, in a sense, we had to bring them back in time to a period of more refined detailing. we were looking for a way of not imposing on the architecture we found. you'll be the judge.

 

we won, by the way, and the work is almost complete. it has taken a while because the area of gyldenrisparken is large, as they liked it in the sixties. it is so large, in fact, that we were able to build a new nursing home and kindergarten there after clearing up secondary structures between the houses. we designed them as long meandering buildings that subdivide and qualify the green spaces.

 

all new construction was kept in two floors and clad in black wood for constrast and clarity. they have green roofs that retain rain water, and the kindergarten became our first passive house, done according to the strict, german passivhaus standards.

 

while this all sounds good, you have to wonder why the whole project was not done to those standards. ein passivhaus ist kein passivhaus, so to speak, but the copenhagen municipality wanted a showcase, nothing more, for COP 15, the failed climate conference they hosted in 2009. political tokenism at its worst, to my mind, and at its core one of the reasons COP 15 had to fail.

 

however, the filth of politics should not be allowed to detract from the work of decent people, and while the architecture of the gyldenrisparken renovation is so discreet as to be almost invisible (as in almost unpublished), there are other and better ways to measure its success. the rent remains low, meaning that people can stay on. there is no forced gentrification. yet the waiting list for future residents keeps growing. it used to take five months to get a flat in gyldenrisparken, it will take you five years now.

 

this photo was uploaded with a CC license and may be used free of charge and in any way you see fit.

if possible, please name photographer "SEIER+SEIER". if not, don't.

 

www.vandkunsten.com

www.witraz.dk

www.wissenberg.dk

Zorki 4 | Industar-61 55/2.8

Test roll | ISO 200

 

Kodiang

I have driven by these stacked containers on Washington SR 20 near La Conner many times and finally stopped to photograph them. I was struck once again by how simple photography is in principle, but how challenging in practice. These containers are right beside a busy highway. I stopped at a nearby service station on the opposite side and walked over to take some pictures. I had envisioned a straight on shot, but found my route blocked by a ditch filled with thistles which I did not want to brave. I could have walked the long way around to the shoulder of the highway but I did not want my family to have to sit and wait for me for while I did that. Also, standing at the side of a busy highway and not watching the traffic or having someone else to watch it for you is not the best idea. So, with my POV somewhat constrained, I took a number of shots when the view was clear of vehicles. I can see in my mind's eye the image that I wanted to get. However, I am probably going to have to settle for this image since I am always on the way to somewhere else and often pressed for time when I pass by this spot.

The notorious Burma-Siam railway, built by Commonwealth, Dutch and American prisoners of war, was a Japanese project driven by the need for improved communications to support the large Japanese army in Burma. During its construction, approximately 13,000 prisoners of war died and were buried along the railway. An estimated 80,000 to 100,000 civilians also died in the course of the project, chiefly forced labour brought from Malaya and the Dutch East Indies, or conscripted in Siam (Thailand) and Burma (Myanmar).

 

Two labour forces, one based in Siam and the other in Burma worked from opposite ends of the line towards the centre. The Japanese aimed at completing the railway in 14 months and work began in October 1942. The line, 424 kilometres long, was completed by December 1943.

 

The graves of those who died during the construction and maintenance of the Burma-Siam railway (except for the Americans, whose remains were repatriated) were transferred from camp burial grounds and isolated sites along the railway into three cemeteries at Chungkai and Kanchanaburi in Thailand and Thanbyuzayat in Myanmar.

 

KANCHANABURI WAR CEMETERY is only a short distance from the site of the former 'Kanburi', the prisoner of war base camp through which most of the prisoners passed on their way to other camps. It was created by the Army Graves Service who transferred to it all graves along the southern section of railway, from Bangkok to Nieke.

 

Some 300 men who died (most from a Cholera epidemic in May/June 1943) at Nieke camp were cremated and their ashes now lie in two graves in the cemetery. The names of these men are inscribed on panels in the shelter pavilion.

 

There are now 5,085 Commonwealth casualties of the Second World War buried or commemorated in this cemetery. There are also 1,896 Dutch war graves and 1 non-war grave.

The old arc lamp driven movie projectors that are basically intact in the projection booth.

 

EDIT: Did a little research and these are Strong 14050 series arc lamps from the 1930's sometime. 27 volts at 40 amps to drive the arc. The "Art Deco" design alone would be a giveaway as to about when they were made. Strongs from other eras are distinctly more utilitarian looking from what I've seen -- not the smooth lines of these.

 

Strong invented the self-regulating carbon arc using a DC motor mechanism with the arc current going through the field windings to adjust the motor speed to feed the electrode to keep the arc current constant as the electrodes wore down.

 

Pretty cool and elegantly simple: DC motor speed varies inversely with the field current -- so as the electrodes wore the field current would drop and the motor would speed up bring the electrodes closer and bring the current back up. The rheostat on the back allowed fine tuning the regulator.

 

Made another trip to "Embersville", this time with my friend Vinny. This was his first official "urbex" trip though he's been a bit of an explorer his whole life.

 

The site is an old asylum and rehabilitation facility that also had buildings repurposed as as a home for troubled youth, a police station, and many other functions.

 

Miles and miles of steam and untility tunnels, stairs, and endless buildings, floors, and rooms. A good but quite tiring day.

 

Of course, I took a few pics...

 

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In late summer 1957, Darwin Lambert bought himself a battered Willys pickup. Darwin was two years into an effort to create a National Park in Nevada’s Snake Range. That effort, ultimately successful, would take another thirty years.

 

The pickup featured a crude, homemade stake bed meant to carry a single horse as far into rough country as the Willys could be driven...at which point the horse came into play. Only Darwin did not want to carry a horse. For one thing, he wanted to explore the Snake Range...to rediscover its forgotten wonders. But, more importantly, he wanted to take people there. He wanted them to see for themselves.

 

Nowadays we might call this a “low-tech” enterprise. A ‘50’s Willys pickup was not much larger than a modern 'side by side' ATV. There was a cramped cab for a driver and one passenger to sit shoulder to shoulder. Maybe four adults could wedge into the open-air bed, alternately facing to front and to back across the tight width, saddle blankets for a cushion. Anyone who did not know their seatmates at the beginning of the day, would know them pretty well by the end. Darwin took them up dusty mining tracks so narrow and rugged and tightly laid-out that he sometimes had to drive forward up one switchback and then in reverse up the next. At the top, in the eleven-thousand foot sunshine, there would be a picnic. Among his notable passengers were conservationists David Brower, Adolph Murie, and, husband and wife, Olaus and Mardy Murie.

 

Of course others, over the years, have been and are drawn to this same site; miners, surveyors, fire crews, government employees, scientists, hunters, pilgrims. The evidence of their transient presence takes the form of scattered rusty cans and colorful, translucent, green and blue and lavender shards of broken glass -- tokens of an era before plastic and aluminum.

 

I like to think that Darwin and his dusty, sunburned band of hearty passengers picked up a lot of this litter and hauled it back down the mountain, clinking and rattling between their knees in the stainless steel milk buckets that had carried the picnic up. (Visualizing this, so help me, I hear banjos.) The less the better, for, in this era, such rusty, weathered items strewn randomly across a landscape are often seen as something other than just stuff that needs to be picked up. Fact is...one picks it up at their own peril. Being a good citizen is always complicated.

 

In September of 1995, while researching his book “A Garden of Bristlecones”, Michael P. Cohen met Ron and Charlie. Cohen was interested in visiting the bristlecone groves of Troy Peak in Nevada’s Grant Range. John Muir had walked from the High Sierra to this grove in 1878 and had been impressed in a timber-cruiser sort of way by the health and vigor of the trees, claiming some to be over eighty feet tall. (Ron generously guessed that this was just “hyperbole”.)

 

Cohen had been directed to Ron and Charlie by the Forest Service which had jurisdiction over the area. According to the Forest Service, Ron and Charlie were, “retired fellows, fifty-five or sixty, but good walkers, all legs and lungs.” They had been trail and backcountry buddies since high school. Forest Service volunteers in the Grant Range now, they had “stayed out there from spring until the water froze” since 1989.

 

In that time, they had tidied things up a bit. Beneath the pine trees of the canyon, they had built a couple of primitive campsites of native stone -- providing a fire pit, a tent site, and perhaps a large boulder for sitting or a place to put a campstove. They hand-graded the rocky, one-lane, bulldozer track leading into their canyon below Troy Peak and, by Cohen’s count, dug “more than twenty-five” waterbars to channel cloudburst runoff. And Cohen found no litter -- none -- neither in the campsites nor along the two or three miles of rugged canyon track. As Cohen points out, for all their efforts Ron and Charlie never received a dime...nor did they ever expect anything. What they did was its own reward.

 

There had been an old sawmill near the end of the track -- all that remained of it was mostly rust-eaten sheet metal, and old tools without handles, and bed springs -- and Ron and Charlie had wanted to clean that up too, but the Forest Service would not let them. Ron told Cohen that the Forest Service said it was an “archeological” site. Sometimes the detritus at such sites is referred to as 'artifacts'. It is illegal to disturb so much as a bent nail.

 

Cohen is something of a scholar with a science and history wonk. If you read his books, you will sense at some points his distinct discomfort with what he has described as “overly expressive language”. So it is a bit whimsical and genuinely touching when he tells the story of Ron and Charlie as an afterword to his book.

 

In his closing words:

 

“It just seems there is always somebody who surprises you, who knows more than you do, who knows more than you will ever know about a place, knows how to be there, and why to choose it. And is so completely open and generous with his time and knowledge.”

 

Cohen never describes it as such, and I’m pretty sure Ron and Charlie would demur, but I think what they created could be thought of as a sort of Zen garden. An orderly, contemplative, place in the heart of a remote, wild range. A place one might want to be...not so much to sort things out, but because one had already sorted them out.

 

I do not know what ever became of Ron and Charlie, but on July 20, 2014 the Bear Trap wildfire began with a lightning strike on the ridge just south of the camp they built. Driven by the prevailing south wind, it was not reported for two days. In the end, after being fought by 200 personnel including bulldozers and helicopters, the thirty to forty foot flames essentially just burned themselves out, consuming over ten thousand acres of the land Ron and Charlie loved. The heart of that country now nothing but ashes and stone, the worst was yet to come.

 

In the first two weeks of August, during what is known locally as 'monsoon season', there were four 100-year rain storms, dumping cloudburst after cloudburst into Ron and Charlie’s narrow, burned-out canyon. What can comfortably be referred to as a biblical torrent of churning mud and debris raged down the length and out the mouth of the canyon. Watching from the safety of an overlooking plateau as this cataclysm spread out across two miles of desert floor, one seasoned veteran of such things, the ground shuddering beneath his feet, described it above the rumble and roar with a single heartfelt word…”Scary!”

 

The upper canyon is now barren, many places almost impassable. In six seasons, Ron and Charlie had never seen a single drop of water in the dry creekbed. Now it is a raggedly stark, boulder-strewn, violent, gash...six to eight feet deep in places. The rusted sheet metal of the 'archaeological' millsite was rolled into a ball by the tumult and dropped into an erosion hole.

 

Somewhere Ron and Charlie must be enjoying the fact that, while no one now at the Forest Service remembers them, the only recognizable 'archaeological' sites that remain in the canyon are the stone campsites they built by hand. They must also be comfortable knowing that the whole cycle will likely repeat in a mere 150 years. (How an ancient bristlecone lives through thirty or more such cycles is a story for another time.)

 

'Microtrash' (not to be confused with 'microplastics', the 'nano' version of which are now accumulating in your brain.) refers to small bits of litter such as broken glass, bottle caps, can tabs, and other smaller, broken down pieces of human debris. It is the sort of stuff that lies scattered around at Lambert’s picnic area and the remnant millsite near Ron and Charlie’s camp; Ron and Charlie picked up everything else. Archaeologists consider such stuff to be artifacts. As with arrowheads, it is illegal to disturb or possess artifacts.

 

Places where microtrash is found at elevation are sometimes designated as 'Cultural Historical Areas'. Great Basin National Park has such an area at 10,700 feet not far from Lambert’s picnic area. Accessible only by a steep, rugged, former jeep trail, it was the site of a World War I Era tungsten mine that scraped sporadically by for two or three decades and was eventually abandoned when an avalanche shoved most of the rudimentary machinery into a sub-alpine lake.

 

The Park has lavished considerable time and funding ($500,000+) on having archaeologists paw through the trash middens of this site and on propping-up the crude seasonal shanties where miners slept and ate, as well as a rickety mill wall or two. Basically, they have learned nothing they either should not have already known, or could not have learned from hundreds of other more accessible sites in Nevada alone. Their plan going forward is to spray these remnants with wood preservative and cut down all trees within a certain defensive radius.

 

One hundred years of National Park Service culture, beginning with Army-recruit rangers, is probably as good an explanation as any for the fascination this remote area holds for them. From that perspective, its crumbling, propped-up, rudimentary structures could be perceived as a monument to real outdoorsmen, doing real work, building real things, dominating an unruly land -- it serves as a ramshackle, rough and ready, derelict, reminder of an era when a man could take whatever he desired. It does not hurt that this taking was on behalf of a war effort -- the tungsten was used primarily in the manufacture of armor-penetrating munitions, literally going from wilderness to war. It is a scar in a pristine wilderness setting that the Park Service chooses, at great expense, to not let heal. It is fair to wonder what their interest would be if it were simply a quiet place where pioneer women went to knit.

 

In an ironically timely twist on the social admonition 'No Means No!' as it applies to contemporary male Park Service Rangers, visitors to the remote area will be reminded that artifacts are to be left untouched.

 

The U.S. Department of Fish and Wildlife is also concerned about artifacts. It is concerned that condors are attracted to artifacts and ingest them, sometimes regurgitating the colorful detritus for fledglings to ingest, both with often fatal results. Fish and Wildlife asks that you help contribute to the success of their Condor Recovery Program by picking up such microtrash in areas where condors occur.

 

A few years ago, I left my Snake Range camp before first light to get an early start on a day above 11,000 feet that I knew would be mentally and physically exhausting. I was camped in an area I call 'The Maze'. It is a dark, absolutely silent, densely forested area, jumbled chaotically by thousands of years of glacier and avalanche and rockfall and fire and erosion -- a vortex of violent natural forces. I have spent a lifetime picking my way comfortably through untracked wild country; 'The Maze' is the only place I have ever lost (and eventually found) my basecamp. I accomplished this dubious feat in the same area twice. The second time, apparently, just to confirm it was actually possible.

 

Many hours later, my turnaround time well past and weather moving in, I chose to forego a potential ridgetop thunderstorm at 11,700 feet and return to camp by way of a lower elevation valley I had wanted to explore. This would entail following the valley down to its forested terminus before contouring either up and over, or around, a high spur through thickets of tangled manzanita and mountain mahogany and across loose fields of rockfall. If the other side were passable, I would find myself in the lower reaches of 'The Maze' and could probably make my way across it, and back to camp by dark.

 

An hour or two later, having crested the spur and threaded my way down through steep, jagged outcrops on the other side, I reached 'The Maze' at twilight. Darkness approaching, my camp on the other side of 'The Maze', I was beginning to feel a rising sense of urgency. I also needed water -- both to drink and to resupply my camp.

 

As I neared the area of a spring I knew and was coming up over a rise at the edge of a forested area, about to emerge into a small, steep, open meadow, I saw in the distance...a person.

 

He was standing, in profile, by the spring -- a distant, dark silhouette. Against the darkening backdrop, I could make out only his torso and head. With his back to the spring, he seemed to be vigorously adjusting a pack placed on the eroded bank before him, perhaps stuffing something into it. I absolutely could not understand how I could possibly encounter another human being in this remote and isolated place, at this time.

 

I stood still, silently hoping he would not see me and move on. From his movements, he appeared to be wearing, or perhaps putting on or taking off, a baggy black nylon windbreaker with white panels on the underside of the sleeves, maybe continuing down the sides. Pulled tightly over his head was a dark knit cap. On the shoulder visible to me, was a round patch, some sort of insignia. It might have been a team jacket. For some unknown reason, all this made me think he must be European, a soccer fan.

 

Hearing a soft rustle behind me, I instinctively glanced back, recognizing it as a cone slipping down through the boughs of a pine. Turning again to the spring, the person was gone. Immediately above where he had stood a great winged creature rose silently into the air, quickly disappearing over distant trees.

 

I would like to be able to simply say that, in that stunningly transformative, shape-shifting instant, I began to consciously understand and rationally confirm that all ancient mythologies were created by individuals who were, at the very least, completely exhausted. The truth, more complex in myriad ways, is that the experience was, to say the least, deeply unsettling.

 

I finally decided that it must have been an eagle or a hawk consuming prey. At the spring, I found nothing. Later, while no stranger to returning in the dark, it was the first time I could not find my basecamp.

 

Farfetched as it may initially seem, I have come to believe that what I saw was a condor: white underwings, smooth head, identifying 'shoulder patches', an inclination of the species to clean themselves by a water source after feeding.

 

Condors are, in fact, quite near the Snake Range and, if they are not visiting already, could be expected to do so in the near future. Condors are routinely capable of soaring 150-200 miles per day. The Vermillion Cliffs, the Arizona release site for Fish and Wildlife’s Condor Recovery Program, is 180 miles from the Snake Range; Zion National Park, where a released pair is nesting, is 140 miles; Milford, Utah, where condors have been sighted, is 75 miles. One condor flew 330 miles to Flaming Gorge, Wyoming. Others are confirmed to have flown 150 to 250 miles in all directions from Vermillion Cliffs.

 

So this rambling, convoluted, tale comes down to a quandary:

The brute, obliterating (and creative), vicissitudes of Nature and Time aside, what is a responsible individual or agency to do about all that relict trash?

 

Or, for that matter, about the oldest living individual trees on the planet; on top of everything else, ravished and pillaged for decades by scientists and souvenir seekers -- yes, even in the National Park created to protect them. Even now.

 

On the short-term anthropocentric scale, both relict trash and ancient trees would seem to qualify as no more than scientific curiosities. On the long-term philosophical scale, they would seem to be a choice between a fleeting past and a distant future. As choices go, probably the most gnarly kind considering that humans neither learn from history nor can predict the future.

 

The US Dept. of Fish and Wildlife thinks condors are more important than relict trash. Is relict trash more important than relict trees? Regardless, neither relict trash nor relict trees nor remnant condors can tell us anything we do not already well enough know.

 

As for me, I am well aware that all of the above, while wholly true, bears a striking resemblance to a shaggy dog story. For, as everyone knows, 'one person’s trash is another's treasure'.

 

To wit: Disintegrating in gracious, anonymous, solitude somewhere beneath the intense Nevada desert sun, a rusting sardine tin in the remnant bed behind its windowless cab, is Darwin’s Willys pickup. Now there is a treasure!

 

May it rust in peace...

 

MM68 KER NEXT GENERATION SCANIA S650 V8 of M.M.KERR @ Colsterworth truckstop on route to Northern Italy with Scotch beef & Lambs on board . Friday 28th December 2018 driven by Dutch driver Cloggie .a great pleasant driver

- FITMESH RIGGED BRA

- FITMESH RIGGED PANTIES

- FITMESH RIGGED GARTER

♥ 5 COLORS - HUD DRIVEN

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NUDE STOCKING APPLIER INCLUDED

BOM COMPATIBLE

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- MAITREYA

- BELLEZA isis freya venus

- SLINK phisyque and hourglass

 

📌 DOLCE CLEO MAIN STORE

MP MARKETPLACE

On a glorious day, 37406 "The Saltire Society" runs along the coast at Llangelynnin as it heads for Pwllheli with the Past Times railtour from Birmingham. This tour started with 37406 and 37416 but the latter expired at Machynlleth.

 

Still this was much better than my trip here on 18 June when I had snapped 37406 at Chesterfield with the ECS for a Sheffield - Pwllheli railtour and had then driven over 150 miles to the area only to find it went to Blackpool instead.

Chassis n° 4607

 

Les Grandes Marques du Monde au Grand Palais 2020

Bonhams

Parijs - Paris

Frankrijk - France

February 2020

 

Estimated : € 1.050.000 - 1.400.000

Sold for € 870.000

 

All the sophistication of Ettore Bugatti's famously thoughtful design ethic is embodied within this wonderfully well-presented ex-works racing Bugatti Type 39, as manufactured at the charismatic Molsheim factory in 1925...

 

Mr Bugatti built his reputation upon creating rapid and reliable motor cars endowed with competitively powerful engines in light, compact, and nimble chassis. Above all he clearly grasped the over-riding importance of a high power-to-weight ratio in contrast to some other quality car constructors to whom overall weight seemed irrelevant compared to achieving the highest possible power not necessarily out there on the open road, nor race circuit, but in the engine test-house...

 

While combining in so many of his sporting models high power, minimal mass and a good-handling, driveable chassis, Ettore Bugatti also manufactured most of them in sufficient numbers to attract, and to satisfy, broad demand from a moneyed and dashingly competition-minded market.

 

In 1924 Mr Bugatti had launched his 2-litre Type 35 design, and by 1925 the Type 39 followed to comply with maximum 1500cc Voiturette racing regulations – effectively the Formula 2 of the time. Use of a short-stroke crankshaft in the straight-8 cylinder engine provided bore and stroke measurements of 60mm x 66mm, displacing 1493cc. Possibly Mr Bugatti was anticipating the overall Grand Prix capacity limit rule change for 1926-27 which would cut maximum permitted engine capacity from 2-litres to 1½.

 

The Type 39s made their debut in the Grand Prix de Tourisme at Montlhéry south of Paris, France, in June 1925. The four new works team cars promptly finished 1-2-3-4 in their class, and in 3rd place was '4607' now offered here, driven by Giulio Foresti.

 

Of course the pinnacle of road racing competition during the 1920s was the Grand Prix arena, and when the1925 Italian Grand Prix at Monza Autodrome was run concurrently with the 1500cc Gran Premio delle Vetturette the Bugatti company contested it with a full team of five Type 39s.

 

The race was run over 80 laps of the Milanese Autodrome's 10km combined road and high-speed track. Bugatti's team captain was Bartolomeo 'Meo' Costantini, teamed to drive with Jules Goux, Pierre de Vizcaya, Count Carlo Masetti and Count Aymo Maggi, who was replacing Ferdinand de Vizcaya, the Spanish banker – and backer of the Bugatti company - who arrived late from Barcelona. And when Count Masetti had to stand down due to a leg injury, it was Giulio Foresti who took his place to drive '4607' in the long race...

 

As the Gran Premio developed, the Bugattis not only dominated the Voiturette category but also climbed the leader board amongst the full 2-litre Grand Prix cars. Finally – after 5hrs 44mins 40.91secs to be precise (the Italian lap-scorers immensely proud of their then-new hundredth-second timing equipment) the Gran Premio delle Vetturette was decided with Costantini's Bugatti Type 39 winning from the sister cars of Ferdinand de Vizcaya and Giulio Foresti, respectively 2nd and 3rd. Pierre de Vizcaya's Type 39 placed fourth while Jules Goux's engine had failed after 64 of the 80 laps. Overall, the Bugatti Type 39s had proved so fast and reliable that Costantini finished the Grand Prix 3rd overall, Ferdinand de Vizcaya 6th and Foresti in '4607' now offered here, 7th.

 

A record survives of this car and its sister '4604' both being sold soon after to the British importer, Colonel Sorel in London, and it is thought that Giulio Foresti – an accomplished 'wheeler-dealer' in his own right – then found an eager buyer for the pair – one A.V.Turner - in Australia, although alternative reference suggests that '4607' was imported there by prominent Vauxhall driver Boyd Edkins.

 

On June 19, 1926, the car certainly appeared upon Sydney's high-banked Maroubra Speedway driven by a friend and colleague of Edkins, Dick Clarke. While the Type 39s – or 'Monzas' as they became known in Australia – became particularly noted for their wonderfully high-pitched exhaust note, they were not well-suited to Maroubra, since they were over-geared for the tight Speedway. Clarke was still able to win a heat there on September 4, 1926, and '4607' lapped the speedbowl at 86mph. At Penrith Clarke won a heat and a semi-final before taking 2nd and 3rd places in two further events. Then back at Maroubra for the January, 1927 meeting Clarke won two heats and took 2nd in a final.

 

The car later passed to 20-year-old Sid Cox, son of a wealthy building magnate. The young man also had a Bugatti Type 40 which he used as a tender when he took '4607' to Philip Island, Melbourne, Victoria, to race in the 1928 Australian Grand Prix. With friend Ken McKinney alongside him Sid Cox practised for the great race only for bronze filings to be found in the oil filter, a sign that the power unit's bronze roller-bearing cages were failing. On race day, sure enough, '4607's engine broke a connecting rod.

 

A new crankcase and sump were bought for the car, but the old sump was used in the rebuild, mated to the new crankcase. Cox then sold '4607' to poster-artist Reg St John who became noted for maintaining the Bugatti in utterly pristine, highly polished and well-cherished condition. He reportedly used it to parade up and down Swanston Street, Melbourne, admiring his reflection in the shop windows. And why not?

 

However, Australian racer Carl Junker then acquired the car and – with Reg Nutt as his riding mechanic – he entered it in the 1931 Australian GP again at Philip Island. They were running second behind Hope Bartlett's Bugatti Type 37A on the penultimate lap when its engine failed, Junker and Nutt joyously inheriting outright Grand Prix victory for '4607'. Ernie Nutt had tuned the car and he would recall that Junker used 7,000rpm through the gears, '4607' achieving 55mph in 1st, 72mph in 2nd and 103mph in 3rd.

 

Racing again in the 1932 Australian GP, Junker improved his lap times but fell victim to spark-plug trouble which meant he could finish only 5th. Completing the long race ahead of him that day was Merton Wreford in his Brescia Bugatti, and he later bought '4607' from Junker, reputedly after it had suffered another engine failure.

 

Mert Wreford fixed the problem and then entered the Type 39 in the 1933 Australian GP in which he found himself confronted by Carl Junker in the sister 1925 Bugatti 'Monza' – chassis '4604'. These two Type 39s proved to be the class of that Grand Prix field and after Junker's engine blew-up, Wreford moved into the lead, only for '4607's engine to fail on the third-last lap. Evidently the two broken 'Monzas' were left parked together at trackside – but Mert Wreford had recorded the race's fastest lap.

 

A new owner was then found for '4607' in specialist Jack Day of the Ajax Pump Works who fitted '4607' with his own 'Day' supercharger, driven from the crankshaft nose. He made his debut with the supercharged car in the August, 1933, Frankston hill-climb. But when the forced-induction experiment disappointed, Jack Day removed the Bugatti engine and fitted instead a Ford V8. This Type 39 thus became the first Australian special to be powered by a 'black iron' American Ford V8. The resultant Day Special proved very successful through 1936, setting new hill-climb records at Mitcham and Rob Roy. Reg Nutt raced the car in monoposto form at Phillip Island, 1937, and in the South Australian GP in 1938.

 

After World War 2, Bondi Beach surf life-saver, water-skier and amateur wrestler 'Gelignite' Jack Murray bought '4607' in its Day Special form from Jack Day, the price £1,100.

 

'Gelignite Jack' would earn his nickname from blowing up rural dunnies with sticks of gelignite during the RedeX Round Australia Trials. Every man needs a hobby....

 

The car "was given the full Murray red paint and chrome treatment" and in it he set fastest time and finished 5th on handicap in the 1946 New South Wales GP at Bathurst. Returning there n 1947 he was tipped to win, but failed to finish. The car was clocked at 106mph. At the 1948 Bathurst 100 the Day Special was recorded at 117mph and placed 3rd on handicap in the over 1500cc class. Overheating often afflicted the car in its Ford V8-engined form, but 'Gelignite Jack' continued to campaign the ageing special into 1954 when he was an amazing 4th fastest and 7th on handicap at the Bathurst Easter Meeting.

 

Subsequently the car survived in storage at Murray's Bondi garage, until he sold it – accompanied by a mass of related Bugatti components – to marque enthusiast Ted Lobb. While the original Type 39 chassis survived within the Day Special, Ted Lobb also had its original engine 'No 7' – which was fitted in his sister car '4604' – so now he also owned the blown-up engine 'No 6' – originally in '4604' – from Jack Day. Around 1974, Ted Lobb sold the Day Special and engine 'No 6' plus numerous other related Bugatti parts to Bob King, who later decided to rebuild '4607' to its 1925 Italian Grand Prix 'Monza' form.

 

He would later write: "The monumental rebuild was completed in the early 1980s, using a Type 39 crankshaft which came from Lance Dixon's Type 51A '4847'. The crankshaft – numbered '27' – was in perfect ex-factory condition, all parts carrying matching factory numbers. A gearbox casing was obtained in England from Ian Preston. The differential is Type 38, suitably altered, from the Nuttbug (BC4)". He concluded "'4607' was sold to Art Valdez of California in 1986...".

 

This restored Bugatti Type 39 was then shipped to Bangkok, Thailand, in time for new owner Art Valdez to drive it in the December 5, 1987, Prince 'Bira' commemorative Bangkok Grand Prix meeting. Anton Perera reported in 'The Nation' newspaper: "There in the parade was the oldest car of them all, a Bugatti Type 39 – all of 62 years with a 1493cc engine. And didn't the smooth engine purr with noise, indicating that it could be a danger on the 2.5km Pattaya Circuit next week...Yes, the 1931 Australian Grand Prix winner looked in perfectly good trim and ready to turn on the speed..."

 

John Fitzpatrick of the Australian Bugatti Register later reported how at Pattaya, where the Vintage race "ended an absolutely magical fortnight...Art Valdez was euphoric after his first race in a GP Bugatti...as Neil Corner wrote recently '...To have your GP Bugatti motoring well is to live with the gods...'".

 

The car was preserved within Mr Valdez's Californian ownership until in April 1993 he telephoned former owner Bob King to declare his intention to sell it. However, it was not until 2017 that the car subsequently passed from Art Valdez into the ownership of the present vendor.

 

Today '4607' presents very well indeed, having recently benefited from a mechanical inspection, strip-down and rebuilt by Tony Ditheridge's renowned Hawker Racing concern in Milden, Suffolk, England. This work included thorough cleaning and re-commissioning - even to the extent of fitting new valve springs. This ex-works Bugatti warhorse was then unleashed successor on the open road. Now, subject to the usual inspections and personal set-up adjustments, '4607' is poised for an active 2020 motoring season.

 

The car is accompanied by a comprehensive historical overview and inspection report compiled by the highly respected British Bugatti specialists David Sewell and Mark Morris.

 

In summary they confirm that "Type 39 chassis '4607' presents itself today as a recognised and well recorded example of the 8-cylinder GP Bugatti". They continue: "One key factor that must be recorded is that the major components are of Molsheim manufacture". The chassis frame is No 61 – while they report that the Molsheim lower (engine) crankcase is '7' ex-'4604' – the Molsheim upper (engine) crankcase is '114' – the Molsheim cambox 'No 7' – the Molsheim gearbox 'No 113' – the Molsheim gearbox lid No '856' – while the Molsheim rear axle centre casing has been modified from that of a touring car, ratio 12x54, 'No 284'.

 

So here BONHAMS is delighted to commend to the market this Bugatti Type 39 – the eminently useable (and potentially so enjoyable – and so raceable) winner of the 1931 Australian Grand Prix – and previously works driver Giulio Foresti's works team car, with third place in the 1925 Grand Prix de Tourism –third place in the 1925 Italian Gran Premio delle Vetturette at Monza – and 7th in the overall Italian Grand Prix, all so prominent within its history.

 

Just one decisive bid, and this fine example of Le Pur Sang – which such a jam-packed history on both road and track - could be yours...

Driven by Pete Geoghegan. The Bend Classic.

Driven by Sarah Fisher

Günther Uecker (1930)

Spirale, 2002

Albertina - Sammlung Batliner

 

Expansion of painterly means and media

The 1960s are characterized by an expansion of painterly means and media even raising the issue of the very materiality of depiction. For example, nails are used for painting: the orientation of the nails driven into the panel and the play of light and shade make a three-dimensional object emerge. Yves Klein falls back on the first and most pristine pictorial form of human history, direct impression, by painting bodies with his patented signature color, Yves Klein Blue, and pressing them on the substrate. Yves Klein called those pieces Anthropometries (ANT). Lucio Fontana ripped up the canvas to open the pictorial space in actual reality, not just through illusionism.

Instead of having a brush mediate between artist and canvas, Arnulf Rainer, who ranks among the most important Austrian artists of the 20th century, uses his hands as a much more immediate painting tool. At this stage of art history, painting leaves any claim to representation behind, and the picture becomes an object in its own right. This is particularly evident, for example, in Gotthard Graubner's "pillow-pictures." Another indication of this is the practice of not using frames. The picture no longer depicts but is what it is. However, this is by no means tantamount to a renunciation of meaning; on the contrary, it entails the sacralization of art.

 

Expansion der Medien und Malmittel

Die 1960er-Jahre sind gekennzeichnet von einer Expansion der Medien und der Malmittel bis hin zur Frage der Materialität der Darstellung. Es wird beispielsweise mit Nägeln gemalt. Die Ausrichtung der in die Bildtafel geschlagenen Nägel und das Wechselspiel von Licht und Schatten lassen ein dreidimensionales Objekt entstehen. Yves Klein greift auf die erste und unrsprünglichste Form der Menschheitsgeschichte zurück, den Abklatsch, indem er Körper mit dem zum Patent angemeldeten Yves-Klein-Blau bemalt und dann auf den Malgrund drückt. Diese Werke nennt Yves Klein Anthropometrien (ANT). Lucio Fontana schlitzt die Leinwand auf, um den Bildraum real, nicht nur illusionistisch, zu öffnen.

Arnulf Rainer, der zu den bedeutendsten österreichischen Künstlern des 20. Jahrhunderts zählt, benutzt statt des Pinsels, der sich zwischen Künstler und Leinwand stellt, die Hände als viel unmittelbareres Malwerkzeug. In dieser Phase der Kunstgeschichte lässt die Malerei dem Anspruch des Abbildes hinter sich, und das Bild selbst wird zum Objekt. Besonders deutlich wird das bei den "Kissenbildern" von Gotthard Graubner. Auch der vielfache Verzicht auf Rahmen ist ein Hinweis darauf. Das Bild stellt nichts mehr dar, sondern es ist, was es ist. Das bedeutet freilich nicht den Verzicht auf Bedeutung, im Gegenteil: Es kommt zu einer Sakralisierung der Kunst.

 

The focus of Albertina Contemporary Art is on the art of the second half of the 20th century. Both the stars and the diversity of post-1945 art will be on display: works by Anselm Kiefer, Gerhard Richter, Arnulf Rainer, Georg Baselitz, Alex Katz and Maria Lassnig, among others, form the centerpiece of this year's presentation of contemporary positions from the ALBERTINA.

Around 80 masterpieces illustrate the multi-faceted artistic production, ranging from hyperrealism to abstraction, from facets of aesthetics of color to political topics, and illustrate the complex parallel currents of the past decades.

 

Der Fokus von Albertina Contemporary Art liegt auf der Kunst der zweiten Hälfte des 20. Jahrhunderts. Gezeigt werden sowohl die Stars als auch die Vielfalt der Kunst nach 1945: Werke von Anselm Kiefer, Gerhard Richter, Arnulf Rainer, Georg Baselitz, Alex Katz und Maria Lassnig bilden neben anderen das Zentrum der diesjährigen Präsentation zeitgenössischer Positionen aus der ALBERTINA.

Rund 80 Meisterwerke illustrieren die facettenreiche künstlerische Produktion, die von Hyperrealismus bis Abstraktion, von farbästhetischen bis zu politischen Themen reicht, und veranschaulichen die komplexen parallelen Strömungen der vergangenen Jahrzehnte.

www.albertina.at/ausstellungen/albertina-contemporary-art/

Gas driven cars were developed by the French and were available as early as the 1920s, when the car manufacturer Marius Berliet started producing commercial, wood gas powered cars. Manufacturers such as Panhard & Levassor and Renault followed shortly afterwards. Charcoal was used as the raw material for the gas, which was produced via a gas generator.

 

As it was almost impossible for civilians to get hold of petrol during the German occupation, the wood gas generator, or ‘gazogène’, provided a welcome alternative. Approximately 50.000 cars with gas generators, such as this converted Hotchkiss delivery van were on the roads in France in 1941. However, deforestation became an issue, with 150.000 tons of wood being consumed annually, so further production of gas generators was forbidden by the Germans. Not only was this another way in which to curb the mobility of civilians, it was also an excuse to confiscate more vehicles.

 

Louwman Museum

Den Haag - The Hague

Nederland - Netherlands

August 2018

 

Unimog is a range of multi-purpose all-wheel drive medium trucks produced by Mercedes-Benz, a division of Daimler AG.

 

New Unimogs can be purchased in one of two series. Medium series 405, also known as the UGN ("Geräteträger" or equipment carrier)[3]:4 and heavy series 437, also known as the UHN ("Hochgeländegängig" or highly mobile cross country).[4]

 

The first model was designed shortly after World War II to be used in agriculture as a self-propelled machine providing a power take-off to operate saws in forests or harvesting machines on fields. It was designed with permanent all-wheel drive, with equal-size wheels, in order to be driven on roads at higher speeds than standard farm tractors. With their very high ground clearance and a flexible frame that is essentially a part of the suspension, Unimogs are not designed to carry as much load as regular trucks.[citation needed]

 

Due to their off-road capabilities, Unimogs can be found in jungles, mountains and deserts as military vehicles, fire fighters, expedition campers, and even in competitions like truck trials and Dakar Rally rally raids. In Western Europe, they are commonly used as snowploughs, municipal equipment carriers, agricultural implements, forest ranger vehicles, construction equipment or road-rail vehicles and as army personnel or equipment carriers (in its armoured military version).

 

[Text from Wikipedia, with further historic information:]

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unimog

 

Unimogs are highly capable vehicles with uses in both military and civilian applications. The Unimog generally has all-wheel-drive, turning large diameter wheels and tires. The Unimogs axles are highly articulated, allowing the traverse of extreme terrain. Power take off (PTO) are available at each end of the basic Unimog structure, allowing for the mechanical powering of additional machines, such as cranes, movers and many agricultural instruments.

 

A couple of years ago the Lego Group released a large Technic model (#8110) Unimog in bright orange. This 2000 piece set was a recent benchmark, with many functions, including electrical actuation, and a faithful rendition of the Unimog's AWD highly-capable chassis and drivetrain.

 

shop.lego.com/en-CA/Mercedes-Benz-Unimog-U-400-8110

 

The Lego miniland-scale model shown here seeks to replicate the base model at a much smaller scale, whilst still retaining the base models' advanced chassis specification.

 

An acknowledgment of a similar scale Unimog by Alex Jones:

 

 

Many of the cab and tray details closely follow Alex's model, though fitted to a much more technic focused underbody.

 

This Lego miniland-scale Mercedes-Benz Unimog U500 (Series U405 - 2000) - has been created for Flickr LUGNuts' 105th Build Challenge, titled - 'The Great Outdoors!' - a challenge for any vehicle designed for outdoor adventuring.

  

About this photo:

 

I had just driven about 10 miles from an overlook above the Columbia River near Vantage Washington. I had intended to do some shooting of that dramatic gorge where the Columbia River cuts deeply through the high steepe country of Eastern Washington. However, a tremendous thunder and lightening storm drove me away.

 

The lightening above the gorge was spectacular. It filled the sky with fingers of lightning which shot from sky to earth and danced horizontally just below the cloud base. Even if I had wanted to take a few images of the storm, it would have been impossible because as well as the constant and multiple lightening strikes all around the car; the wind was whipping at at least 70 mph.

 

I have only been in one other thunderstrom that compared to this one, and it was in Waco Texas some years back which also spawned several tornadoes.

 

From a safer distance, this is what a small slice of that Eastern Washington summer thunderstorm looked like.

an old petrol driven winch long disused and slowly decaying. Its tattered covering no longer covering.

"Save the girl child campaign (an internet-driven advocacy mission) by SOCIAL GEOGRAPHIC"

Photo: Firoz Ahmad Firoz

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"Worst of all, violence against women and girls continues unabated in every continent, country and culture. It takes a devastating toll on women’s lives, on their families and on society as a whole. Most societies prohibit such violence -- yet the reality is that, too often, it is covered up or tacitly condoned." (UN SECRETARY-GENERAL in International Women’s Day 2007 Message.)

 

“Almost every country in the world still has laws that discriminate against women, and promises to remedy this have not been kept.” (UN High Commissioner for Human Rights on the eve of International Women's Day 2008)

 

According to one United Nations estimate, 113 to 200 million women are “demographically missing” from the world today. That is to say, there should be 113 to 200 million more women walking the earth, who aren’t. By that same estimate, 1.5 to 3 million women and girls lose their lives every year because of gender-based neglect or gender-based violence and Sexual Violence in Conflict ( Read more about UN Action against Sexual Violence in Conflict www.stoprapenow.org/ ). Millions of young women disappear in their native land every year. Many of them are found later being held against their will in other places and forced into prostitution. According to the UNICEF ( www.unicef.org/gender/index_factsandfigures.html ),Girls between 13 and 18 years of age constitute the largest group in the sex industry. It is estimated that around 500,000 girls below 18 are victims of trafficking each year. United Nations agencies estimated that every year 3 million girls are at risk of undergoing the procedure – which involves the partial or total removal of external female genital organs – that some 140 million women, mostly in Asia, the Middle East and in Africa, have already endured. We can point a finger at poverty. But poverty alone does not result in these women’s deaths and suffering; the blame also falls on the social system and attitudes of the societies.

 

India alone accounts for more than 50 million of the women who are “missing” due to female foeticide - the sex-selective abortion of girls, dowry death, gender-based neglect and all forms of violence against women.

 

Since the late 1970s when the technology for sex determination first came into being, sex selective abortion has unleashed a saga of horror in India. Experts are calling it "sanitized barbarism".The 2001 Census conducted by Government of India, showed a sharp decline in the child sex ratio in 80% districts of India. The Census Report of 2001 reveals a highly skewed child sex ratio (0-6 year-olds), that fell from 945 females per 1,000 males in 1991 to an all-time low of 927 in 2001. Additional data from the India’s birth and death registration service indicates that the figures have further fallen to fewer than 900 females per 1,000 men over the last few years. In some parts of the country, the sex ratio of girls to boys has dropped to less than 800:1,000. It's alarming that even liberal states like those in the northeast have taken to disposing of girls. Worryingly, the trend is far stronger in urban rather than rural areas, and among literate rather than illiterate women, exploding the myth that growing affluence and spread of basic education alone will result in the erosion of gender bias.

 

The United Nations has expressed serious concern about the situation.

Over the years, laws have been made stricter and the punishment too is more stringent now. But since many people manage to evade punishment, others too feel inclined to take the risk. Just look at the way sex-determination tests go on despite a stiff ban on them. Only if the message goes out loud and clear that nobody who dares to snuff out the life of a female foetus would escape effective legal system would the practice end. It is only by a combination of monitoring, education, socio-cultural campaigns, and effective legal implementation that the deep-seated attitudes and practices against women and girls can be eroded.

 

The decline in the sex ratio and the millions of Missing Women are indicators of the feudal patriarchal resurgence. Violence against women has gone public – whether it is dowry murders,the practice of female genital mutilation , honour killings, sex selective abortions or death sentences awarded to young lovers from different communities by caste councils, rapes and killings in communal and caste violence, it is only women’s and human rights groups who are protesting – the public and institutional response to these trends is very minimal.

 

Millions of women suffer from discrimination in the world of work. This not only violates a most basic human right, but has wider social and economic consequences. Most of the governments turn a blind eye to illegal practices and enact and enforce discriminatory laws. Corporations and private individuals engage in abusive and discriminatory practices without fear of legal system. Sexual harassment and violence in the workplace are common and constant threats to working women’s lives and livelihoods.

 

More women are working now than ever before, but they are also more likely than men to get low-productivity, low-paid and vulnerable jobs, with no social protection, basic rights nor voice at work according to a new report by the International Labour Organization (ILO) issued for International Women’s Day 2008.

  

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Unite To End Violence Against Women!

Say No To Sex Selection and Female Foeticide!!

Say No To Female Genital Mutilation!!!

Say No To Dowry and Discrimination Against Women!!!!

Say Yes To Women’s Resistance, Education and Empowerment!!!!!

 

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www.un.org/womenwatch/

www.un.org/women/endviolence/

www.saynotoviolence.org/

www.womenfightpoverty.org/