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Just won an eBay dress for £0.99. Woo Hoo! That's 2 new things to try soon. A top and a dress. And another dress. No....! 3... it's 3 new things. A top and a dress and a flirty dress... and another dress. 4! 4 new things. A top, a dress, a flirty dress and a sparkly dress. And another top..... I'll come in again.
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however we are northwest of Lettice’s flat, in the working-class London suburb of Harlesden where Edith, Lettice’s maid, is paying an unexpected call on her parents whilst her mistress is away enjoying the distractions of the London Season. Edith’s father, George, works at the McVitie and Price biscuit factory in Harlesden, and her mother, Ada, takes in laundry at home. They live in a small, two storey brick terrace house which opens out directly onto the street, and is far removed from the grandeur of Lettice’s flat, but has always been a cosy and welcoming home for Edith. Even before she walks through the glossy black painted front door, Edith can smell the familiar scent of a mixture of Lifebuoy Soap, Borax and Robin’s Starch, which means her mother is washing the laundry of others wealthier than she in the terrace’s kitchen at the rear of the house.
“Mum!” Edith calls out cheerily as she opens the unlocked front door and walks in. “Mum, it’s me!”
“Edith!” Ada gasps in delighted surprise, glancing up to the door leading from the hallway into the kitchen. “I wasn’t expecting you. What a lovely surprise!”
Ada rises from her chair at the worn kitchen table and embraces her daughter lovingly. Holding her at arm’s length, she admires her three-quarter length black coat and purple rose and black feather decorated straw hat. “Look at you, my darling girl.” The older woman self-consciously pushes loose strands of her mousey brown hair back behind her ears. Chuckling awkwardly, she remarks with a downwards glance. “You’re far too fancy for the likes of us now, Edith.”
“Don’t talk nonsense, Mum!” Edith dismisses her mother’s comment with a flap of her hand. "My coat came from a Petticoat Lane* second-hand clothes stall. I picked it up dead cheap and remodelled it myself.”
“Taking after your old Mum then?” Ada remarks with a hint of pride.
“You taught me everything I know about sewing, Mum, and I’ll always be grateful for that.”
The joyful smile suddenly fades from Ada’s face as it clouds in concern. “But it’s Tuesday today. You don’t have Tuesdays off. Is everything alright, love?”
“It’s fine, Mum.” Edith assures her mother, placing a calming hand on her mother’s shoulder with one hand as she places her basket on the crowded kitchen table with the other. “Miss Lettice has gone to stay with friends on the Isle of Wight for Cowes Week**, so I thought I’d pop in and visit since I have a bit of free time whilst she’s away.”
“Oh! That’s alright then!” the older woman sighs with relief, fanning herself as she lowers herself back into her seat.
Feeling the stuffiness in the room from the lighted range and the moisture from the steaming tubs of washing, Edith takes off her coat and hangs it on a hook by the back door. She then places her hat on one of the carved knobs of the ladderback chair drawn up to the table next to her mother’s usual seat.
“Oh don’t put it there, love.” Ada chides. “It might get damaged. Such a pretty hat should sit on the table where it’s safe.”
“It’s nothing special, Mum. This came from Petticoat Lane too, and it’s not new. I decorated the hat with bits and bobs I picked up from a Whitechapel haberdasher Miss Lettice’s char***, Mrs. Boothby, told me about.”
“Well, homemade or not, it’s too pretty to hang there.”
“It’s my hat, Mum, and I promise you, it’ll be fine there.
“Well, suit yourself, love. Anyway, your timing is perfect. I just filled Brown Betty****. Grab yourself a cup and bring over the biscuit tin. Your Dad will be home for lunch soon. He’ll be glad to see you.”
Edith walks over to the big, dark Welsh dresser that dominates one side of the tiny kitchen and picks up a pretty floral teacup and saucer from among the mismatched crockery on its shelves: one of her mother’s many market finds that helped to bring elegance and beauty to Edith’s childhood home. She looks fondly at the battered McVitie and Price’s tin. “How’s Dad?”
“Oh, things are looking up for him.” Ada says proudly as she flips open her large sewing basket and fossicks through it looking for a spool of brightly coloured blue cotton thread.
“Oh?” Edith queries.
“Yes, there’s talk of him being made a line manager. Isn’t that a turn up for the books?”
“Oh Mum! That’s wonderful news.” The younger woman enthuses as she puts the empty teacup, saucer and biscuit tin on the table and sits down next to her mother. “You might be finally able to pack all this in.” She waves her hand about the kitchen at the tubs of washing, drying laundry and pressed linens.
“Oh I don’t know about that, Edith. Anyway, I have built up a good reputation over the years.”
“Yes,” Edith remarks scornfully. “For charging too little for the excellent work you do.” She looks over, past her mother, to a neat pile of lace edged linens. “What’s that you’re doing now, Mum?”
“Oh it’s just some work for Mrs. Hounslow. She wants her new sheets and pillowcases monogrammed.”
“And how much are you, not being paid, for that, Mum?” Edith emphasises.
“Oh Edith! Mrs. Hounslow’s a widow.”
“I know, Mum. I’ve grown up hearing about how Mrs. Hounslow’s husband died a hero in the siege of Mafeking in the Boer War. But I’ve never heard of her scraping for a penny for a scrap to eat. And where are those pretty lace trimmed sheets from?”
“Bishop’s in the High Street.”
“See! No second-hand sheets for old Widow Hounslow!”
“Now I won’t have a bad word said about her, Edith.” Ada wags her finger admonishingly at her daughter before selecting a needle from the red cotton lined lid of her basket and threads it. “She’s helped pay for many a meal in this house with her sixpences and shillings over the years. You should be grateful to her.”
“Pshaw!” Edith raises her eyes to the ceiling above. “I wish you’d let me help out more, Mum. I live in, so I don’t have the expenses of lodgings, and Miss Lettice pays me well.”
“Now, I won’t hear of it, Edith.” Ada raises her palms to her daughter, still clutching the threaded needle between her right index finger and thumb. “You earned that money with hard work at Miss Chetwynd’s. You pay enough to help keep us as it is.”
“But Mum,” Edith pours tea into her mother’s and then her own teacup. “If Dad does get this better job at McVitie’s, and I paid you a bit more of my wage, you probably really could give up washing, sewing and mending for the likes of Mrs. Hounslow.”
“And then what would I do, Edith?” The older woman adds a dash of milk to her tea.
“Well, you might like to put your feet up for a bit or buy a few nice new things for around here. Get rid of our battered old breadbin and those cannisters.” She points to the offending worn white enamel green trimmed pieces on the dresser.
“Oh, so we’re not grand enough then, Miss Edith?” Ada says in mock offence as she looks down her nose at her daughter and she raises herself and sits a little more erectly in her seat. “I love my breadbin thank you very much. That was a wedding gift from your Aunt Maude.”
“You know that’s not what I mean,” Edith replies, shaking her head exasperatedly. Adding milk and sugar to her own tea she continues, “I just want you to have nice things, Mum: things like those I have at Miss Lettice’s.”
“I’m so pleased you like it there, love.” Ada places a careworn hand lovingly on top of her daughter’s.
“Oh Mum, it’s so much better than Mrs. Plaistow’s was. It’s so much smaller than their townhouse, and I don’t have to traipse up and down stairs all day. There’s a gas stove, so I don’t have to fetch coal in or blacklead grates. Even if there were, Miss Lettice has Mrs. Boothby do all the hard graft I used to have to do at the Plaistow’s.”
“And Miss Chetwynd? She’s still being good to you?”
“Yes Mum.” Edith takes a sip of her tea. “I still haven’t broken her of the habit of just waltzing into the kitchen whenever she feels like it, rather than ringing the bell.”
“And her, a lord’s daughter.” Ada tuts, shaking her head.
“Well, a Viscount’s daughter at any rate.”
“You think she’d know better.”
“I’m sure she’s different when she goes home to Wiltshire. It does sound like a very grand house.”
“So much grander than here, Edith.”
“Now don’t start again, Mum. You know I didn’t mean anything by what I said before. Anyway. I have a something for you, but I shan’t give it to you if you’re going to be contrary!” Edith teases.
“Contrary indeed!” Ada snorts derisively.
Edith takes a bulky parcel wrapped in cream butcher’s paper tied up with brightly coloured string from her basket and places it carefully on the table before her mother.
“Well what is it?” Ada asks in surprise.
“Why don’t you open it, Mum, and find out.” Edith replies playfully in return.
With trembling fingers Ada tugs at the knot in the string. Loosening it causes the protective layer of paper to fall noisily away to reveal a beautiful, glazed teapot in the shape of a cottage with a thatched roof with the chimney as the lid.
“Oh Edith, love!” gasps Ada. “It’s beautiful!”
“Since you won’t let me give you more money, I may as well buy you some nice things Mum!”
“Oh this must have cost a fortune!” Ada appraises the paintwork on the pot. “For shame, Edith! You shouldn’t have spent your money on me.”
“Nonsense Mum! I bought this at the Caledonian Markets***** where it was so reasonably priced as it was on its own and didn’t have the milk jug and sugar bowl to match. Do you like it?”
“Like it, Edith? Oh, I love it!” Ada hugs her daughter, batting her eyelids as she attempts to keep back the tears of appreciation and joy.
“Good! Then we can have tea out of this, rather than old Brown Betty!”
“What?” Ada cries. “Oh no, I can’t well do that! This teapot is far too nice to use everyday! There’s nothing wrong with Brown Betty. Brown Betty was your Great Grandma’s!” She runs her hand lovingly over the handle of the pot. “No, I’ll keep this pot for good. I’ll take it up to the parlour and we’ll use it on Christmas Day, when you and your brother are home.”
“Oh Mum!” Edith sighs, shaking her head in loving despair at her mother who beams with delight at her new present.
*Petticoat Lane Market is a fashion and clothing market in Spitalfields, London. It consists of two adjacent street markets. Wentworth Street Market and Middlesex Street Market. Originally populated by Huguenots fleeing persecution in France, Spitalfields became a center for weaving, embroidery and dying. From 1882, a wave of Jewish immigrants fleeing persecution in eastern Europe settled in the area and Spitalfields then became the true heart of the clothing manufacturing district of London. 'The Lane' was always renowned for the 'patter' and showmanship of the market traders. It was also known for being a haven for the unsavoury characters of London’s underworld and was rife with prostitutes during the late Victorian era. Unpopular with the authorities, as it was largely unregulated and in some sense illegal, as recently as the 1930s, police cars and fire engines were driven down ‘The Lane’, with alarm bells ringing, to disrupt the market.
**Cowes Week is one of the longest-running regular regattas in the world, and a fixture of the London Season. With forty daily sailing races, up to one thousand boats, and eight thousand competitors ranging from Olympic and world-class professionals to weekend sailors, it is the largest sailing regatta of its kind in the world. Having started in 1826, the event is held in August each year on the Solent (the area of water between southern England and the Isle of Wight made tricky by strong double tides). It is focussed on the small town of Cowes on the Isle of Wight.
***A charwoman, chargirl, or char, jokingly charlady, is an old-fashioned occupational term, referring to a paid part-time worker who comes into a house or other building to clean it for a few hours of a day or week, as opposed to a maid, who usually lives as part of the household within the structure of domestic service. In the 1920s, chars usually did all the hard graft work that paid live-in domestics would no longer do as they looked for excuses to leave domestic service for better paying work in offices and factories.
****A Brown Betty is a type of teapot, round and with a manganese brown glaze known as Rockingham glaze. In the Victorian era, when tea was at its peak of popularity, tea brewed in the Brown Betty was considered excellent. This was attributed to the design of the pot which allowed the tea leaves more freedom to swirl around as the water was poured into the pot, releasing more flavour with less bitterness.
***** The original Caledonian Market, renown for antiques, buried treasure and junk, was situated in in a wide cobblestoned area just off the Caledonian Road in Islington in 1921 when this story is set. Opened in 1855 by Prince Albert, and originally called the Metropolitan Meat Markets, it was supplementary to the Smithfield Meat Market. Arranged in a rectangle, the market was dominated by a forty six metre central clock tower. By the early Twentieth Century, with the diminishing trade in live animals, a bric-a-brac market developed and flourished there until after the Second World War when it moved to Bermondsey, south of the Thames, where it flourishes today. The Islington site was developed in 1967 into the Market Estate and an open green space called Caledonian Park. All that remains of the original Caledonian Markets is the wonderful Victorian clock tower.
This cluttered, yet cheerful domestic scene is not all it seems to be at first glance, for it is made up of part of my 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures collection. Some pieces come from my own childhood. Other items I acquired as an adult through specialist online dealers and artists who specialise in 1:12 miniatures.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The central focus of our story, sitting on Ada’s table, is the cottage ware teapot. Made by French ceramicist and miniature artisan Valerie Casson, it has been decorated authentically and matches in perfect detail its life-size Price Washington ‘Ye Olde Cottage Teapot’ counterparts. The top part of the thatched rood and central chimney form the lid, just like the real thing. Valerie Casson is renown for her meticulously crafted and painted miniature ceramics.
Surrounding the cottage ware teapot are non-matching teacups, saucers, a milk jug and sugar bowl, all of which have come from different miniature stockists both in Australia and the United Kingdom. The Brown Betty teapot in the foreground came from The Dolls House Shop in the United Kingdom.
Sitting atop a stack of neatly folded 1:12 size linens sits Ada’s wicker sewing basket. Sitting open it has needles stuck into the padded lid, whilst inside it are a tape measure, knitting needles, balls of wool, reels of cotton and a pair of shears. All the items and the basket, except for the shears, are hand made by Mrs. Denton of Muffin Lodge in the United Kingdom. The taupe knitting on the two long pins that serve as knitting needles is properly knitted and cast on. The shears with black handles in the basket open and close. Made of metal, they came from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniature Shop in the United Kingdom. The blue cotton reel and silver sewing scissors come from an E-Bay stockist of miniatures based in the United Kingdom.
Sitting on the table in the foreground is a McVitie and Price’s Small Petite Beurre Biscuits tin, containing a selection of different biscuits. The biscuits were made by hand of polymer clay by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination. McVitie's (Originally McVitie and Price) is a British snack food brand owned by United Biscuits. The name derives from the original Scottish biscuit maker, McVitie and Price, Ltd., established in 1830 on Rose Street in Edinburgh, Scotland. The company moved to various sites in the city before completing the St. Andrews Biscuit Works factory on Robertson Avenue in the Gorgie district in 1888. The company also established one in Glasgow and two large manufacturing plants south of the border, in Heaton Chapel, Stockport, and Harlesden, London (where Edith’s father works). McVitie and Price's first major biscuit was the McVitie's Digestive, created in 1892 by a new young employee at the company named Alexander Grant, who later became the managing director of the company. The biscuit was given its name because it was thought that its high baking soda content served as an aid to food digestion. The McVitie's Chocolate Homewheat Digestive was created in 1925. Although not their core operation, McVitie's were commissioned in 1893 to create a wedding cake for the royal wedding between the Duke of York and Princess Mary, who subsequently became King George V and Queen Mary. This cake was over two metres high and cost one hundred and forty guineas. It was viewed by 14,000 and was a wonderful publicity for the company. They received many commissions for royal wedding cakes and christening cakes, including the wedding cake for Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Phillip and Prince William and Catherine Middleton. Under United Biscuits McVitie's holds a Royal Warrant from Queen Elizabeth II.
Also on Ada’s table in the foreground there are several packets of Edwardian cleaning and laundry brands that were in common use in the early Twentieth Century in every household, rich or poor. These are Sunlight Soap, Robin’s Starch, Jumbo Blue and Imp Washer Soap. All these packets were made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.
Sunlight Soap was first introduced in 1884 by William Hesketh Lever (1st Viscount Leverhulme) and introduced to the market in 1904. It was produced at Port Sunlight in Wirrel, Merseyside, a model village built by Lever Brothers for the workers of their factories which produced the popular soap brands Lux, Lifebuoy and Sunlight.
Before the invention of aerosol spray starch, the product of choice in many homes of all classes was Robin starch. Robin Starch was a stiff white powder like cornflour to which water had to be added. When you made up the solution, it was gloopy, sticky with powdery lumps, just like wallpaper paste or grout. The garment was immersed evenly in that mixture and then it had to be smoothed out. All the stubborn starchy lumps had to be dissolved until they were eliminated – a metal spoon was good for bashing at the lumps to break them down. Robins Starch was produced by Reckitt and Sons who were a leading British manufacturer of household products, notably starch, black lead, laundry blue, and household polish. They also produced Jumbo Blue, which was a whitener added to a wash to help delay the yellowing effect of older cotton. Rekitt and Sons were based in Kingston upon Hull. Isaac Reckitt began business in Hull in 1840, and his business became a private company Isaac Reckitt and Sons in 1879, and a public company in 1888. The company expanded through the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries. It merged with a major competitor in the starch market J. and J. Colman in 1938 to form Reckitt and Colman.
Imp Washer Soap was manufactured by T. H. Harris and Sons Limited, a soap manufacturers, tallow melters and bone boiler. Introduced after the Great War, Imp Washer Soap was a cheaper alternative to the more popular brands like Sunlight, Hudsons and Lifebuoy soaps. Imp Washer Soap was advertised as a free lathering and economical cleaner. T. H. Harris and Sons Limited also sold Mazo soap energiser which purported to improve the quality of cleaning power of existing soaps.
Edith’s black dyed straw hat with purple roses and black feathers was made by an unknown artisan. 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable. This hat is part of a larger collection I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel.
In the background you can see Ada’s dark Welsh dresser cluttered with household items. Like Ada’s table, the Windsor chair and the ladderback chair to the left of the photo, I have had the dresser since I was a child. The shelves of the dresser have different patterned crockery and silver pots on them which have come from different miniature stockists both in Australia and the United Kingdom. There are also some rather worn and beaten looking enamelled cannisters and a bread tin in the typical domestic Art Deco design and kitchen colours of the 1920s, cream and green. Aged on purpose, these artisan pieces I recently acquired from The Dolls’ House Shop in the United Kingdom. There are also tins of various foods which would have been household staples in the 1920s when canning and preservation revolutinised domestic cookery. Amongst other foods on the dresser are a tin of Macfie’s Finest Black Treacle, two jars of P.C. Flett and Company jam, a tin of Heinz marinated apricots, a jar of Marmite and some Oxo stock cubes. All these items are 1:12 size artisan miniatures made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire, with great attention to detail paid to their labels and the shapes of their jars and cans.
Robert Andrew Macfie sugar refiner was the first person to use the term term Golden Syrup in 1840, a product made by his factory, the Macfie sugar refinery, in Liverpool. He also produced black treacle.
P.C. Flett and Company was established in Kirkwall in the Orkney Islands by Peter Copeland Flett. He had inherited a small family owned ironmongers in Albert Street Kirkwall, which he inherited from his maternal family. He had a shed in the back of the shop where he made ginger ale, lemonade, jams and preserves from local produce. By the 1920s they had an office in Liverpool, and travelling representatives selling jams and preserves around Great Britain. I am not sure when the business ceased trading.
The American based Heinz food processing company, famous for its Baked Beans, 57 varieties of soups and tinend spaghetti opened a factory in Harlesden in 1919, providing a great deal of employment for the locals who were not already employed at McVitie and Price.
Marmite is a food spread made from yeast extract which although considered remarkably English, was in fact invented by German scientist Justus von Liebig although it was originally made in the United Kingdom. It is a by-product of beer brewing and is currently produced by British company Unilever. The product is notable as a vegan source of B vitamins, including supplemental vitamin B. Marmite is a sticky, dark brown paste with a distinctive, salty, powerful flavour. This distinctive taste is represented in the marketing slogan: "Love it or hate it." Such is its prominence in British popular culture that the product's name is often used as a metaphor for something that is an acquired taste or tends to polarise opinion.
Oxo is a brand of food products, including stock cubes, herbs and spices, dried gravy, and yeast extract. The original product was the beef stock cube, and the company now also markets chicken and other flavour cubes, including versions with Chinese and Indian spices. The cubes are broken up and used as flavouring in meals or gravy or dissolved into boiling water to produce a bouillon. Oxo produced their first cubes in 1910 and further increased Oxo's popularity.
The large kitchen range in the background is a 1:12 miniature replica of the coal fed Phoenix Kitchen Range. A mid-Victorian model, it has hinged opening doors, hanging bars above the stove and a little bass hot water tap (used in the days before plumbed hot water).
It's been two days since Ganke told me to meet him. I haven't seen him since so I don't know what to expect when I check up on him.
Mrs. Connors is gone, the school insists there's nothing wrong as her husband has been subbing for her. There are sick rumors going around that she has cancer and not too many days left.
Despite Ganke's wildest dreams, you can worry about people without being in love.
Being at school at 4pm is strange, it's lost the hustle and bustle feel to it and an eerie one has taken it's place.
It's all the same really but even seeing one person walking through the hallway makes me cringe.
Where are the dorms anyways? I think to myself as I turn to find a plaque with Dormitories on it. I walk in to see a divider with another plaque.
100's- Women's - 200's- Men's
I turn to the right to find myself in a surprisingly crystal clear hallway. 206 shouldn't be too far either.
I walk across to see highly personalized doors to contrast the clarity, I can only wonder how they peel off the years old stickers though, unless they are still tacked on and held up under mountains of new personalizations.
Ganke's door is surprisingly clean, sans a wi-fi symbol on the door with "Master_Sword" under it.
I proceed by knocking, without hesitation, the door swings open then shuts to just a crack.
Trevor: "Who are you!?"
Miles: "I'm Miles."
The opens again then is slam shut. Great.
I turn away until the door opens again and the kid walks out.
Trevor: "Hi, I'm Trevor, Ganke's security."
I look down, he's much shorter and scrawny. If anything, Ganke could have no problems protecting himself that's for sure.
Miles: "Nice to meet you."
I put my hand out as he keeps walking away.
Trevor: "Ganke is waiting."
I watch as Trevor walks away, that was weird. I turn back to walk into the dorm to see Ganke on the ground knelt over a wooden box.
Miles: "Please tell me you didn't tell that kid about me."
Ganke looks up, confused.
Ganke: "Why would I tell my security anything important?"
I shake my head as I look around the dorm. There's a bunkbed but the top bunk is empty.
Miles: "Your security doesn't live with you?"
Ganke: "I only let him in when he's being chased by the kids from Eastern."
I tilt my head to the side as I look at Ganke. I would question why he's Ganke's security but I don't really want to know at this point.
Ganke: "Close the door would ya?"
I smile as I point my hand at the door, webbing blasts from my wrist and slams the door shut.
Ganke slides back in awe as his head bounces on his mattress. He launches himself back up with both of his arms pointing at me.
Ganke: "NO WAY!"
I can't contain my excitement either as I start bouncing around the room too.
Miles: "This will NEVER get old!"
Ganke catches me while I'm bouncing and directs me towards the box.
Ganke: "Open it."
I bend down and slowly tilt the box's top up. With a squeak it opens with no issues.
My jaw drops as the black and red suit shines in the light.
Miles: "Oh my god."
Ganke has a grin plastered on his face.
Ganke: "Here, and reporting for duties."
I pick up the suit as a mask falls from the bundle. I toss the suit onto my shoulder and pick up the mask. I stand up as I hold it in the air.
Miles: "This is perfect."
Ganke: "Put it on!"
I rip my sweatshirt off and toss it across the room. Hopefully the suit fits over a t-shirt and shorts. I hurriedly slide the suit on. I notice that I was in such a hurry that the webshooters were still on under the suit. I quickly take my arms out and toss the webshooters to Ganke, who fumbles with them until he tosses them right back.
Miles: "There we go."
Ganke: "What about the mask?"
Miles: "Not yet, where's a mirror?"
Ganke points behind me, I look over to see a large mirror on the wall. I dance my way over and strike a pose at my reflection.
Ganke: "So, are you ready to be Spider-Man?"
Miles: "No, I'm ready to be Miles Morales."
Ganke: "Your friendly neighborhood Miles Morales!--It doesn't have the ring to it."
Miles: "Toss me the mask?"
Ganke tosses the mask over, I pull it over my head and smile.
Miles: "It's time to make them proud."
I turn to Ganke and shake his hand before he decides to hug me.
Ganke: "Sorry, I just got excited."
He says, as I peel myself from the hug.
Miles: "It's cool.
Ganke: "So are you just going to ignore the painter now and do your thing or are you waiting again?"
Miles: "Well, he's already got one thing wrong, I see no problem with me going out now."
I look up to see a window skylight. That's useful.
I point up towards it.
Miles: "You mind?"
Ganke: "Feel free, just make sure to open it first."
I launch myself up to the window as I try to push it open.
Miles: "Does this not open?"
Ganke: "I think it's pull."
I pull down and the window swings open, almost knocking me to the floor.
Miles: "Stupid window!"
I leap onto the roof as I faintly hear Ganke say you're welcome. Did I thank him? God, I hope I did.
More little cootlings with their stubby wings. Well at least today I can view peoples 'streams ! There are so many niggles about the new Flickr but I hope it doesn't make people quit, I couldn't just leave all the great people I've met on here, although I didn't really believe it when I joined it really is a wonderful community and I hope that's not spoilt. It is annoying though not being able to post a series in the comments, I really don't know why they did that.
PS I'm not having the problems that others seem to be experiencing with Flickr being slow ( although it was yesterday ), makes a nice change !
As expected, not everyone showed up.
Dick: “Sorry Bruce...me and Steph are really busy. We’ve got to monitor the Titans. I’ll send in my girlfriend—“
Barbara: “I’m always here.”
Dick: “Thanks babe.”
Followed by none other than my adoptive sons. I saved out Jason for the occasion. And Cass...she was away like Kate and the rest.
Damian: “I’m here father. What do you need?”
Tim: “Bruce, I hope you’re not paranoid about this being so emergent....”
Bruce: “I’m not paranoid. I know what I’m doing. I just didn’t bring Jason for whatever reasons there is...”
Barbara: “I did ask Dick, then Roy. None of them have a single clue about him.
Bruce: “Looks like I’ll have to put together a team for this then....we need to investigate on his whereabouts.”
***
Damian: “Father, when was the last time you slept?”
Bruce: “Long ago. Don’t bother.”
Damian: “Pfft. If only I could visit this Morpheus...”
Bruce: “It’s none of your concern. Focus on the job.”
I can tell my son isn’t very pleased, as he would usually be. Even worse, Talia had been gone for three years, and that’s when we started to grow distant....
Gordon: “Dispatching available units to Gotham Alley. I repeat, dispatching available units to Crime Alley.”
Without a second though, I step my foot on the accelerator as the Batmobile goes quickly. We arrive in minutes after Gordon gives us a briefing through the comms.
There is a bloody trail that leads up to a building, just 20 metres away on that spot where my parents died. Gordon had warned me that there’s been quite some attacks that I wasn’t quite aware about.
Damian: “What if he’s setting us up?”
Bruce: “Don’t get your hopes too high yet. Oracle, try tracing the DNA.”
Barbara: “Hmm...it does seem to look like a murder case. It’s odd why no one knew until the police went through it to find out.”
Damian: “Weird thing for sure, they left some blood trails but without the bodies. Way to waste the bags when they don’t need it.”
Barbara: “Got it. It’s still very unclear on who it belongs to, but a match seems to indicate that a socialite stumbled here. Sorry Bruce, I’ll have to dig more.”
Bruce: “Do your best.”
My lenses do not tell me there are more people inside the building, but it is possible to look out on. I should be looking further beyond the lines....
And a kick nearly hits me in the ribs but I was able to anticipate it in time. Five muggers clad in masks, each with a armed weapon, start lunging. Damian throws a smokebomb quickly, as he does whips out his staff, hitting one in the head with a metal bat and the other carrying a chained machete.
And I am left dealing with three confused criminals. The leader is easy to recognise with his armed coat, and he takes two knives from his pocket and starts attacking blindly. However he is no match for me, and lays painfully on the floor from five hits to the ribs and one in front of the mask.
The last two men start to get worried, mostly due to my presence stepping out of the smoke. I throw a batarang which disables one of the men’s legs, falling flat to the ground while Robin pins the other, conscious one to the wall.
Damian: “Start talking or I’ll break your bones.”
Bruce: “Robin, don’t. Now tell me, who hired you?”
Mugger 5: I swear, Batman, I can’t say it!”
Bruce: “Fine. Then tell me, did you have anything to do with these murders?”
Mugger 5: “Y-yes! I didn’t want to! They pressured me into joining the False Face Society to murder these socialites! It was an accident! I didn’t want to hit him....”
Batman: “False Face Society? What more do you know about this?
Mugger 5: “A guy in a mask! He told me and my friends that we would be paid handsomely if we got the deal done!”
As Robin knocks him out and ties them together, I start questioning myself. Sionis? Back in town? I thought there was no way he could have returned form this gang war...
I’ll have to check it out inside.
Cactus Wren hanging out on cactus at Sauceda Ranger Station, Big Bend Ranch State Park in West Texas.
It was a very long and busy day at the office, everything was flying at full speed and people were still expecting more.
It was one of those days where you can feel the office melting off you as you walk towards that exit door and you just know that if you happened to be carrying a pile of papers you'd toss them in the air as you swung the exit open.
But days like that also fry your brain and I was grasping for ideas for today's photo when I got home. Light is limited in these autumns days so it's crucial to shoot shortly after getting home.
Luckily I remember it's October, leaves are everywhere and the month cannot go by without at least one ghost sighting.
Boo!
Hope everyone has had a good day.
Click "L" for a larger view.
We're expecting a bit of weather. Predictions are for between 15-20 cm before morning. Maybe. I'll not hold my breath.
Here in the city, we rarely get the severe weather that is predicted. But just a few km outside and it could be havoc.
I'd gone for lunch with an old friend and as we finished the snow started. I thought it very pretty and took my time before getting on the streetcar home.
Last year I purchased several packs of seeds for ten cents per pack. Planted them in containers not knowing what to expect. These emerged and bloomed.
You'd never expect a horse to give you the raspberries, but in this case as I've stated before, Strike Me Again is the class clown of the stables. Here, I asked him to smile, which by the way he knows how to do, instead I got this... PthhhbbBBBBbbthb !!
You gotta love working with animals, you never know what they're going to do next !!
There are thousands of objects you'd expect to find in a hardware store, far too many to list here. The list of known and unknown things that are not associated with hardware stores is infinitely longer.
One such thing is seen here. It's a cross-section of what must have been a historic, specimen sized tree.
In other settings this object would have been converted into a calendar on which different rings represent key dates in history: the Fall of Constantinople, the Diet of Worms, the Treaty of Westphalia, the Articles of Confederation, the first daily Peanuts comic strip, and so on.
Unlike a date on a calendar, which is a two-dimensional ink image, each ring in this piece of wood is an actual contemporary of the events that took place when the ring was formed. The same sun and moon shone over them both.
Here, the visible part of the slice is mute. If there is an explanatory label and a ring chronology it must be hidden behind merchandise.
Long Beach, Washington.
Not the decoration I expected to find in the Christmas Tree - Before I decorated the tree, I like to let it settle indoors, I heard a buzzing and then this lovely wasp flew out of it, I guess I had disturbed it's slumber bringing it in from the cold! ;0)
this pic made it to EXPLORE
never expected it, but am grateful and humble at the same time.
thanks to all my friends for the support they continuoulsy offer me!
Expect more cluster-y posts like this because I'm a little more active on Instagram than here. Enjoy :)
Yeah. You just don’t expect a Japanese tea house (and garden) on top of a mountain in Huntsville, Alabama do you? Yet, here is is. In Monte Sano State Park.
Nikon D7500 — Nikon 18-300mm F6.3 ED VR
18mm
F16@1/4th
ISO 400
Polarizer
White Balance on Flash
DSB_5482.JPG
©Don Brown 2025
While out scoping out a night shot just happened to catch CREX 1214 leading a eastbound oil can at
Steward, IL.5-10-14
Sound City Files, Volume 1 - Chapter 5
---------------------------------------------------------------
< Sound City Files, Volume 1 - Chapter 4
The water poured down with a splash, sheets flowing from her body as it cleansed her body and mind. A shower. She knew the name, but this... this was far better than she expected. Not like the rain, this water made you feel clean... refreshed.
The water clicks off.
"s̷h̷o̷w̷e̷r̷ ̷c̷y̷c̷l̷e̷ ̷c̷o̷m̷p̷l̷e̷t̷e̷"
The voice startles her to jump with a verbal squeak.
"Are you okay?"
His voice calls from the other side of the door.
"I'm fine.. This... thing? just said my shower was over..."
She's standing in the shower with the unit beeping and water dripping from the shower, now off.
He lets out a hearty laugh.
"Sorry for not warning you about that, they limit us to how much water we use. Were you able to finish?"
"Mhmm"
She dries off, squeezes her hair dry, and wraps the towel around her.
"Was there anything that you found would fit me?"
"Well, yes... but... everything I own is for men... definitely not a woman your size. I still had a few things that got confiscated when I was with CorGen and I washed them, but...."
He hesitated.
"It's fine, it can't be any worse than walking around in a towel."
Her legs were covered in goosebumps, rubbing her arms to stay warm. The heat systems at this altitude weren't exactly great. She sticks her arm out the door, cracked open just enough.
"D̴͚̜͓̳͓͈̭̀̓͐͒̇͑̐͜A̴͍͚̦̘̚T̶̨̡̘̬̰̼̪̋͂̓̋̉̒̅̓͜͝A̸͉͐̆͑͊́̾̿̕͠͝ ̸͖͎͗̒ͅÇ̸̠̻̪̦͊͗͛̍̀̃͘̚͝͝Ŏ̵̡͇̻̝̝̯͖̘̌̾R̸̨̲̤͉̣̠̼̣͎͐̈́̀͌Ŗ̴̯̰̂̈̐̽̿̏̔̎̏̐Ṵ̸̪̘̘͍̦͇̜̞̮̎́̀P̵̢̡̫̗̬͍͎͠T̶̖̰̣̲͔̗̜͖͎̪͗̈́͐̎́̃͘͝ ... you didn't really think I wouldn't be expecting you... did you?"
He kicks the ground.
"You know, I didn't even go there looking for him. Nice cover, by the way. But hey, I guess it was just my lucky day right? I owed that motherfnck3r." Vinzer smiles a vicious smile filled with perfectly aligned, perfectly white, perfectly fake teeth.
The four lapdogs surrounding her are all visibly eager. She sizes each one up carefully. One to the left. One to the right. Vinzer in front, with one flanking him on each side. Prioritize close combat targets. She thinks to herself. Remeber what he taught you. Know their next three moves. Then nine. Keep going until they don't.
"Do you give them doggie treats after each mission?"
"Is this /REALLY/ all you had?"
She sighs.
He stammers.
"I... I swear. I can go to a store and find something for you right now. Just give me li-"
"No. It's... fine."
Her face feels like it's on fire. The bodysuit barely covered anything. Confiscated? Of course the confiscated box would be from a strip club. Her body can't help but react, thinking about his eyes on her.
The door opens slowly and she takes a tedious step forward. She tries to be modest, but the tiny bit of cloth covering her made that difficult.
He's sitting on the sofa, focused on the comm in his hand when he looks up to see her. The comm drops to the floor with a dull thud. He stands up slowly, almost instinctively.
The first strike is from the agent to her left. She parries with an elbow and follows it with the muzzle of her pistol right to the female agents chest.
One.
She weaves to avoid the next shot, gunfire from the agent to her right. She swings her arms over her shoulder sending two shell casings clattering as the agent slumps to the ground.
Two.
An open shot. She moves to take down Vinzer, but the slippery rat dodges behind his own teammate to use them as a shield. Good thing it was a full synthetic. Now it's about... two-thirds of one.
Three.
He walks towards her, quiet. His eyes fixed on her. Her thighs press together, as though she can feel his eyes touching everywhere he gazes.
"w-what?" Her voice is weak, why is her heart racing like this?
He just shakes his head.
"I.. you... you're beautiful."
"It's... just this outfit. You put me in something too sexy..."
Her body is aflame. It feels like fire would erupt from her every pore. Hot. Burning.
Now only inches from her, his hand reaches up and tilts her head up by the chin to meet his gaze. So tall. So strong. So... big.
She bites her lip, making it sting slightly.
He moves forward, slowly urging her back towards the wall. It's cold against her skin. Like ice, compared to how hot she feels. She slides her calf against his, wrapping her thigh around his and pressing against him.
His hands move to the straps of her bodysuit, slowly sliding them down until they go past her wrists. They're both breathing heavily, chests heaving. She musters only four words...
"Like what you see?"
A fist slams her jaw, stars dance in her head for a moment.
The last thug grabs her from behind, arm wrapped around her neck. Thunder rings in her ears. A clang. Searing pain.
"How does it feel to take a shotgun point blank? Even your suit can't stop all of the force. I should know, I helped them test the d4mn things."
Vinzer stands holding a tactical shotgun just feet away.
"ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ, ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄᴀʟ ꜱᴜɪᴛ ᴅᴀᴍᴀɢᴇ.
ʙɪᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅᴀᴍᴀɢᴇ ᴅᴇᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ:
ꜰʀᴀᴄᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ ɪɴ ʀɪʙꜱ 3, 4, 6, 7, ᴀɴᴅ 12.
ʜᴀɪʀʟɪɴᴇ ꜰʀᴀᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ɪɴ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴏʀᴀᴄɪᴄ ᴠᴇʀᴛᴇʙʀᴀᴇ.
ɪɴᴛᴇʀɴᴀʟ ʜᴇᴍᴏʀʀʜᴀɢɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏᴍᴀᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇꜱᴏᴘʜᴀɢᴜꜱ."
The suits lecture isn't what she needed right now.
"Fnck. You."
The attack had stunned her, and now her guns were at her feet. She tugs at the thugs hold, twisting hard, and another blast roars through the streets.
The thug falls to the ground in a wet splat.
Four.
"Are you fncking serious??"
Vinzer fumes as she stumbles forward to her knees. The thug blocked most of the blast, but her back was almost numb from the pain.
She coughs. She knows now. There was never any chance of turning back. This is her judgement, and Vinzers requiem.
And not she or him could do a d4mn thing to avoid it.
Her hands slide under his shirt, the chest hair running between her fingers. His hands slide down her back, lower... lower... then lifts her up to be face to face.
She giggles softly and wraps her legs around his waist. His deep growls and firm grip send lightning through her body. His breath is warm against her chest as she runs her hands through his hair.
His scent, smooth and cool yet worn and rugged. She pulls his shirt open, buttons clatter to the floor. Feeling his bare skin against hers she leans in and bites his neck gently, letting her tongue run against his skin.
Her hands find his belt buckle and promptly release it. She moans low into his chest feeling him swell against her. He presses her hard against the wall as he drops the bodysuit to the floor.
Imposing. That's how most anyone would describe him. Few people stood taller, and her arms didn't even come close to fitting around his chest. No matter how you looked at him, he was a big man. His hands grip her hips firmly as he pulls her down until she can't go any further. She lets out a sound from her mouth she didn't even know possible. Deep, for her, and growling in ecstasy. A /very/ big man.
He lifts her to her knees by her hair. The back of his hand cracks against her mask.
"Just like good old times, right?"
His fist slams between her eyes and she falls back from the force.
Vinzer tosses a clump of blue hair to the side.
"What was it that came next? I forget... was it a kick to the stomach, or a knee to the head?"
Red mist pumps from the mask as she rolls to her back.
"Fnck it, let's go for double points." The steel toe of his shoe slams into the mask, snapping her head to the side like a whip. Silence. Darkness.
His muscles flex against her, the movements smooth, steady. Her hips roll, as his soft grunts set the rhythm. Her arms wrap under his to hold his shoulders as her legs bounce in the air.
His fingers slide along her neck, his palm pressing against her throat softly. His hand moves up, and to the back of her head while the other arm wraps her waist like a massive python. He leans back, pulling her from the wall and holds her as his arms guide her body. Faster now. She gives in completely. Her body tenses suddenly, then goes limp as she lets out a muffled moan into his neck.
Her mind races as she's filled with warmth, love. His love. Her mind reels in pleasure. Nothing ever felt more right.
She lays on the sofa relaxing, crop top and panties as usual. The door latch clicks. She checks the time.
"Welcome home!" She bounces up from the sofa and does her best to tackle the man.
"Wow. You really put the shine on her, dint ya?" Jessups voice is unmistakable.
"I did nothing of the sort." He's stern, more than usual.
When she realizes, she ducks behind a cabinet. "Hey! Why are you here??" She tries to cover herself.
"Jessup is just helping me bring up some boxes from the storeroom so I didn't have to make 2 trips." He slides the box over and stacks the one from Jessup on top. "Thanks, I'll stop by later so you can check the actuator in my knee. It's been a bit glitchy."
"Ya ya, no freebies this time." Jessup shuffles to the stairs. "Full price!"
"So what have you been up to?" He pulls her close as he shuts the cabinet door she was hiding behind.
"Well, first I went out and sold myself to EVERY guy on the block." She giggles.
"Oh really? Did you make a lot?" He squeezes her.
"Oh lots, but THEN I went and bought all of the expensive clothes I've wanted." She wiggles against him.
"Oh, then I get a fashion show?" His hands sneak lower.
"I don't need new clothes to do that for you..." She looks down and pulls the loose collar of her top off her shoulder, then looks back up to him softly biting her lips as she peers up from under her long eyelashes.
His lips press against her forehead. "So what did you really do?"
"I had an early delivery, then a commute across town to get another in the afternoon. That's about all. Also... I cleaned!" She points at the floors.
"Did said cleaning involve dancing?" He chuckles, knowing the answer.
"Duh, like I would clean and NOT dance." She slithers her body against his.
He spins her around like a ballroom dancer. "I'm glad your day was good."
"Yep! Let's celebrate!" She springs around the apartment, stopping at the sofa and leaning over the back to talk to him.
"I've been here for a month now!"
"Oh, you are absolutely correct. That most definitely /is/ reason to celebrate. So..."
The word echoes in her mind.
"Where are we going?"
They lay back on the bed, content and worn. "I'm sorry... you might need another shower..." His voice is soft from heavy breathing.
She giggles and snuggles into his chest. "Want to share one?" Her voice is seductive and low.
He pulls her close and sighs contently as a moments eternity of peace gives them a tiny taste of respite.
She lays on top of him, both sweaty and panting. "Let's leave."
"What?" He blinks, surprised by the statement, looking down into her eyes.
"Let's leave. This place. It's... rotten. Maybe if there was some order.. or even just... someone that cared. This isn't the place to start a life." She draws patterns on his chest with the tip of her finger as she lays her cheek against him.
"You know I'd go anywhere with you. Just say the word." He brushes her hair back over her ear.
"I just.... I want it to be us. Just us. No CorGen. No thugs. No more operations. What if... one day... you don't come back to me?" A tear wells in her eye and drops onto his skin.
"Ok. Fine. So..."
The word echoes in her mind.
"Where are we going?"
"... *crackle* to *krzzzzz*ie."
.
.
.
"... going to *digital noise*"
.
.
.
"You're going to DIE!"
It's warm, but cold at the same time. She's here, but everywhere also.
"... up."
.
.
.
"get*static*"
She looks where her hand should be. Nothing. Everything is white. There's nothing but... light.
"I knew you'd do something reckless." His voice comes from beside her, behind her, inside her. "You have to get up. If you don't, you're going to die."
"Am I dead?" She tries to look around but there's no left or right, up or down.
"I need you to listen. I wasn't... entirely honest with you. That place... where they kept you. It wasn't just a place to torture you. They did things. Horrible things. Vinzer was taking young girls from the streets and using implants to force them to do what he wanted. Murder, robbery, and... other things. But you... nothing they did would break you. I couldn't do it any more. Chasing you down, dragging you back to that place. Your screams..."
He looks away.
"I left his crew, and the moment I could come get you... I did."
"Why?" She wants to cry. "Why did you lie to me?"
"I didn't want to force you to remember. Any of it. It was wrong. Can you forgive me?"
His words are soft.
"I love you." Her response comes without any will of her own.
"I can't make it right, but I can help you... one more time. All of the VES suits, they're modeled after you. You were subject #000. When I worked on your suit, I linked it to your neural implant..."
His explanation makes little sense.
Her mind interrupts. "You're dead."
"Well, yes... technically. And... technically, so are you." His voice doesn't waver.
"Dead?" She questions.
"Yes. For now." He sighs. "All done. I love you. You don't have to do this. Please. Get out of there. Run. Don't look back. Forget me. Forget the city. Be free. I'll always be watching you, my love."
The white fades to gray. "I love you. My light." Her thought sends vibrations through her reality, shattering it to nothingness. Dark. Quiet.
The apartment is pitch black, the only sound the rain pattering against the windows.
Quiet. Dark.
"D̴̀̓A̴͍̚T̶̋͂A̸͐͠ ̸͗̒C̸͊͘Ŏ̵̌R̸͐̈́R̴̂̈U̸̎́P̵̢͠T̶͗͘???" She calls for him. Silence. Her eyes adjust, and she sees the apartment in shambles.
"D̴̀̓A̴͍̚T̶̋͂A̸͐͠ ̸͗̒C̸͊͘Ŏ̵̌R̸͐̈́R̴̂̈U̸̎́P̵̢͠T̶͗͘?!?!?!?!?!" She calls out again, and again... silence. She flicks the lights, nothing.
She uses the light of her comm to look around frantically. Calling his name, over and over. As she turns the corner to their bedroom she falls to her knees.
Her hands shake as she reaches for his... Cold. She screams in pain. It's so dark. So cold. She can't see his light.
She drags herself close to his still body and lays her head on his chest. "You can't go... you can't leave me..."
The door bangs open suddenly and Jessup rushes in carrying a flashlight. "Is everyone alright? I heard a screa-" He stops abruptly as he sees her. "Oh fnck..."
She turns towards Jessup, eyes cold as the oceans depths. "Jessup..." Tears stream down her face. "My light..." The words barely escape her lips.
"They took him from me."
-------------------------------------------------------
Sound City Files, Volume 1 - Chapter 6 >
😭😭😭😭😭*kicks and punches at the air* Go get em! RAWR!! lol
I love how this shot came out. I always proof my photos before I post them, andthis one was just sooo much fun. I took a backdrop, modified it for use in the city, then used it as a more elaborate backdrop. I think there's probably about 150 lights in that shot. Seriously. There's definitely thousands of particles. I know everyone I've shown previews to has been really amped up about it! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did taking it!
Only a couple of chapters left.... are you ready?
EDIT: I'm sorry about the formatting. Flickr feels that they should modify what you enter. I'm not sure why... but they do. I also can't use anything to format it more properly since they ignore or remove the formatting. Please reach out if you know of a way to keep formatting when I post descriptions. Thanks! :)
❤️ Epi!
Not what I expected to photograph today - a guinea fowl strutting around the car park at the marina (no idea why or where it had come from).
I was hoping to shoot some lovely scenic shots from the boat as we cruised down the harbour on our first, very much delayed due to lockdown, voyage of the year. But the gremlins struck and the boat is still not quite ready to go to sea ... soon hopefully.
Hmm..quite expected when you see such a humongous camera in front of you for the first time...certainely its not the yummiest things to put inside the mouth...isn't it?
I don't know why i like this grungy look of the pic!!
I have many Shots of this guy, so i will upload the best ones here- expect to see many more :)
In this shot he is perching on a pomegranate tree branch that just started to sprout. Actually the couple built their nest on a nearby olive tree- that is why they keep perching on these branches, allowing me to get very close for these shots :)
Thanks to all who viewed, commented on and or faved my photo. It is greatly appreciated. Raed :)
to show you how small this bird is:
www.birdsbase.com/bbis_test/img/sub/30745/712623/AB2P8964...
A trip to Worcestershire mid April to hopefully photograph a Kestrel.
Was not expecting much but turned out quite a good day despite very cold Northerly winds and sunny intervals.
The Common Kestrel is a relatively small bird of prey reaching 32-35cm in length with a wing span measuring up to 80cm. In the UK, it is usually just referred to as the Kestrel, as it is the only kestrel species found in the UK. It is also known as the Windhover.
The Kestrel is the second most numerous bird of prey in the UK after the Buzzard, and is a familiar sight hovering beside roads and motorways or the edges of woodland as it searches for prey.
Adult male Kestrels have chestnut coloured upper parts with heavy black spots. Their rumps and tails are blue-grey and the tail has a black subterminal bar with white tips. The primary and secondary flight feathers are black, and they have yellow-brown underparts that are streaked with black.
Kestrels have blue-grey heads with a black moustache and their chins are white. The hooked grey bill has a black tip and yellow cere, the eyes are dark brown with a yellow eye-ring, and their legs and feet are bright yellow.
Female Kestrels are larger than the males and they have browner upper parts with dark bars. The lower back and rump are blue-grey and the tail is brown with black bars. The primary fight feathers are dark brown, and the secondaries are streaked with brown. On the head the crown and nape are brown with darker brown streaks.
I wasn't expecting this to be out on vintage running day and I think it is probably my favourite of the buses out today. I don't know when this was purchased for the vintage fleet but I do know it did the 20 days of summer tour last year. So here we see Ex London red bus RLT 281 seen on Atholl Crescent while doing the special service 26.
Kenmawr
From "The Peanuts Movie", Craig and Bryan Schulz, Blue Sky Studios and Twentieth Century Fox Animation, 2015. Screen capture, 2016, adapted. It is a wonderful movie. Check it out if you haven't already. No rights assumed.
I expect you're no stranger to this thing by now, seeing as it features in my most faved photograph to date! Curiously, I haven't seen or heard anything about it being in service since, so I can only assume mechanical issues have been keeping it off the road. Bustimes thinks it was last used in January, which is definitely incorrect since it was that website which alerted me to this working on 26.3.21, with the bus heading out for a stint on the 100 before going straight back to the depot. Of course, now I'm even more pleased I went out for it instead of staying in bed... and the luck was on my side for once!
Even though 'local' isn't exactly one of my favourite liveries, I can't deny the President body style carries it quite nicely. On what I'm fairly certain was its first trip in service, the usual build up of dirt and exterior wear and tear had yet to occur so in this view 18027 does look mighty fine with its clean bodywork and wheels, although the faulty side blind and crazed border around the front blind do detract slightly. Lack of adverts is another bonus too! Of course I wouldn't be me if I didn't also mention the absence of any black detailing whatsoever, either around the windows, above the front blind glass or on the 'bib' below the windscreen. I guess that was expected since the repaint was carried out at Lincoln depot, and I'm glad they didn't use any of that miserable dark blue colour on it instead!
In short, I think it looks good and carries the livery surprisingly well, but once the dirt and paint deterioration sets in the novelty of a re-liveried President will die off and it won't look as good as it did in beachball.
26.3.21
Expecting 83 degrees for a high today. It certainly looks and feels more like spring than the end of fall. There are several monarchs laying eggs today.
Even though I hadn't expected to even see the thing, I did expect at least a few more minutes before CN M335 left Champaign yard. I rolled up behind the head of the train, just past the Olympian Drive bridge, and stopped to verify what I was seeing. Yep, 4 Illinois Central deathstars on the head of the train - I was in the right place. Between this train and both A407/8 trains, there were so many black ICs on the old IC it might as well have been raining black today! I grabbed my camera to see what numbers all four units were, but was interrupted by a double-tap on the horn. Surely not...
Evidently I couldn't have timed my arrival any better - they had a fresh crew and they were leaving Champaign right then and there. Cue a mad dash for Ford Harris Road for my first shot! I had expected to be waiting for Amtrak before they left, so I thought I would have had another like fifteen minutes at least to prep my first shot. Nope, I got thirty seconds. All about timing, isn't it?
Charging northbound out of Leverett Junction, the northern end of Champaign's railyard, Illinois Central SD70s 1010, 1036, 1007, and 1026 have M335 well under control. They don't need all four up here, just two really, but Memphis gave them four and by god are they going to use all four! They looked and sounded damn good.
Worth pointing out the amusing weathering situation here. The two first-order units, 1010 and 1007, are noticeably more dirty than the two second orders, 1036 and 1026. Though only four years separates each pair of SD70s, the dirt and grime would have you thinking it's more like 10 or 15 years.