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This past weekend, my fiancee and I moved across town to a new apartment. The new spot is closer to downtown, the brewery, the beach and the barbecue place. It's also closer to the tracks (much to Ashley's dismay). Tonight, I should have been unpacking boxes, but after a long day at work I couldn't bring myself to do it. As I sat on the couch flipping through a magazine, I listened to a pair of BNSF Railway GP38s switching cars just a block away. So I grabbed the camera and the tripod and walked down the street. It was a lot better than figuring out where the couch should go.
My divorce from Lord Lyndon has now been finalized, to the keen satisfaction and excitement of both parties! We both have wedding plans of our own, now we are single again - though we will always remain close friends and business associates! I am to marry Le Duc de D'Or Baleine, and my ex-husband will be marrying Sir Charles Dexter, in his/her new identity of Miss "Lulu" Lyndon.
It's a lot of fun being engaged to the wealthiest man in the world! My honeybunch completely understands what a total tart and strumpet I am (that's one of the reasons he fell for me!). But he also loves to see me acting the part of the posh, aristocratic lady - and showing me off to the world as his glamorous trophy bride! Here I am all dolled-up and ready for tonight's round of cocktails, dinner - and whatever other activities may transpire...
Speaking of other activities, I have been so busy with my wedding preparations that I have been unable to spend as much time as usual working at The Salon. Lady Amanda Barclay has been doing a superb job running our operation during my absences, and I have been keeping my hand in (so to speak!) by seeing some of my regular clients.... But I have been candid with my fiancé about my intention to return full-time to my chosen profession after our honeymoon. Like almost all husbands, my honeybunch is completely thrilled by the thought that his lawful wedded wife is also a completely shameless tart!
I think we may soon be seeing a new "wife watcher" at The Salon...!
Toodle Pip!
Love and Kisses to all my Friends and Fans!
xxxxx
Lady Rebecca Georgina Arabella Lyndon
Duchess of Basingstoke
(a hereditary title which I will definitely be keeping!!!)
New photo! My fiancee and I had the opportunity to take photos again in July, and this time we took some outside at a local park. Please let me know what you think, and stay tuned for more!
Audrey’s hair has been breaking for a while now, & back in April it finally came off in clumps. I never figured out why, but since it broke off at the scalp & the only way I was able to get it out of the holes was to poke it with a needle, I think maybe Sekiguchi used some kind of glue which eventually caused the hair to snap off. I couldn’t find a replacement for her, so my only other option was to re-root her This is around the time I had my first problem. After getting rid of the old hair, I realized that her rooted eyelashes had disappeared. They must have been attached to the hair on her head, so when I removed that, it took her eyelashes too. I was not happy, but I added her eyelashes to the re-root list.
First I had to decide what color to re-root her in. She looked like she had black hair, but when I looked at photos of her, I realized that I could see a brownish tint. I finally decided on Espresso for her head & black nylon for her eyelashes both by Restore Doll. I decided to do her eyelashes first & they came out pretty nicely (there’s a photo in my photostream) so I went ahead & started the re-root. I don’t really like re-rooting but I sucked it up & started using the existing holes in her head. This is when problem # 2 appeared. I realized that even though I was using the same holes as Sekiguchi, there were big bald spots that looked very obvious. I don’t know what they did with the original rooting so that didn’t happen, but I had to make some of my own holes to cover the spots. Eventually it was time for problem # 3. Her nicely rooted eyelashes got all messed up from the re-rooting & had to all be removed. This whole process had taken a few months by now, & I had loose doll hair, a doll body, & a partly re-rooted doll head on my desk all this time. It was the task that would not go away. I finally finished the re-root, re-rooted her eyelashes again, & after many months, put her head back on her body.
At this point she had very long hair, but her original style is a very short haircut, so it was time to get the scissors out. I’ve done a few haircuts on dolls, but I’ve never done a short haircut & I wasn’t sure how it would come out. It took me a few days because I didn’t have any clear photos of the right side, the top, or the back of her head before it broke off, so I kept putting her down so that I could check progress with a clear brain, but I have finally finished to my satisfaction. She doesn’t look exactly like she did, but she looks close enough to make me happy.
This is the third Sekiguchi Momoko I’ve had a problem with hair that just snapped off. One I was able to replace, & the other I was able to hide it, but it’s ridiculous that this would even happen. They take no responsibility for it, I guess they just think it’s OK for their dolls to only last a while.
My New Novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
This is the third time I'm sharing it. (^^;;
It's a rough sketch from the beginning, more like notes.
Hope you enjoy reading it. :)
I've added quite a bit.
I won’t be uploading any more. (^_^;)
Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
Set in New York City.
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...
Red, yellow, blue—
Light rain began to fall on East 52nd Street just after 7 p.m.
Anaya Patel leaned against the wall of the building next to Tot Ramen, where she was supposed to meet someone, and absentmindedly stared at the traffic light at the intersection to her right. Though it was already July, it felt like a cooler summer than last year, and she regretted stepping out in just a T-shirt.
When the light turned green, Anaya squinted and stared intently. Kana, her former classmate, was smiling and waving as she ran toward her—
The flat ceiling of Madison Square Garden looked as if it were swelling from the heat of the crowd to Jack. Cheers welcoming the presidential candidate mingled with angry shouts, shaking the air like a wave.
Jack surveyed the arena briefly before returning his gaze to his iPhone. Several social media feeds scrolled simultaneously on the screen, overflowing with rapid posts.
One post in the Meta feed caught his eye. A death threat.
Republican presidential candidate Justin Bradford was about to take the stage with his fiancée, Eleanor Blake.
As the red lights symbolizing the Republican Party lit up the center stage, the two appeared together.
Then came the gunshots.
Jack recognized it instantly—two shots.
While chaos erupted inside the arena, Jack calmly closed his eyes and visualized the scene. He traced the sound of each shot to its possible source.
The first shot had likely come from the PA area near his right side. But Secret Service agents were stationed there.
He recalculated the second shot—probably fired from the left side of the stage. The assailant must have known the couple's precise positions. A security leak, perhaps.
Then came the second report. Ben Holloway, his colleague, delivered it with practiced calm. The bullets had grazed Justin’s left shoulder and abdomen. No arteries were hit, but the bleeding was severe.
Jack replied with steady resolve:
"Justin has Bombay blood. I confirmed it three days ago with Bellevue Hospital. They have a reserve."
Ben acknowledged it calmly, as if nothing had happened.
Justin was rushed to Bellevue, the nearest hospital. Jack called Elijah Kane, who was already waiting there. Secret Service agents, of course, never used apps like WhatsApp.
Before the first ring ended, Elijah picked up.
"Jack, it’s bad. We don’t have the blood. The Bombay blood is gone."
Jack couldn’t believe it.
"I confirmed it personally three days ago with the staff. Saw the blood bags myself."
After a brief pause, Elijah answered:
"The person in charge of those bags died in a car accident yesterday."
Anaya waited for her husband Arjun at Tot Ramen. Her college friend Mika (Sato), a Japanese artist, was with her.
As the waiter placed her bowl in front of her, her phone rang.
It was Bellevue Hospital.
Without hesitation, Anaya answered. Mika watched her with concern.
"Ms. Anaya Patel? This is Sasha Wilson from the ER. You may have heard, but the Republican presidential candidate was shot. We need your blood immediately. A Secret Service vehicle will pick you up. Please do not move."
Anaya turned toward the display hanging over the counter. A male reporter was broadcasting live from MSG.
At the entrance, a well-dressed man in a blue suit approached quickly.
"I’m Rohan Shah with the Secret Service. Please come with me. The car is outside."
Just as he reached for her, Anaya's phone buzzed again. The caller ID was unknown.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Anaya Patel?"
"Yes, who is this?"
"Jack Vance, Secret Service. I'm almost there."
"How do you know my location?"
"We’re professionals. We have ways."
"But the agent is already here."
Jack’s urgent shout rang through the phone: "NO!"
The man before her drew a rifle from inside his suit and aimed it at her forehead.
A soft gunshot echoed inside the restaurant.
Anaya froze in shock, unable to speak. The man collapsed to the floor.
Then Arjun appeared—her husband, pointing a gun at her.
"Freeze! FBI!"
Several NYPD officers and suited FBI agents stormed in.
"Everyone down! Hands behind your heads!"
Classic movie dialogue. Anaya was trembling. So was Mika. But probably no one was shaking more than Arjun.
Moments later, Jack burst into the restaurant.
"Anaya Patel!"
Without looking up, she answered:
"Yes, that’s me."
Jack wiped sweat from his brow, lifted her up, and said:
"We’re going to the hospital."
At the hospital, Elijah sent Jack a message with a link.
Jack tossed his phone to Anaya in the passenger seat:
"Open the link!"
It was a live broadcast.
"Good evening, New York. And Los Angeles. My name is Zakaria Haddad. That’s my real name.
I used to live in Gaza. Now, I'm in a room modeled exactly after your President’s office."
Zakaria, a brown-skinned man with a beard, sat calmly in a chair identical to the Oval Office's.
He glanced at his watch, then back to the camera.
"There’s about to be breaking news. Watch your smartphone alerts."
Seconds later:
BREAKING: Former Democratic President Owen Reid shot at Los Angeles Convention Center.
Zakaria smirked and said:
"A sad alert, isn’t it, America? But don’t be too sad. What I went through in Gaza was 55,000 times worse. We lost more than 55,000 loved ones. And cried tears we couldn’t stop."
He bowed his head, clenched his fists, and pounded the desk.
When he looked up, his eyes were wet.
"We seek no money. No glory in death. We only ask that you cry as many tears as we did. Only tears can heal what we lost."
He placed his elbows on the desk, rested his chin on clasped hands, and closed his eyes.
His eyelids trembled slightly.
"I'm just one of the 55,000. If I vanish, 50,000 more remain. Our will cannot be silenced. I'm here to declare it."
From the drawer, he pulled out a Glock 17, chambered a round, and aimed it at his temple.
As a Sunni Muslim, he looked into the camera and said dryly:
"God bless you, America."
He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.
The screen went black.
The corridor to the ICU was tightly guarded.
Jack handed Anaya to Sasha.
Sasha had her sign a consent form and led her to a bed.
The bed next to hers was enclosed in vinyl sheets, a man inside, barely recognizable as the candidate.
Sasha gave detailed instructions to the staff.
Vital monitors, oxygen equipment, ventilators—every machine had someone watching it.
A nurse wiped Anaya's arm with disinfectant and inserted a needle.
Blood flowed into the tube.
Direct transfusion is usually avoided due to infection risk, but Bombay blood is an exception.
Anaya had signed, understanding the danger.
She didn’t feel it yet—that her blood was saving a life.
She stared up at the ceiling and breathed deeply.
She had only come to eat ramen with Mika.
What would happen to Arjun? Who had he shot?
As these thoughts swirled, sleep took her.
Justin's father, Cyrus Rajan Bradford, emigrated from Mumbai in 1971 and served five terms as a Democratic congressman from New Jersey's 6th District.
He was shot while giving a speech in Union Square.
Justin, then a child, couldn't grasp what had happened.
The shooter was a young Democrat—a white-collar idealist who demanded immediate healthcare reform. Cyrus’ gradual approach wasn’t fast enough for him.
Cyrus, himself an immigrant, believed real change took time.
But little Justin just wanted to hug his father.
Even as he stopped breathing.
He believed the hug might bring him back.
Justin never forgave that man.
Cyrus Rajan Bradford:
"We must dream big, but move forward step by step. Sudden change only divides society. Democracy means lifting the voices of the unheard and walking together."
Anaya and Mika drove from Paramus, New Jersey, to Williamsburg for the Artists & Freeze weekend event.
Mika had come from Japan to study at Montclair State University and admired Anaya's black-and-white drawings.
Anaya used pencils, pens, and everyday stationery to draw portraits and scenes.
Mika, who painted vivid oil works, was drawn to the simplicity of Anaya's work.
In the campus cafeteria, Anaya once told Mika:
"The place I grew up was barren. No green. No rivers. Just dry wind and sand. But I didn’t hate it."
She poked at her ham and eggs.
"There was nothing but paper and pencils. That’s all I had."
She smiled gently at Mika.
"But I felt I had to treasure it. Everyone on social media seemed so wealthy. But I didn’t envy them. I wanted to show the world my own everyday life. Isn’t it beautiful to share the place you love?"
Mika nodded deeply.
She had grown up in Kamiyama-cho, Shibuya, where the streets were quiet, lined with traditional homes, even as the rest of the district transformed with flashy ads and modern towers. That contrast shaped her art.
"The darkest hour is just before dawn."
Manhattan's dawn recalled that phrase.
When America fell into darkness, a trader once said it.
Amir had heard it from Zakaria, his professor at the Islamic University of Gaza.
Amir and Rafi Ghanem were both his students. They studied electrical engineering, electronics, and programming.
Understanding America’s weak IT networks was easy for them.
Zakaria helped scatter families of Gaza's 55,000 dead across the U.S., waiting.
Rafi and Amir were among them.
They had lost wives, lovers, families.
Those in darkness find no light.
Only those who gather at the bottom of the abyss, resolved, can rival true power—even the U.S. presidency.
Rafi had begun building a pirate radio two years earlier.
Using Caribbean and Hispanic immigrant communities as cover, he revived ancient communication: one-way broadcast.
They carried smartphones but used them only for idle talk. Nothing sensitive.
Rafi pressed the switch.
A tiny click was swallowed by the night.
A red lamp glowed.
The voltage meter twitched.
At exactly 2 a.m., on FM 87.9, a woman’s voice read poetry:
"If the world ends,
I want to be singing,
Alone."
To be continued...
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
1 U2 Helter Skelter (Live) youtu.be/OBL-gVSJp2I?si=CuYs7HKsxCaVTQb3
2 Jimi Hendrix: The Star Spangled Banner (Live): www.youtube.com/watch?v=sjzZh6-h9fM
3 Jimi Hendrix: Purple Haze (Live): www.youtube.com/watch?v=cJunCsrhJjg
4 The Beatles: If I Fell (2009 - Remaster): www.youtube.com/watch?v=MX3Xm4TNF00
5 Tyler, The Creator: Take Your Mask Off (feat. Daniel Caesar & Latoya Williams...): youtu.be/tSd85SmghYs?si=-E-M6dhSdcYzBFjU
6 The Weeknd: Niagara Falls: www.youtube.com/watch?v=HxWx5UuznGI
7 Drake: Laugh Now Cry Later (feat. Lil Durk): www.youtube.com/watch?v=JFm7YDVlqnI
8 Linda Sikhakhane: Inkehli: www.youtube.com/watch?v=vDHbPFAlrO4
9 Freja Lundgren - Finding Silence – : Not found.https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCUo7F3P2ObeLyC8Fwp70NEQ
10 Mathias Eick: Loving: www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYh_orn9ydA
11 21 Savage & Summer Walker: prove it: www.youtube.com/watch?v=dNIJmlhgqGk
12 Tiana Major9: On God!: www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wp1Q5V2eKI
13 Usher: Kissing Strangers: www.youtube.com/watch?v=_fepftsv6RA
14 JUNG KOOK: Never Let Go: www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_n4Ysi5iUM
15 Taylor Swift: This Love: www.youtube.com/watch?v=6xsL45rr3VU
16 Metallica: Disposable Heroes: www.youtube.com/watch?v=JIiXONFj6lM
17 The Beatles:Across The Universe (Remastered 2009):youtu.be/90M60PzmxEE?si=DvkYgRwEK_lha6CT
18 Ganavya: Land: www.youtube.com/watch?v=HRmU6z6v1cs
Notes
1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"
•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.
•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).
•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.
•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.
2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
Manhattan. New York. USA. 2007. (7 / 8)
Shot with a Nikon Coolpix 8700.
Today's photo has never been published before.
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
3回の公開です(^^;;
冒頭からの走り書きです。メモ程度です。
よかったら読んでください。:)
結構、加えましたよー^_^
もうアップしません。(^_^;)
舞台はニューヨークです。
追記 この小説を多少説明しました。
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
— 赤、黄色、青ーーー
イースト５２ndストリートに小雨が舞いはじめたのは、午後七時過ぎだった。
アナヤ・パテルは、待ち合わせたトットラーメンのとなりのビルの壁面にもたれ、右手に見える十字路の信号機をぼんやり眺めていた。もう７月だというのに、昨年よりも冷夏に感じ、Tシャツ一枚で出かけてきたことを後悔していた。
十字路の信号が青に変わると、アナは目を細め、凝視した。同級生のカナがこちらへ手を振りながら微笑み、駆け寄ってきていた——
マジソンスクエアガーデンの平坦な天井は、吐き出された人の熱気でいつもより膨らんでいるように、ジャックには見えた。大統領候補を歓迎する声とそれを罵倒する叫び声が錯綜し、鼓膜の奥を揺らしていた。
ジャックは、軽く場内の隅々まで目を凝らしてから、再びアイフォンに目を落とした。画面には、いくつかのSNSが同時に広がっており、それぞれが激しい書き込みによって文字が流れてゆく。
右下の、メタの書き込みに、ジャックは目を留めた。殺害予告だ。
大統領候補のジャスティン・ブラッドフォードは、フィアンセのエリノア・ブレイクとともに間も無くステージに立つ。
共和党を示す赤い光がステージ中央に差し込むと、二人は同時に現れた。
と、同時に、銃声が響いた。
一聴しただけでは気づかなかったがジャックの耳は聴き分けた。弾は二発だ。
騒然とした場内をよそに、ジャックは静かに目を閉じた。発射音から着弾までを想像した。
一発目の弾は、ジャックの右手、たぶん、PA近辺からだ。しかし、ジャックと同じ配属のシークレットサービスが張り込んでいたはずだ。もうひとつの弾丸をジャックは再び目を閉じて計算した。
弾は、たぶん、ステージ左手側からだ。ジャスティンとエリノアの二人の立ち位置を計算しているようだ。ひょっとしたら情報が漏れていたかもしれない。
ジャックの耳に第２報が入った。同僚のベン・ホロウェイの冷静な声だ。心臓ははずれたものの、弾は左肩と腹部をかすめていた。動脈には達していなかったが、出血がひどかった。
ジャックも冷静に、ベンへ伝えた。
「ジャスティンはボンベイブラッドだ。三日前にベルビュー病院に確認した。予備の血液は保管されている」
ベンは、何事もなかったかのように、わかったと静かにいった。
マジソンスクエアガーデンにもっとも近いベルビュー病院に、ジャスティンを運び込む。ジャックは、病院で控えているイライジャ・ケインにスマートフォンから直接電話した。シークレットサービスではもちろんワッツアップなどのSNSはご法度だ。
ワンコールが切れる前にすぐイライジャは反応した。
「ジャック、大変だ。血液がない。ボンベイブラッドがないんだ」
ジャックは、耳を疑った。
「三日前に、俺は直接担当の、名前は忘れたな。とにかく目の前でブラッドバッグを確認したぞ」
イライジャは、数秒の沈黙の後、応えた。
「その血液の管理者は、きのう、交通事故で亡くなったんだ」
アナヤ・パテルは、夫のアルジュンをトットラーメンで待った。
学生時代からの親友、ミカ（佐藤）（日本人）も一緒だ。
店員が、アナヤの目の前にラーメンを差し出したとき、スマートフォンが鳴った。
登録してあるベルビュー病院からだった。
アナヤは、躊躇わずに出た。着信を見たミカは不安げにアナヤを見守った。
「アナヤ・パテルさんですか？ 私は救急部のサーシャウィルソンと言います。すでにご存知かもしれませんが、共和党大統領候補が撃たれました。あなたの血が必要です。すぐに病院へ来てください。シークレットサービスの車が迎えに行きます。動かないでください」
アナヤは、呆然としているミカの視線を追って、背後を振り返った。カウンターのちょうど左上に下がったディスプレイには、MSGの現在が男性レポーターによって放映されている。
アナは開いた入り口に目を移した。青い、洗練されたスーツをまとった褐色の肌の男性が、足早にアナに寄ってきた。
「シークレットサービスのロハン・シャーと言います。私と一緒に病院へ来てください。外に車を用意してあります」
彼は真剣な眼差しでアナへ伝え、手を引こうとした瞬間、アナのアイフォンが再び震えた。番号だけ浮かびあがっている。登録されていないようだ。アナは慌てて、タッチした。
「はい」
「アナヤ・パテルさん？」
「ええ、あなたは？」
「ジャック。ジャック・ヴァンス。シークレットサービスです。もうすぐそちらへ到着します」
「わたしの場所をどうやって？」
「わたしたちはプロだ。あらゆる手段を用意しています」
「もう、シークレットサービスの人が来てるわ」
ジャックの、違う！ という怒声が響いた瞬間、目の前の男性はスーツの内から小銃を引き抜き、アナの額に向けた。
店内に小さな銃声が響いた。
アナは、震えることすら忘れ、言葉を失い、放心していた。
目の前の男性がゆっくり床へ崩れると、夫のアルジュンが、やはりアナに銃を向けて現れた。
「フリーズ！FBI ！」
数人の制服を着たNYPDとグレイのスーツを纏ったFBIが叫んだ。
「全員、手を頭の後ろに回して床に伏せろ！」
映画のようなお決まりのセリフに、アナは震えていた。もちろん、ミカも。たぶん、アナの夫のアルジュンが最も震えていただろう。
遅れて、ジャックが店内に向け、叫んだ。
「アナヤ・パテル！」
アナは、見上げることなく、そのままに応えた。足がまだ震えている。
「わたしです」
額に汗を浮かべたジャックは、アナの身を起こすと、いった。
「すぐに病院へ行く」
病院にいるイライジャから、リンク付きのメッセージが届いた。
助手席に乗り込んだアナへジャックはアイフォンを放り投げると、リンク先を開け、と叫んだ。
慌てて、アナが触れると、どうやら生放送のようだった。
「こんばんは、ニューヨーク。そしてロサンゼルス。私の名前はザカリア・ハッダード。本名だ。
数年前、ガザに住んでいた。今は、みなさんがよく目にする部屋を真似た部屋に私はいる」
褐色の、顎髭をたくわえたザカリアは、アメリカ大統領執務室とほとんど同じ部屋の椅子に座っていた。
腕時計にゆっくり目を落としてから、再び、カメラに視線を向けた。
「そろそろブレイキングニュースだ。スマートフォンの速報に注目して欲しい」
ザカリアがそういった途端、速報が流れた。
【民主党前大統領のオーウェン・リードがロサンゼルス・コンベンション・センターで銃撃された模様です】
ザカリアは、一瞬俯いて笑いを堪えながらいった。
「悲しい速報じゃないか。アメリカのみなさん。でもどうか悲しまないで欲しい。私が経験したガザではこの55,000倍だ。55,000人以上の大切な人を失い、そして、涙を流した」
ザカリアは、再び俯いたまま、両手を固く握りしめ、力強く机を叩きつけた。
顔を上げたザカリアの目にはうっすらと涙が溢れていた。
「私たちは、お金を求めない。また、死による名誉も求めない。私たちが欲しいのは、55,000人が流した涙と同じだけの涙だ。流された涙と同じだけの涙だけが、私たちを癒す」
両肘を机につき、両手を組むと、ザカリアは静かに顎を乗せた。目を閉じて、しばらく沈黙が続いた。目尻が細かく震えているようだった。そのままゆっくり口を開いた。
「55,000人のうちの私はひとりに過ぎない。私が消えても５万人もの意思は決して消えず、引き継がれる。私は、私たちの意思をここに表明するためにいる」
ザカリアは、机の引き出しから、グロック１７を取り出すと、スライドしてチャンバーに弾を流した。そして、自分のこめかみに向けた。
スンニ派である彼は、まっすぐにカメラを見つめ、皮肉混じりにいった。
「神のご加護を。アメリカ」
ザカリアは、目を閉じると、トリガーを真っ直ぐに引いた。乾いた音が部屋に響いた。映像は、瞬時に黒へ切り替わった。
ICUまでの通路は、警官らによって厳重に確保されていた。ジャックは、サーシャにアナを引き渡した。
サーシャはアナに簡単な挨拶を済ますと、同意書にサインさせ、ベッドへ横たわるよう指示した。
となりに置かれたベッドは、薄いビニールシートに囲われ、男性らしい人が寝ているようだ。ネットで見た大統領候補とは到底結びつかない。
アナにはそこにいる男性が大統領候補だということにピンとこなかった。
サーシャがスタッフに細かい指示を出している。
バイタルモニター、酸素装置、人工呼吸器。それぞれにスタッフが張り付き、患者の血圧や心拍数が監視されているようだ。
スタッフのひとりが、アナの腕を消毒液で拭うと、静脈ラインに針を刺した。血液はビニールの管をすぐに見たした。
通常、ダイレクトトランスフュージョン、直接輸血は、感染症の危険が伴うので行われないが、ボンベイブラッドは別だ。
いままさに、となりにいるジャスティンに必要なのだ。その危険性について、アナはサーシャの説明を理解し、サインした。
アナには、実感がなかった。曇りガラスの向こう側にいる男性の命を、自分の血液が救っていることを。
アナは白い天井を見上げ、深い深呼吸をした。ミカとラーメンを食べにきただけだったのに。アルジュンは、男性を撃ったようだった。
いったい彼はどうなってしまうんだろう。撃たれた男性は何者だったのか。
アナは、今の自分を取り巻く状況に考えを張り巡らせているうちに、眠りに落ちていた。
ジャスティンの父、サイラス・ラージャン・ブラッドフォードは、7１年、ムンバイから渡米し、ニュージャージー州第6選挙区で下院議員を5期務めた民主党の重鎮だった。
ユニオンスクエアパークで、集まった労働者らに向け、演説中、聴衆の真正面にいた男に銃撃された。一瞬の出来事だった。
幼かったジャスティンは、呆気に取られ、何が起こったかを理解できなかった。父は、一瞬にしてその場に倒れ、病院へ運ばれたものの、即死だった。
犯人は、若い、民主党員のホワイトカラーだった。父の古い理想主義は彼に通じなかった。医療費の即時無料化を求めた彼は、父の段階を追った手法を受け入れることはできなかった。彼の母は、すぐにも医療費の無料化を必要としていたからだ。父は、早急な変化は退けた。医療だけでなく、あらゆるすべてが多くの人に浸透し、行き渡るためには、多くの時間を要するのだと、移民として、ムンバイからニュージャージーに移り住み、地域に溶け込むことに多大な時間が必要であることを身をもって知っていた。しかしーーーー
幼かったジャスティンは、父のそばに駆け寄って手を握り締めたかった。父の呼吸が止まっていても、そばに寄り添って、父を抱きしめたかった。
抱きしめることで、ひょっとしたら、父は目を覚ますかもしれないじゃないか、、、幼かったジャスティンは、そう信じていた。
ジャスティンは、ホワイトカラーを決して許すことはなかった。
サイラス・ラージャン・ブラッドフォード
「我々は大きな夢を見るべきだが、一歩ずつ確実に進まねばならない。急激な変化は社会の分断を深めるだけだ。民主主義とは、声なき者の声を拾い上げ、共に歩むことだ」
アナとミカは、週末に開催されるアーティスツ・アンド・フリーズに展示するため、（ニュージャージー州の）パラマスからウィリアムズバーグに向けて、車を走らせていた。だいたい５０分ほどで到着する。
モントクレア州立大学に日本からやってきたミカは、同じ美術学部に同籍していたアナの、白黒の作品に魅了された。アナは、鉛筆やシャープペンシル、ボールペン、万年筆など、日常に使われているステーショナリーで、人物や風景、静物を描いていた。多彩な油絵で表現するミカは、色らしい色のないアナの作品に関心を持った。
アナは、大学の食堂でミカに答えたことがある。
ーー わたしが住んでいた街は、殺風景だった。緑や川はなく、乾いた砂が吹き荒ぶ。それが私を幼い頃から囲んでいた。でも、私はそこが嫌いではなかった ーー
そこまで、静かににつぶやくと、プレートに乗ったハムエッグの真ん中を小さく突いた。続けて、いった。
ーー 風景だけでなく、実際、私の周りには何もなかった。あったのは、紙と鉛筆ぐらい ーー
アナは軽くミカに微笑んだ。ミカも笑い返した。
ーー でも、わたしはそれを大切にしなければならないと感じた。スマフォのSNSの人たちはとても豊かに見えた。でも、なぜか羨ましいとか、こうなりたいとか思えなかったの。むしろ、私は私の日常をもっとみんなに見せたいと思った。だって、自分が好きな場所を誰かに伝えることって、素敵だと思わない？ ーー
ミカは笑わずに深く頷いた。ミカも同感だった。渋谷の神山町で幼少時代を過ごしたミカは、ずっと渋谷の変遷を見てきた。渋谷の艶やかな広告やビルの外壁などの変化は彼女を魅了した。反面、自宅のあった神山町は穏やかで、古風な邸宅が並ぶ昔ながらの街並みだった。その対比が、彼女の内面を支えていた。
ーー 夜明け前が一番暗い ーー
マンハッタンの夜明けは、そんな言葉を思い出させる。
この国が闇に堕ちた時、トレーダーがそう言ったと、アミールは、イスラム大学工学部の教授だったザカリアから生前聞いた言葉だ。
アミールと同じようにラフィ・ガンナムもザカリアの師弟だ。二人は、電気工学をザカリアから学んでいた。
電子機器だけでなく、プログラムから幅広いコンピュータ機器まで学んでいた。アメリカの脆弱なITネットワークを熟知することなど彼らにしてみたら容易いものだった。
当時、イスラエルによって圧倒されたガザ地区の５５，０００人の死者の家族の一部は、ザカリアによってアメリカへ不法に散らばって居住し、時を待った。
ラフィも、そしてアミールもそのうちのひとりだ。ザカリアも、ラフィも、アミールも、妻や恋人、そして家族を失い絶望した。生きる意味を見失ったものに光など与えられない。光を見出せなどという人間は偽善者だ。与えられたのは、深い闇だけだった。闇の底で、集い、意を決したものほど、力強いものはいないだろう。おそらく、世界最高の実質的な権力を掌握しているアメリカ大統領に匹敵できるのは彼らのような存在だけかもしれない。
ラフィは、２年前からパイレーツラジオを仕込み始めた。カリブ系やヒスパニック系の移民コミュニティの傘を利用して、伝令を一方的に伝える、そんな古いやり方に答えを見出していた。SNSはもちろん、スマートフォンのやりとり全てはアメリカの情報機関に掌握されている。まったくやりとりをしないことも不自然になるので、ラフィらもスマートフォンは持ち歩いているが、日常的な、他愛ないやり取りだけだ。
ラフィは、放送機のスイッチを押した。微かに発したスイッチ音は、夜の静けさに吸い込まれていった。
小さな赤いランプが灯り、沈黙の中で、近辺に居住する同胞らにつながった。電圧計の針がわずかに震えた。
午前2時ちょうど、FM87.9から音が流れた。砂嵐に混じって、女の声が詩を読んでいた。
「この世界が終わるなら、私はひとりで歌っていたい」
つづく。
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
1 U2 Helter Skelter (Live) youtu.be/OBL-gVSJp2I?si=CuYs7HKsxCaVTQb3
2 ジミ・ヘンドリックス: The Star Spangled Banner (Live): www.youtube.com/watch?v=sjzZh6-h9fM
3 ジミ・ヘンドリックス: Purple Haze (Live): www.youtube.com/watch?v=cJunCsrhJjg
4 ビートルズ: 恋におちたら (2009 - Remaster): www.youtube.com/watch?v=MX3Xm4TNF00
5 タイラー・ザ・クリエイター: Take Your Mask Off (feat. Daniel Caesar & Latoya Williams...): youtu.be/tSd85SmghYs?si=-E-M6dhSdcYzBFjU
6 ザ・ウィークエンド: Niagara Falls: www.youtube.com/watch?v=HxWx5UuznGI
7 ドレイク: Laugh Now Cry Later (feat. Lil Durk): www.youtube.com/watch?v=JFm7YDVlqnI
8 Linda Sikhakhane: Inkehli: www.youtube.com/watch?v=vDHbPFAlrO4
9 Freja Lundgren - Finding Silence : 見つかりませんでした。https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCUo7F3P2ObeLyC8Fwp70NEQ
10 マティアス・アイク: Loving: www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYh_orn9ydA
11 21サヴェージ & サマー・ウォーカー: prove it: www.youtube.com/watch?v=dNIJmlhgqGk
12 ティアナ・メジャーナイン: On God!: www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wp1Q5V2eKI
13 アッシャー: Kissing Strangers: www.youtube.com/watch?v=_fepftsv6RA
14 JUNG KOOK: Never Let Go: www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_n4Ysi5iUM
16 テイラー・スウィフト: This Love: www.youtube.com/watch?v=6xsL45rr3VU
17 メタリカ: Disposable Heroes: www.youtube.com/watch?v=JIiXONFj6lM
18 ビートルズ:Across The Universe (Remastered 2009):youtu.be/90M60PzmxEE?si=DvkYgRwEK_lha6CT
19 ガナヴヤ: Land: www.youtube.com/watch?v=HRmU6z6v1cs
メモ
1
「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」
•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。
•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。
•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。
•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。
2
2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3
Shots fired at Trump rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
マンハッタン。ニューヨーク。アメリカ。２００７年。( 7 / 8 )
Nikon coolpix 8700 shot
今日の写真は、未発表です。
_________________________________
_________________________________
TELEPORT TO LOCATION INORLD:
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/equal10/141/112/89
Sea Fiancee is inspired by pinups and sailor themes, ahoy
Fright night is inspired by pulp comics and spooky stuff !
♠Those hand drawn full body tattoos will work with Omega enabled bodies.
♠ It is COPY/ no mod / no trans
Warsaw, Poland
Winter
Recently, my fiancee and I moved to Warsaw from Poznan and I am currently learning how to navigate this city and enjoying every step along he way. Here are a fw little life vignettes that caught my eye along the way. If you have questions, please ask> i am happy to answer when I can anything about my life here in Poland. Thank you for watching!
Canon Gear courtesy of my partners at Digital24.pl. Thank you!
Join me on my personal website Erik Witsoe or contact me at ewitsoe@gmail.com for cooperation. Thank you.
I also write on Medium and you can find me here: Erik Witsoe.
If you like my work, you can support me by giving me a like on my Facebook Erik Witsoe Photography and 500px and Twitter Instagram and also Google + Thank you for stopping by!
Barry Allen is a forensic chemist with a reputation for being very slow, and frequently late, which frustrates his fiancée, Iris West.
One night, as he is working late on a new case, a lightning bolt strikes and shatters a case full of unspecified chemicals and drenches all over Barry, temporarily knocking him out. As a result, Allen later finds that he can run at super-human speeds and possesses equally enhanced reflexes, senses, and healing.
He later dons a red bodysuit, sporting a lightning bolt in the chest (reminiscent of the original Fawcett Comics Captain Marvel), dubs himself the Flash (after his childhood comic book hero, Jay Garrick), and becomes Central City's resident costumed crime fighter and protector.
Central City University professor Ira West (Iris's adoptive father) designed Allen's costume and the ring which stores it while Allen is in his civilian identity.
The ring can eject the compressed clothing when Allen needs it and suck it back in with the aid of a special gas that shrinks the suit.
In addition, Allen invented the cosmic treadmill, a device that allowed for precise time travel and was used in many stories. Allen was warmly received by his superhero colleagues, so much to the extent that nearly all speedsters that come after him are often compared to him. Batman once said "Barry is the kind of man that I would've hoped to become if my parents had not been murdered."
As presented in Justice League of America 9, when the Earth is infiltrated by alien warriors sent to conquer the planet, some of the world's greatest heroes join forces, Allen among them. While the superheroes individually defeat most of the invaders, they fall prey to a single alien and only by working together are they able to defeat the warrior. Afterwards, the heroes decide to establish the Justice League.
During the years, he is depicted as feeling slightly attracted to Black Canary and Zatanna, but he never pursues a relationship because he feels his real love is Iris West, whom he ultimately marries. Allen also becomes a good friend with Green Lantern (Hal Jordan), which would later be the subject of the limited series Flash and Green Lantern: The Brave and the Bold.
In The Flash 123—"Flash of Two Worlds"—Allen is transported to Earth-Two where he meets Jay Garrick, the original Flash in DC Continuity; it is revealed that Jay Garrick's adventures were captured in comic book form on Earth-One.
This storyline initiated DC's multiverse and was continued in issues of Flash and in team-ups between the Justice League of America of Earth-One and the Justice Society of America of Earth-Two. In the classic story from Flash 179—"The Flash – Fact or Fiction?"—Allen is thrown into the universe eventually called Earth Prime, a representation of "our" universe, where he seeks the aid of the Flash comic book's editor Julius Schwartz to build a cosmic treadmill so that he can return home. He also gains a sidekick and protégé in Iris' nephew, Wally West, who gains super-speed in an accident similar to that which gave Allen his powers.
Barry has the ability to run at super-human velocities. He was at times during the Silver Age described as faster than the speed of thought. Flash 150, "straining every muscle", he ran at ten times the speed of light.
However, when he pushed himself further (during the Crisis on Infinite Earths) he appeared to waste away as he was converted into pure energy, traveled back in time, and was revealed to be the very bolt of lightning that gave him his powers.
His speed allows him, in certain circumstances, to "vibrate" between dimensions. In Final Crisis, using the Speed Force, Allen was able to undo the effects of the Anti-Life Equation upon an individual: an ability he used on his wife Iris to free her from the bondage of Darkseid's mind control.
Barry's speed has numerous secondary applications. He can use it to generate cyclones by spinning his arms quickly. Barry can also manipulate the electrical Speed Force energy he generates.
He can channel the energy into arcs of lightning, as well as use the electricity to manipulate magnetism on a minor level. He has also used the lightning to create blinding amounts of light.
By interlocking his lightning with that of another speedster, Barry can short circuit their connection to the Speed Force. Barry is also immune to telepathic attacks and control as he can shift his thoughts at a speed faster than normal thought.
Through "speed-reading", he can absorb large amounts of information into his short-term memory, which remain in his mind just long enough for him to make use of it. Using this technique, Barry was able to learn enough about building work to rebuild a destroyed apartment building.
The Speed Force also supplies Barry with a protective aura that shields him from friction and kinetic impacts, as well as grants him superhuman durability.
Other aspects of Barry's powers include an enhanced metabolism, which grants him a regenerative healing factor. Barry learned that his body is using the Speed Force to its full extent but his brain was not. With the help of Dr. Elias he was able to learn how to use the Speed Force to process more information, and make even quicker decisions, to the point where he feels like he can see everything before it happens.
Barry also developed the ability to speed up the flow of time around him, which he used to negate the powers of Zoom, who was able to slow down time. In terms of DC's internal lexicon, Barry is classified as a metahuman: a human being who possesses extranormal abilities either through birth or (as in Barry's case) as the result of some external event.
⚡ Happy 🎯 Heroclix 💫 Friday! 👽
_____________________________
A year of the shows and performers of the Bijou Planks Theater.
Secret Identity: Barry Allen
Publisher: DC
First appearance: Showcase #4 (October 1956)
Created by:
Robert Kanigher (Writer)
Carmine Infantino (Artist)
This is the Flash's first actual appearance on the Bijou Planks, though he was impersonated in BP 2019 Day 200:
www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/48321613946/
He appeared as a blur in Paprihaven 1599:
www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/50818346443/
And was used as an example when Newton explained the Paprihaven nexus in issue 1407:
I took this picture just to show the scale of the box, it wasn't supposed to be anything special, but I like the way it turned out.
My Fiancee Gwen, back when we went on our first camping trip at Keystone State Park in PA.
Location - Keystone State Park PA
Year - 2020?
Camera - Nikon FM2
Film - Need to check
About two months ago, my best friend was going to get married。We all came out to celebrate with him and his fiancée and absolutely it was a wonderful night。This dishes was "Kurobuta Chashu Miso Pizza" which was miso sauce, shredded kurobuta pork, wild mushrooms & cheese 。
7th Anniversary with My Love
207th Day
Today is my seventh anniversary with my Fiancée Elisa :) :) :)
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3
Canon EOS 500D & Canon EF 100mm f/2.8 L Macro IS USM
Post Production with Lightroom 3.3 & Photoshop CS5
©2011, Stefano Minella Photo
Stefano Minella | Photographer WebSite
Stefano Minella | Photographer on Facebook
Stefano_Minella on Twitter
An holiday in Rome with my Fianceè! To see the "Steve McCurry's Expo"!!
Canon EOS 7D & Canon EF 24-105mm f/4 L IS USM
Post Production with Lightroom 4 & Photoshop CS6
©2012, Stefano Minella Photo
Stefano Minella | Photographer WebSite
Stefano Minella | Photographer on Facebook
Stefano_Minella on Twitter
Meet Stagecoach Driver, Tom Frasier (holding the reins) along with his fiancee, Margie, operate the Quartz Mountain Stage Lines.
"I like working with horses - and the people are interesting! You meet a lot of different people; a lot of nice people!" explains the life-long resident of Sonora. Tom's been driving stagecoaches since his teens!
"Say Horseflies!!" the stagecoach driver instructed the children as their parents aimed their camera and took pictures.
Time Travel Is Possible! Revisit Gold Rush History In A Sierra Foothill Town like "Columbia" Where The Shops And The People Take You Back To the Wild and
Wooly West Of The 1850s.
The Quartz Mountain Stage Line Coach rolls out of history and onto Main Street.
Hop aboard a horse-drawn stagecoach and get held up by bandits!
Check Their Website: www.columbiacalifornia.com/
I'm Truly Thankful For All Your Continued Visits, Lovely Comments & Faves!
To You All My Friends, Stay Blessed!
Had a weekend break with my fiancée to Stratford-upon-Avon. We stayed at the Burnside Hotel, Shottery which is just around the corner from Anne Hathaway's Cottage. Anne Hathaway was the wife of William Shakespeare.
National Trust.
The cottage is a Grade I Listed Building, while the Park and Garden are Grade II Listed.
The core of the present cottage was constructed by the Hathaway family in the mid C15 as a farmhouse. The family were prosperous farmers, and John Hathaway, described as an archer in a muster of 1536, served as town constable of Stratford-upon-Avon in the mid C16. The Hathaway family were the social equals of John Shakespeare, the father of William, a prosperous glover with premises in Henley Street, Stratford. Anne, the daughter of Richard Hathaway, was born at the family's farmhouse in Shottery (known as Anne Hathaway's Cottage since the early C19) in 1556, and appears to have spent her childhood there. Richard Hathaway died in 1581, leaving his eldest daughter ten marks for a dowry. The farm and other holdings amounting to some 120 acres (50ha) passed to his eldest son, Bartholomew (d 1624), who extended the farmhouse in the early C17. Anne Hathaway married William Shakespeare on 27 November 1582, but by 1592 William Shakespeare was resident in London. Anne Shakespeare appears to have remained in Stratford, and in 1601 is mentioned as residing at New Place, Stratford (qv), which her husband purchased in 1597.
Cottage Gardens
An early C20 flower garden and orchard developed by Ellen Willmott to accompany a C15 cottage with Shakespearean associations.
Warsaw, Poland
Winter
Recently, my fiancee and I moved to Warsaw from Poznan and I am currently learning how to navigate this city and enjoying every step along he way. Here are a fw little life vignettes that caught my eye along the way. If you have questions, please ask> i am happy to answer when I can anything about my life here in Poland. Thank you for watching!
Canon Gear courtesy of my partners at Digital24.pl. Thank you!
Join me on my personal website Erik Witsoe or contact me at ewitsoe@gmail.com for cooperation. Thank you.
I also write on Medium and you can find me here: Erik Witsoe.
If you like my work, you can support me by giving me a like on my Facebook Erik Witsoe Photography and 500px and Twitter Instagram and also Google + Thank you for stopping by!
"Elle avait tant à offrir la petite fiancée ..."
" She has too many things to offer the little fiancée..."
Chloé's story:
国営昭和記念公園 - 立川市 綠町 3173
昭和紀念公園為國營公園，是為了紀念昭和天皇在位50年所建造，占地面積180公頃（約相當於39個Tokyo Dome）。可360度欣賞四季的各種花卉，此外，騎自行車、划船遊玩、戶外燒烤園地等豐富多彩的設施亦相當完善。另外，每年都會舉行花卉博覽會等各種各樣的活動，是首都圈規模最大的休閒場所。
info: gotokyo.org
As I mentioned in another photo, Ana and her fiancee Marco had just gotten engaged and were on their way to a celebration dinner. He was trying to get some photos of her to remember the occasion, but his phone and the weather were not cooperating. I happened to be nearby with a DSLR and an umbrella (!) on a short street photography walk. I talked with them a little and an impromptu photoshoot ensued. This was one of the more casual shots of Ana that I got, but I think I like it best.
Thank you Ana, and I hope some of the photos I took serve you well. Many happy years to you and Marco!
Link to the 100 Strangers group:
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however we are following Lettice’s maid, Edith, who together with her fiancée, local grocery delivery boy Frank Leadbetter, have wended their way north-east from Cavendish Mews on their Sunday off, through neighbouring Soho to the Lyons Corner House* on the corner of Oxford Street and Tottenham Court Road where they are joining Edith’s parents, George and Ada, Frank’s elderly Scottish grandmother, Mrs. McTavish, Edith’s best friend and fellow maid-of-all-work, Hilda, and Frank’s fellow lodger at his Clapham boarding house, John Simpkin, for a luncheon at George’s expense to celebrate his daughter and Frank’s recent, yet long anticipated, nuptials**. As always, the flagship restaurant on the first floor is a hive of activity with all the white linen covered tables occupied by Londoners indulging in the treat of a Lyon’s luncheon or early afternoon tea. Between the tightly packed tables, the Lyons waitresses, known as Nippies***, live up to their name and nip in and out, showing diners to empty tables, taking orders, placing food on tables and clearing and resetting them after diners have left. The cavernous space with its fashionable Art Deco wallpapers and light fixtures and dark Queen Anne English style furnishing is alive with colour, movement and the burbling noises of hundreds of chattering voices, the sound of cutlery against crockery and the clink of crockery and glassware fills the air brightly.
Amidst all the comings and goings, Edith and Frank sit at a table set for seven, on which a fine repast of a selection of freshly cut triangle sandwiches**** and dainty cupcakes decorated with cream cheese***** icing covered in sugar sprinkles has just been placed by two Nippes. Silver plated tea and coffee pots sparkle beneath the overhead pendant lights, whilst the Lyons’ Corner House dinner service crockery glints and the cutlery gleams against the crisp white napery.
“I’m sorry this isn’t a lunch at Claridge’s******, Edith love.” George remarks to his daughter who sits beside him in her own high backed Queen Anne style chair. “If I could, you know I would.”
“Oh Dad!” Edith laughs happily. She leans over and wraps her right arm around her father and pulls him closer toward her, rewarding him with a kiss on the cheek. “And what would we do there if you could, surrounded by all those wealthy people? We’d stand out like sore thumbs, even in our Sunday best bib and tucker*******!” She smiles at her father reassuringly. “No, a slap up******** lunch here at Lyon’s Corner House is just perfect for Frank and me, thank you, especially since we’ve enjoyed so many lovely times here together as a couple after seeing a picture at the Premier in East Ham********* even before we became affianced. It’s very thoughtful of you, Dad.”
“Well, it’s just as well that I can only afford this then.” George replies. “Although I’ll have to start putting some money aside for your wedding breakfast**********. I’m sure Vicar Dunn*********** would let me have the All Souls************ Parish Hall for the occasion”
“Plenty of time yet before that.” Edith pats her father’s hand reassuringly. “Frank and I aren’t planning on getting married just yet. Not until we have a bit more money behind us to set up home.”
“Clever girl.” George replies with a beaming smile and a snort of pride. “You just keep saving those shillings and sixpences, be abstemious with your spending, and you’ll be richer than Croesus************* in no time.”
“Thanks Dad!” Edith replies, releasing her father’s hand and turning back to Frank.
Turing his attention to Frank’s Scottish grandmother on his left he remarks, “You know, Mrs. McTavish, you’ve done a fine job of raising your grandson,” He looks across the table over the sandwiches, cupcakes, silverware and Lyon’s bill of fare from its head at Frank as he holds Edith’s hand gently in his and caresses it as they both talk with Ada, sitting at the opposite end of the table.
“Och!” Mrs. McTavish says in her broad Scottish brogue with a dismissive sweep of her gnarled hand. “Enough of this ‘Mrs. McTavish’ business! I told Edith that she must call me Gran, just as Francis does, so you must call me Nyree. It’s a pretty name, and it doesn’t get used nearly enough these days. I’m Mrs. McTavish this and Mrs. McTavish that, but never Nyree, and it seems a waste.” She chuckles self-indulgently. “My family were fishing people going back many generations, and Faither************** was a seaman, who sailed to places far beyond the Hebrides*************** where we lived. Not too long before I was born, he came back from what was then the newly formed Colony of New Zealand**************** where he met some of the local islanders who were struck by how blonde his hair was, as they were all swarthy skinned and dark haired.” She chuckles again. “The story he told me when I was no longer a wee bairn, was that they called him ‘Ngaire’, which means ‘flaxen’. Some of his shipmates on the voyage home told him that they named their own blonde daughters Nyree after the name ‘Ngaire’. So, when I was born, I had blonde hair.” She gently pats her carefully set white hair that sweeps out from underneath her old fashioned lace embroidered cap in the style of her youth. “So Faither told Mither*****************that I should be called Nyree. So, Nyree I was christened.”
“Yes, George remarks. “I remember you telling Ada and I that story when you came for tea the first time.”
“Och!” Mrs. McTavish raises the heel of her careworn hand to her deeply wrinkled forehead and rubs them against one another. “I’m a foolish Cailleach******************! Forgive me! The older I get, the more I forget what I have or haven’t told people.”
“Not at all Mrs. McT…” George pauses mid sentence. “Nyree.” He corrects himself. “It was lovely to hear your story again, as it is so interesting. And if I am to call you Nyree, you should call us George and Ada.”
“Then George and Ada it shall be!” Mrs. McTavish replies with a smile and a slight nod. “Did I also tell you the Minister of Word and Sacrament******************* at our village chapel didn’t favour christening me Nyree?”
“No, you didn’t, Nyree.”
“Och yes! He wanted to christen me Nóra. He said Nyree was a heathen name, but Faither and Mither were strong people, and took no nonsense from the Minister. Nyree was the name they had chosen, and Nyree was what I was christened.”
“That’s fascinating Nyree.” George remarks, shaking his head in mild astonishment.
“And as for my wee bairn, Francis, well, I can’t take all the credit for him. His parents, God rest their souls, did a splendid job with him before they were taken by Spanish Influenza. I only helped finish off the job they started. You must be proud of your wee Edith too, and how she turned out – level headed, modest and polite.”
“Oh we are, Nyree, although with the lack of young men due to the war, we did wonder if she would ever meet a fellow to marry, even with her pretty face and pleasant temperament.”
“Och yes, George! Such a shame!” Mrs. McTavish agrees. “A waste of so many lives, that war! I still don’t quite know why we went to war in the first place.”
“You wouldn’t be alone in that thought, Nyree. I think a lot of us are asking the same question in its aftermath.”
Mrs. McTavish tuts and shakes her head sorrowfully. “There are so many young war widows about nowadays. I’m glad that Francis and Edith found one another. They make a nice pair, George.”
“Indeed they do, Nyree.”
“And Francis needs a good sensible lass to keep his ideas in check.” Mrs. McTavish adds with a serious look at George. “We don’t want him getting too big for his britches to not know his place.”
“You sound like my wife, Nyree.” George chuckles sadly. “She was a bit hesitant about his more revolutionary ideas about the working man and his rights.”
“Well, I worry a bit about his ideas sometimes too, if I’m honest, George. He’s a dreamer, not a realist.” Mrs. McTavish confides in George quietly. “I don’t know if I like the sound of all these Trade Union friends of his, filling his head with the rights of the working man. I like young John Simpkin.” She nods over the vase of red roses sitting in the centre of the table to Frank’s photographer friend who helped orchestrate the surprise proposal by allowing Frank to use a portrait photography session in the photography salon in Clapham Junction where he works as a ruse, sitting next to Hilda. “He’s a realist. He just gets on with the job, doesn’t complain, and look, he’s now a junior photographer at the studio where he started. Frank lives with young John at his boarding house, you know.”
“Yes, I believe we have Mr. Simpkin to thank for arranging the venue for young Frank’s proposal.”
“Indeed, we do, George.”
“I must confess that I am more on young Frank’s side than perhaps you and Ada are, Nyree, when it comes to this Trade Unions and workers’ rights business. I keep reading in the newspaper about the plight of the poor miners. It seems to me that it is jolly rotten of the mine owners to reduce the miners' wages and lengthen their working hours. There’s nothing fair about that!”
“And that is why you need an Ada, dear George.” Mrs. McTavish says as she settles back in her seat. “And Francis needs an Edith. She’ll keep his head level, and stop him from getting into any serious trouble.”
“With the Stanley Baldwin’s Government******************** starting to get getting involved with discussions with the Trade Unions about it, I think this may become something we all impacted by sooner rather than later, trouble or not.”
“I don’t see why, George, after all, you’re a factory worker, and I make lace for frock shops in London’s West End. It’s not like either of us are miners.”
“Well,” George mutters with a shake of his head as he clears his throat a little awkwardly. “This probably isn’t fit table conversation for this little party today. We aren’t here to talk about the plight of miners, or politics. Today is about Frank and Edith.”
At the other end of the table, Ada speaks animatedly to Edith and Frank. “That was a really lovely gesture of your grandmother to offer you your parents’ wedding rings, Frank love.”
“Oh, it was a very emotional moment for both of us, Mrs. Watsfo… I mean Ada. Wasn’t it, Edith?” Frank looks at his fiancée.
“Yes it was, Mum! I can hardly believe it! What an honour Gran has bestowed on us.”
“Well, we shall have to get cracking on your wedding frock, Edith.” Ada adds brightly. “Luckily, I had my pin money********************* with me the day I saw that remnant bolt of cream crêpe de chiné in the basket outside Bishops in the High Street. I always knew you would get married one day, my girl.”
“Well, I want to go shopping at Mrs. Minkin’s for trims, Mum.” Edith insists. “I’ll get them cheaper from her than you or I ever will at Mr. Bishops’ haberdashery. Not that there’s any rush to make my frock yet. Fashions change, and we’re not getting wed yet, are we Frank?”
“Not yet Edith.” Frank turns his attention to his fiancée before returning them to Ada. “We want to keep saving for a bit longer yet, so we can set up a proper home.”
“That’s very wise, Frank.” Ada says with a benevolent smile.
“So, I don’t want your crêpe de chine getting wasted making something now that will only fall out of fashion, Mum.” Edith adds. “We’ll make my frock closer to the time, when it comes.”
“And you’re following your own advice then, Edith love?” Ada asks.
“What advice, Edith?” Frank queries.
“Oh,” Edith explains. “Mum agrees with us when we said that I probably shouldn’t tell Miss Lettice that we’re engaged just yet. Not until we settle on a date at least, Frank.”
“I’m sure as a good employer, Miss Lettice would be understanding of Edith wanting to work up until you’re both wed, but,” Ada sniffs with distain. “Well, I’ve known people like her. We all do. They can be fickle.”
“I’m glad you agree with us, Ada.” Frank smiles. “I know you have more respect for the upper classes than I do, but I really do believe that in spite of being a progressive employer, she might dismiss you Edith and then just employ another maid-of-all-work.”
“I still don’t think she would, Frank, and I’ve told Mum the same, but I’m still keeping it a secret just in case.”
“There are plenty of girls from down your Mrs. Boothby’s way that would give their eye teeth for a job as a maid-of-all-work, Edith love,” Ada cautions. “So it’s best to be discreet.”
“Oh, thinking of discreet, Mrs… err… Ada,” Frank adds. “Although she hasn’t said anything outright about it, I think Gran would like to make Edith’s wedding veil.”
“Would she now?” Ada asks in delighted surprise, her eyes gleaming.
“Did she really Frank?” Edith gasps.
“Well, Edith, like I said, she didn’t say it directly as such, but I think in her heart of hearts she does. I think she might ask to see you on your own soon, and ask you once she’s built up the courage.”
“Well, I think that’s very generous of her, Frank love, but it’s your wedding veil, Edith love. How would you feel about Mrs, McTavish making your veil if she offers?”
“Oh Mum! Frank! I’d love that!” Edith enthuses with clasped hands. “It would be so special! You should see her work, Mum! It’s so fine! No wonder she sells to the likes of the fine frock shops she does! I’m quite sure she would sell lace to Miss Lettice’s friend, Mr. Bruton the frock maker.”
“Well, I’ve no objection, if Edith doesn’t.” Ada replies. “Edith and I can make her frock together when the time comes.”
Across from Edith and Frank, Hilda and John sit in quiet and slightly uncomfortable silence, unsure of each other’s company, as they listen to the conversations carry on noisily around them.
At length, John clears his throat awkwardly and asks Hilda, “So… you’re going to be Miss Watsford’s maid-of-honour then, Miss Clerkenwell?”
“I am, Mr. Simpkin.” Hilda replies primly as she places her hands neatly over one another in front of her, clutching the edge of the table. “And you’re going to be Frank’s best man, I believe.”
“I am.” John says proudly, sitting up a little more straightly in his seat. “Have you ever been a maid-of-honour before, Miss Clerkenwell?”
“No, I can’t say I have,” Hilda answers with a ticklish chuckle and a tight smile, looking down into her lap as she removes her hands from the table’s edge and squeezes her napkin in her lap between her fingers. “But then again, you know what they say in that Listerine********************** advertisement in the newspapers.”
“No, I… I can’t say that I do,” John replies with an awkward shrug. “What does it say?”
“Well,” Hilda says with a heavy sigh. “It has a woman in it who is constantly a bridesmaid but never the bride, because of her bad breath, you see. The slogan goes, ‘Often a bridesmaid, never a bride’***********************.” Hilda laughs nervously again.
“You don’t have halitosis, Miss Clerkenwell.” John says with a timid smile.
“Well, thank you, Mr. Simpkin.” Hilda replies quickly, glancing away so that he can’t see the flush of colour in her cheeks.
“So, I know you work as a maid-of-all work for one of Edith’s employer’s friends, but tell me, what is it that do you do, for fun, Miss Clerkenwell?” John asks politely. “I… I err… would imagine that you are always off dancing at the Hammersmith Palais************************ on your days off.”
“No, I wouldn’t say I was always off at the Hammersmith Palais, Mr. Simpkin - only when Edith and Frank ask me, really. I’m not very good on my feet like that. I feel rather like a gooseberry************************* if I’m being honest, not that I would ever admit that to either of them, Mr. Simpkin, so I’d be much obliged if you kept that confidence to yourself. I know they are just being kind to me.”
“Of course, Miss Clerkenwell.” John assures Hilda. “So, if dancing at the Hammersmith Palais isn’t really your thing, what do you enjoy doing, then?”
“Oh, you don’t want to know, Mr. Simpkin. I know you are just being kind too.” Hilda says dismissively.
“No, I really would like to know, Miss Clerkenwell.” John insists.
“It’s not exciting. I’m just a bluestocking************************** at heart.”
At first John doesn’t reply. Then, releasing a pent-up breath from deep within his chest he admits, “Well, working as a photographer, I am not really a dancing chap either.” He then adds, “Nor sporting. I’m probably not exciting either, which explains why no girl is particularly interested in me.”
“So, what do you enjoy doing then, Mr. Simpkin?”
John sucks in a large intake of breath and then exhales. “Well, I read a good deal, and I study books on art and composition to help improve my photographic skills.”
“Do you ever go to the National Gallery***************************?” Hilda queries.
“Sometimes. I like looking at paintings, and learning about composition from them.”
Hilda nods approvingly. “And the British Museum****************************?”
“Oh yes, I quite like the British Museum. It has some fascinating exhibitions.”
“I like it there too.” Hilda remarks, fining herself smiling at John.
“Ahem!”
The sound of George clearing his throat interrupts them, and everyone else around the table who stop mid conversation.
George gets to his feet, a teacup in his right hand. “I’m… err… I not very comfortable giving speeches,” he begins.
“You could have fooled me, Dad!” Edith jeers jokingly, causing everyone at the table including George to laugh.
“But I suppose as father of the bride-to-be, I had better brush up on my oratory skills.” He clears his throat again, awkwardly. “I was just saying to our dear Edith that this isn’t Clarridges, and I know,” He hoists his teacup. “That this isn’t champagne, but for today, I think Lyon’s Corner House and tea will work quite nicely, since the young couple have been here so many times after going to the pictures. Now, as I said, I’m not very comfortable giving speeches, so I’ll keep this brief. So let me just say to Frank, that Ada and I welcome you into the family, and we couldn’t think of a better man to make our Edith happy. And to you Edith, love, your mum and I are so glad that you have found a young man that pleases you so well that you want to spend the rest of your days with him. We couldn’t be happier. So, may I ask you all to raise your glass or cup, and let us toast Edith and Frank. To Edith and Frank!”
The remainder of the company raise their cups and say as one, “To Edith and Frank!”
*J. Lyons and Co. was a British restaurant chain, food manufacturing, and hotel conglomerate founded in 1884 by Joseph Lyons and his brothers in law, Isidore and Montague Gluckstein. Lyons’ first teashop opened in Piccadilly in 1894, and from 1909 they developed into a chain of teashops, with the firm becoming a staple of the High Street in the United Kingdom. At its peak the chain numbered around two hundred cafes. The teashops provided for tea and coffee, with food choices consisting of hot dishes and sweets, cold dishes and sweets, and buns, cakes and rolls. Lyons' Corner Houses, which first appeared in 1909 and remained until 1977, were noted for their Art Deco style. Situated on or near the corners of Coventry Street, Strand and Tottenham Court Road, they and the Maison Lyonses at Marble Arch and in Shaftesbury Avenue were large buildings on four or five floors, the ground floor of which was a food hall with counters for delicatessen, sweets and chocolates, cakes, fruit, flowers and other products. In addition, they possessed hairdressing salons, telephone booths, theatre booking agencies and at one period a twice-a-day food delivery service. On the other floors were several restaurants, each with a different theme and all with their own musicians. For a time, the Corner Houses were open twenty-four hours a day, and at their peak each branch employed around four hundred staff including their famous waitresses, commonly known as Nippies for the way they nipped in and out between the tables taking orders and serving meals. The tea houses featured window displays, and, in the post-war period, the Corner Houses were smarter and grander than the local tea shops. Between 1896 and 1965 Lyons owned the Trocadero, which was similar in size and style to the Corner Houses.
** Nuptials is a alternative word for marriage. The term “nuptials” emphasizes the ceremonial and legal aspects of a marriage, lending a more formal tone to wedding communications and documentation.
***The name 'Nippies' was adopted for the Lyons waitresses after a competition to rename them from the old fashioned 'Gladys' moniker - rejected suggestions included ‘Sybil-at-your-service’, ‘Miss Nimble’, Miss Natty’ and 'Speedwell'. The waitresses each wore a starched cap with a red ‘L’ embroidered in the centre and a black alpaca dress with a double row of pearl buttons.
****Sandwiches cut into four triangular quarters are commonly called triangle sandwiches in Britain, especially for parties or afternoon teas. Elsewhere in the world they are commonly referred to as a "club sandwich cut" or simply "quarter cut". This method is frequently used for club sandwiches to make them more stable.
*****Cream cheese was invented in 1872 by William Lawrence, a dairyman in Chester, New York, who accidentally created a richer, creamier version of the French cheese Neufchâtel. The brand name "Philadelphia Cream Cheese" was adopted in 1880 as a marketing strategy to associate the new cheese with the high-quality dairy reputation of Philadelphia.
******Claridge's traces its origins to Mivart's Hotel, which was founded in 1812 in a conventional London terraced house and grew by expanding into neighbouring houses. In 1854, the founder (the father of biologist St. George Jackson Mivart) sold the hotel to William and Marianne Claridge, who owned a smaller hotel next door. They combined the two operations, and after trading for a time as "Mivart's late Claridge's", they settled on the current name. The reputation of the hotel was confirmed in 1860, when Empress Eugenie made an extended visit and entertained Queen Victoria at the hotel. In its first edition of 1878, Baedeker's London listed Claridge's as "The first hotel in London". Richard D'Oyly Carte, the theatrical impresario and founder of the rival Savoy Hotel, purchased Claridge's in 1893, as part of The Savoy Group, and shortly afterwards demolished the old buildings and replaced them with the present ones. This was prompted by the need to install modern facilities such as lifts and en suite bathrooms. From 1894 to 1901, Édouard Nignon was the hotel chef. The new Claridge's, built by George Trollope and Sons, opened in 1898. After the First World War, Claridge's flourished due to demand from aristocrats who no longer maintained a London house, and under the leadership of Carte's son, Rupert D'Oyly Carte, an extension was built in the 1920s. During the Second World War, it was the base of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia's government in exile and home of Peter II of Yugoslavia.
*******"Bib and tucker" refers to one's best clothes or a formal outfit, especially when used in the phrase "best bib and tucker". The term originated from obsolete clothing items—a "bib" being the front of a shirt or apron, and a "tucker" being a decorative lace piece worn at the neckline.
********A "slap-up meal" is a British informal term for a large, excellent, and very good meal. It refers to a lavish, hearty, and enjoyable feast, such as a celebratory dinner or a large lunch.
*********The Premier Super Cinema in East Ham was opened on the 12th of March, 1921, replacing the 800 seat capacity 1912 Premier Electric Theatre. The new cinema could seat 2,408 patrons. The Premier Super Cinema was taken over by Provincial Cinematograph Theatres who were taken over by Gaumont British in February 1929. It was renamed the Gaumont from 21st April 1952. The Gaumont was closed by the Rank Organisation on 6th April 1963. After that it became a bingo hall and remained so until 2005. Despite attempts to have it listed as a historic building due to its relatively intact 1921 interior, the Gaumont was demolished in 2009.
**********A wedding breakfast is a feast given to the newlyweds and guests after the wedding, making it equivalent to a wedding reception that serves a meal. The phrase is still used in British English, as opposed to the description of reception, which is American in derivation. Before the beginning of the Twentieth Century they were traditionally held in the morning, but this fashion began to change after the Great War when they became a luncheon. Regardless of when it was, a wedding breakfast in no way looked like a typical breakfast, with fine savoury food and sweet cakes being served. Wedding breakfasts were at their most lavish in the Edwardian era through to the Second World War.
***********The vicar of All Souls Parish Church in Harlesden between 1918 and 1927 was Ernest Arnold Dunn.
************The parish of All Souls, Harlesden, was formed in 1875 from Willesden, Acton, St John's, Kensal Green, and Hammersmith. Mission services had been held by the curate of St Mary's, Willesden, at Harlesden institute from 1858. The parish church at Station Road, Harlesden, was built and consecrated in 1879. The town centre church is a remarkable brick octagon designed by E.J. Tarver. Originally there was a nave which was extended in 1890 but demolished in 1970.
*************The idiom “richer than Croesus” means very wealthy. This term alludes to Croesus, the legendary King of Lydia and supposedly the richest man on earth. The simile was first recorded in English in 1577.
**************Faither is an old fashioned Scottish word for father.
***************The Hebrides is an archipelago comprising hundreds of islands off the northwest coast of Scotland. Divided into the Inner and Outer Hebrides groups, they are home to rugged landscapes, fishing villages and remote Gaelic-speaking communities.
****************What we know today as New Zealand was once the Colony of New Zealand. It was a Crown colony of the British Empire that encompassed the islands of New Zealand from 1841 to 1907. The power of the British Government was vested in the governor of New Zealand. The colony had three successive capitals: Okiato (or Old Russell) in 1841; Auckland from 1841 to 1865; and Wellington, which became the capital during the colony's reorganisation into a Dominion, and continues as the capital of New Zealand today. During the early years of British settlement, the governor had wide-ranging powers. The colony was granted self-government with the passage of the New Zealand Constitution Act 1852. The first parliament was elected in 1853, and responsible government was established in 1856. The governor was required to act on the advice of his ministers, who were responsible to the parliament. In 1907, the colony became the Dominion of New Zealand, which heralded a more explicit recognition of self-government within the British Empire.
*****************Mither is an old fashioned Scottish word for mother.
******************Cailleach ('old woman' or more unkindly 'hag' in modern Irish and Scottish Gaelic) comes from the Old Irish Caillech ('veiled one'), an adjectival form of caille ('veil'), an early loan from Latin pallium, 'woollen cloak'. The Cailleach is often referred to as the Cailleach Bhéarra in Irish and Cailleach Bheurra in Scottish Gaelic.
*******************A minister in the Scottish Primitive Church is called a Minister of Word and Sacrament. This is because the Scottish church is Presbyterian, and ministers, along with elected elders, form the governing councils (or "courts") that oversee the church.
********************In November 1925, when this story is set, the Conservative Party was in power in Britain, with Stanley Baldwin serving as Prime Minister. His party had returned to power following a decisive victory in the October 1924 general election, which saw the defeat of the short-lived minority Labour government led by Ramsay MacDonald.
*********************Originating in Seventeenth Century England, the term pin money first meant “an allowance of money given by a husband to his wife for her personal expenditures. Married women, who typically lacked other sources of spending money, tended to view an allowance as something quite desirable. By the Twentieth Century, the term had come to mean a small sum of money, whether an allowance or earned, for spending on inessentials, separate and in addition to the housekeeping money a wife might have to spend.
**********************Whilst Listerine was created in the United Staties in 1879, it was first sold in England in the 1920s. Its introduction into the British market was driven by a new advertising campaign that focused on promoting the product as a solution for "halitosis," or bad breath, which helped establish the mouthwash market in the country. The campaigns for Listerine and Listermint led to a "dramatic growth in the UK mouthwash market" in the 1970s, demonstrating the power of advertising in changing consumer behaviour.
***********************The saying, “aways the bridesmaid never the bride” originated from a 1925 Listerine mouthwash advertising campaign, which used the slogan "Often a bridesmaid, never a bride" to imply that bad breath could hinder a woman's chances of getting married. This slogan was a commercial success and became a widely used saying, evolving from its earlier form which was popularised by a 1920s song called "Why am I always the Bridesmaid?" written by Fred W. Leigh in 1917. The phrase later evolved into the current version, "always a bridesmaid, never a bride".
************************The Hammersmith Palais de Danse, in its last years simply named Hammersmith Palais, was a dance hall and entertainment venue in Hammersmith, London, England that operated from 1919 until 2007. It was the first palais de danse to be built in Britain.
*************************To be a "gooseberry" means to be an unwanted third person, a "third wheel," accompanying a couple who wants to be alone. You feel like a gooseberry when you are in a romantic situation but are not part of the romantic relationship, often feeling awkward or out of place. The phrase "feeling like a gooseberry" originated from the British slang term "to play gooseberry," which emerged in the Nineteenth Century. Initially, it referred to a chaperone who facilitated a romantic couple's outing, though the meaning shifted over time to describe a third person who is present when a couple wants to be alone, often feeling like a superfluous or unwanted guest. The original sense likely stemmed from the chaperone's pretext for accompanying the couple, such as pretending to pick gooseberries while allowing the pair to be alone.
**************************A bluestocking woman is an intellectual or literary woman, a term that originated from the Eighteenth Century Blue Stockings Society in England, which promoted literary and intellectual discussions. The term was initially used for both men and women who attended these meetings, but it came to specifically denote women with a passion for learning and writing. While used negatively in the aftermath of the First World War in the 1920s when there was a surfeit of unmarried young women and few men to marry, to imply being overly scholarly or unfeminine, the term bluestocking is now more broadly applied in the way it was originally intended, to women with strong literary or intellectual interests.
***************************The National Gallery is an art museum in Trafalgar Square in London, housing one of the world's greatest collections of Western European paintings from the late Thirteenth Century to the Twentieth Century. It was founded in 1824 and opened to the public on May the 10th of that year. Its first home was in the former townhouse of banker John Julius Angerstein on Pall Mall, which was acquired by the government along with thirty-eight of Angerstein's paintings which formed the basis of the original collection. It later moved to its current location in Trafalgar Square, with the new building opening in 1838.
****************************The British Museum is a public museum dedicated to human history, art and culture located in the Bloomsbury area of London. Its permanent collection of eight million works is the largest in the world. It documents the story of human culture from its beginnings to the present. Established in 1753, the British Museum was the first public national museum.
An afternoon tea made up with tea and a selection of triangle sandwiches and cupcakes like this would be enough to please anyone, but I suspect that even if you ate everything you can see here on the table in and in the display case in the background, you would still come away hungry. This is because they, like everything in this scene are 1:12 size miniatures from my miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau:
The gilt tray of tomato, ham, cheese and cucumber sandwiches and the cream and sprinkle covered cupcakes have been made in England by hand from clay by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Frances Knight’s work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination.
The coffee pot with its ornate handle and engraved body is one of three antique Colonial Craftsman pots I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop in the United Kingdom, as is the silver tray on which they stand. The silver teapot milk jug and sugar bowl are made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The Lyons Corner House crockery is made by the Dolls’ House emporium and was acquired from an online stockist of miniatures on E-Bay. The J. Lyons & Co. Ltd. tariff in the foreground is a copy of a 1920s example that I made myself by reducing it in size and printing it.
The table on which all these items stand is a Queen Anne lamp table which I was given for my seventh birthday. It is one of the very first miniature pieces of furniture I was ever given as a child. The Queen Anne dining chairs were all given to me as a Christmas present when I was around the same age.
In the photo from left
Victoria, Crown Princess of Sweden, Duchess of Västergötland
Prince Daniel, Duke of Västergötland
Princess Estelle, Duchess of Östergötland
Sofia Hellqvist, fiancée of Prince Carl Philip
Prince Carl Philip, Duke of Värmland
ⓒRebecca Bugge, All Rights Reserved
Do not use without permission.
One of the most touching burial monuments I have come across - the one the sculptor Ferdinand Seeboeck (1864-1953) made for his fiancée Elsbeth M. Wegener Passarge, who died 5th of June 1902. She is portrayed as sleeping on a bed, dressed as a bride. The flowers were there in her hand when I say her.
For a detail shot see: www.flickr.com/photos/dameboudicca/13485195894/in/photost...
In the Protestant cemetery (and sometimes even the English cemetery) in Rome, now officially named Cimitero acattolico (that is 'the non-Catholic' cemetery) has been the burial ground for non-Catholics (mostly foreigners who visited the place and died there) since at least 1738 (the date of the first known burial - that of an Oxford student named Langton). Quite a lot of famous people are buried here, and it is quite an artistic and green oasis, propped against the Aurelian walls.
The new official name reflects that not all here are Englishmen, nor Protestants - they just aren't (generally) Catholic.
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.
Lettice has not long returned from a trip to Paris which she took with her fiancée, Sir John Nettleford-Huges and his widowed sister, Lettice’s future sister-in-law, Clemance Pontefract. Lettice went to Paris to attend the ‘Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels Modernes’* which is highlighting and showcasing the new modern style of architecture and interior design known as Art Deco of which Lettice is an exponent, however Sir John was going for very different reasons of his own. His involved him attending the exhibition with Lettice in the mornings, before slipping away discreetly and meeting up with his old flame, Madeline Flanton in the afternoon. Old enough to be Lettice’s father, wealthy Sir John was until recently still a bachelor, and according to London society gossip intended to remain so, so that he might continue to enjoy his dalliances with a string of pretty chorus girls of Lettice’s age and younger. After an abrupt ending to her understanding with Selwyn Spencely, son and heir to the title Duke of Walmsford, Lettice in a moment of both weakness and resolve, agreed to the proposal of marriage proffered to her by Sir John. More like a business arrangement than a marriage proposal, Sir John offered Lettice the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of his large fortune, be chatelain of all his estates and continue to have her interior design business, under the conditions that she agree to provide him with an heir, and that he be allowed to discreetly carry on his affairs in spite of their marriage vows. He even suggested that Lettice might be afforded the opportunity to have her own extra marital liaisons if she were discreet about them.
Busy in the Cavendish Mews kitchen, Edith, Lettice’s maid, is arranging a small selection of dainty canapés onto a white gilt edged plate in the kitchen to serve to Lettice and her soon to arrive guest, when she hears the mechanical buzz of the Cavendish Mews servant’s call bell. Glancing up she notices the circle for the front door has changed from black to red, indicating that it is the front door bell that has rung.
“Oh he must be here!” she murmurs. “And not before time too, thank goodness!”
Quickly whipping off the starched white apron she is wearing to protect her black moiré* evening uniform with her hand stitched lace collar and matching cap, she hurries from the kitchen into the public area of the flat via a door in the scullery adjoining the kitchen, snatching up her elegant starched frilled cap from hook by the door as she goes. She hurriedly affixes the cap over her blonde waves, pinned in a chignon** at the nape of her neck as she walks into the entrance hall.
The front door buzzer goes again, sounding noisily, filling the atmosphere with a jarring echo. Edith glances towards the etched glass drawing room doors which stand slightly ajar, but there is no usual call from her mistress, and her face crumples as she considers this lack of interest in who is ringing the front doorbell. Her black low heels sink into the thick and luxurious Chinese silk carpet laid out before the front door. “I’m coming. I’m coming.” mutters Edith under her breath. She pats her cap and the hairpins holding her blonde waves self-consciously as she goes, hoping that she looks presentable as she opens the front door.
“It’s only little me, dear Edith.” Gerald simpers as he stands on the doorstep outside.
“Oh Mr. Bruton, Sir!” Edith gasps as she ushers Lettice’s oldest childhood chum and best friend through the door with a sweeping gesture. “Thank goodness you’re here!”
Gerald is a member of the aristocracy like Lettice, and the two grew up on adjoining estates in Wiltshire. However, although also being a member of the landed gentry Gerald’s fate is very different to Lettice’s. He has been forced to gain some independence from his rather impecunious family in order to make a living. Luckily his artistic abilities have led him to designing gowns from a shop in Grosvenor Street, a business which, after promotion from Lettice and several commissions from high profile and influential society ladies, is finally beginning to turn a profit. As Lettice’s oldest friend, Gerald is usually the person she turns to in a crisis, and she telephoned him earlier in the day at his Grosvenor Street atelier, imploring him to come around for cocktails and canapés that night before supper.
As he shrugs off his luxurious Astrakhan coat*** into the maid’s waiting arms, he glances at Edith. “That bad, is it, Edith?”
“Well, Mr. Bruton,” Edith says, folding the silky fur coat over her arms and reaching out to accept Gerald’s smart beaver fur top hat****. “I wouldn’t say it’s that dire, Sir.”
“But?” Gerald asks, persisting with Edith, encouraging her complete her unspoken thoughts as he hands her his grey dyed kid leather gloves.
“Well Miss Lettice just hasn’t been herself since she came back from Paris. I am a bit worried, Sir. She isn’t behaving like she usually does.”
“Such as?”
“She seems distracted by something, Sir, and whatever it is, it’s eating away at her. She hasn’t touched her paints to start the designs for Mrs. Hatchett’s commission, even though Mrs. Hatchett sent across her portrait to Cavendish Mews whilst Miss Lettice was away, so that it would be here upon her return.”
“That does sound serious.” Gerald opines with an eyebrow cocked in concern.
“She’s quite off her food. I can’t even tempt her with one of my home-made sponges. She hasn’t taken any calls since her return, and told me to tell any visitors that she is indisposed currently.” Edith goes on. “You’re her first friend that she has contacted, Sir.”
“Well thank goodness for that!” Gerald replies, as he tugs on the collar of his dinner jacket. “I’d best see what your mistress is all about then!”
“Oh thank you, Sir!” Edith exclaims. “I hope you’ll help her in her troubles, whatever they are. I’ll be in with the canapés shortly.”
“Hullo Lettice darling! It’s just me!” Gerald calls as he walks into the drawing room where Lettice sits in her usual black japanned, rounded back, while upholstered tub armchair next to the telephone. “I came here as soon as I could get away, after your surprise telephone call, my darling.”
Gerald observes his best friend with a concerned look. Although arrayed in a beautiful rich pink salmon satin evening frock of his own design, with a plunging V-neck and an asymmetrical draping hem, Lettice’s face looks wan and pale, and there are dark circles under eyes, which usually sparkle like Kashmir sapphires*****, but tonight appear dull and almost a blueish grey.
“Unfortunately, Lady Bessom simply would not leave today until she had picked my designs for her daughter’s wedding frock completely apart!” Gerald leans down and embraces his best friend, who returns his hug, but as he holds her, she feels fragile in his arms. “Goodness knows why she wants to engage a couturier, if she already knows what she wants. Better she employs a court dressmaker who will make what she wants without question,” he prattles on awkwardly as he glimpses the large green bottle of Gordon’s Dry Gin****** on the low black japanned coffee table, with her glass already half empty. “Rather than me, who only wants the best for poor Edwina. I don’t want to send the mousy little creature down the aisle in a frock that not only looks out of fashion, but draws attention to every physical flaw in the poor girl’s figure.” He releases Lettice, who does not respond to his remarks, so he finishes up, “It would look bad for the House of Bruton too.”
Without waiting to be asked, Gerald assumes his usual seat opposite Lettice, sinking into the comfortable, thick white floral embossed upholstery of Lettice’s companion tub armchair.
“Well,” Gerald goes on with a deep sigh. “You obviously haven’t called me over to talk about the Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels Modernes******* and how you found it. Although I hope you found some inspiration my darling.”
“Oh yes, plenty.” Lettice replies, breaking her unusual silence with her rather laconic and uninspired reply.
Gerald looks dubiously across at his friend.
“I’ve had Moaning Minnie on the telephone to me the last few days,” Gerald says dourly, referring to their mutual friend, London banker’s wife, Minnie Palmerston by her nickname. “She thinks she’s put her foot in it again, since you won’t see her or return her telephone calls.”
“Minnie always thinks she has put her foot in it.” Lettice replies without enthusiasm.
“That’s because she usually has,” Gerald quips. “Although not with you and I Lettice darling.”
“Mmmm…” Lettice murmurs, picking up her dainty glass with its long stem and draining the contents of gin and tonic – likely more of the former and less of the latter judging by the quality of the sheen of the clear liquid as it disappears down her throat.
Just at that moment, Edith slips into the dining room of Cavendish Mews by way of the green baize door that leads from the service part of the flat, carrying her completed plate of dainty savoury canapés. She walks across the room and into the drawing room where she stands before the fire, between Lettice and Gerald. “I thought you could do with these, Miss.” She slides the ruffle edged plate onto the table. “it might help line your stomach, Miss.” she adds in concern, turning her head slight towards Gerald with a meaningful look, who nods surreptitiously back at her.
“Thank you Edith, but I’m really not that hungry.” Lettice replies.
“Well, you’ve nothing whatever in your stomach, so I suggest you at least try a few to help sop up some of your gin cocktails, Miss.”
“Err, yes. Thank you, Edith.” Gerald pipes up quickly as the maid wades into murky waters with her mistress, in an effort to avoid her being barked at by an out-of-sorts Lettice, or worse. “We’ll take it from here. Thank you.”
“Very good, Sir.” Edith bobs a quick curtsey and retreats.
As soon as he knows Edith has retreated to the kitchen through the green baize door, Gerald says, “Alright Lettuce Leaf! Out with it!” He hopes that he can break her funk, at least a little bit, by using his childhood nickname for her, which he knows she hates.
“Don’t call me that Gerald! You know how I hate it!” she replies, admittedly not with her usual vigour, but at least with a little bit of energy.
“That’s better.” Gerald smiles. “So, what is it that was so ghastly about your trip to Paris that it has you looking so bloody******** and in such a god awful funk?”
“I’m not in a funk!” Lettice responds in a churlish fashion.
Gerald simply gives her a withering look as he pours them both a small amount of gin into their glasses and adds more carbonated tonic water from the clear glass syphon than Lettice has been adding to her own drinks.
“Those are rather over the top, aren’t they?” Gerald nods in the direction of a vase of red roses, white asters, pink oriental lilies and purple irises towering over the telephone on the small table beside Lettice’s armchair.
“They’re from John.” Lettice replies in a languorous fashion.
“Was it Sir John?” Gerald asks directly, returning the syphon to the tabletop, before setting back in his seat languidly with his glass in one hand, and one of Edith’s canapés in the other. As he bites into the dainty puff pastry decorated with tiny herb sprigs and a tiny cherry tomato he adds, “Edith is right you know, Lettice darling. You should have one of these, they are delicious, and have a rather delectable creamy cheese filling.”
Encouraged, Lettice snatches one off the plate and grabs the stem of her glass. When she pulls a face after tasting the gin and tonic in her glass, she puts both down again, and reaches for the bottle of Gordon’s to add more gin to her glass.
“Ahh-ahh!” Gerald replies, snatching the bottle away quickly before she can reach it. “Not until you tell me what is going on.” He persists. “So, it was Sir John then!”
Lettice sighs. “No, it wasn’t.” She sighs more deeply. “Well yes it was, but not entirely. There are a number of things that have come to light,” She huffs. “Or rather haven’t come to light, that have put me out-of-sorts.”
Keeping the bottle out of harm’s, and Lettice’s way, by slipping it onto the seat beside him, Gerald goes on, “I’m listening then.”
Lettice takes a bite out of the canapé in her left hand and chews her mouthful rather indolently before explaining.
“Well, in one respect it was John who upset me.”
“What did he do?”
“Well, when I agreed to marry him, he promised me that he would never do anything to shame me.”
“And he did?” Gerald asks. When Lettice nods shallowly, he presses, “What did he do?”
“Well, Clemance organised the most marvellous picnic in the Tuileries Gardens********* for us. She wanted me to meet some of her Parisian friends, the Duponts, who were lovely.”
“However?”
“However, John also invited that woman, Mademoiselle Flanton, the actress from Cinégraphic********** to join us, along with some of her ghastly and gauche theatrical friends.”
“But you knew that Sir John was going to meet this Mademoiselle Flanton, whilst you were in Paris. He told you that he would, right from when you first mentioned going to the Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels Modernes at the Savoy*********** months ago.” Gerald says before finishing off the rest of his canapé.
“I know he did.”
“For all his faults,” Gerald defends Sir John. “And god knows he has many of them, he’s never tried to hide them from you. In fact, from all you’ve intimated to me, he’s been very up front about them right from the very beginning.”
“Knowing about them, and having them flung in your face are two quite different things.” Lettice retorts.
“Ahh yes.” Gerald opines, reaching for another canapé. “I did notice how piqued you were at Sylvia’s house party at ‘The Nest’ when he arrived with Paula Young, even after he’s told you that she was going to be there.”
“They played handies************ right there in front of me!”
“Who? Sir John and Paula? I thought they did much more than that, that weekend, Lettice darling.”
“Don’t be so obtuse, Gerald!” Lettice snaps. “I meant John and that awful, vulgar Mademoiselle Flanton! They entwined fingers like lovers right in front of me on the picnic rug! Goodness knows if Clemance or the Duponts saw it. I doubt Clemance did, but if the Duponts did, they were at least too polite to pass comment.”
Gerald raises his half drunk cocktail, “God bless the Entente Cordiale*************.”
“This is no time to be glib, Gerald darling!” Lettice scolds. “It was most embarrassing and distracting.”
“I’m sorry Lettice darling.” Gerald apologises. “I didn’t mean for it to come across like that. I’m as horrified about the business with Mademoiselle Flanton as I am about that of Miss Young. At least Miss Young and Sir John conducted their affair behind closed doors as it were, at Sylvia’s, with probably a very understanding and accepting select group of people. Behaving that way in public is atrocious! That must have been quite awful for you, poor darling!”
“It was Gerald darling! Quite awful!”
Lettice drains her glass and holds it out to Gerald to replenish.
“No, Lettuce Leaf!” Gerald replies, moving protectively between Lettice and the bottle of gin nestled on the seat beside him. “I told you, not until you tell me everything that is upsetting you! If you have any more, you’ll get tight**************, and when you get tight, you get nonsensical, and I can’t make out anything you say properly. If you want me to help you, or my advice,” He wags a finger admonishingly at her. “You’ll not be like your errant fiancée and hold to your promise and tell me all!”
“Oh Gerald!” Lettice mewls as she sinks back into her seat deflatedly. “You really are beastly sometimes!”
“Don’t be a spoiled young flapper and tell me what else happened.” Gerald persists.
“Well, besides the hands incident at Clemance’s picnic, and the fact that John did what he told me he was going to whilst we were in Paris, and left Clemance and I at the International Exhibition of Modern Decorative and Industrial Arts together, bold-faced lying to his sister about where he was going, whilst he pursued a secret tryst with Mademoiselle Flanton, he also subjected me to an evening of cocktails at her Parisian apartment.”
“But I thought Sir John had been clear about both of those things at the Savoy too, Lettice darling. You told me that was what he was going to do.” Gerald shakes his head with a lack of comprehension. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, it wasn’t just the evening that was tiresome and humiliating for me.” Lettice goes on, taking up a small canapé of sauteed and honey glazed carrot cut into a heart shape. “I’m sure everyone there knew about John and Mademoiselle Flanton’s history together, and the rekindling of their acquaintance,” She shudders as she utters the last word with vehemence. “And I was seen as just the poor little unsuspecting wife-to-be, an innocent jeune fille à marier*************** plucked from the British aristocracy, with no idea about who was who, or what was what.”
“Well, if it wasn’t that alone, what was it, Lettice darling?”
“It was Mademoiselle Flanton herself.” Seeing Gerald’s look, imagining the French actress throwing herself flagrantly in front of Sir John in Lettice’s presence, Lettice quickly elucidates, “Oh nothing like that Gerald darling! No, it was what she told me!”
“What she told you?”
“Yes,” Lettice replies laconically. “During the evening, Mademoiselle Flanton appraised me of some things that now have me wondering.”
“Wondering about what?”
“After Mademoiselle Flanton learned, or rather read, of John’s and my engagement, and she reconnected with John on this trip to Paris, he told her about all that beastly business with Selwyn and how he had dissolved our understanding after proposing to Kitty Avendale, the diamond mine heiress.”
“Well, I think that is rather beastly of Sir John! Such pillow talk!” Gerald retorts hotly, quite forgetting that not all that long ago, he and his lover, West End oboist Cyril, were involved in pillow talk revolving around Lettice and Sir John’s relationship. “I would be most offended too!”
“No, it wasn’t that, that upset me, Gerald.”
“Then what was it?”
“Well, after he did this, Mademoiselle Flanton told me that out of her own piqued interest, she had her secretary do some minor investigations into the alleged engagement.”
Gerald chokes on his mouthful of gin and tonic, spluttering and coughing violently. Struggling to regain both his breath and composure, he manages to ask, “Alleged engagement?”
“Mademoiselle Flanton made me question what I have been shown by Lady Zinnia. Mademoiselle Flanton’s secretary did some digging around and she noted something I hadn’t even considered. Apparently there has been no announcement in The Times, or any other British newspaper about Selwyn’s engagement. Don’t you find that a little odd?”
Still catching his breath, Gerald takes another slug of his gin and tonic before saying, “I do. The Duchess, Lady Zinnia, is a woman of many pretentions. There is no way that she would let such an advantageous match pass by unnoticed, especially considering her original idea had been to marry Selwyn off to his cousin and join two powerful British dynasties.” He pauses and considers. “But how do you even know that what Mademoiselle Flanton claims is true? It isn’t like either of us have been reading the marriage announcements.”
“I know, Gerald, and I certainly haven’t, but I know someone who reads them religiously.”
“Not Sadie?” Gerald asks, referring to Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie.
“No,” Lettice elucidates. “Margot’s mother, Lady de Virre. She never fails to find out who has become engaged to whom, so when I came home from Paris, I telephoned her, and she told me that she hasn’t seen a thing about the engagement.”
“Intriguing.” Gerald remarks, taking a deep breath, as much out of shock as to help him regain his composure.
“But wait, there is more yet to tell, Gerald.” Lettice says, her voice rising with excitement, her body pulsating with a sudden energy that has been lacking before now. “What Mademoiselle Flanton’s secretary also told her mistress, was that based upon her investigations, Kitty Avendale only arrived in Durban last year not long after Selwyn did. No-one had ever heard of her o seen her before that time, anywhere. For the heiress to a diamond mine, that seems a more than a little odd too, don’t you think, Gerald?”
“I do.”
“I suggested to her that perhaps Mr. Avendale had only made his money recently, but then Mademoiselle Flanton told me that there is apparently no father with a diamond mine!”
“What?”
“Exactly! Her secretary found the only Australian man with a surname of Avendale was a jockey of some kind who was caught race fixing**************** when he deliberately lost the Durban Handicap*****************. There is something decidedly fishy going on here, and I suspect Lady Zinnia’s hand in it.”
“But you said that Lady Zinnia showed you pictures of Selwyn and Miss Avendale tougher, with an engagement announced beneath it, Lettice.”
“Well, Mademoiselle Flanton made me question what I have actually been shown. She made me wonder whether I have been shown the whole truth, or only a half – something redacted – or worse yet, something fabricated by Lady Zinnia.”
“Well, she was always a vicious viper, that one,” Gerald gasps. “Selwyn always told me that what she wanted, she always got in the end, by hook or by crook.”
“Tell me, do you ever hear from Selwyn any more, Gerald darling?”
“No, Lettice darling, but I just assumed that he stopped writing to me because he knows that you’re my best friend, and it would have been indelicate for him to write to me after breaking your heart.”
“What if it was the other way around, Gerald darling?”
“Whatever do you mean, Lettice?”
“What if he stopped writing to you because I broke his heart when he read about my engagement to Sir John, and he didn’t want to talk to you any more because you are my best friend?”
“Do you suspect Sir John’s involvement too? You could break your engagement with him you know. It’s your prerogative.”
“I know I can, but… well… no.” Lettice admits. “I don’t suspect John’s hand in this anywhere. Mademoiselle Flanton is very protective of John. I think if he had done something nefarious, she wouldn’t have believed it, and she certainly wouldn’t have told me what she did that night. I don’t suppose you could get Selwyn’s current address from your club? You once told me that you two were members of the same club here in London.”
“We were,” Gerald says, blushing as he speaks. “But I’m afraid I’m not a member of the club any more, Lettice darling. You see, I was banned for not paying my membership and letting it fall so far in arrears. At the time I was rather short you know, trying to set up my atelier in Grosvenor Street, which wasn’t cheap, so I rather let it go, as I had to so many of life’s little pleasantries. Then, when I had enough money to pay my debts, I saw no reason to rejoin a club that is only for men, and more sporting men at that. I’d met Hattie and Cyril by that stage and made more friends through her than I ever did at that damn club, that I just simply never paid. I doubt they would let me even try and contact Selwyn through them. I am sure I am persona non grata****************** to them now.”
“Oh Gerald darling! What am I going to do? I don’t want to break my engagement to John, and hurt his pride or the feelings of Clemance, particularly if I have no call to withdraw from our arrangement. Also, it would only enrage Pater and Mater would be fit to be tied.”
“But you said that they were lukewarm about the engagement.”
“Initially yes, but lately they have come around to it, and seem quite happy. If Mater was willing to come up to London to help me shop for a wedding frock.”
“Direct more like.” Gerald quips disgruntledly. “Considering she won’t consider me as the designer of it.”
“Well, you know what I mean, Gerald darling, and I’m still chipping away at her on that. Anyway, if she was willing to come up to London, she can’t be against it.” She wrings her hands after depositing her empty glass on the tabletop. “What am I to do, Gerald darling? You’re my best friend, my oldest chum! You’re the only one of my close friends I’d dare turn to right now who doesn’t have an invested interest in me breaking it off with John. You’ll be honest with me, and give very sound advice.”
“Well, I’m flattered you think that Lettice darling. Let me think.” He then fishes out the bottle of Gordon’s and holds it across the table between he and Lettice for her to take.
She shakes her head in return. “I need a clear head to think, Gerald darling.”
Gerald fixes himself another grin and tonic, this time with more of the former than the latter as he allows all of Lettice’s revelations sink in. He sists in silence, sipping his drink for a while, and the room becomes enveloped in a thick, yet anticipatory and charged silence as Lettice sits opposite him. At length he speaks.
“How willing are you to go, regarding this investigation into the truth, Lettice darling?” he asks seriously.
“I’ll do whatever it takes, Gerald.” Lettice says with resolve.
“Even if it may take a few months or more?”
“I don’t care how long it will take if I can discover the truth. I won’t be able to sleep properly until I do.”
“Well, I hope that isn’t quite true, Lettice darling,” Gerald remarks, giving her a doleful look as he does. “As it may take six months or more, and you’ll have to do some manoeuvring and procrastination of your own that may take a bit of effort.”
“I told you, Gerald darling,” Lettice reiterates. “I’ll do anything.”
“Then, would you get Leslie involved?”
“Leslie? As in my brother, Leslie?”
“Yes.”
“No. He’s against John’s and my engagement, even though he pretends to the contrary. He doesn’t think I know he’s lying when he tells me how happy he is for me, but he is. I’ve known him all my life. Besides, he is Mater’s favourite, and she would wheedle anything I confide in him about all this out of him, and then she’s be off to attack Lady Zinnia, which would only make things worse if it turns out all to be for naught.”
“Hhhmmm…” Gerald muses. “That’s probably quite wise, Lettice darling. A clear heard is good for your thinking.” He taps the edge of his own partially empty glass. “Then are you willing to get your own hands dirty?”
“Dirty? How do you mean, Gerald?”
“Well, I was only mentioning Leslie because before he took a more active role in the estate as the heir to Glynes, he worked for the Foreign Office, and I thought he might have had some sleuthing contacts.”
“I don’t want him involved, Gerald. Only you know, and I intend to keep it that way.”
“Then we two are going to have to hire a Pinkerton*******************.”
“A Pinkerton!” Lettice gasps. “Is that really necessary, Gerald darling?”
“I’m afraid so, Lettice darling.” he replies. “No-one else, outside people in the Foreign Office, will be able to sleuth out the truth for you. It won’t be cheap. Pinkertons are expensive.”
“I can afford it.” Lettice replies with steely resolve.
“And as I said, they may take a few months or longer before they find out what is what, and who was involved, so you are going to have to buy time.”
“Buy time?”
“No matter who pressures you, you are going to have to drag your feet about getting married, and it seems to me that with Sadie and Clemance Pontefract involved now, things are moving a little faster than they were before their involvement.”
“Well, I should be able to convince John. He’s in no hurry to get married, but Mater and Clemance won’t want too long an engagement. Clemance has already scolded both John and I about being glacially slow in making our plans.”
“Then you are going to have to steel yourself against the pressure, Lettice darling. If you really want to know the truth, and make sure that you aren’t making a mistake by marrying Sir John, when Selwyn may yet be waiting for you, you will have to stall for time.”
“Then if that is what I’ll do. But how?”
“Throw yourself into your work. Edith tells me you’ve done nothing about the designs for Dolly Hatchett’s Queen Anne’s Gate******************** townhouse redecoration. That will be a good start. If you are too busy to make important decisions, then even at their most fervent, neither Sadie nor Clemance can progress without you. Put your foot down about Sadie’s decision not to let me make your wedding frock. We all know how stubborn she can be. That will give us time too.”
Lettice smiles at Gerald, a beaming and genuine smile. “Thank you for helping me with this, Gerald. I knew you were the only one to assist me.”
Gerald holds out his hand to Lettice, who grasps it firmly in return. “Of course! You’re my best and oldest chum! I’d do anything to help you and support you!”
*Moiré, is a textile with a wavy (watered) appearance produced mainly from silk, but also wool, cotton, and rayon. The watered appearance is usually created by the finishing technique called calendering. Moiré effects are also achieved by certain weaves, such as varying the tension in the warp and weft of the weave. Silk treated in this way is sometimes called watered silk. Rayon moiré was a popular choice for the black evening uniform for female domestics between the wars, as it gave the elegant appearance of silk, and looked very smart with the white lace cuffs and collars of such uniforms.
**A chignon is a classic, versatile hairstyle characterized by a low bun or knot of hair, typically worn at the nape of the neck, though it can also be a more general term for hair wrapped at the back of the head. The name "chignon" comes from the French phrase "chignon du cou," meaning "nape of the neck," where the hairstyle is traditionally positioned. This elegant and refined style has been around for centuries.
***An Astrakhan coat is a fur coat or jacket made from the tightly curled fleece of the newborn Karakul lamb. This distinctive, looped material, also known as Persian lamb fur, creates a glamorous, warm, and luxurious garment often in black, grey, or golden yellow. Astrakhan coats were worn in London during several periods, most notably as part of Victorian and Edwardian high fashion, in the 1860s and 1870s, again from 1890 to 1908, and into the early Twentieth Century, with renewed popularity in the 1920s and 1930s and again in the 1950s and 1960s. The luxurious fur was used for full coats, as well as collars and trims, fitting with the ornate aesthetic of the late Nineteenth Century and the trends of the early Twentieth Century.
****Old top hats were historically made from animal products, most notably the felted underfur of beavers, which was the preferred material for early top hats. As beaver fur supplies declined and alternatives became available, the high-quality, shiny material known as silk plush replaced beaver fur as the favoured material for the best top hats. Other animal furs used included camel and vicuña, and later, the fur of rabbits was used to create a material called "Melusine" for some modern top hats.
*****Pale blue sapphires from India are known as Kashmir sapphires. They are very rare, and are known for their velvety, cornflower-blue colour, not typically a pale hue. Whilst the term "Kashmir" refers to their origin, the characteristic colour associated with these precious stones is a rich, intense blue, not pale.
******Gordon's London Dry Gin was developed by Alexander Gordon, a Londoner of Scots descent. He opened a distillery in the Southwark area in 1769, later moving in 1786 to Clerkenwell. The Special London Dry Gin he developed proved successful, and its recipe remains unchanged to this day. The top markets for Gordon's are (in descending order) the United Kingdom, the United States and Greece. Gordon's has been the United Kingdom’s number one gin since the late Nineteenth Century. It is the world's best-selling London dry gin.
*******The International Exhibition of Modern Decorative and Industrial Arts was a specialized exhibition held in Paris, from April the 29th (the day after it was inaugurated in a private ceremony by the President of France) to October the 25th, 1925. It was designed by the French government to highlight the new modern style of architecture, interior decoration, furniture, glass, jewellery and other decorative arts in Europe and throughout the world. Many ideas of the international avant-garde in the fields of architecture and applied arts were presented for the first time at the exposition. The event took place between the esplanade of Les Invalides and the entrances of the Grand Palais and Petit Palais, and on both banks of the Seine. There were fifteen thousand exhibitors from twenty different countries, and it was visited by sixteen million people during its seven-month run. The modern style presented at the exposition later became known as “Art Deco”, after the exposition's name.
********The old fashioned British term “looking bloody” was a way of indicating how dour or serious a person or occasion looks.
*********The Tuileries Garden is a public garden between the Louvre and the Place de la Concorde in the first arrondissement of Paris. Created by Catherine de' Medici as the garden of the Tuileries Palace in 1564, it was opened to the public in 1667 and became a public park after the French Revolution. Since the Nineteenth Century, it has been a place for Parisians to celebrate, meet, stroll and relax.
**********Cinégraphic was a French film production company founded by director Marcel L'Herbier in the 1920s. It was established following a disagreement between L'Herbier and the Gaumont Company, a major film distributor, over the film "Don Juan et Faust". Cinégraphic was involved in the production of several films, including "Don Juan et Faust" itself. Cinégraphic focused on more experimental and artistic films.
***********The Savoy Hotel is a luxury hotel located in the Strand in the City of Westminster in central London. Built by the impresario Richard D'Oyly Carte with profits from his Gilbert and Sullivan opera productions, it opened on 6 August 1889. It was the first in the Savoy group of hotels and restaurants owned by Carte's family for over a century. The Savoy was the first hotel in Britain to introduce electric lights throughout the building, electric lifts, bathrooms in most of the lavishly furnished rooms, constant hot and cold running water and many other innovations. Carte hired César Ritz as manager and Auguste Escoffier as chef de cuisine; they established an unprecedented standard of quality in hotel service, entertainment and elegant dining, attracting royalty and other rich and powerful guests and diners. The hotel became Carte's most successful venture. Its bands, Savoy Orpheans and the Savoy Havana Band, became famous. Winston Churchill often took his cabinet to lunch at the hotel. The hotel is now managed by Fairmont Hotels and Resorts. It has been called "London's most famous hotel". It has two hundred and sixty seven guest rooms and panoramic views of the River Thames across Savoy Place and the Thames Embankment. The hotel is a Grade II listed building.
************The phrase "play handies" to mean couples holding hands started around 1910. An earlier related phrase, "playing hand," referring to holding a hand of cards, was documented in the 1890s. In 1936, a different meaning emerged for the term "handies" as a word for a charades-like game played with hand gestures, a usage documented by the Chicago Tribune.
*************The Entente Cordiale was a set of agreements signed by France and the United Kingdom on April the 8th, 1904, to resolve colonial disputes and foster a closer working relationship, marking the end of a long history of imperial rivalry and isolation. While not a formal military alliance, the agreements paved the way for future cooperation and helped form the Triple Entente, which played a significant role in the dynamics leading up to World War I.
**************To get tight is an old fashioned term used to describe getting drunk.
***************A jeune fille à marier was a marriageable young woman, the French term used in fashionable circles and the upper-classes of Edwardian society before the Second World War.
****************We usually think of match or race fixing as a modern day thing, but one of the earliest examples of this sort of match fixing in the modern era occurred in 1898 when Stoke City and Burnley intentionally drew in that year's final "test match" so as to ensure they were both in the First Division the next season. In response, the Football League expanded the divisions to eighteen teams that year, thus permitting the intended victims of the fix (Newcastle United and Blackburn Rovers) to remain in the First Division. The "test match" system was abandoned and replaced with automatic relegation. Match fixing quickly spread to other spots that involved high amounts of gambling, including horse racing.
*****************The Durban July Handicap is a South African Thoroughbred horse race held annually on the first Saturday of July since 1897 at Greyville Racecourse in Durban, KwaZulu-Natal. Raced on turf, the Durban July Handicap is open to horses of all ages. It is South Africa's premier horse racing event. When first held in July 1897, the race was at a distance of one mile. The distance was modified several times until 1970 when it was changed to its current eleven furlongs.
******************“Persona non grata” is a Latin phrase meaning “unwelcome person.” As a legal term, it refers to the practice of a state prohibiting a diplomat from entering the country as a diplomat, or censuring a diplomat already resident in the country for conduct unbecoming of the status of a diplomat.
*******************A “Pinkerton” is a private detective, and refers to the Pinkerton Detective Agency, founded by Allan Pinkerton, known for its historical role in labour disputes and spying. For decades after Allan Pinkerton's death, his name became a slang term for any private investigator, regardless of whether they worked for the Pinkerton Agency or not. Today, the agency (now simply called Pinkerton) focuses on risk management, intelligence, and security services.
********************Queen Anne’s Gate is a street in Westminster, London. Many of the buildings are Grade I listed, known for their Queen Anne architecture. Simon Bradley and Nikolaus Pevsner described the Gate’s early Eighteenth Century houses as “the best of their kind in London.” The street’s proximity to the Palace of Westminster made it a popular residential area for politicians.
This 1920s upper-class drawing room is different to what you may think at first glance, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
On Lettice's table are two glasses which are hand spun artisan pieces made from real glass which I have had since I was a young teenager. I bought them from a high street shop that specialised in dolls and dollhouse furnishings, including miniatures. They are amongst the first real artisan pieces I ever bought. The bottle of Gordon's Gin is another artisan piece made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire, with so much attention and detail paid to the period lable. For this scene, I have taken a piece of Lettice’s tea set, which is a beautiful artisan set featuring a rather avant-garde Art Deco Royal Doulton design from the Edwardian era called “Falling Leaves”, and turned the sugar bowl into an ice cube bowl. The glass comport is made of real glass and was blown by hand is an artisan miniature acquired from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The ice cubes, the soda syphon and the savory hors d'oeuvres on the plate also comes from Beautifully handmade Miniatures.
The very realistic floral arrangement to the right of the photo is made by hand by Falcon Miniatures who specialise in high end miniatures.
Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The Art Deco tub chairs are of black japanned wood and have removable cushions, just like their life sized examples. To the left of the fireplace is a Hepplewhite drop-drawer bureau and chair of black japanned wood which has been hand painted with chinoiserie designs, even down the legs and inside the bureau. The Hepplewhite chair has a rattan seat, which has also been hand woven. To the right of the fireplace is a Chippendale cabinet which has also been decorated with chinoiserie designs. It also features very ornate metalwork hinges and locks.
On the top of the Hepplewhite bureau stand three real miniature photos in frames including an Edwardian silver frame, a Victorian brass frame and an Art Deco blue Bakelite and glass frame.
The fireplace is a 1:12 miniature resin Art Deco fireplace which is flanked by brass accessories including an ash brush with real bristles.
The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug, and the geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.
Leonardo da Vinci
Profile of a young Fiancée [~1507]
La bella principessa
(perhaps Angela Borgia Lanzol)
Chalk, pen, ink and wash tint on vellum
Dimensions: 33 cm x 22 cm
Angela Borgia Lanzol, a cousin of the famous Lucrezia Borgia
(~1491 - not before 1508)
Source:
www.kleio.org/en/history/famtree/vip/angela_borgia_lanzol/
www.sassuolonline.it/angelaborgia.htm
www.rp-online.de/panorama/wissen/echtes-bild-falsche-frau...
{Another tentatively identification of the portrayed person is
Bianca Sforza (1482-1496; daughter of Ludovico Sforza, Duke of Milan [1452-1508], and his mistress Bernardina de Corradis)}
Recently it has been shown, that this small-seized painting on vellum originally was integrated into a book about the Sforza family (Sforziade, Warsaw National Library).
Therefore recently attributed to da Vinci
Private Collection
More about "La bella principessa"
arthistory.about.com/od/leonardo/ss/leonardo_la_bella_pri...
or
www.almendron.com/tribuna/how-i-know-the-new-portrait-is-...
My fiancee and I sat in the amazing painting of Vincent van Gogh! The picture is taken by a passerby using a cellphone. Obviously this is a blurred shot, but I prefer the story and memory behind the picture.
A cadet and his fiancee practices wedding steps with family members.
Grave of Amedeo Modigliani and his fiancée Jeanne Hébuterne
Modigliani died at 35 of tubercular meningitis. His fiancée, twenty-one-year-old Hébuterne was eight months pregnant with their second child.
The day after his death, she threw herself out of a fifth-floor window, killing herself and her unborn child. Modigliani was buried in Père Lachaise Cemetery. Hébuterne was buried at the Cimetière de Bagneux near Paris, and it was not until 1930 that her embittered family allowed her body to be moved to rest beside Modigliani. A single tombstone honors them both. His epitaph reads: "Struck down by death at the moment of glory". Hers reads: "Devoted companion to the extreme sacrifice".
Calle Höglund | Photographer - Stockholm, Sweden
Took a few days of in Copenhagen with my fiancée a few weeks ago. One of the main events on the trip was to visit this incredible church I've seen so many fantastic shots from. I was not disappointed to say the least...
Grundtvig's Church (Danish: Grundtvigs Kirke) is located in the Bispebjerg district of Copenhagen, Denmark. It is a rare example of expressionist church architecture. Due to its unusual appearance, it is one of the best known churches in the city.
Copyright © 2015 Calle Höglund.
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While out looking for birds today my fiancee and I came across many cat tails and long grass blades that were making unique reflections in a calm area of the pond. I really like the geometric shapes and designs that are made naturally by mother nature. I guess my telephoto lenses can be used for more than just observing birds and wildlife.