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Letter generously translated by xiphophilos; penned sometime in 1911 and addressed to Herr Schorsche Hoppeltt in Weißenburg in Bavaria. Postage cancelled in Ingolstadt in March 1911.
„Indem ich mich beim Generalstabe IIIten K. in hervorragender Weise als Radfahrer ausgezeichnet habe, übersende ich Dir diese Karte.“
Looking every bit like a soldier from the Great War period, Radfahrer Heinrich Drescher is photographed as a Radfahrer in his garrison city of Ingolstadt in 1911.
When war came three years later, he would serve with the Königlich Bayerisches Infanterie-Leib-Regiment.
I placed ads in FreeCycle asking for clippings for succulents. I'm starting a succulent garden - Look at how generous these two people were with me. This guy's yard is full of beautiful plants and has been lovingly decorated (I'll post pix) 0- feel free to tag and leave me any kind of advice that you have :-)
Generous Horizons.
servizi non vere terrena schiavi paradiso sfondi condanna sospetti innocenti,
pasáistí tubaiste ordaigh flogged naoimh búistéirí isteach theagasc dlíthe damhsa,
تحذيرات الإعدام تعذيب الخناجر دوافع صاخبة أشرعة القاتلة البؤس الرعن في,
Beschlagnahme abgehende Anrufe unnötige Expedition nachfolgende Szenen korrigieren Dämonen opera,
discursuri rele plângând în viață servitorii dimineață vechi de băut uitare lecții otrăvitoare de răspândire,
utrpela modrice zgodbe borijo tovariši sive valovite vode polna jezen popoldne veslanje smrad,
לאבד תמותה עייפה לחשוד שיניים מבעיתות שריקות נשמות מסע ריסוק רצונות אדומים לגזרים,
優雅な祈り熱烈な栄光キリストは明るい王国は本当にすべて提供しています嘆願与えられた様々な贈り物を聞きます.
Steve.D.Hammond.
for The Endless Book
"Nada lhe posso dar que já não exista em você mesmo. Não posso abrir-lhe outro mundo de imagens, além daquele que há em sua própria alma. Nada lhe posso dar a não ser a oportunidade, o impulso, a chave. Eu o ajudarei a tornar visível o seu próprio mundo, e isso é tudo."
(H.H.)
PictionID:52519843 - Catalog:14_028703 - Title:Atlas 4A Details: Test 895; Site 14 After Launch of Missile 4A Date: 06/11/1957 - Filename:14_028703.tif - Images from the Convair/General Dynamics Astronautics Atlas Negative Collection. The processing, cataloging and digitization of these images has been made possible by a generous National Historical Publications and Records grant from the National Archives and Records Administration---Please Tag these images so that the information can be permanently stored with the digital file.---Repository: San Diego Air and Space Museum
The holiday season tends to bring out the very best in every one because we are all so willing to be grateful and generous this time of year. The sad part of this ideology though is that we somehow tend to overlook the rest of the year. Life is truly precious, and it should never go unappreciated or uncelebrated. My personal philosophy these past few years has been to live every day with as much appreciation and happiness as I am capable of. It's certainly not always easy to do, but I've definitely found that my dolls have helped me along the way. They remind me every day of how blessed I truly am and have been, and they inspire me to continue to live life with a smile.
My dolls have given me a new found appreciation for all the people in my life. Five years ago, when I started collecting them again, I expected to be questioned, or even ridiculed by my father. I didn't think he would understand or support my decision. Most of all, I feared he would think I was "too old" for them. When I finally mustered the courage to renew my doll hobby, I was pleasantly surprised by my dad's reaction. Contrary to what I thought, my dad welcomed the idea with open arms and an open heart. In fact, he was just as interested in my dolls as I was. He was always offering to go on doll hunts, make me new shelves, rearrange my room, and design doll stands. He showed an interest in all the things I was creating for my dolls, and he was always so complimentary. My sister was equally supportive and interested as I knew she would be. Whenever I look at my dolls, I always remember which ones Dad bought me, the ones he surprised me with, the ones he remembered the names of or poked fun at, and the time he invested in my hobby. The same can be said about all the dolls that remind me of my sister. I've also come to realize just how many people in general are so supportive and interested in my doll hobby. Whether it's someone admiring my displays and complimenting them, or my aunt who helped me make doll earrings, or my uncle who built my massive Bratz shelf, or all the people who are so sweet and have given me dolls, all the love and time other people have invested in me truly amazes me. It's overwhelming when I see just how much I am loved and appreciated. It touches my heart that so many people want to know more about my dolls, or are so willing to contribute in some way.
My dolls have also helped me see that time is a gift that should never be wasted. I didn't know that a year after I started collecting dolls again, that I would lose my father. I had spent many of the previous years pretending not to like dolls because I was embarrassed by them. Words cannot express how grateful I am that dolls reemerged into my life at the time they did. They made my last year with Dad so much more enjoyable. When I first brought my dolls out of storage in 2011, they brought so much happiness with them. The last year with Dad was the hardest one of my life, but it also holds some of my most cherished memories. Colleen, Dad, and I spent our weekends roaming the flea markets scouring for dolls. I remember that we spent many afternoons brooding about how we could somehow fit more shelves for dolls in my room. I dedicated a large portion of my time to doll related projects such as stands and paintings. Dad and Colleen were always so curious about my creations, and always had helpful suggestions and ideas to contribute. There was also the time my Beautiful Hair Ariel's leg broke, and Dad spent a long time in Home Depot looking at various supplies, trying to come up with a way to fix her. Colleen and I started identifying our dolls and their possessions back then, and there were days we entirely dedicated to the quest. What I have come to realize is that it was my early days collecting dolls that have given them so much meaning to me. If I had chosen not to unbury my doll hobby back then, Dad would never have been part of it, and my dolls wouldn't hold the same signifigance to me. Dolls have put time into perspective for me--I spent most of my teenage years scorning them and not being true to myself, which in turn has made me realize that time should never be wasted, but always appreciated.
It's truly amazing how much joy my dolls have filled my life with. They also touched my dad and my sister's lives. We were all inspired by them in a beautiful way. Dad began collecting toy trucks not long after my dolls returned. He even started to repair and repaint many of them. Colleen's love of reading also grew--she became obsessed with tracking down new books and authors to indulge in. The happiness and inspiration that my dolls possessed was truly contagious. But most of all, I think my dolls touched my life. They made me accept who I am, and to love myself for the first time in my life. I liked who I became when dolls rejoined my life. I felt inspired, motivated, creative, dedicated, and passionate. Most of all, I just appreciated feeling something other than emptiness. They helped me find confidence--I realized that if it didn't matter when people laughed at my dolls, why should it ever bother me when someone else casts judgement on me? It occurred to me that I could do anything I put my mind to, whether it was doll related or not. All of these positive emotions didn't just apply to my dolls, but also to every aspect of my life, and for that I am so grateful. I also came to see through my dolls that life is truly all about perception. I found that if I put my energy towards finding things I liked about a doll, rather than disliked, I was a much happier, more fulfilled person. I started to apply that ideology to the rest of my life, and I haven't looked back since. Life will certainly always "hand me lemons" but it is up to me to decide what to do with it, and how I perceive it.
It astounds me all the ways my dolls have taught me to be more grateful. My dolls remind me every day that I am a truly lucky person. They hold my last memories of my father and my childhood close to me, and in turn, I feel like I can better appreciate all the other things I've been so privileged to have. Dolls have shown me that I am capable of creating my own happiness because I can chose to to smile no matter what happens to me in life. They have made me thankful for just being myself--I realized through them that I didn't want to be anyone else or trade lives with them. They have made me see that I have had so many things in my life all along that I chose to overlook and not be grateful for. Every day I am thankful for all 2,400 plus of my dolls, my lovely house (which somehow fits all my dolls), my two lovable cats, my two adorable guinea pigs, my health, the food I get to eat every day, the warm bed I sleep in every night, my entire family, the time I got to spend with my mom and dad, and most of all my sister, who I'd be entirely lost without. There will always be rainy days or times I want to crawl into a hole and disappear, but at the end of the day, I will always find a way to smile. There is always a reason to wake up in the morning, whether it is for something as simple as a warm breakfast, a song on the radio, a pet, or a bunch of plastic dolls. I will always try to make the most of this life I am so lucky to have. My dolls have taught me that it is so important to to appreciate what you have while you have it, because at any moment, it could all disappear. So that is what I try to do--I try to never go to bed angry, to take a moment every day to soak it in, and most importantly, to tell the people I love how I feel, that I am grateful for them, and that I appreciate all the things they do. I truly believe that every day should be Thanksgiving, because today is the only day we are guaranteed, and we are all so lucky to have it.
Generous serving of fresh pirarucu with shrimp in Brazil nut cream at Casa do Saulo, Santarém, voted best restaurant in northern Brazil.
diariodofb.com/2019/06/11/casa-do-saulo-e-eleito-novament...
Letter generously translated by Xiphophilos; penned by Landsturmmann Paul Rupp he writes to his uncle and aunt to inform them he's well and headed 'south'.
Wehrpflicht, the obligation of the individual German to serve his country was the principle upon which the Army was based. The Prussians were the originators of a system whereby the standing army passed men through its ranks and discharged them as trained soldiers who were liable to recall in the event of a national emergency. By this method, the army could be greatly expanded at short notice whilst, in peacetime, the state was not burdened by the cost of maintaining a massive permanent force. The so-called Krumper System was first employed by Prussia during the Napoleonic wars.
After 1893, each German male was liable to be called to serve his country over a 27 year period, from the close of his 17th to his 45th year of age. At the age of 17 a man was enrolled into the 1st Ban of the Landsturm but it was not until his 20th year that he started his active service. Dienstpflicht, as this was known, consisted of two years with the regular Army and five years with its reserve. In the case of a man enlisting in the cavalry or horse artillery, Dienstpflicht was divided into three years with the regular Army and only four years with the reserve.
At the age of 27 a man now joined the 1st Ban of the Landwehr and was transferred into its 2nd Ban at the age of 32. This service lasted until the age of 39 when he passed into the 2nd Ban of the Landsturm where he remained until his 45th year.
The Landsturm infantry were generally formed into battalions which bore the number of the army corps district in which they were raised and a local seniority number, for example IV 7. The Landsturm was widely employed in the rear areas of the Army and in Germany, although they were also extensively used on the Eastern Front in 1914 and 1915.
142 Landsturm battalions were formed upon mobilisation. Some battalions were grouped into mobile Landsturm-Infanterie-Regiments and numbers of these formations were later converted into normal infantry or Landwehr regiments. About 40 of these regiments were formed and they were nearly all initially employed on the Eastern Front.
Generosity comes in all shapes and sizes. On 30 July 2016, six of us from Calgary had the honour of meeting a 92-year-old gentleman who has lived most of his long life on a huge area (380 hectares, 939 acres) of beautiful land near Hanna, Alberta. Though Gottlob Schmidt (known as Schmitty) has now moved into town (Hanna), he is not far from his beloved land and still loves to spend a lot of time there. My friends and I understand why. This untouched land is not only beautiful to the eye, with its undulating hills with small, scattered pockets of Aspen woodland, but it also hides all sorts of natural treasures, including the wildlife that enjoys this native grassland. There are so few areas of native grassland left in Alberta, so each one is very precious. Schmitty told us that he has never seen his land looking so green! Perhaps not too surprising, as we have had so much rain recently, usually accompanied by thunderstorms. In fact, the rain started on our return journey to Calgary and I was driving from our meeting place back to my house in torrential rain. I found a good scattering of small hailstones covering my lawn, too.
This is where the word 'generosity' comes in. Two years ago, Schmitty donated all his land to Alberta Parks, along with certain strict regulations (listed on a link below) on how the land was to be used. He was very warmly recognized for his extreme generosity. The Park is known as Antelope Hill Provincial Park and, when Schmitty is no longer able to visit and enjoy his old, family homestead, the Park will be opened to the public. For now, it remains his own, private property.
The highlight for us was meeting Schmitty himself. I can only hope that I might be lucky enough to be in half his shape if I ever reached that age! It was an absolute delight to spend a little time with this man with the big heart, when we first arrived and again later in the day, when it was time for us to head back to Calgary. We also got to meet Schmitty's good neighbours, Donna and Ken.
www.albertaparks.ca/media/5788002/antelope-hill-pp-fact-s...
calgaryherald.com/news/local-news/you-can-thank-this-man-...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WIVVBdkoUVY&feature=youtu.be
My friends (specialists in mosses, lichens and liverworts and other things) and I, were given permission to spend the day there, to list all our findings. Our time was spent climbing one main hill and walking part way around it, calling in at several of the small areas of woodland. This bright yellowy orange fungus was hidden with others within the trees. These were the other highlight for me! It is quite rare that we come across one of these Amanita Muscaria mushrooms, and it is so exciting and such a treat when we do! Of course, it's just a "fungi nut" talking, ha. They are so attractive, especially at the earlier stage when the cap is like a round ball, covered in white flecks, but also poisonous! I will add a previously posted photo of the earlier stage in a comment box below.
"A large conspicuous mushroom, Amanita muscaria is generally common and numerous where it grows, and is often found in groups with basidiocarps in all stages of development. Fly agaric fruiting bodies emerge from the soil looking like a white egg, covered in the white warty material of the universal veil... Amanita muscaria poisoning occurs in either young children or people ingesting it to have a hallucinogenic experience... A fatal dose has been calculated at an amount of 15 caps. Deaths from this fungus A. muscaria have been reported in historical journal articles and newspaper reports. However, with modern medical treatment a fatal outcome because of the poison of this mushroom would be extremely rare."
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amanita_muscaria
Various plants were good to see, too, including about four Prairie Crocuses that were still in bloom. I hadn't seen Skeletonweed for a long time, but there were quite a few small clusters of it. A new plant to me was a tall one with white flowers - White Evening Primrose (seen in my next photo). The occasional gorgeous wild Rose made a bright splash of colour, too.
Of course, for me, any visit to a ranch would not be complete without wandering by any old barn/shed/cabin. Another find was a beautiful, old, glass doorknob on one of the sheds.
On our return walk back to the cars, I suddenly spotted a huge, green caterpillar on the trail. A Tomato hornworm. It had been years since I saw any kind of huge, green larva and, though not my favourite things, I was glad to get a photo of it.
After a few hours of exploration, the only things that we were so happy and relieved to leave behind were the mosquitoes! Never had I seen so many of them - the air was filled with these tiny, blood-sucking insects that followed us every step of the way!
Thanks so much, Heide, for driving Sandy and myself all the way out there - about a two and three-quarter hour drive. Much of the distance was on the same roads that I had driven last week with my daughter, but this was the first time I had ever been as far as Hanna and just beyond. Hanna now has a Tim Horton's, opened around three months ago : ) Thanks, Heide, too, for trying to find the old railway roundhouse - unfortunate that there was too much construction in the area, so one can't get to the roundhouse. And thank you so much, Peter, for arranging and organizing this wonderful trip! Most importantly of all, our thanks to Schmitty, who so kindly allowed us to share the special land that he has called home for so many decades. Our thanks for allowing us to spend the day there and, even more importantly, thank you for your great gift to all Albertans, with your incredibly generous donation of Antelope Hill Provincial Park.
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 south-east of Cavendish Mews, past the British Museum with its classically colonnaded entrance, and beyond Sir Christopher Wren’s architectural masterpiece of St Pauls Cathedral, past Fish Street Hill and Pudding Lane, where the Great Fire of London started. Within sight of the towering monument to the Great Fire of London* with its golden orb atop its Doric column we find ourselves in the south-east corner of the City of London borough in Lower Thames Street near the Billingsgate Dock at the Old Billingsgate Fish Market**. Here we find Edith, Lettice’s maid, who has travelled here with her beau, shop grocer’s boy and sometimes window dresser for grocer Mr. Walter Willison in Binney Street, Mayfair on their Sunday afternoon off. Edith and Frank have been stepping out together for some time now, and hope to make their arrangement formal soon with an official engagement announcement, and they enjoy spending their Sundays off together. In this case, Edith is mixing business with pleasure. She and Frank have come to enjoy watching the hustle and bustle of the market and have some fresh seafood as a Sunday luncheon treat, but Edith also needs to buy some fresh oysters to serve as hors d'oeuvres for the dinner party Lettice is hosting this evening for a group of her Embassy Club coterie friends - fashion designer Gerald Bruton who lives in nearby Soho and married couple Dickie and Margot Channon who live just around the corner from Cavendish Mews in a flat on Hill Street.
Clutching her green leather purse and small wicker basket hooked over her left arm close to her, Edith tries to make herself as unobtrusive as possible to the constant barrage of foot traffic passing through the narrow aisle she stands on the edge of. Old Billingsgate Fish Market is a bustling centre of activity, even though the pre-dawn hours of the handling of fresh catches, and the presence of casual workers and porters has passed. The market is a hive of activity with workers unloading crates, merchants selling their goods, people seeking casual work and the hoteliers, restaurant owners, housewives and maids, like herself, of London buying fish for Sunday luncheon or dinner, or for a meal in the week ahead. Outside the old Victorian market with its ornate cast iron columns, the streets are choked with lorries and horse drawn carts loaded with full and empty crates stamped with different fishmonger names, whilst between them people move precariously in the squashed spaces, coming and going. The sound of blasting horns from impatient drivers, the whinny of horses, the chug of engines, the clop of horses’ hooves, the calls of workmen and the general chatter of people adds to the multi sonorous cacophony of merchants calling out their wares and customers talking, heavy booted footsteps, the slap of fish flesh being tossed about and the rustle of newsprint and butchers’ paper as parcels are wrapped up and handed over into eager hands. The smell of the fish is strong and permeates Edith’s nose, but she doesn’t mind, as fresh fish has always been a treat that she associates with Good Friday fish dinners*** at home with her parents in Harlesden in the north-west of London.
Edith moves and presses herself further back against the edge of a wooden counter belonging to a stallholder as a Billingsgate porter walks past wearing his wood and tarred leather bobbin**** atop his head, upon which he balances fourteen round wicker baskets. She looks agog at the towering pile of baskets, amazed at how casual and cheerful the porter seems as he stops in front of another porter who only has two boxes balanced on his head. The latter lights two cigarettes in his mouth, dropping the match onto the water slicked concrete floor where it is immediately extinguished, and then withdraws one cigarette and offers it to the other porter, who smiles gratefully and thanks him as he takes it, and they chat away casually beneath the cast iron girders of the fish market’s roof.
“You’re starting to look like the fish being sold here, Edith.” Frank’s familiar voice says light heartedly, slicing through the noisy clamour around Edith.
Frank appears before Edith from behind the bulk of rather pudgy fishmonger in a fish blood and gut stained white coverall dustcoat wearing rather incongruously, a rather smart sleek black felt trilby***** hat. In each hand Frank has a sturdy newspaper wrapped parcel.
“Don’t be rude, Frank Leadbetter!” Edith responds, releasing the pent-up breath she didn’t realise she had been holding as she waited for her beau to return to her side.
“Well I’m sorry, Edith,” Frank apologises. “But you do! A slack mouth and eyes agog makes you look very fish like.”
“Oh! Much obliged!” Edith says sarcastically, making a mock bob curtsey. Loosening her hands from where she has them tightly wrapped around her arms, she playfully slaps her sweetheart’s upper arm. “Thank you very much!”
“You know me, Edith. I speak plainly, and I speak as I find.” Frank says as he adjusts the parcel in his left hand.
“Well maybe you shouldn’t when it comes to how you perceive my look.” Edith remarks a little peevishly. “Especially if it is an unflattering one. My Mum always says that if you can’t say anything nice, then you are best to say nothing at all.” She nods seriously.
“Does that mean that when you ask me whether you look pretty in your latest homemade frock you plan to wear to the Hammersmith Palais******, I should say yes, you do?”
“Don’t be cheeky!” Edith slaps Frank playfully again before accepting one of the parcels from him, feeling the warmth of it against her palm through her ecru lace gloves. “And anyway,” she adds. “If I want an honest opinion about my looks, I’ll seek out Hilda, thank you very much.”
“For a favourable opinion, more like!” snorts Frank. “Hilda doesn’t know the first thing about fashion, or care, and you know it. She’s not the least bit interested in that stuff. The only reason why she even wears anything remotely fashionable is because you give it to her, or insist she buys it.”
“Hilda’s not that bad, Frank.”
Frank doesn’t answer, but gives her a doubtful look, followed by one of his endearing gormless grins as he starts to tear at the newspaper of his own parcel.
“You took your time,” Edith opines as she starts to tear at her own parcel. “That isn’t because you went and bought some jellied eels******* for us to eat, is it?”
“As if I’d put cold jellied eels in with hot chips!” Frank replies with incredulity, pulling back the last of the newspaper and holding out the pile of steaming hot golden chips in his palm for Edith to see. Before he can react, Edith reaches forward and like one of the many scavenging seagulls around the fish market and Billingsgate Dock, she snatches one of his chips between her right index finger and thumb. “Here!” Frank blasts. “Now who’s being cheeky?”
Edith sighs with satisfaction as she pops the chip into her mouth, lowering her lids with delight as she feels the hot mass of flavoursome potato and batter fill her senses as she chews it. Swallowing she says, ignoring her sweetheart’s remark, “That’s just as well then, because I keep telling you, the best jellied eels come out of the Whitechapel eel, pie and mash house******** in Petticoat Lane********.”
“Says you, Edith.” Frank retorts as he watches Edith with beady eyes as she opens her own parcel of hot chips wrapped in newspaper*********, looking for an opportunity to steal a steaming hot chip from her. “There I must disagree with you. The best jellied eels come from right here in the Old Billingsgate Fish Market.”
“Have you ever tried the eels at Mrs. Cooke’s**********, Frank?”
“No, but I don’t need to,” Frank says with a smirk, as he quickly snatches two chips from atop Edith’s pile. He hurriedly stuffs them into his mouth and gobbles them up greedily, smiling as Edith’s eyes grow wide in surprise before she gives him a forgiving smile that tells him that his sweetheart isn’t really cross with him for taking two of her chips. Swallowing hard with a loud gulp that makes his Adam’s apple bounce up his throat above the line of his stiffened shirt collar*********** and tie, he goes on, “Because the jellied eels here are the best.” He looks at her defiantly. “Have you ever had jellied eels from here, Edith?”
“Well no,” Edith answers. Her look becomes defiant as she parrots Frank. “But then again, I don’t need to, since Mrs. Cooke’s jellied eels are the best. We should go there some time.”
“I’d rather save my pennies and take you for a proper, slap-up, meal at my chum Giuseppe’s little Italian restaurant up the Islington in Little Italy************, Edith.”
“So you said, that first afternoon I introduced you to my Mum and Dad,” remarks Edith as she picks up another hot chip daintily between her thumb and forefinger. “And subsequently, but you’ve yet to take me.”
“Well, we’ll have to remedy that,” Frank replies as he takes up three of his own chips with the fingers of his right hand. “And soon.”
“I’d like that Frank.” Edith opines with a smile.
The pair chuckle good naturedly and much away on their hot chips for a moment in companionable silence whilst around them the hustle and bustle of the fish market continues. “Watch out lad!” a serious voice booms behind Frank, startling him and making him jump. Stepping aside he lets a burly looking porter in a grubby ochre coloured dustcoat with short sleeves over the top of a navy woollen cable knit jumper ease past. The porter pushes a trolley loaded up with long wooden crates stencilled ‘Fleetwood Fish Merchants Association’************* in black lettering stamped crudely against the roughly planed planks of wood making up each box. He is closely followed by a much thinner, more nervous and better dressed older gentleman with a wrinkled face, dressed in a suit and bowler hat, with a silver fob chain************** hanging heavily from his black waistcoat. “There’s a cart waiting outside on Lower Thames Street.” The older man directs with a waving finger that the porter cannot see behind his broad back. As he passes, Frank thinks that with his nose in the air and a superior look on his face, the better dressed man has the appearance and stance of a butler or manservant of some kind. “Be careful with those!” the older man mutters irritably. “They are going to be served at Her Ladyship’s dinner tonight.” Frank nods at Edith with a knowing wink, understanding that she has thought the same of the older man as she sums him up as he passes. “I’m sure ‘er laydeeship and ‘er guests won’t taste no diff’rence wiv these fish once they’ve been fried up good n’ proper, whevva they’s been jostled ‘bout a bit or not.” the porter replies in his Cockney accent with a mirth filled chuckle. “Insolent man!” the toffee nosed butler mutters indignantly in reply. Edith and Frank chuckle again.
“So,” Edith says, returning to their earlier topic of conversation. “Where were you then, if you weren’t fetching me the famously good, but not as good as Mrs. Cooke’s, Old Billingsgate Fish Market jellied eels, then Frank?”
“What?” Frank asks before looking down and stuffing another claw full of greasy chips into his mouth.
“Where were you, Frank?” Edith reiterates, indicating at Frank with the chip she has just picked up.
“Gosh! Look at that one then!” Frank mutters through a mouth of half chewed hot potato and batter as he points to another porter in the middle distance who is parting the milling crowd of customers as he walks with four crates atop his bobbin. “How they don’t get a headache carrying those boxes on their heads, I’ll never know! My head’s sore just looking at him. Don’t you agree, Edith?”
Edith gives her beau a peculiar look. “You’re being remarkably mysterious, Frank.” Her brow crumples. “Are you doing it on purpose?”
“I’m not being mysterious!” Frank says with a disbelieving laugh.
“Then stop changing the subject. Where were you?” Edith persists.
Frank sighs. “Haven’t you ever heard of a queue before, Edith?” he answers.
“Yes, but there is a fish and chippery just over there,” Edith points through the sea of moving people around them to a stallholder selling hot chips and battered fish packaged up in newspaper to the milling crowd. “And you were gone a lot longer than it took for people to get served over there, Frank. And people were queuing.” She takes the chip and slips it into her own mouth, chewing it as she looks expectantly at Frank, awaiting an explanation.
“Well, these aren’t just any old chips you know.”
Edith pulls a doubtful face, her pretty face screwing up dubiously. “Surely you aren’t going to tell me that these hot chips are better than any others served by any of the other fish and chippery stalls here?”
“Now you know that some hot chips are better than others, Edith,” Frank continues, shaking his head. “And he’s the best there is in the Old Billingsgate Fish Market. Says it’s his batter that makes all the difference.” He taps his nose knowingly. “Trust me.”
“Well, they are good,” Edith agrees. “But I still don’t believe you, Frank Leadbetter, and,” she adds. “I still think that you are being mysterious, and are up to something.”
“I’m not up to anything, Edith!”
“I hope you aren’t thinking of proposing to me here in the middle of the busy fish market!”
Frank coughs and splutters, spitting out a few pieces of partially masticated chip pulp, which flies through the air, before handing a short distance away on the ground where it is promptly squashed unknowingly onto the wet concrete floor by the old fashioned pre-war Edwardian boot of an older looking housewife in a black three quarter length coat and matching cloche hat with a steely look of determination on her face as she trudges forth with her wicker basket in the crook of her arm. He muffles his barrage of coughs with the back of his right hand, before delving into his trouser pocket and withdrawing a crumpled white handkerchief.
Whilst he recovers his breath, Edith remarks with a smile, “Well, I’ll take that as a no, then.”
“Are you so desperate… to marry me… Edith Watsford,” Frank huffs as he tries to answer his sweetheart whilst still catching his breath and swallowing gulps of fishy air. “That you’d have… have me propose to you in a busy fish market?” When Edith giggles, he goes on, “I wouldn’t call Old Billingsgate the most romantic of rendezvous to propose marriage in, even if there would be a gawking crowd of onlookers if I bent down on one knee and proposed to you here and now.”
Edith chuckles again. “I suppose you’re right, Frank. And, I wouldn’t want you to propose to me here.”
“Well, I’m glad we have that point settled then.” Frank sighs with a nod.
“Just imagine the stories we’d tell the children on our anniversary when they ask where you proposed, Frank!” Edith chuckles. “Oh, your dad proposed to me in the middle of the Old Billingsgate Fish Market. It was the most romantic moment of my life!”
Frank chuckles. “I imagine that!”
“But you still haven’t told me why you took so long to come back with the chips, Frank.”
“But I have, Edith!” Frank says with exasperation. “I told you, it was the queues. Sidney had the best fish and chips to be had in Old Billingsgate. You have to be patient.”
Edith eats another two chips as her greatly reduce pile disappears. “You’re a terrible liar, Frank.”
Frank sighs in vexation as he finishes the last of his chips and bunches the greasy paper together in a ball in his hands. “How do you know I’m not telling the truth?”
Edith chuckles. “That’s my secret, Frank.”
“That’s jolly unfair, Edith!” Frank bemoans, looking imploringly at Edith with large, doleful blue eyes.
“Oh alright! I’ll tell you, Frank.” Edith accedes.
“Jolly good Edith.”
“But I’m not giving away all my secrets.” she adds. “I need to have some advantages as your future wife.”
“How?” Frank persists. “How do you know that I’m lying? Tell me!”
“We’ve been stepping out together for quite some time now, dear Frank.” Edith says kindly. “So, I’ve had plenty of time to observe you. When you don’t want to tell the truth, you have a habit of pretending you haven’t heard what was said, and trying to change the subject too quickly.” She shakes her head and smiles. “Besides, you won’t look me in the eye when you are telling a lie.”
Frank huffs. “Oh alright! Alright! I just ran into a friend when I went to buy us hot chips.” He looks Edith squarely in the eyes with an earnest look as he speaks. “We were chatting.”
“That’s better!” Edith smiles. “Now I know you are telling me the truth. What friend?”
“Well, he’s one of the chaps who lodges at my boarding house, actually. John Simpkin. But he’s a friend too.”
“What, here?”
“Yes.”
“Well that just shows you, doesn’t it?”
“Shows me what, Edith?”
“How even in a large city like London, you can still bump into friends in the most unlikely of places.”
Frank holds out his hand as Edith finishes the last of her hot chips. He screws up her newspaper into a ball as she hands it to him. He walks to a nearby dustbin and drops both his and her used greasy papers into it before wandering back over to her.
“Well, shall we go and get your Miss Lettice her dozen oysters for tonight’s dinner, then?”
“Yes!” Edith says, taking her beau’s proffered arm, with a smile. “I’d like that, Mr. Leadbetter. Do you know who sells the best oysters here by chance?”
“Right this way, Miss Watsford.” Frank replies, as slowly the pair of sweethearts meld into the slowly moving crowd, jostling for space beneath the cast iron girders of the Old Billingsgate Fish Market.
*The Monument to the Great Fire of London, more commonly known simply as the Monument, is a fluted Doric column, situated near the northern end of London Bridge. Commemorating the Great Fire of London, it stands at the junction of Monument Street and Fish Street Hill, two hundred and two feet in height and two hundred and two feet west of the spot in Pudding Lane where the Great Fire started on the 2nd of September 1666. Constructed between 1671 and 1677, it was built on the site of St Margaret, New Fish Street, the first church to be destroyed by the Great Fire. Another monument, the Golden Boy of Pye Corner, marks the point near Smithfield where the fire was stopped. The Monument comprises a Doric column built of Portland stone topped with a gilded urn of fire. It was designed by Robert Hooke. Its height marks its distance from the site of the shop of Thomas Farriner (or Farynor), the king's baker, where the blaze began. The viewing platform near the top of the Monument is reached by a narrow winding staircase of three hundred and eleven steps. A mesh cage was added in the mid Nineteenth Century to prevent people jumping to the ground, after six people died by suicide there between 1788 and 1842.
**In the 1920s when this story is set, the Old Billingsgate Fish Market was located on Lower Thames Street in the City of London, near the River Thames. It was a bustling riverside market, famous for being the largest fish market in the United Kingdom. The market was housed in a Victorian building that had been constructed in 1876. The first Billingsgate Market building was constructed on Lower Thames Street in 1850 by the builder John Jay, and the fish market was moved off the streets into its new riverside building. This was demolished in around 1873 and replaced by an arcaded market hall designed by City architect Horace Jones and built by John Mowlem and Co., and even though it was a new building, it was still known as the “Old Billingsgate Fish Market”. The building still stands on the site today although it no longer houses a market. In 1982, the fish market itself was relocated to a new site on the Isle of Dogs in the East End. The 1875 building was then refurbished by architect Richard Rogers, originally to provide office accommodation. Now used as an events venue, it remains a major London landmark.
***Eating fish on Good Friday is a tradition rooted in religious customs, specifically within Christianity. Many Christians abstain from eating meat on Good Friday, which is the day they commemorate the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, and fish is often consumed as an alternative. This practice stems from the idea that fish are cold-blooded and therefore distinct from the "flesh" of warm-blooded animals, making them acceptable to eat during periods of abstinence from meat.
****Billingsgate fish porters used specially designed hats, often referred to as "bobbins," to help them balance baskets and boxes on their heads. These hats, typically made from wood and tarred leather, featured a flat, hardened top that provided a stable platform for the cargo. This design allowed porters to carry large, rectangular boxes or stacks of round baskets of fish with relative ease and efficiency.
*****The trilby hat was invented in 1895, during the stage adaptation of George du Maurier's novel "Trilby". The hat gained popularity as a fashion item after the play's debut in London, and was named after the novel's main character.
******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.
*******Jellied eels is a traditional English dish that originated in the Eighteenth Century, primarily in the East End of London. The dish consists of chopped eels boiled in a spiced stock that is allowed to cool and set, forming a jelly. It is usually served cold. Eels were historically a cheap, nutritious and readily available food source for the people of London; European eels were once so common in the Thames that nets were set as far upriver as London itself, and eels became a staple for London's poor.
********The earliest known eel, pie and mash houses opened in London in the Eighteenth Century, and the oldest surviving shop, M.Manze in Peckham, has been open since 1902. At the end of the Second World War, there were around one hundred eel, pie and mash houses in London. In 1995, there were 87. In the present day, there are relatively few eel, pie and mash shops left as Londoners’ tastes change, although jellied eels are sold in some of London’s delicatessens and supermarkets for those who fancy the experience of jellied eels at home.
********Petticoat Lane Market is a fashion and clothing market in Spitalfields, London. It consists of two adjacent street markets. Wentworth Street Market and Middlesex Street Market. Originally populated by Huguenots fleeing persecution in France, Spitalfields became a center for weaving, embroidery and dying. From 1882, a wave of Jewish immigrants fleeing persecution in eastern Europe settled in the area and Spitalfields then became the true heart of the clothing manufacturing district of London. 'The Lane' was always renowned for the 'patter' and showmanship of the market traders. It was also known for being a haven for the unsavoury characters of London’s underworld and was rife with prostitutes during the late Victorian era. Unpopular with the authorities, as it was largely unregulated and in some sense illegal, as recently as the 1930s, police cars and fire engines were driven down ‘The Lane’, with alarm bells ringing, to disrupt the market.
*********Fish and chips were traditionally wrapped in newspaper as a way to keep them warm and absorb excess grease, while also being a readily available and inexpensive packaging material. However, this practice is now largely discontinued due to hygiene concerns, with the potential for ink from the newspaper to leach into the food.
**********F. Cooke is a well-known name in London's pie and mash scene, with a history rooted in East London. While there isn't a specific F. Cooke shop currently in Whitechapel, their history is closely tied to the area and they are one of the oldest pie and mash establishments, originally founded in East London. F. Cooke's has a strong reputation for traditional pie and mash, including eel pies, and is known for its family-run business and classic recipes.
***********Removable or detachable collars were shirt collars designed to be separate from the shirt itself and fastened with studs or other mechanisms. They were popular in the Nineteenth and early Twentieth centuries, primarily among men who wore white shirts as part of their business or formal attire.
************The Italian quarter of London, known commonly today as “Little Italy” is an Italian ethnic enclave in London. Little Italy’s core historical borders are usually placed at Clerkenwell Road, Farringdon Road and Rosebery Avenue - the Saffron Hill area of Clerkenwell. Clerkenwell spans Camden Borough and Islington Borough. Saffron Hill and St. Peter’s Italian Catholic Church fall within the Camden side. However, even though this was the traditional enclave for Italians, immigrants moved elsewhere in London, bleeding into areas like Islington and Soho where they established bars, cafes and restaurants which sold Italian cuisine and wines.
*************The Fleetwood Fish Merchants Association (FFMA) is a group in Fleetwood, the fishing town in Lancashire, focused on the fish and seafood processing industry. Established in the late Nineteenth Century, the Fleetwood Fish Merchants Association helps to represent the community of smaller fisheries and fishermen in and around Fleetwood, helping to supply fresh fish to Londoners.
**************A fob chain, also known as an Albert chain, is a decorative chain, originally designed for pocket watches, that typically features a T-bar or dog clip on one end to attach to the watch and often includes a fob (ornament or charm) on the other end.
This may look like a corner of the busy Old Billingsgate Market to you, with its wooden crates and pallets of fish, but the truth is that this scene is made up entirely with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for un this tableau include:
The pallet of fish on ice in the centre of the image comes from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The fish and all the ice is completely removable, and if you have noticed ice cubes inside some of the wine and champagne coolers in some of my past images from this series, I can tell you that the same ice cubes have been used.
Edith’s handbag handmade from soft leather is part of a larger collection of hats and bags that I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel. Edith’s small wicker basket is another miniature from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures.
Made of polymer clay glazed to look oily and stuck to miniature newspaper print, the two servings of golden hot chips on the bench were made in England by hand by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination.
The boxes you see around the fish stall came from a specialist stockist of 1:12 miniatures on E-Bay. They have been aged and weathered on purpose.
The leaves of lettuce sticking out of the top box on the left are artisan made of very thin sheets of clay and are beautifully detailed. I acquired them from an auction house some twenty years ago as part of a lot made up of miniature artisan food.
The brick wall at the back is a very special piece, and one of my more recent additions to my miniatures collection. Made painstakingly by hand, this was made by my very dear Flickr friend and artist Kim Hagar (www.flickr.com/photos/bkhagar_gallery/), she surprised me with this amazing piece entitled “Wall” as a Christmas gift, with the intention that I use it in my miniatures photos. Each brick has been individually cut and then worn to give texture before being stuck to the backing board and then painted. She has created several floors in the same way for some of her own miniature projects which you can see in her “In Miniature” album here: www.flickr.com/photos/bkhagar_gallery/albums/721777203007...
The advertising posters stuck on the brick wall are all 1:12 size replicas of real advertisements for Rinso, Gold Flake cigarettes, Hartley’s Table Jellies, Hovis Bread and Bisto Gravy from the 1920s. They have been printed with quality and high attention to detail on thick card. I acquired them all from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop in the United Kingdom.
Rinso, was a brand of laundry soap and detergent, which was first introduced in the early Twentieth Century by the chemist Robert Spear Hudson (who also invented Hudson’s Soap). In 1908, Lever Brothers acquired R.S. Hudson, including the Rinso brand. Lever Brothers introduced Rinso to the United States in 1918, marking it as one of the first mass-marketed soap powders. Rinso gaining popularity as a replacement for bar soap. Rinso gained popularity for its effectiveness in cleaning clothes and was widely advertised, even sponsoring popular radio programs. While initially successful, Rinso eventually faced declining sales due to competition from newer detergents like Tide in the 1950s. In the mid-1960s, Rinso was rebranded as "Sunshine Rinso" but sales did not improve. By the mid-1970s, Rinso was removed from store shelves, though Rinso Blue, a liquid detergent, remained available in the US until the late 1980s.
W.D. and H.O. Wills, a prominent tobacco company, introduced Gold Flake cigarettes around 1901. The brand became known for its marketing tactics, including the use of cigarette cards to encourage collectability and brand loyalty. At this time, the dangers of smoking were not yet widely known, and cigarette companies were able to advertise and promote their products freely. Over time, Gold Flake adapted its marketing and messaging. While maintaining its association with high quality and a premium feel, the brand expanded its target audience to include youth and lower socioeconomic classes. The messaging also evolved from emphasizing a "gracious" lifestyle to celebrating life experiences. ITC Limited launched the Gold Flake brand in India in the 1970s. The brand was initially positioned as a premium cigarette, targeting the affluent adult male segment of the population. It was associated with a lifestyle of respectability and aspiration. Gold Flake remains a widely sold cigarette brand in India, available in various forms like plain, filtered, and lights. The brand's history reflects the changing landscape of the tobacco industry, including evolving marketing strategies and growing awareness of the health risks associated with smoking.
Hartley's is a British brand of marmalades, jams and jellies. Hartley's products are manufactured at Histon, Cambridgeshire. Hartley's was a grocers founded by the entrepreneur Sir William Pickles Hartley in Colne which is now in the borough of Pendle, Lancashire. In 1871, a supplier failed to deliver a consignment of jam, so William made his own and packaged it in his own design earthenware pots. It sold well, and in 1874, the business moved to Bootle, near Liverpool, and marmalade and jelly was also produced. In 1884, the business was incorporated as William Hartley & Sons Limited and in 1886, it moved to Aintree, Liverpool where a new factory was built. Two years after the new factory had been opened in Aintree, Hartley constructed a purpose built village for the key employees in his company. The village was designed by Leek based father and son architects William Sugden and William Larner Sugden after they had won an architectural competition. The village had a total of forty nine houses, which surrounded a central bowling green, and later expansion took the total number of houses to seventy one. Within the village, all of the streets were named after ingredients in jam, including Sugar Street, Red Currant Court and Cherry Row. A second factory in Bermondsey, South London opened in 1901, supplied with pots and jars in its early decades from a facility in Rutherglen, Scotland acquired in 1898. With production having moved to Cambridgeshire in the 1960s, the Bermondsey factory was later converted into luxury apartments in 2003. The Hartley Village in Aintree was made a conservation area in 2011. In 2020, Hartley's No Added Sugar Apple Jelly Pot won the Lausanne Index Prize - Bronze Award.
Hovis Ltd is a British company that produces flour, yeast and bread. Founded in Stoke-on-Trent, it began mass-production in Macclesfield in 1886. The Hovis process was patented on the 6th of October 1887 by Richard "Stoney" Smith, and S. Fitton and Sons Ltd developed the brand, milling the flour and selling it along with Hovis-branded baking tins to other bakers. The name was coined in 1890 by London student Herbert Grime in a national competition set by S. Fitton and Sons Ltd to find a trading name for their patent flour which was rich in wheat germ. Grime won twenty-five pounds when he coined the word from the Latin phrase hominis vis, "the strength of man". The company became the Hovis Bread Flour Company Limited in 1898. When the abundance of certain B vitamins in wheatgerm was reported in 1924, Hovis increased in popularity.
The first Bisto product, in 1908, was a meat-flavoured gravy powder, which rapidly became a bestseller in Britain. It was added to gravies to give a richer taste and aroma. Invented by Messrs Roberts and Patterson, it was named "Bisto" because it "Browns, Seasons and Thickens in One". Bisto Gravy is still a household name in Britain and Ireland today, and the brand is currently owned by Premier Foods.
A generous amount of snow fell on the night of February 5th/6th 1986 and although the Island had several inches,the buses ran more or less as normal. The 1A route was crew operated at the time and ran between Ryde and Cowes via Newport. Here in Newports' bus station on the morning of February 7th,VRT number 641 awaits a crew to take it on to Cowes. After the Lodekka era finished in 1983,the series 2 VRs became the mainstay of this important trunk route; until of course their own demise.
Letter generously translated by Nettenscheider; penned 14.1.1918 and addressed to Fräulein Lina Göttling in Stuttgart. Postage cancelled 15.1.1918.
"Skat is a 3-player trick-taking card game of the Ace-Ten family, devised around 1810 in Altenburg in the Duchy of Saxe-Gotha-Altenburg. It is the national game of Germany and, along with Doppelkopf, it is the most popular card game in Germany and Silesia. It is considered one of the best and most interesting card games for 3 players and has been described as "the king of German card games."
- Wiki.
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Notes.
Mobil ab 1.3.1917. (Mit Ers.-Kp.). Die 3. Kp. trat später als 3. Kp. zum Ldst.-I.-Btl. Münsingen (XIII. 20). (Etappen-Inspektion B, Heeresgruppe Below, Etappen-Inspektion Nr. 11).
Letter generously translated by Immanuel Voigt, penned in Blaichach on 24.12.16 and addressed to Fräulein Anna Stamm, Post Himmelkron, Oberfranken, Bayern, the author sends his regards from Blaichach. Photogr. Hans Hipp, Immenstadt i. Allgäu. Postage cancelled in Blaichach the same day.
Another good day for the photographer Hans Hipp with eleven customers from Jäger-Regiment Nr.3 desirous of having their photograph taken in his famous studio.
All these fellows are wearing their distinctive Skilitewken, with most adorned with the "S" (Schneeschuh) insignia on the collars. As if ensuring they were not mistaken for any other branch of service, they have brought along a pair of skis to have included in the photo.
Letter generously translated by xiphophilos; penned sometime around 8.1.1916 and addressed to a Frau Froni Lindenmeyer in Fürth (near Nürnberg). Einheitsstempel: Dragoner-Regiment „Königin Olga“ 1. W. Nr. 25. 4. Eskadron. Postage cancelled 8.1.1916 in Bruxelles (Belgien).
A marvellous quality studio portrait of a cavalryman from a not-so-common formation, Dragoner-Regiment „Königin Olga“ (1. Württembergisches) Nr. 25. Of note is the just as uncommon, Ersatz bayonet (EB) 56 affixed to his Karabiner 98 AZ. These bayonets had a heavy steel hilt with five diagonal cut grooves on each side, with an overall length of 44.3cm.
High buses and low bridges don't mix. Our Victorian ancestors were surprisingly generous with railway bridge headroom on the whole, considering that at the time the only vehicles traversing the highways were horse-drawn carriages and carts. But with such an extensive rail network, we were still left with a legacy of many low bridges around the country especially in more rural areas.
As motor buses became more popular and double deckers came into widespread use, this became a problem. Even after the development of the revolutionary Leyland 'Titan' in the late 1920s, a typical double decker was (and indeed, still is) around 14 feet 6 inches. A fot could be reduced by adopting the 'lowbridge' layout, with the upstairs gangway moved to the side of the bus and lowered over the offside seats. But this was very inconvenient for conductors and passengers and led to many bumped heads below that sunken gangway.
In the late 1940s, Bristol developed the 'Lodekka', a new chassis with specially lowered components and in particular a rear axle that wasn't a straight pipe, but had a 'dropped centre' so the lower gangway could be lower. As a nationalised company, Bristol was unable to sell their model to private bus companies; but they could license the design, and they did so - to respected but small bus builders Dennis of Guildford who called their version the Loline.
Other companies brought out rivals including AEC which created the Renown, a similar chassis to the Lodekka. But by the time these models got going attention was turning to the new generation of bus model like the rear-engined Atlantean, so these front-engined low height buses didn't sell in the thousands that their makers had hoped.
The North Western Road Car Company of Stockport had many low bridges in its area, and quite a lot of lowbridge buses, so it was keen to try the new low height models and bought both Dennis Lolines and AEC Renowns. We can see one of each here - Dennis Loline on the left, and AEC Renown on the right.
North Western got good use out of their low height buses but then along came the Daimler Fleetline and that was that - no more front-engined buses. Fortunately one Loline survives, number 872, in private preservation. Meanwhile the Museum of Transport Greater Manchester has both a 'lowbridge' bus, number 224 of 1948; and one of the rear-engined Fleetlines that swept away the older types, number 174 of 1965. If you'd like to know more about the Museum of Transport Greater Manchester and its collection of vintage buses, go to www.gmts.co.uk.
© Greater Manchester Transport Society. All rights reserved. Unauthorised reproduction is strictly prohibited and may result in action being taken to protect the intellectual property interests of the Society.
Le Bambole Mk.XIII, Pin-Debo-Lair pinhole camera.
- 47mm focal length, 90º horizontal and 67º vertical angle of view.
- Fuji Instax Wide instant film.
- Pinhole aperture approx. 0.30mm, f/157.
Early this year, Lomography brought to market the Belair Instant Back. I purchased one immediately with plans to create an Instax Wide film pinhole camera - a PINhole DEBOnair BeLAIR camera!
Parts needed to construct this simple pinhole camera are shown in more detail: [Click Here].
YouTube video showing the Pin-Debo-Lair in action: youtu.be/ffrSb0up7NM
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A special "thanks and mahalo" to Michael Raso of the Film Photography Project. He generously provided me the Debonair camera used in this modification. Super-Positive!
Letter generously translated by Nettenscheider; penned in Kaiserslautern on 31.3.1915, the author wishes his brother and family happy Easter holidays. Photogr. Fritz Hartmann, Kaiserslautern.
A wounded Bavarian Infanterist is joined by four Saxon Soldaten in the studio of Fritz Hartmann in Kaiserslautern (Bavarian province until 1918 ). Our wounded friend appears to have recently been awarded the Eisernes Kreuz II. Klasse and the Militär-Verdienstkreuz.
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Militär-Verdienstkreuz was Bavaria's primary decoration for bravery and military merit for enlisted soldiers.
Once again I'm thanking the generous, wonderful person who has gifted me a Flickr Pro Account.
Without this early Christmas gift I would not have been able to continue in keeping a Pro account as the yearly cost has risen beyond that which I can afford.
So, with this Gifted Pro Account I will now be around for yet another year.
Thanks again "Anonymous" !
Prompt
Three clowns embodying sympathy and seriousness, seated on parched grass, accompanied by a vintage porcelain puppet, collectively posing amidst a forsaken garden teeming with weeds and withered shrubs outside a decrepit house featuring fractured windows, peeling paint, under a storm-laden sky, digital noise trace photography captured from a worm's-eye view, generous angle, enhanced lighting casting dynamic shadows, 30
Located in the foothills of the Bighorns, this 4-mile, non-motorized trail is perfect for a sunrise walk with your dog, trail run, horseback ride, or mountain bike ride. It offers beautiful 360 degree views and is located convenient to Sheridan. Bring a windbreaker during colder months and extra sunscreen and a hat during the summer as the trail follows the exposed ridge.
The Soldier Ridge Trail is located where pavement turns to gravel at the end of W 5th St., about a 5-minute drive from downtown Sheridan. When the road becomes gravel, take the second left (first left is a private driveway) and cross a cattle guard. Turn right into the trailhead parking area.
Completed in 2013, this trail was made possible through generous gifts from the Don Roberts Family and ERA Carroll Realty and was a combined conservation and recreation project.
Link:
Main Contact:
Colin Betzler
Sheridan Community Land Trust
Executive Director
P: 307.673.4702
E: director@sheridanclt.org
PO Box 7185
Sheridan, WY 82801
#SheridanNaturally
#VisitSheridan
#ThatsWY
Photographs © 2016 Flash Parker.
Video by Salvatore Brown.
Sheridan Travel & Tourism:
Welcome to the official Sheridan Travel & Tourism Locations flickr page. For media inquiries, photo requests, or travel information, please email megan@sheridanwyoming.org or call 1(307)673-7120.
All photographs © 2016 Sheridan Travel & Tourism, and may not be used, copied, transmitted or altered in any way without express written consent. This image archive is maintained for promotional, non-commercial use only.
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Listing Information:
Listing Date: 11/29/16
Location Name: Soldier Ridge Trail
Listing Text by: Shawn Parker, Executive Director, Sheridan Travel & Tourism
Letter generously translated by Immanuel Voigt, penned on 6.11.1914, the author writes to his mother Frau A. Promm in Cadolzburg Bavaria. Postage cancelled in Zawisna (Poland) two days later.
Early days and the author asks his mother not to send any parcels as they have been "overwhelmed" with gifts. Time would soon change all that.
Claude Monet French 1840 – 1926
Waterloo Bridge, London, 1903
Oil on Canvas
Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh, Acquired through the generosity of the Sarah Mellon Scaife Family, 67.2
The descriptive title for this painting is Waterloo Bridge, Sunlight Effect. Although it is dated 1903, Monet’s last visit to London was in 1901. Analysis shows that he used the same pigments in this painting as in MAG’s Waterloo Bridge, Veiled Sun and the Worcester Art Museum’s Waterloo Bridge. Monet also used two additional colors, viridian and chrome orange.
How has he sued these colors to suggest different atmospheres and times of day?
From the Placard: Memorial Art Gallery, Rochester, New York
collection.cmoa.org/objects/989f9731-8e24-4f62-b940-e6867...
Monet’s Waterloo Bridge: Vision and Process
Letter generously translated by Immanuel Voigt; penned on 30.08.1915, the author writes;
"The funeral of the two English flyers which our Corps commander v. Francois [General der Infanterie Hermann von François] took part. You can see him standing alone in his turned down coat. To the right behind the tree is our Division commander, of which to the right is our Regimental commander and the like, our Brigade commander."
The honour guard is being provided by men of Infanterie-Regiment „Graf Bülow von Dennewitz“ (6. Westfälisches) Nr. 55.
Santa was generous this year and brought me a new Canon 24mm pancake lens which allow me to do some macro shot. Here is the first try. I won't plan to perform macro but testing new think is always good. I will be back soon in my Chinese street playground with my new lens for some cool stuff to come.
Christies’ clothes have always been highly coveted by my other Barbie dolls, and it still holds true now for the FR and NuFace girls coming into my collection! Christie And The Beat and All-American Christie are all too happy to lend their crucial fashion items to Nadja and Annik!
Letter generously translated by Nettenscheider; addressed to a Herr Pet. Niessen in Mönchengladbach, the author sends his regards. Photogr. Gerhard Mertens, Aachen. Postage cancelled in Aachen on 7.8.1914.
Landwehrmänner in Aachen shortly after the outbreak of war. The men are wearing "161" on their shoulder straps, however their ages tell us they're not the 20 year olds from 10. Rheinisches Inf-Rgt Nr. 161.
At the outset of the First World War, every man in Germany between 17 and 45 years of age is required to perform his mandatory military service. During these 28 years, the Germans can be assigned to different categories. Firstly there is the active service of two or three years for each 20-year-old man, which is then followed by a "reserve" for five or six years. The men are then assigned to the Landwehr, where they remain until the age of 39, with less regular exercises. Finally, the last category, the Landsturm, includes all men between 17 and 45 years of age who do not enter into any of the above categories.
Divided reverse. Letter generously translated by Nettenscheider, authored in the Voges Mountains on 17.9.1915 and addressed to a Fräulein Regina Straub in Opfenbach near Lindau. Einheitsstempel: ? Komp. Landsturm Inf. Batl. Kempten. Postage cancelled 18.9.1915.
Bavarian Landsturmmänner from bayer. Landsturm Infanterie Bataillon 'Kempten' (I. B. 13) circa July 1915. These fellows are still wearing their brigade collar insignia which should have been removed in April 1915.
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Notes:
b. Ldst.-I.-Btl. Kempten (I. B. 13). Mobil ab 1.9.1914. (1914 zugeteilt der 30. b. Res.Div., Armee-Abtlg. A, Kriegsbesatzung Straßburg i. Elsaß, Armee-Abtlg B, A).