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Name: John T. Ingleson
Arrested for: not given
Arrested at: North Shields Police Station
Arrested on: 30 March 1915
Tyne and Wear Archives ref: DX1388-1-260-John T Ingleson
The Shields Daily News for 7 April 1915 reports:
“BREAKING AND ENTERING. SOLDIERS COMMITTED FOR TRIAL AT NORTH SHIELDS.
Frederick Jones (19) and John Thomas Ingleson (19), soldiers, stationed at Earsdon, were brought up on remand at North Shields today charged with breaking and entering on the 30th March a dwelling house, situated at 9 Lovaine Terrace and stealing 16 knives, a cruet, clock, pair of scissors, case of needles, silver tray and two salt cellars valued at £3 7s 6d the property of the executors of the late Thomas Williamson.
They were also charged with breaking and entering between 10pm on the 29th ult. and 7.45am on the 30th ult. a confectioner’s shop in Queen Alexandra Road and stealing two loaves of bread, valued at 7d, the property of Messrs Patterson and Reed.
George Anderson, a cashier, identified the goods as the property of the executors of the late Mr Williamson. PC John Dixon stated that at 2.50am on the 30th ult. he found a window broken at 9 Lovaine Terrace. He lifted the sash and upon shining his lamp around the room he saw Jones behind a bookcase and the other man crouching in a corner. Witness arrested defendants and on searching them at the police station found the goods mentioned in their possession…
Det.-Insp. said that on the morning of the 30th, from what Jones told him, he examined Messrs Patterson and Reed’s shop and found a large stone, which exactly fitted the break in the window. Afterwards witness jointly charged both men and Jones replied, “We did it” and Ingleson said, “I say the same”. When formally charged with the first offence Jones said, “We took them” and Ingleson said, “We wanted to get in there mostly to get some clothes”. Replying to the second charge, defendants both said they wanted something to eat. They were committed for trial at the Quarter Sessions and the magistrates complimented PC Dixon upon his smart capture. On the recommendation of Chief Constable Huish, the Watch Committee have granted the merit badge to PC Dixon.”
The Shields Daily News for 9 April 1915 reports:
“SHOP BREAKING BY SOLDIERS AT NORTH SHIELDS
Frederick Jones, 19, and John Thomas Ingleson, 19, privates in the Duke of Wellington’s First Riding Regiment, stationed at Earsdon, were charged with having broken into the unoccupied house of the late Mr Thomas Williamson, Lovaine House, Lovaine Terrace, North Shields on March 30 and with having stolen various goods, valued at £3 7s 6d. They were also charged with the theft of two loaves of bread from the confectionery shop of Messrs Patterson and Reed at North Shields on the same date. Accused pleaded guilty.
An officer from the prisoners’ regiment said they were indifferent soldiers, because they had repeatedly absented themselves without leave. The officer knew nothing about the men’s records and said that was a matter that was not very carefully gone into at this time.
The Chairman said he observed from the depositions taken at the police court that Jones said, “We wanted money and clothes. I have soldiered for six months for a shilling. I got 90 days pay stopped.”
The officer said it was true that Jones had lost a great deal of his pay but that was for absenting himself from his regiment. The balance of the account was on the other side.
Jones, who was convicted of wilful damage at Dublin in May last, was sentenced to six months’ imprisonment with hard labour on each charge, to run concurrently. Ingleson was sentenced to four months imprisonment with hard labour”.
These images are taken from an album of photographs of prisoners brought before the North Shields Police Court between 1902 and 1916 (TWAM ref. DX1388/1). This set is our selection of the best mugshots taken during the First World War. They have been chosen because of the sharpness and general quality of the images. The album doesn’t record the details of each prisoner’s crimes, just their names and dates of arrest.
In order to discover the stories behind the mugshots, staff from Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums visited North Shields Local Studies Library where they carefully searched through microfilm copies of the ‘Shields Daily News’ looking for newspaper reports of the court cases. The newspaper reports have been transcribed and added below each mugshot.
Combining these two separate records gives us a fascinating insight into life on the Home Front during the First World War. These images document the lives of people of different ages and backgrounds, both civilians and soldiers. Our purpose here is not to judge them but simply to reflect the realities of their time.
(Copyright) We're happy for you to share this digital image within the spirit of The Commons. Please cite 'Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums' when reusing. Certain restrictions on high quality reproductions and commercial use of the original physical version apply though; if you're unsure please email archives@twmuseums.org.uk.
D24584. Given good weather, Brean Beach is a splendid place to visit.
We were unlucky with the weather, but went there anyway; it faces west and is 6½ miles long with golden sand that’s firm enough for vehicles to park on - so no need to carry all the beach gear, picnic chairs, lunch boxes, etc. from a distant car park. It’s the second longest stretch of sand in Europe and, from what I could see, the sand is ideal material for sand castles.
Brean is in Somerset, north of Burnham-on-Sea and south of Weston-super-Mare; it has the second highest tidal range in the world. So when the tide goes out it really does go out, but in the process it exposes a large expanse of dangerous soft sand and mud, so extreme care is needed at low tide.
Whilst there I also shot a few feet of video and if anyone would like to see it, it’s on my YouTube channel:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZlMq4k5UHMc
Tuesday, 17th August, 2021. Copyright © Ron Fisher 2021.
I was given this lovely statue a number of years ago from an overseas business partner and it always reminds me of those good old days ~ although, I could have done without all the travel I had to do!!
Flickr Lounge ~ Weekly Theme (Week 5) ~ Metallic ....
Stay Safe and Healthy Everyone!
Thanks to everyone who views this photo, adds a note, leaves a comment and of course BIG thanks to anyone who chooses to favourite my photo .... Thanks to you all!
Given my recent interest in "Skylines" (see my new Flickr Gallery: www.flickr.com/photos/catherinehale/galleries/72157664565... and USK Discussion topic for May 1st: www.flickr.com/groups/urbansketches/discuss/7215763815879... , I tried my hand at one for the Virtual Paintout in NSW based on this Google Street View image: goo.gl/maps/5vSsXZrfMyv
But I forgot to reduce the size of the photo I sent to Bill. My later colour version made it into the VPO:
virtualpaintout.blogspot.be/2016/03/new-south-wales-march...
So, I'm thinking of giving blogging a try, here's a quick photo coz I got bored. If you wanna know where the stuff is from I'm wearing, I'ma tell you, brb whilst I tab back into SL and get the details.
Okay back.. here's the info:
Hair: Dura B126 @ Access
Top: Archive Faction - Polar Vest.
Tie: Archive Faction
Gloves: Ascend Men's Punk Bento Gloves
Nails: = DAE =
Layers:
Nose Bandage: [Post Mortem]
Nose Bleed: RZ EVOX Nosebleed
Tattoo: Dappa Diobolos Tattoo
I'm also wearing pants from Cordewa but my dumb ass forgot to take a full body shot. UwU.
©All photographs on this site are copyright: DESPITE STRAIGHT LINES (Paul Williams) 2011 – 2020 & GETTY IMAGES ®
No license is given nor granted in respect of the use of any copyrighted material on this site other than with the express written agreement of DESPITE STRAIGHT LINES (Paul Williams) ©
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This Two seconds long exposure was taken at an altitude of Two metres, at 05:36am on Tuesday 3rd September 2019 around sunrise off 1st Street and Bevan Avenue, bewteen the boat jetty and Bevan Avenue Fishing Pier in beautiful Sidney by the sea on Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada.
In the distance we see Mt Baker in Washington State, USA . Known to the Lummi First nation people ( Lhaq'temish) as Kwelshán ('Shooting place' in Nooksack), to the Halkomelem as Kwelxá:lxw, to Lushootseed speakers along the Skagit River as Teqwúbe7 “snow-capped peak'', to the Nooksack language as Kweq’ Smánit (“white mountain'') and also known as Koma Kulshan, (pronounced kō-ō’mah’ kool-shän’), the name for the Middle Fork which originates from the glaciers such as Deming and Thunder on the western slopes, she is an active glaciated andesitic stratovolcano in the Cascade Volcanic Arc and the North Cascades of Washington State in the United States, standing 3,286 metres tall and was first ascended in 1868, her last eruption recorded in 1880.
The name Mount Baker first appeared in print in Captain Vancouver’s 1798 narrative of his voyage around Vancouver Island. Legend has it that his third-lieutenant, Joseph Baker, was the first to spot the mountain while they sailed into Dungeness Bay on April 30th, 1792.
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Nikon D850. Focal length 34mm Shutter speed: Two seconds long exposure. Aperture f/14.0 iso6400 RAW (14 bit uncompressed) Image size L (8256 x 5504 FX). Focus mode AF-C focus 51 point with 3D- tracking. AF-Area mode single point & 73 point switchable. Exposure mode - Aperture priority exposure. Nikon Back button focusing enabled. Matrix metering. ISO Sensitivity: Auto. White balance: Natural light auto. Colour space Adobe RGB. Nikon Distortion control on. Picture control: Auto. High ISO NR on. Vignette control: normal. Active D-lighting Auto.
Nikkor AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR. Lee SW150 MKII filter holder. Lee SW150 77mm screw in adapter ring. Lee SW150 0.9 (3 stops) ND Grad soft resin. Lee SW150 Filters field pouch. Nikon EN-EL15a battery.Mcoplus professional MB-D850 multi function battery grip 6960. Matin quick release neckstrap. My Memory 128GB Class 10 SDXC 80MB/s card. Lowepro Flipside 400 AW camera bag. Nikon GP-1 GPS module. Hoodman HEYENRG round eyepiece oversized eyecup.Manfrotto 055XPROB Tripod 3 Sections (Payload: 5.6kgs). Manfrotto 327RC2 Light Duty Grip Ball Magnesium Tripod Head (Payload: 5.5kgs). Manfrotto quick release plate 200PL-14. Jessops Tripod bag.Nikon MC-DC2 remote shutter release cable.
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LATITUDE: N 48d 38m 52.62s
LONGITUDE: W 123d 23m 36.69s
ALTITUDE: 2.0m
RAW (TIFF) FILE: 130.00MB NEF: 91.3MB
PROCESSED (JPeg) FILE: 32.00MB
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PROCESSING POWER:
Nikon D850 Firmware versions C 1.10 (9/05/2019) LD Distortion Data 2.017 (20/3/18) LF 1.00
HP 110-352na Desktop PC with AMD Quad-Core A6-5200 APU 64Bit processor. Radeon HD8400 graphics. 8 GB DDR3 Memory with 1TB Data storage. 64-bit Windows 10. Verbatim USB 2.0 1TB desktop hard drive. WD My Passport Ultra 1tb USB3 Portable hard drive. Nikon ViewNX-1 64bit (Version 1.3.1 11/07/2019). Nikon Capture NX-D 64bit (Version 1.4.7 15/03/2018). Nikon Picture Control Utility 2 (Version 1.3.2 15/03/2018). Adobe photoshop Elements 8 Version 8.0 64bit.
Given how well Naomi's idea for putting Tigger's items down for Yuba work out, she put a blanket down for Norio that Bonkers used to sleep on all of the time on Norio's nest. Norio seems to enjoy remembering his friend a great deal.
Stagecoach have given their Volvo B13RT/Plaxton Panther 54125 (SP62 CKF) an allover wrap advertising Scotland’s Charity Air Ambulance (SCAA). The SCAA is a national charity and receives no government funding, so they rely 100% on donations from the public to fuel their life-saving flights.
Given the high infectiousness of the Omicron variant currently doing the rounds, I’ve been very careful about going out much, but people like me exhibitionism is a need.
Accordingly, I’ve been going out to bars that are not too crowded and that are strict about sighting verifying the authenticity of vaccination credentials.
I’m due for my booster shot soon and look forward to the days I can again tart about in the way I’m used to.
Merry Christmas to you all! If not for all of you, I wouldn't have learned as much as I have, and for that I thank you!
May you all have a wonderful Christmas & A Prosperous New Year!
Happy Christmas (War Is Over)
by John Lennon;
So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young
A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
And so this is Christmas
For weak and for strong
For rich and the poor ones
The world is so wrong
And so happy Christmas
For black and for white
For yellow and red ones
Let's stop all the fight
A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
And so this is Christmas
And what have we done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young
A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
War is over over
If you want it
War is over
Now...
Given my strange posting order, you probably get a better sense of how I run around if you view things by date taken.
Judging by the fact that it was growing alone on a tree stump, the proportions of the stem and the way the top is depressed and almost peeling off, I think that this is a type of russula, but I'm not sure.
PH: @AB Portaits
If you want follow @AB Portaits (flickr or Instagram).
My Instagram accounts; @lolakiayes
@model_luz_azul_victoria
I am so blessed... to have so many people: friends, family, Flickr friends and Flickr brothers and sisters who have come alongside me, who have stood behind me, who have given me a shoulder to cry on, an arm to lean on, or a hand to hold during my journey.
This is not my image; it belongs to one of my best friends, Sylvia, who came out yesterday to shoot pictures of people who stopped by during my very first book signing, and to have their book signed. Thank you, so very much, Sylvia. And thanks to you and Joe for spending last night with me. It was the perfect way to cap off the day.
I am dedicating this image to all those folks in my world who have helped me bring Martha's world to the world of readers.
But, in particular...
My son, Ryan, (we were sadly estranged for 5 years up until just a few months ago) is tireless in his support and pride. He stood at the door of Chapters bookstore yesterday, and greeted every person who walked in, showing them a copy of the book, and making sure they had every opportunity to both purchase a book and to get it signed. Thank you so very much, Ryan. I am looking forward to the day that you meet my Flickr family, and they get to meet you. It will be instant affection!
My husband, David, who in spite of having a show out of town and a very long show after that one, in town... was there, videotaping part of the event. (We'll post that later.) Thank you, David. We make such a great team. Our work is always at its best under the influence of both of our brains. Your book, Stokers, will see the light of day, too.
Then there was the phone call that came in at the end of my signing. I didn't even need to see the caller ID to know it was Aaron calling to see how I had fared. He has been tireless in his support of me, too. In the bad times and the good times. Thanks, Aaron.
And there were all the emails from from Arlene, Claudio, Sharon, Alan, and Susan, members of my Flickr family who have also been tireless in their support of me and Martha's Vine. Hugs and kisses to you guys.
And then, this morning, I awaken bleary-eyed to see an email from my friend, TheWalkinMan. (This achingly talented soul did the photography and art for the cover of Martha's Vine.) He suggested I take a look at his photostream. And I do. And I am staggered by the sheer brilliance of this amazing artist. Fred and I have talked on the phone, but we have never met, and yet the connection between our artist's souls is exhilarating. Thank you, Fred.
And then there is Rob, my friend, my editor, my rock. Rob has had so many bad things happen in his life and yet he has remained steadfast and true in his support of me and the Vine. Thank you, dear Rob. We will share many more bottles of champagne over the phone. Of this, I am sure
I can't list all those people who have touched my life... who have encouraged me, who have bought the Vine, who have emailed me or who have left notes on Flickr in support of my work. But it is my dream to thank each and every one of you in person. Of this, I am very sure. But for now, I will tag them in this image. I hope they come by and leave notes on the image; that would be so perfect.
Do you want to know my real goal with Martha's Vine? Yes, it is to become famous, to make money, but not for me. Not for me. I have my goal set on helping others. To help them financially or to help them achieve their own artistic goals. I don't much care about money or fame, but I care about what those two things can do for those within in my sphere of influence. And I never forget a friend. Not ever.
So, please... won't you help me help a friend? The Vine is battling for a top position on Amazon... it needs so little to get to bestseller status -- please tell your friends and family to go to Amazon and buy a book. It's a damn good read; I promise. (Adult content. Graphic violence and sexuality just like in real life.) And Book 2 is coming in the late spring.
Love and blessings always,
Sheree
No details given for this mini diorama seem at Model Mania, Locomotion, Shildon.
Very well modelled though.
As usual, any fungi IDs given are always tentative, not 100% confirmed. Rule is, if you are not an expert in mycology, do not pick wild mushrooms to eat! You could end up very sick, or worse.
Another gloomy day today, 13 September 2019, with a temperature of 14C just after noon. Yesterday, however, it was actually sunny, so I had to get out and make the most of it. It definitely feels and looks like fall. Snow is already being forecast for parts of Alberta. It will soon be time to get all-season tires off and winter tires put on.
Five days ago, on 8 September 2019, we had such a wonderful four and a half hours, searching for different kinds of fungi in the amazing forest on Rod Handfield's land, SW of Calgary. I believe this was our tenth visit - the first one I went on, being on 25 June 2009 - each one resulting in various different species. This last visit was so overwhelming! You didn't know which direction to face and which mushroom to photograph first. They were everywhere! Such a contrast to our visit on 6 August 2017, when basically there were no mushrooms (other than maybe three), because everywhere had been so very dry.
A day like this can be so exhausting, not just from the walking and fresh air, but also because of all the excitement. The quality of many of my photos is not the best, as the day was very overcast - the last thing one wants when trying to take photos deep in the forest. After leaving Rod's, it did rain. I had driven myself there instead of carpooling, so that I could drive some of the backroads in the area after we had finished. The forecast was for sun and cloud - and I had foolishly believed it. The rain put an end to my plans and I headed for home. I'm so glad I had checked a special little spot near Rod's first thing in the morning, when I got there a bit too early. A few years ago, there was a beautiful display of Fly Agaric / Amanita muscaria mushrooms growing there, but not since then whenever I have checked. To my absolute delight, there were maybe half a dozen, in different stages of development. Surprisingly, we didn't come across a single one in Rod's forest this year.
As always, thank you so much, Rod, for so generously allowing us to explore your property. This has been my favourite place to visit for quite a number of years now. We greatly appreciate your kindness - you are always so welcoming, and we learn so much and discover so many beautiful things. Thank you, Karel, for leading the group and helping with identifications. I'm sure at least some of us are anxiously waiting for you to have time, in between leading botany walks, to post some of your photos along with their IDs. Meanwhile, "fungus" has to be sufficient.
Given the job of looking after Bobby, my brother in laws "baby" for a week while they were on holiday, I chose to allay their fears that there was a good chance that I was neither a competent or responsible enough person to do the job. After seeing where I planned to keep him, they found me shortly afterwards showing Bobby the i pad while slowly enunciating "badger, badger" I plan to send them photos of their loved one in highly dangerous faked situations throughout the week.
That is the nickname often given to the abbey church of Saint–Savin–sur–Gartempe in the département of Vienne (central France), because of the abundant and magnificent al fresco paintings that decorate most of the church’s barrel–vaulted ceiling.
This is a very old church, built from the 900s. The paintings themselves are from the 1100s and 1200s, making them all the more remarkable.
The abbey is a UNESCO World Heritage site. It is of course very moving and impressive... Yet... is it because of UNESCO regulations that make it necessary to keep it always so fresh and clean? But I thought that this large and elegant Romanesque church lacked soul. I saw it in the best possible conditions (I was alone in there in December 2018, I stopped on my way to Brittany), yet it felt like a very pristine and beautifully lit museum. There were masterpieces of Romanesque art aplenty, stacked upon one another, but, as I said, no atmosphere, no soul. Just like some of those enormous basilicas in Rome, empty and spotless and replete with art... but devoid of life, in my opinion.
I have one proper close friend in the community and after taking spare hormone tabs given to her by friends or bought off the internet she has the chance at last to go legit and get the help she needs on the NHS. Some girls once they start have a strong urge to become but it's not for me and besides they don't call it 'The Gateway' for nothing. It can take a long time and there are lots of balls to catch and hoops to jump through before one gets what they're after. Still had I put my name down for it all those years ago I would have become like this after a year or so but I guess it has taken me over ten years to get decent but still very small breasts. To some that might sound like a poor decision but in the meantime I've always been feminine as I'm naturally very much like a woman and still lived life as Jojo full-time. But I like it that way as not only have I been able to evolve slowly in a balanced positive way I am also taking fewer risks as that can always happen when one messes with their body whether it means getting depressed and emotional or plagued with just more tiredness and colds.
Given today’s theme of exploration, I decided to explore a world that I don’t explore often enough. The world of macro photography. I hope you enjoy looking at the result as much as I did capturing it. A "False Christmas Cactus" flower.
'Tractors'is a nickname given by some to Class 37s due to their exhaust sound.
Here we see a Massey Ferguson 'tractor' and a class 37 'tractor' on an engineers train in Glen Falloch, in the days before 'Road-Railers'.
21/5/84
©All photographs on this site are copyright: ©DESPITE STRAIGHT LINES (Paul Williams) 2011 – 2021 & GETTY IMAGES ®
No license is given nor granted in respect of the use of any copyrighted material on this site other than with the express written agreement of ©DESPITE STRAIGHT LINES (Paul Williams). No image may be used as source material for paintings, drawings, sculptures, or any other art form without permission and/or compensation to ©DESPITE STRAIGHT LINES (Paul Williams)
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I would like to say a huge and heartfelt 'THANK YOU' to GETTY IMAGES, and the 39.970+ Million visitors to my FLICKR site.
***** Selected for sale in the GETTY IMAGES COLLECTION on Thursday September 9th 2021
CREATIVE RF gty.im/1339206943 MOMENT ROYALTY FREE COLLECTION**
This photograph became my 5,206th frame to be selected for sale in the Getty Images collection and I am very grateful to them for this wonderful opportunity.
©DESPITE STRAIGHT LINES (Paul Williams)
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Photograph taken at an altitude of Three metres, at 06:50am on Sunday 1st September 2019 around sunrise off 1st Street and Bevan Avenue, between the boat jetty and Bevan Avenue Fishing Pier in beautiful Sidney by the sea on Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada.
Here we look over to Sidney Island, one of the Southern Gulf islands between the southwest coast of BC. It has an elevation of seventy seven metres above sea level at it's highest point. Ferry trips from Sidney to Sidney spit on Sidney Island operate for certain parts of the year.
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Nikon D850. Focal length 300mm Shutter speed 1/15s Aperture f/16.0 iso64 RAW (14 bit uncompressed) Image size L (8256 x 5504 FX). Focus mode AF-C focus 51 point with 3D- tracking. AF-Area mode single point & 73 point switchable. Exposure mode - Aperture priority exposure. Nikon Back button focusing enabled. Matrix metering. ISO Sensitivity: Auto. White balance: Natural light auto. Colour space Adobe RGB. Nikon Distortion control on. Picture control: Auto. High ISO NR on. Vignette control: normal. Active D-lighting Auto.
Nikkor AF-P 70-300mm f/4.5-5.6E. Lee SW150 MKII filter holder. Lee SW150Con adapter for Lee 100 rings.Lee 100 67mm screw in adapter ring. Lee SW150 .9 (3 stops) soft ND Grad resin filter. Lee SW150 Filters field pouch.Nikon EN-EL15a battery.Mcoplus professional MB-D850 multi function battery grip 6960. Matin quick release neckstrap. My Memory 128GB Class 10 SDXC 80MB/s card. Lowepro Flipside 400 AW camera bag. Nikon GP-1 GPS module. Hoodman HEYENRG round eyepiece oversized eyecup.Manfrotto 055XPROB Tripod 3 Sections (Payload: 5.6kgs). Manfrotto 327RC2 Light Duty Grip Ball Magnesium Tripod Head (Payload: 5.5kgs). Manfrotto quick release plate 200PL-14. Jessops Tripod bag.Nikon MC-DC2 remote shutter release cable.
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RAW (TIFF) FILE: 130.00MB NEF: 88.9MB
PROCESSED (JPeg) FILE: 42.20MB
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PROCESSING POWER:
Nikon D850 Firmware versions C 1.20 (14/01/2021) LD Distortion Data 2.018 (18/02/20) LF 1.00
HP 110-352na Desktop PC with AMD Quad-Core A6-5200 APU 64Bit processor. Radeon HD8400 graphics. 8 GB DDR3 Memory with 1TB Data storage. 64-bit Windows 10. Verbatim USB 2.0 1TB desktop hard drive. WD My Passport Ultra 1tb USB3 Portable hard drive. Nikon ViewNX-1 64bit Version 1.4.1 (18/02/2020). Nikon Capture NX-D 64bit Version 1.6.2 (18/02/2020). Nikon Picture Control Utility 2 (Version 2.4.5 (18/02/2020). Nikon Transfer 2 Version 2.13.5. Adobe photoshop Elements 8 Version 8.0 64bit.
Given her circumstances, the 2055 looks pretty good, especially by comparison. Another one we can probably all picture in a better time, and a better place...
The flower has been given names related to this symbolism throughout Europe since that time. In Spain, it is known as espina de Cristo ("thorn of Christ'"). Older Germanic names include Christus-Krone ("Christ's crown"), Christus-Strauss ("Christ's bouquet"), Dorn-Krone ("crown of thorns"), Jesus-Lijden ("Jesus' passion"), Marter ("passion") or Muttergottes-Stern ("Mother of God's star").
Outside the Christian heartland, the regularly shaped flowers have reminded people of the face of a clock. In Israel they are known as "clock-flower" (שעונית) and in Greece as "clock plant" (ρολογιά); in Japan too, they are known as tokeisō (時計草, "clock plant"). In Hawaiian, they are called lilikoʻi; lī is a string used for tying fabric together, such as a shoelace, and liko means "to spring forth leaves".
In India, blue passionflowers are called Krishnakamala in Karnataka and Maharashtra, while in Uttar Pradesh and generally north it is colloquially called "Paanch Paandav" (referring to the five Pandavas in the Hindu epic, the Mahabharata). The five anthers are interpreted as the five Pandavas, the divine Krishna is at the centre, and the radial filaments are opposing hundred. The colour blue is moreover associated with Krishna as the colour of his aura.
Passiflora 'Soi Fah' aka Krishnakamala in India
In northern Peru and Bolivia, the banana passionfruits are known as tumbos. This is one possible source of the name of the Tumbes region of Peru.
In Turkey, the shape of the flowers have reminded people of Rota Fortunae, thus it called Çarkıfelek.
Given the fact that this is a tanker train I guess that this is an empty oil return from Iran. The route goes via the coastal rail link in eastern Azerbaijan.
A little bit of online research shows that a these shipments commenced in February 2023 and that diesel and gasoline are the cargos. This trade surprised me as I thought that Iran would have produced a good deal of oil and had the refinery capability. It transpires that Iran can't cope with its own domestic demand so needs to top up its supply. Given that western nations have sanctions against both countries it was only a case of time before trade deals were struck between Russia and Iran.
Photo taken from a moving minibus as it was starting to get dark.
©All photographs on this site are copyright: DESPITE STRAIGHT LINES (Paul Williams) 2011 – 2020 & GETTY IMAGES ®
No license is given nor granted in respect of the use of any copyrighted material on this site other than with the express written agreement of DESPITE STRAIGHT LINES (Paul Williams) ©
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**** This frame was chosen on March 10th 2020 to appear on FLICKR EXPLORE (Highest Ranking: #TBC. This is my 168th photograph to be selected.
I am really thrilled to have a frame picked and most grateful to every one of the 35.268+ Million people who have visited, favourite and commented on this and all of my other photographs here on my FLICKR site. *****
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Photograph taken at an altitude of Eighteen metres, in the height of a foggy golden hour around sunrise at 06:02am, (Sunrise was at precisely 05:47am), on Thursday 27th March 2014 in the grounds of Foots Cray Meadows. Here, I am standing just to the West of Five Arches Bridge over the River Cray in Bexley, Kent, England.
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Nikon D800 Focal length 14mm Shgutter speed 1/125s Aperture f/2.8 iso200 RAW (14-bit) uncompressed. Size 7360 x 4912 L. Matrix metering. Manual focus. Manual exposure. Auto white balance. Adobe RGB.
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Everything on this planet is given life from it.
Earth is alive, and is Mother and Home to ALL living things found here.
WE are the Earth. We ARE The Earth.
Earth lives and breathes and regenerates through us and all living beings.
It is living a human experience through us.. it thinks and dreams and does as we do though her ways may be unseen by many human eyes and minds.
It is the plants, and fungi,and archaea, and bacteria and viruses which ALL pass through us every day, creating you and I, creating beauty and destruction, love and destruction, equity and destruction.
We need change. We need to change. We need to be the change to see the change. No more war. No more killing. No more hunger. No more thirst. No more destitution, dereliction, destruction.
We cannot force change, but we may invite it, by sharing what resonates as truth, and love, and equity. To overcome fear and hopelessness. Stand for peace, act in community; share your talents and enjoy receiving the gifts of others.
I AM you ARE we ARE ONE, together. Liberation beckons for our greater good.
"In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing."- Theodore Roosevelt
Silves (Portuguese pronunciation: [ˈsilvɨʃ] ⓘ) is a city and municipality in the Portuguese region of Algarve, in southern Portugal.[1] The population of the entire municipality of Silves in 2011 was 37,126,[2] in an area of 680.06 km2.[3] The urbanized area of the city proper has approximately 11,000 inhabitants. Silves is the former capital of the Kingdom of the Algarve (1249–1910), a nominal kingdom within the Kingdom of Portugal (1139-1910), and is of great historical importance.[4]
History
See also: Portuguese Conquest of Algarve
The region of Silves has been inhabited since the Palaeolithic, as attested by archaeological remains, including several menhirs. The river Arade, which was navigable in historical times, linked the hinterland to the open ocean and allowed the transport of produce and commerce. The town of Silves (Cilpes) was possibly founded during the times of Roman domination, when the region was part of the Lusitania province. It was probably a Lusitanian Castro in pre-Roman times;[5] however the region was also settled by other Indo-European tribes, such as the Celtici and Cynetes (or Conii). Silves was once also part of the Visigothic Kingdom (418–c. 721).
After 713, when the Moors invaded Iberia, Silves became part of the Umayyad Emirate of Córdoba under the Arabic name of Shilb (شلب). In the 10th century it was one of the most important towns in western Al-Andalus. Silves became an independent taifa in 1027 under the rule of Ibn Mozaine and his son, who was dethroned in 1051 by al-Mu'tadid, the governor of Seville. al-Mu'tamid ibn 'Abbad, the son of al-Mu'tadid and a famous poet, ruled the taifa of Silves until 1091. After the Almoravid conquest the town became Almohad in 1156.
In 1189, King Sancho I of Portugal conquered the town with the aid of Northern European crusaders.[6] Sancho ordered the fortification of the city and built a castle, which is today an important monument of Portuguese heritage. At the time he also styled himself "By the Grace of God, King of Portugal and Silves (Dei Gratiæ, Rex Portugalliæ et Silbis). However, he soon lost the town again to the Almohads after sieges in 1190 and 1191. Periodic raiding expeditions were sent from Al-Andalus to ravage the Iberian Christian kingdoms, bringing back booty and slaves. The governor of Córdoba attacked Silves in 1191, and took 3,000 Christian slaves.[7] Again under Muslim rule, the city would then prosper to the point of being called the Baghdad of the West.
The town was finally taken from the last Muslim king Ibn Afan by Paio Peres Correia, Grand-Master of the Order of Santiago in 1242, after the Alentejo and most of the coast had already fallen in 1238. The great mosque was changed into Silves Cathedral (Sé Catedral). Silves declined in importance thereafter and was eclipsed in the region by Faro during the colonial period. In 1491, the town of Silves was given to queen Eleanora by her husband, king John II of Portugal.
In the 19th century, Silves became an important centre for the Portuguese cork industry. The industry's decline began after cork factory workers, instigated by communist and anarcho-syndicalist organizations resorting to coercion at gunpoint, supported the failed Portuguese general strike of 1934, after which the authoritarian Estado Novo regime retaliated by effectively closing down the industry in the town.[8]
In the 21st century, the municipality became host to The Iberian Lynx National Breeding Center (Silves' Center). wikipedia
Name: Thomas Dodds
Arrested for: not given
Arrested at: North Shields Police Station
Arrested on: 3 October 1914
Tyne and Wear Archives ref: DX1388-1-256-Thomas Dodds
For an image of his accomplice Mark Schidlossky see www.flickr.com/photos/twm_news/21412004993/in/dateposted/.
The Shields Daily News for 5 October 1914 reports:
“GOING THROUGH SEAMAN’S POCKETS. ONE MONTH FOR THIEVES AT NO. SHIELDS.
Today at North Shields, Mark Schidlossky, seaman, Russia and Thomas Dodds, labourer, South Shields, were charged with stealing 5s from the person of James McLeod on the New Quay.
McLeod said he was proceeding to his ship, which was lying at Smith’s Dock, when he was accosted by two men, whom he now recognised. They pushed him up against the wall and took everything from his pockets. John Michael Graham, Lawson Street, said he saw the two men holding the prosecutor and going through his pockets.
PC Pallister said the Russian said in answer to the charge “I got no money” and the other man made no reply. The first prisoner had 2s 10d and the other 1s 2d in their possession. The Bench committed the defendants to prison for one month each”.
These images are taken from an album of photographs of prisoners brought before the North Shields Police Court between 1902 and 1916 (TWAM ref. DX1388/1). This set is our selection of the best mugshots taken during the First World War. They have been chosen because of the sharpness and general quality of the images. The album doesn’t record the details of each prisoner’s crimes, just their names and dates of arrest.
In order to discover the stories behind the mugshots, staff from Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums visited North Shields Local Studies Library where they carefully searched through microfilm copies of the ‘Shields Daily News’ looking for newspaper reports of the court cases. The newspaper reports have been transcribed and added below each mugshot.
Combining these two separate records gives us a fascinating insight into life on the Home Front during the First World War. These images document the lives of people of different ages and backgrounds, both civilians and soldiers. Our purpose here is not to judge them but simply to reflect the realities of their time.
(Copyright) We're happy for you to share this digital image within the spirit of The Commons. Please cite 'Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums' when reusing. Certain restrictions on high quality reproductions and commercial use of the original physical version apply though; if you're unsure please email archives@twmuseums.org.uk.
I am going to talk about a topic most would consider to be very sensitive and that is pornography. So if you don’t feel comfortable reading about it please stop whenever you like to. Of course I will talk about it from my personal experience. I will try not to focus on porn or talk about it in details, as my goal is not to assist others to indulge in sin but to glorify God for the freedom He has given me. I will start by talking about the photo first.
First of all I want to say that talking about being addicted to porn is not easy. I had considered talking about for some time but didn’t really want to do so. So I decided, like I do often, is to lie down and talk to God and think about why I didn’t want to write about it. The reason was simple: I didn’t want people to have a bad idea about me. The final point was: I wanted to keep my image “clean” like so many of us Christians like to do. However, after some thought I came to this conclusion:
1) I was born a sinner and I am as sinful in my nature as anybody else ever lived on earth, so there is no point in acting like I am better than anybody else.
2) I am who I am because of who I am in Christ, and that’s because of His perfect and finished work on the Cross: His death for my sins. Not because of anything good in me or about me.
3) When I accepted Jesus I basically gave Him ownership over me. In other words, there is no more “my reputation”, “my name”, “my this” and “my that”. Everything belongs to Him now. Of course I thought that I could simply avoid talking about this topic and “act” as if there is something special about me. But the truth is that He is special and I am special only because the Holy Spirit, who is special, lives in me.
4) For Christ to be lifted through me I must be lowered. For Him to be glorified I must tell the world about who I was before Christ.
5) I didn’t want to be a hypocrite! Of course, as we all know, being a hypocrite is much easier than a lot of things in life. (And believe me it is much easier to be a hypocrite than to live the Christian life, but only through living the Christian life we can find true fulfillment in Jesus.) But if I claim that I belong to Christ and that my identity is wrapped up in who I am in Him, a prince and a child of the living and holy One, then I have to act upon this claim. Otherwise I am simply being a hypocrite. I cannot say that my value and worth are in Him, when I value myself in how others see me.
So I will start my story now…
When I was in my teens back home, and I would be taking the bus in the evening sometimes I would look at my hand and be completely amazed by the orange sun light reflecting off of it, especially the amount of details God has put in the skin! And because I like to draw, shadows have always amazed me. Until now I try to emphasize shadows and contrast in my photos. So a couple of days ago I was studying when it was sunset and I looked at my hand and again I loved the amount of details in the skin. So I took few photos and after some editing, I realized this photo can be very fitting to talk about Jesus Christ’s favour in setting us free from sin. So here is my final product. I hope you like it. (Special thanks to Gimp!)
I didn’t soak the hand with orange colour and dark shadows because I want to talk about a light that’s brighter than the sun’s: the light of my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. That’s why I kept the light white.
I was not familiar with pornography until I came to Canada, and especially after I bought my first computer. Like so many others I started watching porn because of curiosity. I accepted Jesus in my life before I came to Canada though. Being still an immature Christian, spiritually like a few days old infant, I was an easy prey to Satan’s lies.
Then porn turned to more than just curiosity—it became a habit. Then from a habit it became an addiction. It pretty much consumed hours of my daily life, and all my energy. It cost me a lot in school as my marks dropped dramatically. My relationship with God was reduced to “hi” and “bye”!
I tried to quit many times but I couldn’t. I knew it was wrong but by then it was too strong of an addiction to break free from. I hated it and loved it at the same time. I hated it because it ruined every aspect of my life. I loved it because I was emotionally dependent on it: it was my idol. (For more on Idols you might be interested in reading: www.flickr.com/photos/001fj/2334638980/
Pornography was a very strange affair. I mean, when I went out I tried not to lust after women but when I came home I entertained the worst thoughts for hours! One of the worst things about porn is that it gets worse overtime. You never start at a low level and stay there; you stoop to lower levels because after a while those materials are not satisfying anymore. Can you imagine the helplessness people who are addicted to porn feel? Can you imagine the feeling of entrapment? Can you imagine not only seeing yourself in a very bad situation but also seeing yourself heading toward a worse situation and you are going by your own will simply because you couldn’t resist doing the thing that is hurting you and eventually will destroy you!
It is like standing in a hole and digging it to make it deeper and deeper and deeper.
One summer break I spent it pretty much editing photos using Photoshop and listening to Dr. Charles Stanley. In one sermon he was talking about how God sets us free and the bottom line was that we have to:
1) Realize and admit our situation and helplessness
2) Trust that God can free us
3) Surrender ourselves, lives and hearts to Him
So I tried it. I went to pray and told God all those three points and I meant them—I truly believed and knew that I couldn’t free myself from this sin, and I knew that God was a good God who loved me and cared about me….but, I didn’t know how to surrender! I mean if I was in a war then I could take a piece of white cloth and put it on a stick, raise it up and walk toward the enemy. They would see the white piece of cloth and would know that I am surrendering, but how do you do that spiritually? I mean, it is more than words just as in the scenario of the battlefield above: I have to raise (action word) the stick, and walk (another action word) toward the enemy. But how do you surrender spiritually?
Needless to say after that prayer I went back to pornography as if I had not even prayed it! I knew Dr. Stanley is a godly man so I knew he wouldn’t teach something false, but I simply didn’t know how to apply it. So I kept trying to break free from pornography using all methods I knew from self-control (emphasis on the word “self”; I am not talking about the self-control we have by focusing on Christ and putting Him first in our lives), to using filters to always keeping the windows and door open, etc…nothing worked.
God wasn’t completely silent in those couple of years when I was addicted to porn. I can recall some other time when God completely cut all communication with me until I obeyed Him in a certain matter (thank God He did that!), but that was not the case in those two years. I think God knew that I was helpless against breaking free from porn. He knew I was too young spiritually to abandon me completely to my weakness and leave me completely at Satan’s mercy (as if he has any!)
A particular scary moment was when one night after indulging in sin for hours I stood and planned to go carry out a sinful act. After a couple steps it was as if God slapped me so hard that He woke me up from a nightmare; the only thing is that I was not dreaming--it was real life! I had so foolishly bought Satan’s lies to the degree that I was going to carry them out! I froze and couldn’t move for few seconds because it was as if God had blocked my way. Then I realized that I was basically a slave of Satan if I kept believing what he told me. I was like a zombie having all sense sucked out of me and so dead in my sins.
Nothing can explain God's intervention in that moment better than this song:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_SjhKJgqGg
I also realized that I was not so different from Ted Bundy or any other serial killer and rapist. I was a step away from going that road if it wasn’t for God mercy, grace, love and compassion. I can never be thankful enough for Him for intervening in that moment. We were all born sinners, and according to God holiness that demands divine justice we all deserve the death penalty. That’s why our Lord had to die for our sins to be forgiven. So please, next time you hear about a criminal so “evil” ask yourself those two questions: 1) Can Jesus’ blood forgive all his sin? Yes, or no? 2) Can God change him? Yes, or no? The answer is yes to both questions. (Check this man’s testimony if you like to: www.youtube.com/watch?v=sIfQ-aBham4
One time I managed to stay away from pornography for 18 days! I was so happy but when I fell to sin again I was more miserable than ever before! I knew that I couldn’t do better than that. That was about half a year after listening to Dr. Stanley’s message.
So sometime in March of 2003 I went to pray at night. And I basically told God that I had enough and that I wasn’t going to pray anymore. I was ending my relationship with Him! I didn’t know better at the time that He paid a high price to adopt me into His family and He wasn’t just going to let me go! I was so tired of pretending that my religion works when it didn’t! I became a Christian not looking for a religion, but because the God of the Bible was so real I wanted to know Him…I wanted to experience what He did and said He would do. But it was not working! It was also so repulsive to me to come pray to God when I had so disgustingly disobeyed Him! It was like lusting after women all day long then going home and kissing my wife and pretending that everything is “fine”, (by the way, it is NOT “fine” with God and His opinion is the only opinion that matters if not now then later!). I simply couldn’t carry a relationship with a Holy God when I was so steeped into sin. I was crying when I told Him “good-by” because I had really wanted Christianity to work since it was the only faith that held its own claims and its God was so real that it would require more faith for me not to believe in Him than to believe in Him! (How much faith does it take to believe in gravity? None, because we know it exists! That’s the same case with our God.) So I told Him that I don’t care anymore. I give up. I can’t break free from pornography’s hold on me, and He isn’t helping me. So I give up and won’t try to resist porn anymore. I was too tired to try to please a God who wasn’t willing to help me with my burdens.
I don’t remember exactly what day it was that I prayed that prayer but I know it was in the last 10 days of March, 2003. So I stood up and thought that was the end…that all those prayers I had prayed and He answered, the peace He has given me, the joy, and the awesome awareness of His presence I had experienced before…were all things I had imagined.
Next day I didn’t watch porn, and I thought because I was busy with school work. The day after I didn’t watch porn either and I thought because the whole week was a busy week with school work! After a week I realized that I didn’t watch porn for the last week nor did I think about it or desired to watch it! That’s when it hit me: I was free! Hallelujah, Jesus set me free! Christianity works! My wonderful God is real! Everything He did before was real! So I went to pray again, and asked Him what I should do now! He put on my heart to go to www.settingcaptivesfree.com/home/our_courses.php and register! So I did, and went through the online program for 2 months. And I have been free from pornography since that March night until today. I had a friend in high school was struggling with pornography too. He was from Pakistan and when I told him that I was free he didn’t understand how. I couldn’t explain it more to my friend than the blind man, whom our Lord Jesus healed, answered in John 9:25:
He replied, "…One thing I do know. I was blind but now I see!"
It took me a while to realize that the Biblical principle in Dr. Stanley’s sermon works! What I did in that prayer is simply I gave up: surrendered. I stopped trying to do it in my own strength. I stopped trying to fight God’s war for Him. I stopped trying to earn His favour. I stopped trying to win my way according to my timing. I ceased striving.
If you read Gideon’s story, the story Dr. Stanley based his sermon outlines on, you will realize God did the same thing with Gideon and His army. I truly encourage you to read it. You can find it in the book of Judges.
Why did God free me this way? Well there are many reasons, here are some:
1) He wants to bring Himself the glory. If we do it on our own and succeed what does that tell the world about Him? Nothing. Then I could’ve written this whole story without a mention of Him. But the fact is I couldn’t break free from pornography on my own in a million years. It was all His work.
2) He desires to grow our faith. My faith wouldn’t have grown in a God that stands idle while I did everything myself. But now I know He is more than able to do everything He said will do.
3) God wants us to trust Him and know that He can handle His own affairs and wars. It is good to defend God and fight for Him, but we must let Him fight His own battles so the world to know that He is a mighty and powerful God, and that He is real.
Let me ask you some questions: if you are always fighting for your god, protecting it, speaking on its behave, defending it, what makes you think it is a real god? If your god can’t speak, what makes you so convinced it could create your mouth? If your god can’t fight its own battles against evil, what makes you think it can give you victory? If your god can’t defend itself, what makes you think it can protect you?
4) For others to see, hear, believe and come to know Him. If I was able to free myself from porn by myself, how would that draw people to Him?
You can say whatever you want about God. You can say that you don’t like Him. That you don’t believe in Him. You can say that you would rather live your life without Him, and spend eternity in Hell than in Heaven with Him. But you can’t tell me that I was not addicted beyond human hope to pornography and He freed me from it. You can’t tell me that my God isn’t real or that He is dead. You can’t tell me that my God is not powerful, or that He doesn’t love me and cares about me.
I remember a couple of years ago I was waiting for the bus (isn’t it strange how I realize a lot of things while waiting for the bus!), and thought to myself, “What is so horrible about pornography anyway?” (That was a couple of years after God freed me from it!) Then suddenly I had this very empty feeling in my chest when I remembered how spiritually thirsty I was when I was addicted to porn. I remember how horrible it felt to chase after something that does not satisfy and that it leads to more chasing…but it still does not satisfy! Ever since then until now, I would like to think that I have a healthy fear of pornography, and sin in general. (Remember, God created fear to protect us, just like pain. But how we view fear and respond to is what makes the difference between a protective fear and an enslaving fear.) Of course, porn’s destruction is much more than the chasing after something that does not satisfy. But I won’t go into how much it has actually ruined countless lives, because many websites and statistics are available for those who are truly seeking to know the truth about porn’s destructive power.
1 John 4:4 says:
“You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.”
It is sad how many Christians have opinions about sin that are not based on God Word. I read things such as, “It is my motives that count…so even though I do this and that, I do them without lusting…” Really? Where does the Bible teaches that? When our Lord talked about motives he was talking about fasting, praying, and giving to the poor not about sin! You can’t sin with pure motives! It doesn’t make sense! You can fool me, and you can fool your church congregation! But how can you live with yourself knowing that you are lying to yourself! And how are you going to fool God? Rather, how are you going to face Him?
And some Christians even say “it is natural to do so and so”. Yes, you are correct, but since when does the Bible talk about our nature as if it is holy! Our nature is corrupt and sinful, so why do we say “natural” as if it is a good thing! It is natural to get angry and want to get revenge; it is natural to lie when accused of something; it is natural to cheat when we want to get our way…but what does the Bible teach about all those examples of “natural behaviour”? They are all sin and do not fit us as sons and daughters of the living God!
No, I am not talking about people who are addicted to drugs, porn, alcohol, and so on. I am not even talking to the unbelieving world here. I am talking to us, Christians. I truly believe that there is a huge difference between someone who is sinning—because he or she are addicted to a certain sin, regardless of how they got themselves into this mess—but they absolutely hate that sin and want to be free from it, and between someone who knows he is sinning but has no problem with it--welcomes sin in his life.
I am going to say something here that I think will make a lot of people dislike me, but I am going to say it anyway and hope that you take it with an attitude knowing that I am not judging anybody here:
If you are a woman who has Christ in her life, please re-consider the way you dress. Not according to my standards, or the church you attend. Certainly not according to the standards of the latest fashion or to “that is the only thing available in stores nowadays”. Don’t go to someone else asking their opinion or read an article about it. Go directly to God’s Word and ask God directly, and if you are honestly seeking to follow Him He will show you His way. But I must warn you: once He makes His will clear you won’t have peace until you obey Him.
You might be wondering why I am talking about women’s dressing in a topic about porn! Well, men are very visual so they sin by lusting (even women do that, but I am not sure they do so as much as men do) and so porn is a naturally attractive sin to them. Women desire to feel beautiful, desired, wanted and so she tries to meet those need by dressing in a way that attracts men’s attention. And that’s how she gets her momentarily (short-lived: like all the promises Satan makes in regard to sin) emotional high by noticing a man looking at her. But what I want to ask you is this: if you go home and you are all by yourself and have nothing to do, how do you feel: empty, far from your heavenly Father; or peaceful and your heart is flowing with love and adoration for Him?
Causing to Sin, Mark 9:42-50:
"And if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to be thrown into the sea with a large millstone tied around his neck. If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. It is better for you to enter life maimed than with two hands to go into hell, where the fire never goes out. And if your foot causes you to sin, cut it off. It is better for you to enter life crippled than to have two feet and be thrown into hell. And if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out. It is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into hell, where
" 'their worm does not die,
and the fire is not quenched.' Everyone will be salted with fire.
"Salt is good, but if it loses its saltiness, how can you make it salty again? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with each other."
If you are a man who has Christ in his life, please take some time, be quiet with God, and think about where you were yesterday spiritually, where you are today, and where you are heading tomorrow! Evaluate your life. Evaluate your ways. Seek to know God better. Make decisions, daily decisions, to live for Him. Live a pure life starting with your heart and mind. Think about your future wife (or present wife), think about your kids. You are going to be the leader of the house who represents Christ to the whole household! Will they see Him through you? Or will your daughters grow up thinking that they have to look beautiful, sexy, and act in certain ways to get a man’s attention and love? Think about God’s awesome and wonderful purpose that He desires to accomplish through you. Think about God’s reputation among the people who know you. Please don’t settle for less. We are not going to be given another chance after this life!
“Just as man is destined to die once, and after that to face judgment” (Hebrews 9:27)
If you realize you are sinning against God while you are on your way home then repent right away and seek to follow Him! It is never too late to make a decision to live for Him, even if you just realized that at the end of the day. Daily surrender yourself to Him if that’s what it takes for you to live a pure and blameless life.
I will stop here. All I ask is that if you claim to believe something about God put it into practice. Whether in regard to your identity in Him, your personal agendas vs. His plans and purposes, or if you claim to believe that Christ died for someone else’s sin then why not forgive them? Remember, John 13:17:
“Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.”
What things? The things that are written in God’s Word, and the Holy Spirit reveals to you.
And don't ever lose focus of this fact: all things are done through His goodness, grace and mercy—it, life here on earth and eternal life, is all about Him. However, for Him: it is all about you. It is the "Lord's favour" and not our own works whether in being saved or the power to live for Him: it is all about His grace.
Nothing But the Blood
www.youtube.com/watch?v=wej1jHtiH-M
(Toronot, ON; winter 2008.)
Name: Reginald Stains alias Brown
Arrested for: not given
Arrested at: North Shields
Arrested on: 4 December 1915
Tyne and Wear Archives ref: DX1388-1-262-Reginald Stains AKA Brown
The Shields Daily News for 15 December 1915 reports:
“NORTH SHIELDS FALSE PRETENCES CASE. ACCUSED COMMITTED FOR TRIAL.
Reginald Ashley Staines (30), chief steward, of 23 Milton Terrace, was brought up on remand at North Shields today, charged with having obtained by false pretences on the 22nd Nov. from Joseph Randell, the sum of £15 and on the 23rd ult. a further sum of £7 from Joseph Randell and Ed. Perris and on the same date in a like manner, the sum of £5 from William Manson Bews, with intent to cheat and defraud. Mr Frankham of Newcastle defended.
Joseph Randell of 40 Drummond Terrace stated that in the early part of November last defendant came to his shop and made reference to some previous groceries and wanted to open an account. On the 22nd October he ordered goods to be sent on board his ship. On the 22nd Nov. he wanted to cash a cheque for £15. He said he had got married and wanted to go to Liverpool and witness gave him the £15. Next day he again came to the shop and asked witness to cash another cheque for £7 and he said he would send his account from Liverpool in settlement for some goods. Witness cashed the cheque. He presented the cheques on the 22nd and 23rd Nov. and they were returned on the 24th and 25th.
Mr Frankham: Defendant has had other dealings with you for groceries and provision? – Yes.
Mr Frankham: Have you cashed other cheques for him? One, for £10, which was honoured.
Mr Frankham: If he had asked for the loan of a certain sum, would you have give him it? – No.
Mr Frankham: He never attempted to conceal where he was going to? – No.
Mr Frankham: You made no effort to get in touch with him? – Yes. Mr Perris went to his mother’s and could not get his address.
William Manson Bews, a tailor residing in Linskill Terrace, said that on the 23rd October the defendant came to his shop and ordered a frock suit, a jack suit, a double-breasted suit and a cap. He was dressed in a naval uniform and said the things had to be delivered to the Northumberland Arms. On the 22nd November he again came to the shop and asked for his account. He told witness he was a little short of cash. Witness gave him £5 and the defendant made out a cheque for £22 12s, in payment of the clothes and the money. The cheque was presented at Farrow’s Bank, Newcastle on the 24th and returned on the 26th. Witness still had all the clothes with the exception of the uniform.
George Graham Campbell of Farrow’s Bank said that no the 24th November the cheque produced, for £15, was presented and returned, marked ‘N.S.’. On that date the defendant only had £3 19s 6d in the bank. On the 25th November cheques for £7 and £22 12s were presented but the defendant only had a balance of £1 19s 6d then.
Detective-Sergeant Radcliffe stated that from certain information received he went to Brighton, on the 3rd inst. and took the defendant into custody from the Brighton police. He was brought to North Shields and when questioned replied “The only thing I can say is, the cheque must not have been met”. When charged later he made no reply. The defendant pleaded not guilty.
Mr Frankham said the defendant had not the slightest intent to rob anybody of money. He had a banking account and being newly married and unwell, had gone away and given these cheques. He had about £16 on board the ship and the officers were owing him about £30. The defendant gave a cheque for £1 on the 13th November as a donation to the YMCA. He had not tried to cover up any tracks and the officers on board HMS Satellite knew where he was.
The defendant, in giving evidence on his own behalf, said he was chief steward on HM Yacht Medusa II. The ship came into port on the 19th November and he had leave granted because he had been ill and he was going to be married. After the marriage he went to Liverpool and was there two days and he then went to London and Brighton. He sent his medical certificate to HMS Satellite. When he got the money from Mr Randell and Mr Bews he understood he had sufficient money in the bank to meet the cheques. Money was owing to him on board the ship but he could not say how much. He had no intention of defrauding the people.
The defendant was committed for trial at the Quarter Sessions”.
On 6 January 1916 at Northumberland Quarter Sessions Reginald Staines was acquitted on a charge of obtaining money by false pretences from tradesmen at North Shields.
These images are taken from an album of photographs of prisoners brought before the North Shields Police Court between 1902 and 1916 (TWAM ref. DX1388/1). This set is our selection of the best mugshots taken during the First World War. They have been chosen because of the sharpness and general quality of the images. The album doesn’t record the details of each prisoner’s crimes, just their names and dates of arrest.
In order to discover the stories behind the mugshots, staff from Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums visited North Shields Local Studies Library where they carefully searched through microfilm copies of the ‘Shields Daily News’ looking for newspaper reports of the court cases. The newspaper reports have been transcribed and added below each mugshot.
Combining these two separate records gives us a fascinating insight into life on the Home Front during the First World War. These images document the lives of people of different ages and backgrounds, both civilians and soldiers. Our purpose here is not to judge them but simply to reflect the realities of their time.
(Copyright) We're happy for you to share this digital image within the spirit of The Commons. Please cite 'Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums' when reusing. Certain restrictions on high quality reproductions and commercial use of the original physical version apply though; if you're unsure please email archives@twmuseums.org.uk.
Monkton is a hamlet that was given to the monks over 1000 years ago by a Saxon queen, and its wonderful old 12th century church must be one of the most unprotected in Kent. It stands on a level plain between the mainland and the sea, with no shelter from the wind or any insulation from the rigours of winter, all of which has certainly left its indelible mark on its time-worn tower – the lower two-thirds of which has stood here since 1190, the third stage added in the 15th century.
Inside we have a narrow nave and chancel, at the entrance of which lies an old priest of 1460, and a Frances Blechenden who, we are told, “enjoyed three husbands”. There is a brass portraying the old priest in his full robes, his hair neatly trimmed under his skullcap, and his hands closed in prayer. He was John Spicer. One thing was ancient even in John Spicer’s day, the Norman piscina (a receptacle to hold water for the priest to wash his fingers before Mass, and always found next to every medieval altar).
Outside by the churchyard walls are what are reputed to be the only remaining village stocks left in Kent, which I think completes rather nicely the wonderful aura of this ancient place.
©All photographs on this site are copyright: ©DESPITE STRAIGHT LINES (Paul Williams) 2011 – 2021 & GETTY IMAGES ®
No license is given nor granted in respect of the use of any copyrighted material on this site other than with the express written agreement of ©DESPITE STRAIGHT LINES (Paul Williams). No image may be used as source material for paintings, drawings, sculptures, or any other art form without permission and/or compensation to ©DESPITE STRAIGHT LINES (Paul Williams)
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Photograph taken at an altitude of Three metres, at 06:47am on Sunday 1st September 2019 around sunrise off 1st Street and Bevan Avenue, between the boat jetty and Bevan Avenue Fishing Pier in beautiful Sidney by the sea on Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada.
Here we look over to Sidney Island, one of the Southern Gulf islands between the southwest coast of BC. It has an elevation of seventy seven metres above sea level at it's highest point. Ferry trips from Sidney to Sidney spit on Sidney Island operate for certain parts of the year.
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Nikon D850 Focal Length: 300mm Shutter Speed: 1/25s (Mechanical Shutter) Aperture: f/16.0 iso125 RAW (14 bit uncompressed) Image size L 8256 x 5504 FX Full Frame Colour space: Adobe RGB Focus Mode: Manual focus AF-Area Mode: Normal-area AF Exposure Mode: Aperture Priority exposure Metering Mode: Matrix metering White Balance: Natural light auto, 0, 0 (8220K) Nikon Distortion control: On Vignette control: Normal High ISO: NR: On (Normal) Picture Control: (FL) Flat Sharpening +1.00
Nikkor AF-P 70-300mm f/4.5-5.6E.Lee SW150 MKII filter holder. Lee SW150Con adapter for Lee 100 rings.Lee 100 67mm screw in adapter ring. Lee SW150 0.9 (3 stops) Neutral density graduated soft resin filter. Lee SW150 Filters field pouch. Nikon EN-EL15a battery.Mcoplus professional MB-D850 multi function battery grip 6960. Matin quick release neckstrap. My Memory 128GB Class 10 SDXC 80MB/s card. Lowepro Flipside 400 AW camera bag. Nikon GP-1 GPS module. Hoodman HEYENRG round eyepiece oversized eyecup.Manfrotto 055XPROB Tripod 3 Sections (Payload: 5.6kgs). Manfrotto 327RC2 Light Duty Grip Ball Magnesium Tripod Head (Payload: 5.5kgs). Manfrotto quick release plate 200PL-14. Jessops Tripod bag.Nikon MC-DC2 remote shutter release cable.
LATITUDE: N 48d 38m 51.90s
LONGITUDE: W 123d 23m 29.50s
ALTITUDE: 3.0m
RAW (TIFF) FILE: 130.00MB NEF FILE: 89.1MB
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PROCESSING POWER:
Nikon D850 Firmware versions C 1.10 (9/05/2019) LD Distortion Data 2.017 (20/3/18) LF 1.00
HP 110-352na Desktop PC with AMD Quad-Core A6-5200 APU 64Bit processor. Radeon HD8400 graphics. 8 GB DDR3 Memory with 1TB Data storage. 64-bit Windows 10. Verbatim USB 2.0 1TB desktop hard drive. WD My Passport Ultra 1tb USB3 Portable hard drive. Nikon ViewNX-1 64bit (Version 1.3.1 11/07/2019). Nikon Capture NX-D 64bit (Version 1.4.7 15/03/2018). Nikon Picture Control Utility 2 (Version 1.3.2 15/03/2018). Adobe photoshop Elements 8 Version 8.0 64bit.
Given that today is Rugby League semi final day I thought that I should upload a rugby photo. This shot is from Wakefield Warriors game a few weeks ago against Farnley Falcons.
I was given some flowers for my birthday and wanted to get some photos of them before they wilted. Playing with my macro lens got the best results and I love the simplicity and beauty of this shot.
Greater Manchester Passenger Transport was given statutory authority to coordinate, support and integrate bus and rail operations in its area - a duty that carried over to its successor TfGM. In the 1970s one of the more visible signs of this was the Saver Seven - a combined bus/rail season ticket that was in some ways an ancestor of the more famous London 'Oyster' scheme.
Saver Seven (with its cousins Saver Monthly and Saver Annual) was extremely popular and was a household name in Greater Manchester. The PTE promoted the concept extensively and we see one example here - brand new bus number 8072, in an overall paint scheme that pushes the rail part of the ticket.
You could get various levels of Saver Seven. All levels included travel on all buses in Greater Manchester, no matter who operated them; but the levels gave access to more an more rail services to and from stations depending on how close they were to Manchester. A zone one, for example, went only as far as Whitefield but a zone five ticket included every station in the county right out to far-flung Bryn.
Saver Seven didn't outlast the abolition of Greater Manchester County and the deregulation of bus services in 1986, but there are today integrated ticketing options offered by TfGM and contactless payment makes it mainly unnecessary to carry a season ticket with photo ID. But there are plenty of Sever Seven tickets and publicity posters in our collection to remind our visitors of this popular phenomenon.
If you'd like to know more about the Museum of Transport Greater Manchester and its collection of vintage buses, go to www.motgm.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.
Any given day in Qaanaaq
In the silent vastness of the High Arctic stands the church of Qaanaaq, one of the most northerly sanctuaries on Earth. Born in 1954, it rose from the faith and resilience of a community uprooted from Uummannaq in the Pituffik Valley, moved 130 km north to make way for Thule Air Base. Its white walls have witnessed decades of prayer beneath the aurora, and since 1988, its nave has embraced the world’s northernmost pipe organ, a gift from the very base that altered the town’s destiny. At its altar shines a holy image: Christ, tenderly among Greenlandic children, a promise that even in the most remote reaches of creation, His light endures, His presence dwells, and His love warms the hearts of those who gather in His name.
Photography and file processing; LC Nevermind(Luis Campillo)
Artistic direction, MUAH, props, caption and model; Lis Xia
Gear; Nikon D700 & Nikkor 50mm 1.8G Special Edition, 1600 ISO
Turn of a Friendly Card
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Based on a true adventures of a rogue active in the waning years of the 1930’s as discovered in the criminal archives of Chatwick University.
Act 1
I begin my tale in the present…
That afternoon a soiree was given as part of the purchase price of the tickets for the annual Autumn Charity Ball to be presented later that evening at the manor’s great house. Since I was alone, I just went mainly for the free food and to rub my elbows with the wealthy guests who would be in happy attendance there, and at the Ball. I was alone, but certainly not bored. There was a game I enjoyed playing to pass the time at these affairs that entailed scoping out by their dress and day jewels worn, those ladies whom would be most likely to be wearing the better costumes and sparklers that evening. It often proved to be a most beneficial insight into the actions and mannerisms of the very rich. I walked amongst the cheerful guests, eying one here ( a lady in satin and pearls) and another there( a high spirited girl with a diamond pin at the throat of her frilly silken blouse). It was as I was passing the latter that the friend she had been talking too (dressed like a vamp), bumped up against me. I caught her, steadying her as they both giggled. I didn’t mind, for the lassie’s too tight satin sheath tea dress had been an enticement to hold, and the gold bracelet that had been dangling from her gloved wrist had been a pleasure to observe. I kissed her gloved hand, rings glittering, as I apologized gallantly for my clumsiness. Her eyes were bright, almost as bright as the twin necklaces of gold that hung swaying down pleasantly from between her ample bosom. I left them, moving on to greener pastures, and it was very green, all of it….
It was then that I detected another pretty lassie. It was her long fiery red hair with falling wispy curls that first captured my attention. She was wearing a fetchingly smart white chiffon party dress that commanded me to acquire a closer examination. She appeared to be a blithe spirit, seemingly content with just being by herself and roaming about with casual elegance, the extensive grounds of the manor proper. I began to discreetly follow her at a distance. Although she did not wear any jewelry, her manner and the eloquent way she moved is what attracted me the most. It would be very interesting to seek her out later that evening and she what she would have chosen to decorate herself with. I followed her as she sojourned into the depths of a traditional English garden with a maze of lushly green trimmed 8 foot high hedges
As I strolled through the hedgerows in her wake I allowed my mind to wander its own course. Suddenly I straightened up, my reverie broken by an epiphany of sorts. I allowed myself to grin and the lady whose enchantment I was swollen up in, at that moment turned, and seeing my beaming smile assumed it was for her and gave me a rather cute nod of her head. I answered in same, as I headed en route to a nearby stone garden bench to allow my thoughts to think through themselves.
But before I go on, allow me the pleasure to sojourn and reminisce about an incident that occurred several years prior:
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I was still working unaided in those days, travelling on to a new next quest that would take me just outside of Surrey.
I had just purchased my train ticket and had seen my luggage safe on board when I decided to rest in the lounge, it being some 45 minutes before allowed to enter personally aboard. Being so early the lounge was almost deserted, only one other occupant. I assumed she was waiting for someone on an incoming train due to the fact she carried no luggage. She was obviously well off, well dressed in satins and lace, and her jewels shone magnificently in the dim lights. Especially one of her rings, noticeably lying loosely around a finger, it sparkled with an expensive brilliance. I had seen one like it in a tiffanies store, worth almost 250 pounds. But she did not appreciate the show her jewelry was putting on under the lounge lights, for she was fast asleep.
I circled around her, aiming for a seat next to her, eyeing her and her possessions carefully. I noticed her purse had fallen off her lap and lay on the floor. An idea popped into my head, and I picked the purse up, and looked around carefully, before placing my plan into action. But I was thwarted as an older, matronly lady was spotted heading our way. I slipped the purse into my jacket and moved off before I was noticed. Of course she came in and took the empty seat across form the sleeping princess, and soon busied herself with knitting. As the older lady had sat down, not quietly, the wealthy lady stirred waking up at the noise. I went into a corner and sat, waiting. The two ladies soon fell into conversation; the minute’s ticked by excruciatingly slow. Soon I noticed we even had more company.
He was a lad of only fourteen, but with a devilish look about him that marked him a kindred spirit to meself, and his quick eyes were darting about taking it all in as he stood outside the paned glass window.
It was as the first announcement of boarding the train that I saw a chance for opportunity to strike.
The older lady folded up her knitting and clinching her bag, bid adieu to her new friend,( befuddled a little by the old ladies constant stream of gossip), and headed to the train. I was twenty steps ahead of her and was standing behind the youth as she left the lounge. I tapped him on the shoulder; he looked around at me suspiciously, and then caught sight of the shilling I was holding in front of his nose. I quickly whispered a few words into his ear on how he could earn it, and his grin spread as he bought into my story. I still held onto the shilling as he darted around and inside the lounge. I watched as he ran up behind the lady, circling her, then running in front of her he tripped over her leg, as she helped him up, her hand with the ring reaching down, he turned and spat onto the wrist and sleeve of that hand, than standing he ran away. Running alongside me, I handed him the shilling in passing as he ran off, disappearing in to the street.
I went inside and approached the astonished lady, as she was looking for her purse to get a handkerchief, confused as to its absence, while she held up her soiled hand( ring glittering furiously) in utter disbelief. I approached, catching her attention by the soothing words I uttered to her. I took her hand, unbelieving with her at just had happened, and I as I apologized for the youth of today I produced my own silk handkerchief and starting with her silky sleeve, began to wipe it off, continuing my tirade of displeasure and contempt at what had just occurred to the dear lady as I did so. As I finishing wiping her down, ending with her warm slender fingers, I kissed them, just as the last boarding announcement came over (perfect timing!) I let her go, explaining that I must catch my train. I turned and without looking back made the train just as it was letting off steam before chugging off.
I gained my private carriage just as the train began to lurch away. It wasn’t until after the train began its journey that I casually removed my silk handkerchief from my pocket and unwrapped it carefully, admiring up close the shimmering, valuable tiffany ring that was lying inside. I pocketed it, and then remembered the purse. I took it out and examined its contents: coin and notes equaling a handsome amount, a gold (gilded) case, embroidered lacy handkerchief, small silver flask of perfume, and ( of all things)a large shimmering prism , like one that would have dangled from a fancy crystal chandelier. A prism?, I questioned with interest as I examined it. It was pretty thing, about the circumference of a cricket ball, but shaped like a pendulum, it shimmered and glittered like the most precious of jewels. Why she had it in her purse? I couldn’t guess, and I saw no value in it, so I pocketed it and allowed it to leave my mind.
As I settled into my seat I began to think of the lad I had just met, I had been right on the money as far as his eagerness for mischief. Actually he reminded me of myself at that age, and I wondered if that lad with the shifty eyes would also turn out to follow the same course I had explored.
Which Begs the question, what had I turned out to become. And since I’m still reminiscing
I’ll give little background material about me, hopefully I don’t come across as being too conceited about my self-taught skills..
I had never been one to take the hard road, and even at a young age I was always looking for angles, or short cuts to make some money.
Once, while watching for some time a street magician and his acts. I observed a pick pocket working the crowd. He approached a pair of well-dressed ladies in shiny clothes, and standing behind them bided his time and then lifted a small pouch from one velvet purse, and a fat wallet from a silken one, then he moved on. Now both ladies were wearing shiny bracelets, one with jewels. I thought that he could have realized a greater profit if he had nicked one or both of the bracelets first, than try for the contents of their purses. The bracelets’ alone would have realized a far greater profit than what he lifted from their purses. It further occurred to me that by mimicking some of the sleight of hand tricks and misdirection that the magician was using on his audience, it could be accomplished. A hand placed on the right shoulder and as the lady turned right, whisk off the bracelet from her left wrist, and excuse oneself, that sort of thing.
So, I practiced (on my sisters, who proved to be willing accomplices to “my game”) and learned to pick their purses and pockets. I than moved onto their jewelry, starting by lifting bracelets and slipping away rings, before advancing to the brooches, necklaces and earrings they were wearing. After I was satisfied at my skill level, I went out and worked the streets. Sometimes using my one sister who was also hooked on what I was doing as a willing partner.
But I found myself still not being satisfied, in the back of my mind I thought there had to be a more lucrative way to turn a profit.
I’d found my answer when an attractive lady in a rustling satin gown zeroed in on me while I was “visiting” a ballroom. She was jeweled like a princess right up to the diamond band she wore holding up her piles of soft locks like a glimmering crown. The more she drank, the closer she got and I decided that her necklace would definitely help pay my expenses more than the contents of her purse (although I had already lifted the fat wallet from her small purse), and I did have very expensive tastes to pay for. So I took her onto the dance floor.
I was amazed at how easily I had been able to open the necklace’s clasp , slipping it over her satiny shoulder, lifting it off and placing it safely in my pocket with almost no effort. Then she decided to be playful once the song ended and brushed up against me. She felt the necklace in my pocket and before I could act she had her hand in and pulled it out.
The silly naive twit thought I was teasing her and told me that for my penance I had to go up to her suite in order to put it back on for her. I kept up the charade as best as I could.
And that’s where we ended up. A little bit of light fondling began as I placed the necklace back around her throat. I began to tease her, plied her with more and more alcohol as I tried to keep my distance, and virginity. Finally she passed out in a drunken stupor, but not before I had learned where she hid her valuables by suggesting she should lock her jewels up for the night..
With her safely unconscious, I began to strip her clean off all her jewels, reclaiming the necklace first. Then I visited all her jewelry casket and began looting it. I even took her small rhinestone clutch with the diamond clasp; of course I already had liberated its small wallet.
When I’d left her lying happily asleep in bed, still in her satin gown( the only item left to her that shined), I knew I had found a much more profitable line of “work”
So I began making circuits around to the haunts of the very rich, I still kept may hand in pickpocketing, so to speak, but centered only on those “pockets” containing mainly jewelry. I also began to carefully explore new ways of acquiring jewels” in masse”, so to speak.
Soon I had accumulated many tricks and tools, having them at my disposal to put into action once required, and for the remaining years up till the present had managed to live quite comfortably off of the ill-gotten gains using them allowed me to acquire.
Which brings me back to the train ride, my prism, and the rest of my background story before I retun to the present tale. Please be patient.
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So, anyway, I reached Surry without any further incident and disembarking, made my way out to the large country house where I would be staying to take a short rest, vacation if you will. But, pardon the play on words, for there is never any rest for the wicked, is there?
I had become acquainted with a servant of the old mansion ( almost a small castle, really) , that was about a mile off. I managed to learn a great deal, and soon found myself, on the pretense of visiting her, exploring the grounds. There was to be a grand ball taking place a couple of weekends away , and the maid had filled my ears with the riches that would be displayed by the multitude of regal ladies making an appearance. I began to think about trying to make a little bit of profit from my vacation. I am not sure how the idea developed, but the prism that I still had in my possession, came up centrally into my plans.
Late on the evening of the regal affair, I snuck over, covered head to toe in black, with my small satchel off tools by my side. I set up a candle behind an old stone ivy covered wall in a far corner of the rather large and intricate English garden that surrounded the inner circle around the mansion. I than strung the jewel-like prism in front of it. Standing behind the wall, I would strike the prism with a long stick I was holding whenever I observed sparkles emanating from silkily gowned ladies walking in the distance, solitary or in pairs. The prism would flash fire, sort of like a showy lure being used when fishing in a crooked trout stream. Only I was fishing for far sweeter game than trout. My objective was to trick certain types of jeweled ladies (scatterbrains some may call them) by luring them down onto the path beyond the wall, using their natural curiosity to my advantage.
I had at least two strikes rise up to my lure in the second hour.
On was a pretty lady in flowing green satin number, decorated with plenty of emeralds, which, hidden in the shadows, I observed were probably paste. I let her wonder about; as she looked and played with the shiny toy, remaining hidden until she grew bored and wandered off.
The second was a slender maiden wearing a long sleek black gown with long ivory silk gloves. I had never before seen a lady so decked out in jewels, literally head to toe. With the exception of the rhinestones adorning her heels, the rest of the lot was real, so valuably real that I could feel my mouth salivating at the thoughts of acquiring her riches. Now in Edwardian times only older, married ladies would be allowed the privilege of wearing a diamond Tiara. But in these modern times, it had become culturally acceptable for any well-to do lady, single or otherwise, to wear one out in society. Even so, they were still rarely worn, and seldom seen outside the safety of large gatherings. But there it was, a small, delicately slender piece of intricate art that glistened from the top of her head like some elegant beacon. That piece alone was probably worth more than I had made all the last four months combined!
I began to skirt around in the shadows, placing myself in position to cut off her retreat. Her diamonds blazed as she approached, eyeing the swinging prism with total concentration. Which was unfortunate, because as I was about to leave the shadows, she walked into the thorns of a rose bush, screeching out, and attracting the notice of a pair of gentlemen who had just crossed the path quite a ways off, called out when they heard the commotion. She started to become chatty with them, obviously coming on to her rescuers, my prism all but forgotten. Than before I knew it, in a swishing of her long gown, she was gone, “swimming” off before I was able to set me ”hook”.
Which I was able to do on the third strike, almost an hour later, just as I was beginning to ponder wither I should call it off and head back home..
They were a pair of young damsels in their young twenties. They may have been sisters, or cousins at the least. I still remember how my heart leapt into my throat as they observed my colourful prism and turned down the old flagstone path. I had not seen anyone out and about for some time, so I knew they would be no would be rescuers around to come to their aid
And, best of all, they were both dressed for the kill!
One, the blonde, was clad in a black velvet number that one could cannily describe as quite form fitting. As were the small ropes of pearls that hung from all points of interest, pretty with a matching pricelessness.
But her cousin, as I will refer to her, out shone black velvet quite literally.
This one, a stunning raven haired beauty, wore a long streaming gown of liquid ivory satin. A diamond brooch sparkled as it held up a fold of the gown to her waist. The fold allowed her to show a rather daring amount of a slender bare calf. The brooch was not paste, but a real jewel that had been added for the nights festivities ( To be successful, one learns to read these signs accurately) Her ears and neckline were home to a matching set of pure white diamonds. A wide diamond bracelet graced a bare right wrist ,so she must be left handed I instinctively thought, an observation that would have aided me if I were planning on having a go for slipping the bracelet from her wrist, but tonight I was planning a much more daring attempt to empty the entire jewel casket, so to speak.
They went to the prism, playing with it a bit, I had begun to circle around, when I noticed black velvet pointing out with multiple ringed fingers, to something further down the path past the wall.
With a clicking of heels I let the pair pass, they apparently wanted to see what was on the other side of the wall. I followed; it was not hard, because the necklace the raven haired one wore, diamonds fully encircling her throat, rippled and sparkled from their perch, caught in the full harvest moon’s cast, giving me more than enough light to shadow them quietly .
After a while they caught on that something/someone was following them, but as they turned they could see nothing. I was in black, and hooded, invisible to them in the shadows of the trees. They whispered amongst themselves, now worried, realizing that there were dangers lurking beyond the pale, in their case, the safety of the gardens , especially for ones decked out as they were. They then turned and headed right back from where they had come, right into my waiting arms.
It is interesting what good breeding does for young, poised ladies. For, as I stepped out of the shadows, a finger of my right hand to my lips, my Fairborn in my left hand, its black blade glinting wickedly in the moonlight , they did not scream out or shout for help. Instead the pair merely let out small gasps, and then they both, in a quite charming synchronized display of disbelief, place each one hand over their open mouths, and the other upon their perspective necklaces.
And as I flourished my wicked looking Fairbairn–Sykes blade in their direction, they unquestioningly reached around and undid those pretty necklaces, tremblingly handing them out to me, like actresses following a well-read script. I took the little pretties and after stuffing them into my satchel, held out again my free hand, my fingers beckoning. Not a word was spoken between us, as the frightened pair of young ladies began removing their shimmering jewels and added them in a neat little growing pile along my open palm. The raven haired girl even undid her brooch without me having to command her to do so. Once I had stashed it all away, I motioned for them to turn back around, than with a little helpful prodding on my part, they began moving forward back down the hill, away from the garden. The one in white hobbling a little now as she kept tripping over the hem of her dress, now no longer held up by the stolen brooch.
After we had traveled about 200 meters I had them stop, and take off their high heels. Then picking the pretty things up, I motioned them to turn back around and made them walk back the way we had come in their bare feet, watching the pair awkwardly hobble barefooted down the wooded path. They would be quite a while on their journey back, allowing me more than ample time to make me escape. I threw their shoes off to the side and went briskly the other way, reaching the place was staying at , gaining my room without notice. But not before I had hidden the jewels inside an old stump to retrieve them at a later date. I never really heard so much as a whisper of the incident, other than from the pretty lips of my friendly maiden. The wee hours of the morning before my early departure for the train station found me revisiting the stump and retrieving my satchel and its precious cargo. After hiding it all in a false bottom of my case I laid my head on the pillow and drifted off to sleep as I wondered what had happened to the little prism, marveling at how useful it had ended up proving to be.
So, how does this story (journey rather) relate to the one I had already started? Please read on, and enrich your curiosity… my dear readers.
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Act 2
So, with apologies for my lengthy elucidation, but I now return you back to the garden party I was now attending on that warm fall day. But, as you will see, my prism story needed to be told in order to add a bit of flavor to what was about to unfold.
As I sat on the garden bench I formulated my plans. I should be able to acquire the main piece tonight at the Ball, I would have time this afternoon to retrieve my ever handy satchel and its array of tools and have it hidden at the spot I had already selected. It was perfect, located at the end of the path I had found, or rather the charming lady in the smart chiffon dress had found for me. A gas lamp would provide adequate light for my “lure”, and it led to a back wood where I could lead any victims away and liberate them of their valuables before making my escape. I rose, just enough time to walk my escape route, before setting up and then be dressed for the evening’s festivities. I looked around, I was alone now, my lady in white had disappeared, following her own course, whatever it may have been.
The Autumn Ball that evening was in full swing by the time I arrived. Being a cool fall day, most of the women were wearing long gowns and dresses, and that, for whatever the reason, usually meant they were decked out with more layers of jewelry than say , if it had been the middle of summer. In order to put my plan in action I need and intrinsic piece of the trap, a prism. The one I had once had was long ago lost, a minor pawn in a game to take a pair of princesses.
I knew exactly the type of prism required for my plan, and so began mingling amongst the guests with that in mind.
I started out by walking through to the chamber like ballroom where a full orchestra was starting to play. The first person I saw from the garden party was the little tramp who had been wearing the too tight satin tea dress. That dress had been replaced with a long silky gown, her gold jewelry replaced with emeralds; including a thin bracelet that had taken the place of the gold one that she had so obligingly dangled in my larcenous path. I decided to avoid her In principle, and in doing so spied someone quite interesting.
That someone was a pretty lady in a long velvet gown standing off to one side, idly watching the many dancers out on the floor. The dancing couples were forming an imagery of a rainbow coloured sea of slinky swirling gowns and with erupting fireworks of sparkling jewels, ignited by pair of immensely large chandeliers that hung over the dance floor, setting them off. I made my way, skirting the dance floor to reach her, my eyes on her jewels, which were making pretty fireworks of their own. I happened to walk up just as a waiter with a tray of drinks was passing by. Plucking off a drink I offered it to the lady with one hand, my other hand placed on her back as If to steady myself. She laughed prettily, and taking the drink I met her eyes, as she was focused on reaching and holding the glass in her slippery gloved hand, mine was on the ruby and diamond necklace. My hand behind her had flicked open the simple hook and eye clasp of the antique piece and was in the process of lifting it up and whisking it away from her throat. As I said a few words to her, I pocketed it, while also taking in the rest of her lovely figure and its shiny decorations, before biding adieu. She smiled, her pale bare neckline now quite glaringly extinguished of its fire.
It was about an hour later, after spotting, but unable to make inroads with several likely candidates, that I finally struck gold (figuratively). It came in the form of a young couple arguing between themselves in a far corner of the chamber. She was lecturing a rather handsome man in a tux, her jeweled fingers flying in his face. If she hadn’t been moving about in such an animated fashion as she lectured, I may not have even noticed her. But as it happened I did, especially noticeable was the sanctimonious lady’s wide jeweled bracelet that was bursting out in a rainbow of colorful flickers as her hand was emphatically waving, as her long gown of silk swished around with every movement she made. Perfect. I watched for a bit, and sure enough they moved off, the man heading for the patio leading outside, the wealthy girl following him, still giving him lashes with her tongue. I moved and managed to have her bump into me simply by stepping on the hemline of her long gown. For a few seconds I was the one on the receiving end of her wrath, but I took it like a man, I could see in the eyes of her tongue lashed husband, that he was grateful for the respite. I was also grateful; grateful for the quite wide, very shimmering, bracelet that I had removed from her wrist and now was residing in my pocket.
I began to leave the patio, but was stopped by a matronly lady in ruffles, laces and pearls, her breath heavy with alcohol. She started to question me on what the couple had been on about. Then without waiting for an answer she launched herself into a tirade of her own, her gem encrusted, silken gloved fingers, waving in my face for emphasis. It was almost ten minutes before I was able to make my escape. Which I did, but not before slipping off one of the lecturing ladies vulgarly large cocktail rings.
I headed onto the patio; the time was getting ripe for my plan, which I was now ready to put into motion, now having acquired its most essential piece. I went to the end of the large patio, weaving in and out of the by now well liquored guests whom had assembled there. Across the way I saw a lady tripping over her own gown. By the time I reached her she had fallen down, giggling merrily. Two of us rushed to her aid, she was busy gushed her thanks to the rescuer she knew, while ignoring the one she didn’t! Which was unfortunate on her part, for by ignoring me, she also was ignorant of the fact that I was busy lifting the small stands of black pearls from her wrist. I left unnoticed, much like a shadow fading out of the light, or at least that’s how it seemed. Finally I reached the patios outer edge without further incident, or gain. I went on the grass and turned a corner with the intention of going, post haste around the house to reach the gardens by the long way, hoping not to be seen by anyone. But I no sooner turned the corner, when I realized that it was not to be the case.
It was my blithe spirit in white chiffon from the garden party, pardon me, soiree. She was unescorted, looking up at the moon above a stone turret with one lit window, so intently that my presence had not been noticed. I had been absolutely correct in my observation of her as far as what she would be wearing for the evening. For what she had lacked in ornaments at the soiree, she had more than made up for in the evening festivities. She was absolutely gorgeous, resplendent in as beautiful a silvery satin gown that I had ever witness. It was just pouring down, shimmering along her delightful figure. Her long blazing red hair was still curling down and free, but now a pair of long chandelier earrings cascading down from her earlobes, were peeking out every now and then as they swayed with her every movement. Her blazingly rippling necklace was all diamonds, dripping down the front of her tightly satin covered bosom, twinkling iridescently like an intensively glimmering waterfall. Her slender gloved wrists were home to a pair of dangling diamond bracelets that were almost outshone by her many glistening rings. All in all she was quite a lure all too herself
I came up to her, starling her from her reverie. Taking up her hand, I looked into her startled, suddenly blushing face. I complimented her on the fine gown she wore. She thanked me, and I could see I that she suddenly remembered she me as the chap who she thought smiled to her in the garden. She seemed to accept my compliment quite readily. I chanced it( although Lord knows I was short on time) and asked her to a dance. I did not think she would agree, so it was with a little bit of surprise, hoping she would politely decline and walk off, leaving me free to go about my business unobserved. But she accepted, and I will admit that my heart leapt as she agreed (although in the back of my mind I knew I should be off if my plan was to work). The music had stopped so we made small talk as we slowly walked back to the ballroom. Her name was Katrina. It seems she was waiting for someone, which suited my plans, but he was late and so she had time. Which may have sounded dismissive, but from the apologetic way she said it, it was anything but the sort.
The orchestra started to tune back up as we entered, and taking her offered hand up, was soon lost in the elegance of my appealing partner. It was a long dance, and a formal one, but I could tell she was subtly anxious to be off on her meeting, as I was to be off to my own adventure. But Katrina did not really allow it to show, which was very uncharacteristic of her someone with her obvious breeding. So I was ready when the by the end of the music she begged her condolences and took flight. I watched her as she fluidly moved away, her jewels sparkling, all of them. On her mission to meet Mr. X I thought, for whom I was already harboring a quite jealous dislike. I should be off I thought to meself.
But I stood, still as stone; totally mesmerized by the way Katrina’s swirling silvery satin gown was playing out along her petite, jewel sparkling figure. It wasn’t till the last of her gown swished around a corner out of sight that I moved, but not without having to shake my head to clear the thoughts of her out of it. Well old son, focus. For by now the guests were starting to wander a bit afield in the waning hours of the Autumn Ball, and my small window of opportunity was closing fast. If my little plan was going to have any chance of success it would have to be now.
I walked out and made my way to one of the outside exist of the garden wall. Reaching into my pocket as I did so, fingering the bracelet, now cold, that had belonged to the quarrelsome lady,and soon would be playing another role, far from one its former mistress would ever have dreamed off. I also felt my new acquisition, still warm from my dance partner’s body. I will admit that I had felt a twinge of regret for taking it from a lady I had found to be most charmingly captivating. But slipping off the diamonds up and away from her throat had been as temptingly easy as it had been automatic. I had advantageously made use of the sleekness of her scintillatingly silky gown, and with the distractions created by the movements of the dance, successfully managed to keep Katrina’s attention safely diverted from the reality of why my fingers were ever so gently, caressingly sliding along her slippery gowns neckline. The truth was I had originally placed my hand there because it had felt so right, and I was a little startled when my fingers had subconsciously started playing with her necklaces clasp. Before I knew it, they had flicked open the gemstone clasp of her obviously expensive diamond necklace, and had lifted up. As I watched out of the corner of my eye, almost like I was a spectator, as opposed to being the perpetrator, I saw the chain move up and over her shoulder; its diamonds sparkling with is as the necklace disappeared from view behind her back.
It was a favored technique that I had perfected to the point that by this stage of my career I nearly always acquired my objective. But, as odd as it sounds, I was not happy with myself on this occasion.
But I did not long dwell on my mixed feelings on taking the charming lass’s diamonds, for by now I had reached my place of ambush. It was in one of the farthest reaches of the garden, at a bend on the end of a long path that, with a gas lamp at its beginning just off the patio, would allow me to see from some distance off. Behind me was a break in the hedge wide enough for a person to walk through comfortably. It was here, off a tree limb, underneath a second ornate cast iron gas lamp, which was now lit, that I hung the shimmering bracelet that I had sought out and acquired for just that reason
I walked around and saw that it could be seen flickered off in the distance from the woods, Perfect! Earlier I had hidden my satchel with a hood and knife and bit of rope in the hollow of an old tree. I now retrieved them, and after getting ready, found my position and waited. At 10 minutes past the first hour of my wait, with nary a single glimpse of anyone, I started to fidget. My corner may be just a bit too desolated I was beginning to admit to myself. It seemed that most of the guests were staying by the patio. I was starting to think that I should pack it in, possibly rejoining the guests for one last parting( of someone from her Jewelry). I was just reaching down to pick up my satchel when I suddenly saw something flash under the gas lamp at the beginning of the path, and my senses immediately perked up. I watched as the wisps of rich shimmery satin moved closer, I stiffened, drooling with anticipation, the game was afoot.
I could see clearly the flickering jewels she wore, and by their blazing sparkles of rippling fire, I knew that my long vigil would not have been in vain. As the lady drew I recognized her gown of silvery satin! I knew who was making those tantalizing flashes of appealing treasures. Katrina!
I watched as she approached, in all her glittering elegance. My heart and conscious was in turmoil, but I knew I probably would not get a second chance. I could not let her get away unscathed. Beside, from the shock of being confronted with a masked scoundrel wielding a wicked blade, she would be in no shape to recognize her assailant. She stopped, apprehensively looking back towards the bright lights of the Manor, Then turning back I saw she had a self-satisfied smile creeping upon her face. She reached up, and undoing her hair, shook it down, curls of softness cascading down, hanging loosely down. It was as she performed this provocative act, that I saw her eyes open wide in curiosity; she had spied my pretty little “prism”. The charming fish was hooked.
I waited, watching her approaching ever closer to fate, and from my concealment, I basked in her glow. My heart beating fast, my adrenaline pumping, for the remaining jewels (I thought of her necklace in my custody) that she possessed I already had witnessed were quite valuable. She passed my hiding spot and went to the hanging, shimmering object. As she reached up, looking around, she failed to see me approaching in the shadows. I came up from behind, jabbing a finger in her back as I reached her, I gruffly in no uncertain terms, snarled for her to freeze and make no sound. She stiffened under my touch, but made no move or outcry. I went around; pointing my knife in her direction, looking into her sad doe wide eyes as she realized what was going to happen next. She was trembling; from fear I guessed, and knew I had her right where I wanted. As I made my demands upon her, gimme them jewels sister, she, not surprisingly, was very compliant in giving them up to me. She reached for her necklace last, and looked entirely shocked to find her throat bare, as she searched the neckline of her gown I saw her look into my hand, now dripping with her precious jewelry, almost as if to see if she had not already removed it. She looked apologetically into my eyes, startled; almost pleading that she didn’t know what had happened to it. I just played dump. She than spoke for the first time, sir, may I ask to keep my purse? Her words would have instantly melted even the coldest chunk of ice, I looked down at the little silvery clutch hanging from her arm on its rhinestone chain, I nodded, indicating that she could, and saw relief wash over her face. I told her she now needed to turn around and walk off into the woods ahead of me. She hesitated, and I told her no harm would befall her, I had no intentions along those lines.
About 5 meters in I stopped her, and had her remove her shoes, as she bent over to undo the high heels rhinestone clasps I watched her gown tightly outlining her figure. She tripped on the hem of her gown, and as she attempted to keep her balance, accidently let her purse slip off her shoulder. Without thinking I reached down to pick it up for her as she tried reached for it simultaneously
The small purse was far heavier than it should have been. Curious I opened it, finding that it contained a rather extensive array of mismatched jewelry, glittering in unbelievably expensive fire . I looked into Katrina’s horror struck eyes dumb founded, as she looked guiltily into mine. The gig was up. The jewels belonged to the lady of the manor, my muse in silver was a thief, a female version of me very self.
Aye, what’s this than luv? I questioned her as she looked into my eyes, hers large with a mixture of fright and disbelief. She melted before me, fainting, I caught her in my arms, and it was no ruse. I held her as she came to, holding her warm, silky figure lovingly to mine. I did not know what to think. Nor could I ever explain what possessed me to do what I did next. As she came to, her eyes opened, and I removed my mask, looking back into them deeply.
Oh, she gasped, I’m glad it was you, startled that she had said the words out loud. She than started to coyly blushes, quite demurely. Something sparked in me, and unless she was an incredibly good actress, it did also for Katrina. Our eyes both looked into the others, melting away in the lust of the moment. We embraced, deeply, and I held her squirming warm slick figure tight in my enveloping arms. I looked over her shoulder, eyeing the glistening bracelet hanging from its branch. To catch a thief, the thought suddenly opened in my mind, what a great title for a novel I thought to myself, as I buried my nose into Katrina’s luxuriously soft hair.
We talked for a bit, walking off into the woods, then she looked into my eyes again, a coy, look that melted me on the spot, and that was the end of it, we embraced again, and wholly gave ourselves to one another. What about your man I asked suddenly remembering, my man she questioned , than oh, you mean the Lord, I was waiting for him to come down from smoking in his tower study, that’s where the lady’s jewels are kept. She broke into an Irish brogue as she said the last bit, and that I guessed was her natural tongue. she laid a hand on the side of my face, thanks for being jealous though, me lad.
I should collect my lure I said, which made her smile; it was such an enticing smile at that. We started to head back and watched as it dangled in front of us flickering. With a far off look in her green eyes, Katrina spoke as if in deep though.
The daughter of the house, she has a bracelet on like the one you have dangling, a bracelet of diamonds that I had taken a fancy to, wishing it had been in the safe along with the rest of the ladies of manors jewelry. I knew who she was talking about. The one in green taffeta I asked? Aye lad, that’s the one. Actually her necklace would be just as easy, and worth more I said. Just then her bright green eyes gleamed, Give me about a half an hour, she told me, we will put your little lure to use again. She noticed my hesitation, don’t worry luv she said soothingly placing a gloved hand to my cheek, no longer was it sparkly with its stolen bracelet and rings. I’ll leave my purse with you, can’t very well be carrying it around now can I? I nodded my consent, my mind burning with the thoughts she had alluringly placed there.
She turned, and then hesitated; turning back she said I probably should not go back in naked luv. I smiled, reaching in I pulled out her necklace and placed it around her throat. With a little gasp she blurted, so it was you, I was wondering who and when it had happened. It’s not the first time I’ve had me jewels lifted, but it’s a bloody annoyance to have to let them get away with it, crawls under my skin to have pretend not to notice so that I don’t draw any attention to me self before making my move to steal the posh ones jewels.
But you, mister, I never felt as much as a prickling. I was ready to assume my pretties had been a victim of a broken clasp this time. I gave a little nod in acceptance. That wasn’t exactly a compliment lad, she said in what I hopped was a subtle jest. Just last summer some clumsy bugger slipped of me earrings, my favorite pearls, as we were danc… she stopped, seeing the guilt in my eyes. Men! As thieves you are all of the same skin she spat out angrily, or attempted to sound angry, for the look in her eyes to me she wasn’t. I best be off, before I change me mind about out little endeavor.
With that she swirled around on her heels, and started off, but not before turning and giving me an extremely coy look of interest. As she swirled back around I heard her say loud enough for my ears, I’ll learn me self to be a picker of pockets, see how males like to be taken advantage of in their vulnerabilities! She nodded to herself as she said it. Then suddenly she stopped, than twirled on her heels, her gown swirling enticingly along her figure. Looking me dead in the eye she said, “Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie” !
What does that mean? I questioned in a low voice, perplexed.
Maybe, Mon Cheri, someday I will tell you… And with that she turned on her heel, her gown once again swirling about, and went, determinedly, swishing her way back up the path. I just watched. I had never heard anyone speak French with an Irish Brogue and I had found it to be rather provocative!
I watched as she swished and swayed her way back through the hedge and regained the path leading back to the manor. Her plan was simple; she would lead the daughter of the house to my corner and as she had done, go out with her to look at the swinging charm. I would then make my appearance, rob both ladies of their finery, and telling the daughter to wait until I released her friend, walk off with Katrina as a hostage, and we would both take off and make good our escape. A simple plan, so simple it should actually work.
So, there I was. Holding a purse with a small fortune in jewels, my pocket full of more jewels worth an additional pretty farthing, and her charms were wearing off by her leaving. And my thieving nature coming back, reawakened from the spell they had been under!
The devil of my conscious crept out on my shoulder, the angel markedly absent from the other.
Look mate, she may not be all she seems, and possibly has some other game in mind. Maybe she does have a male confidante helping her out… and was actually on her way to fetch him. He said in my inner ear. And, after all, you took her diamonds twice, didn’t ye now? Do you really think shell forgive you of that me lad?
And there is no honor amongst thieves, as the saying goes, he added as a closing argument...
I rolled it over in my mind…I could leave, absconding with it all, book a cruise to the states or down under where there lay untried fertile grounds to ply my trade. Not to mention working over my fellow passengers aboard the cruise ship while they attended the fancy affairs that were always going on, or so the brochures always seemed to show……
Then In the distance I caught a wisp of Katrina’s long silvery gown. She was coming, and not only with the daughter of the manor, but also with a spare. For I could see a purple coloured gown swishing alongside with the prey in rustling green taffeta.. I watched as all three ladies, resplendent with the rippling fiery gems they all possessed, came up the path, gowns sweeping out , shimmery from the now misty distance.
The thought of making my escape with all the loot continued to haunt me, there was still time now to take off without notice, or I could rob all three, and leave with purple silk as my hostage, Katrina would not be able to say anything on chance of giving up her part of the game, or I could just be a good lad and sty with the script that Katrina had written. Take a chance, roll the dice and believe that she was all she had me believing she could ever be.
As they came closer I knew my time was running out. The thoughts of just looking out for myself kept coming up playing the devil with my conscience as the precious seconds ticked away…
No honor amongst thieves…
What will it be, old boy I challenged myself,
What will you have it be?........
To see what his decision ultimately was, and the eventual path it led to, see the album question answered)
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Life is not about waiting out the storm, but about learning to dance in the rain.
Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie .
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