View allAll Photos Tagged given
©All photographs on this site are copyright: DESPITE STRAIGHT LINES (Paul Williams) 2011 – 2019 & 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) ©
.
.
I would like to say a huge and heartfelt 'THANK YOU' to GETTY IMAGES, and the 34.662+ Million visitors to my FLICKR site.
***** Selected for sale in the GETTY IMAGES COLLECTION on December 16th 2018
CREATIVE RF gty.im/1081870902 MOMENT OPEN COLLECTION**
This photograph became my 3,972nd frame to be selected for sale in the Getty Images collection and I am very grateful to them for this wonderful opportunity.
.
.
This Thirty seconds long exposure was taken at an altitude of Five metres, in the golden hour around sunrise at 07:02am on Wednesday 25th 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.
The Bevan Avenue fishing pier is one of the main focal points in Sidney, and Work commenced on the pier in 1993 with Phase one, a 90 metre straight section being completed in 1996. A year later the 110 metre Phase two section was completed.
.
.
Nikon D850. Focal length 70mm Shutter speed: 1/2s 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-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR. Lee SW150 MKII filter holder. Lee 100 77mm 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.
.
.
LATITUDE: N 48d 38m 56.94s
LONGITUDE: W 123d 23m 35.21s
ALTITUDE: 5.0m
RAW (TIFF) FILE: 130.00MB NEF: 89.8MB
PROCESSED (JPeg) FILE: 31.60MB
.
.
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.
Any given Sunday Paseo de la reforma Mexico City
If you like this shot please go see my ALBUM "Any given Sunday in Mexico City"
Stagecoach in the Fens was the trading name given to the Cavalier operations when they were taken over. Several reorganisations followed the takeover, initially this involved the route network, as several routes into the fens were joined up to provide through routes. Later reviews featured the replacement of some of the acquired vehicles with others from other Stagecoach depots. It soon became clear that Stagecoach had bought Cavalier for the Guided Busway and Huntingdon area operations, as Long Sutton was first downgraded to an outstation, and then closed completely.
During the latter part of their independent existence, Cavalier had taken delivery of quite a few vehicles that were leased, and not owned. Generally Stagecoach returned these vehicles at the end of the lease, or negociated an early return. These vehicles generally were not repainted into Stagecoach livery,although a few were. This Volvo was the first vehicle repainted.
Church of St Peter, Fremington Devon
Fremington, which had been Earl Harold's, was one of 5 manors given by the Conqueror after 1066 to Geoffrey bishop of Constance his lieutenant-general at the battle of Hastings . It later belonged to the Traceys, barons of Barnstaple who gave the great tithes to the prior and convent of Hartland, It descended through the baronial family of Martyn to the Lords Audley and having devolved to the Crown by virtue of an entail, in default of male heirs, it was granted by Richard II to John Holland, Earl of Huntingdon. In 1487 Margaret Countess of Richmond mother of Henry Vll had a grant of it for life. In the year 1556, it was purchased of Barnard Hampton, by Hugh Sloly and after the death of John Sloly in 1666, www.flickr.com/gp/52219527@N00/RZfw617Qz9 it became the property of Richard Hawkins who married the heiress of that family. About 1682, it was purchased by Richard Acland whose grand-daughter brought it to William Barbor ancestor of George Acland Barbor of Fremington House www.flickr.com/gp/52219527@N00/Z4hE148750
There has been a church on the site since at least 1268 when the first chaplain, Roger, was appointed, and there is substantial evidence of Norman construction following the Conquest . Built of roughly coursed stone rubble with ashlar dressings, the porch and the bell tower are the oldest parts of the church with their remains of Norman arches dating to the 12c and 13c. Recessed into the outside wall to the right of the church door is a holy water stoup which is pre-Reformation. There is a fragment of a medieval wall painting on the south wall which shows two angels and two towers of the Holy City.
The square tower may originally have had a lead-covered spire, removed for unknown reasons. It contains a peal of 6 bells with 2 medieval bells no longer in use and stored in the bell chamber.
Between the 13c and 15c the church was enlarged and embellished so that it now comprised two aisles with two parallel roofs, one smaller than the other and decorated with Perpendicular-style pillars and arches.
The present building consists of a 15c nave, chancel, south aisle, porch and transeptal 13c north tower.
In 1813 the church was enlarged and repaired at the expense of the vicar and inhabitants; At this time the ancient pillars and a "rich and elegant" Gothic rood screen being in a state of decay were removed and replaced by far less elegant columns . Also in consequence of the new paving, some inscribed gravestones "are not now to be seen". . At this time a singing gallery was added at the back of the church in order to accommodate a string band while the window frames with their fine tracery were also removed.
Later in 1866 the architect Sir Gilbert Scott who was working nearby in Barnstaple was secured here from 1866 - 7 Scott reversed the earlier "improvements" with the singing gallery being removed and 8 new columns being reintroduced decorated with vines, fruit and faces (some grotesque) connected along the length of the church with Gothic-style arches. New arched stone window frames were inserted and some of the old tracery having been found was placed back in its original position. The wine-glass stone pulpit was unearthed buried in a mutilated condition beneath the church floor and was heavily restored back in its rightful place. The old font was replaced with new one
During his restoration of the church Sir George Gilbert Scott also designed the lychgate which presumably replaced an earlier structure;
The church organ with its hand-cranked pianola roll was originally in a private home but was donated to the church where it was installed in 1907. It has a range of 56 notes and was rebuilt in 2002.
Roger A Smith CCL www.geograph.org.uk/photo/6403243
©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)
.
.
Photograph taken at an altitude of Sixty two metres at 13:17pm on a cold and rainy afternoon on Wednesday 19th May 2021, of an off Hythe Avenue and Chessington Avenue in Bexleyheath, Kent.
Here we see a large adult Carrion crow (Corvus corone) , a passerine bird of the family Corvidae and the genus Raven (Higher classification: Corvus), which is native to western Europe and eastern Asia. It can grow to twenty inches in length with a wingspan of up to thirty nine inches. This one keeps the magpie's and Jackdaw's in their place, as top of the food chain, afraid of nothing.They can reach a length of 47cm with a 104cm wingspan and a weight of up to 650g, and in the UK they are in the Green conservation list status with over one million breeding territories.
Regarded as one of the most intelligent birds, indeed creatures on the planet, studies suggest that Corvids cognitive abilities can rival that of primates such as chimpanzees and gorillas and even provide clues to understanding human intelligence. A corvid's pallium is packed with more neurons than a great ape's. Corvids have demonstrated the ability to use a combination of mental tools such as imagination, and anticipation of future events. They can craft tools from twigs and branches to hook grubs from deep recesses, they can solve puzzles and intricate methods of gaining access to food set by humans., and have even bent pieces of wire into hooks to obtain food. They have been proven to have a higher cognitive ability level than seven year old humans.
Pet crows develop a unique call for their owners, in effect actually naming them. They also know to sunbathe for a dose of vitamin D. In groups they warn of danger and communicate vocally. They store a cache of food for later if in abundance and are clever enough to move it if they feel it has been discovered. They leave markers for their cache. They have even learned to place walnuts under car tyres at traffic lights as a means of cracking them!
Crows regularly gather around a dead fellow corvid, almost like a funeral, and it is thought they somehow learn from each death.
They can even remember human faces for decades. Crows group together to attack larger predators and even steal their food, and they have different dialects in different areas, with the ability to mimic the dialect of the alpha males when they enter their territory!
They have a twenty year life span, the oldest on record reaching the age of Fifty nine. Crows can leave gifts for those who feed them such as buttons or bright shiny objects as a thank you, and they even kiss and make up after an argument, having mated for life.
In mythology they are associated with good and bad luck, being the bringers of omens and even witchcraft and are generally reviled for their attacks on baby birds and small mammals, which is simply down to the fact that they are so highly intelligent, and also the top of the food chain. I absolutely love them, they are magnificent, bold, beautiful and incredibly interesting to watch and though at times it is hard to witness attacks made by them, I cannot help but adore them for so many other and more important reasons.
.
.
Nikon D850 Focal length 600mm Shutter speed: 1/1250s Electronic front-curtain Aperture f/6.3 iso250 Tripod mounted with Tamron VC Vibration Control set to position 3. Image area FX (36 x 24) NEF RAW L (4128 x 2752). JPeg basic (14 bit uncompressed) AF-C Priority Selection: Release. Nikon Back button focusing enabled. AF-S Priority selection: Focus. 3D Tracking watch area: Normal 55 Tracking points Exposure mode: Manual exposure mode Metering mode: Matrix metering White balance on: Auto1 (5160k) Colour space: RGB Picture control: Neutral (Sharpening +2)
Tamron SP 150-600mm F/5-6.3 Di VC USD G2. Nikon GP-1 GPS module. Lee SW150 MKII filter holder. Lee SW150 95mm screw in adapter ring. Lee SW150 circular polariser glass filter.Lee SW150 Filters field pouch. Hoodman HEYENRG round eyepiece oversized eyecup.Manfrotto MT057C3-G Carbon fiber Geared tripod 3 sections. Neewer Carbon Fiber Gimble tripod head 10088736 with Arca Swiss standard quick release plate. Neewer 9996 Arca Swiss release plate P860 x2.Jessops Tripod bag. Mcoplus professional MB-D850 multi function battery grip 6960.Two Nikon EN-EL15a batteries (Priority to battery in Battery grip). Black Rapid Curve Breathe strap. My Memory 128GB Class 10 SDXC 80MB/s card. Lowepro Flipside 400 AW camera bag.
.
.
LATITUDE: N 51d 28m 27.99s
LONGITUDE: E 0d 8m 10.43s
ALTITUDE: 54.0m
RAW (TIFF) FILE: 130.00MB NEF FILE: 90.6MB
PROCESSED (JPeg) FILE: 26.70MB
.
.
PROCESSING POWER:
Nikon D850 Firmware versions C 1.10 (9/05/2019) 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.
Traditional Aztec war dance performance
Any given Sunday
Plaza de La Replica, Monumento a la Revolucion
Mexico City
If you Like this photo please visit my album "Street Performers"
www.flickr.com/photos/luajr/albums/72157644701698786/
Or: "Mexico Historia y Tradición"
www.flickr.com/photos/luajr/albums/72157632745111611/
Or: "Any Given Sunday in Mexico City"
www.flickr.com/photos/luajr/albums/72157638501177336/
Or: "Street Shot"
Given to the church at Eyam by Mrs Creswick in memory of her husband. Designed by Alfred Fisher in 1985. Depicting the story of the plague from 1665 to 1666
Given the honour of carrying the flag to open the show, the Royal Australian Navies MH-60 Romeo. This extremely powerful and heavily armed chopper hails from Nowra south of Sydney. Part of a large and growing fleet these beasts do it all. Fly Navy !
• Themed Photo Days: Everyone knows Happy Ass Monday and Topless (Titty) Tuesday. Various themes are given for the rest of the week by several different authorities on the subject, and the Cabal is no exception, though our parameters extend a bit more than most:
- Mondays -- Happy Ass Monday. Everyone knows this one. Take sexy shots of your glorious derriere and put it up so that we can all ogle it properly -- it makes re-entering the work week bare-able for all!
- Tuesdays -- Topless (Titty) Tuesday. Flash those tatas and let everyone get a squeeze... or at least give them a chance to applaud your spectacular rack!
- First Wednesday Of The Month -- Woman Crush Wednesday. Yes, a shameless rip-off of TC Tackleberry's great alternative for Wednesday. Every male photographer loves taking photos of the glorious babes that dance and twitch across our Flickr pages. But there are some amazing, solid female photographers out there too, and they love getting together to take shots of each other. This is the day to show your mad skillz at erotica, ladies. Gents, don't fear, we've thought of you too -- get a shot of two or more of your favorite models who are besties In World!
- Second Wednesday Of The Month -- Man Crush Wednesday. Same as above, but this time with the mens :)
- Third Wednesday Of The Month -- We are the World Wednesday. This is a cultural day; the chance to show national pride in your country or culture... or to celebrate that of a country or culture you are fond of. From historical days that are nationally significant, to photos of your avatars as American Indians, Arabian Shieks, or Scottish Highlanders, anything that moves and motivates a great shot! Please note, these should be actual countries and cultures as opposed to fictional....save that for Fantasy!
- Fourth Wednesday of the Month -- Wild & Wacky Wednesday. Get wild, or get wacky! Celebrate this day by showing us your wild side, or your humorous side.
- First Thursday Of The Month -- Themed Thursday: Fantasy. Fairies, elves, folklore....legends and myths. From Tolkien to Beowukf and beyond, whether it is Epic Fantasy showing your version of a Boris Vallejo re-creation, or simply a cute shot of a sexy nymph, let your fantasies shine.
- Second Thursday Of The Month -- Themed Thursday: Paranormal. This is the night for vampires, demons and werewolves. Classic Gothic Horror, or Paranormal Romance. Bring out your darker fantasies and get your favorite Monster on.
- Third Thursday Of The Month -- Themed Thursday: Sci-Fi. Alot of us enjoy dressing up as aliens, in futuristic clothing, or even as Gynoids or using cybernetic arms, legs and other bodyparts. Whether you wanna show off your latest Star Trek or Star Wars getup, or show your avatar in a Dystopian or post-apocalyptic world. Beam us up an awesome photo!
- Fourth Thursday Of The Month -- Throwback Thursday. Get in the groove, baby, and show us the hip look of the 50's, 60's or 70's....any decade that turns you on. Or, let us see your World War II era fighter plane pilot. Or even wear your best skimpy animal skin and give us the prehistoric jungle tour. It's all about eras and decades.
- First Friday Of The Month -- Family Night Friday. That's right...this is the night for love...family love. Couple shots, Twin sisters (or brothers) or simply those of you who like taking photos of those you consider family In-World... particularly of those who are not photographers or models, yet have such a glorious Avatar you have always felt they should be. Note: this is also a great night to introduce a brand new model to the SL Flickr Community... by introducing them to the Cabal ;)
- Second Friday Of The Month -- Fetish Friday. Leather and Lace. Harnesses and chains. Latex painted skin tight over luscious curves. Whether its a sulty shot in Lingerie, a BDSM fashion statement, or Daddy's Babygirl, let's see you in your fetish best.
- Third Friday Of The Month -- Friday in the Studio. We're all about encouraging networking among the membership; this is the day we'd like to see Photographers and Models getting together. If you usually take your own photos, but are curious what another photographer would make a photoshoot of you like, this is the day to find out. Models, you're always looking for great photographers, and vice versa. The Cabal has among its members the very best of each... mix n mingle and show us something hot and original.
- Fourth Friday Of The Month -- It's Good To Be Bad Friday. Good Girls being Bad. Bad Girls who are Bad Ass....or guys for that matter. Show us your naughty good girl or bad ass sides with great themed photos for this day!
- First Saturday Of The Month -- Sim Saturday. Most of us know the amazing locations Sunny's Studio, Surfer's Bay and others like them. But we all also are constantly on the move, roaming all over Second Life to find that perfect setting, all ready and waiting for a photographer with an inspiration burning in their camera lens. I know that Davina has probably logged more avatar-miles than anyone, as she has roamed SL for years for just this purpose. Take a shot when you find that perfect Irish Bar, or Western Saloon or Ranch...darkest Africa jungle...New York City?! Show us what you have found, in the perfect photo, in that perfect setting... and be sure to include the SL\URL!
- Second Saturday Of The Month -- Movie Night. Give us your favorite scene from any movie -- or TV show, musical, play, Music Band...any form of entertainment. Or, simply dress up as your favorite character or celebrity... from Marilyn Monroe to Jessica Rabbit! Guys, Fred Flintstone or Rob Zombie are totally acceptable!
- Third Saturday Of The Month -- Models & Photographers. Everyone has their style...whether it is a style of photography, or the style a model puts together that is commonly or uniquely THEM. Are you typically a beach bunny surfer girl? Do you like to photograph alot of Black and White or night scenes? Show us what makes you you... and maybe even give a little history or synopsis of the why and how of it.
- Fourth Saturday Of The Month -- Superhero Saturday. Similar in nature to the Themed Thursday photos, but perhaps more Cosplay in nature. Show us your favorite superhero or comic characters. Faster than a speeding bullet or simply really hot looking like Catwoman, Deadpool or Harley Quinn, this is the day for it.
- First Sunday Of The Month -- Funday Sunday. All over Second Life, everyday, things are going on. Relay For Life, Breast Cancer Awareness, Pose Fairs, Club dancing... something is always happening somewhere. Did you go and have a blast, and got a great photo of it? Let the rest know with a photo this Sunday, so we can go have a blast too! Please include dates and times and locations :)
- Second Sunday Of The Month -- Showcase Sunday. We have made the claim that we value our Ministers and other venture owners> On this day, we ask that you give us some photos that highlight what you love to do, whether it is your sim, nightclub, store or anything you choose. This is the day for Ads, too!
- Third Sunday Of The Month -- Banner Sunday. Don't be shy! Nothing wrong with making photos for the express purpose of having it placed as a Group Banner. NOTE: If you are unable to mark photos as "Safe" due to being penalized by Flickr, go ahead and mark it Moderate, and with your assumed permission, I will grab it and re-upload it in my own feed as Safe, thereby making it possible to make it into the group banner. Also, if you wish. Make use of Talena's fine Photo as a good sizing template, available here: www.flickr.com/photos/157147754@N07/47401559342/in/pool-1...
- Fourth Sunday Of The Month -- Sing It Sunday. Do a photo based on a song...title it accordingly and put the lyrics (and if desired, a link).
- Anything Goes! The last few days of the month are always fluid, so do whatcha wanna do!
For the group Me Again Monday with the theme "JOY." My greatest joy in life is to know I am in the centre of God's will, knowing that I am doing what He calls me to do.
I am far from perfect, my life can be messy but my heart's joy is to follow Him and to share His love, grace, mercy and truth with others. It gives me great joy here on Flickr when what I have shared has touched the heart of another, whether it has encouraged them, given them hope or given them a smile. It's not about me but about sharing my life with others, the joys, trials and the ups and downs.
I just heard this song yesterday and it speaks my heart and how I want to live my life here on this earth in the all the days that I've been given.
THE POWER OF YOUR NAME
Surely children weren't made for the streets
And fathers were not made to leave
Surely this isn't how it should be
Let Your Kingdom come
Surely nations were not made for war
Or the broken meant to be ignored
Surely this just can't be what You saw
Let Your Kingdom come
Here in my heart
I will live
To carry Your compassion
To love a world that's broken
To be Your hands and feet
I will give
With the life that I've been given
And go beyond religion
To see the world be changed
By the power of Your name
Surely life wasn't made to regret
And the lost were not made to forget
Surely faith without action is dead
Let Your Kingdom come
Lord break this heart
Your name
Is a shelter for the hurting
Jesus Your name
Is a refuge for the weak
Only Your name
Can redeem the undeserving
Jesus Your name
Holds everything I need
I will live
To carry Your compassion
To love a world that's broken
To be Your hands and feet
I will give
With the life that I've been given
And go beyond religion
To see the world be changed
By the power of Your name
Here's a video of the song if you have time to take a listen.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=AwKpbbnWPgs
~ hmam
St Andrew, Honingham, Norfolk
I had almost given up hope of seeing inside Honingham church, until my friend John told me he'd arranged for it to be open, and would I like to come along? In truth, I was wary about meeting a character I had encountered at the church some ten years previously; not so much for what had happened, but that I had written about it in some detail afterwards. I was a little apprehensive, therefore, to turn up and discover that the man opening the church was the same one I had met all those years before. But it didn't matter, because he didn't remember me, and probably had never read what I had written.
And I found I liked Honingham church rather more than I had expected to. There is a rich atmosphere of the last decade of the 19th Century and the first decade of the 20th, and the Victorian glass is really very good. It can't have much of a congregation, and I decided that it was essentially a churchwarden's hobby church, a fiefdom. He obviously did everything here, kept in in good order looking spick and span and shipshape, and locked it determinedly against anyone who wanted to see inside without attending a service. I imagined that even God would have to wipe his feet and mumble apologetically if he wanted to get inside. All well and good for now, but once the churchwarden has gone it will soon be lost to us.
In 2006, I wrote: This big, locked, Perpendicular building, the nave and chancel rebuilt by the Victorians, is surrounded by a wide graveyard. On the north side there are sparsely scattered headstones, but to the south the church is set within a wide murderous curve of the A47. To describe this church as a landmark on the road is to assume that it would be safe to look up from the wheel to spot it; the stretch of the road between here and Hockering has claimed more deaths than any other since the A47 was taken outside the villages. I'm not suggesting that the church is responsible for this, of course, just that spotting it shouldn't be one of your priorities.
If a Martian came down and landed in the graveyard of St Andrew, Honingham, what on earth he would make of it? Would he think it was an art object? A barn, or storage facility? Or would he search for an industrial purpose? Perhaps the tall pinnacles on the tower might suggest to him that he was at the site of a scientific experiment. If the Martian had any brains, and I assume that he would have if he'd made it this far, he might perceive that the road is a lot newer than the church, and perhaps he would decide that the church was a relic of the past, its function now sidelined, perhaps forgotten altogether. Indeed, he might wonder if the road had been built deliberately to speed humans past this building and the tall stones set around it.
Perhaps this was a dangerous place. Or, maybe, it was simply an embarrassing reminder of past superstitions, a haunted site. An unlucky place, perhaps. The Martian might watch the traffic hurtling past, the drivers deliberately not looking, and think yes, that must be right. Whatever he decided, it would have to be based on a survey of the exterior, because St Andrew is always locked, unless the Sunday club is in session. He wouldn't even be able to look through the windows, because they are filled with frosted quarries.
Eventually, he might find the porch, and think it is some sort of antechamber (not an entrance, of course, for the doors beyond are locked) and for a moment ponder the holy water stoup, now filled with an old birds nest. What on earth would he make, I wonder, of the signboard on the wall that reads in part:
Friend, you have come to this church. Leave it not without a prayer.
No one entering a house ignores him who dwells in it.
This is the house of God, and He is here.
Pray, then, to him who loves you, and bids you welcome, and awaits your greeting.
A lovely sentiment, no doubt; but the Martian would still be left locked out of the house of God - if it is the house of God, of course, for if the locks and chains keep out the stranger and the pilgrim, how on earth can it be that God is in there to bid us welcome?
My friend Peter had been trying to see inside this church for years. We came this way most recently in early March, 2006. The day had started in bright sun, but as we headed here from Marlingford the east wind blew sheets of glacial cloud above us, which turned grey and, as we parked the car, turned to snow. Parking is difficult; there is a layby, but you need to approach from the west to park here. Otherwise, there is a drive which goes up to the east end of thechurch, but this was already occupied by a large BMW estate. We parked in the layby, and sat in the car for a moment, watching the fat flakes thicken.
What to do? We decided that we might just as well get out and go and take a look. Either, by some miracle, the church would be open and offer us shelter, or we could confirm our prejudices about the perpetual locking of St Andrew and be on our way.
The south side of the church has been cleared of headstones, and they have been placed in two perfectly straight lines, about 15 m apart. What would the Martian make of this? Some sort of sports arena, perhaps? Or a place to worship the sun at the solstice?
Our Martian couldn't possibly be expected to know about the great lawnmower enthusiasm of the 1960s and 1970s, when so many graveyards were cleared like this one. But the dead have their revenge, and this wide open space is now scattered with an acne of molehills.
We got into the porch and tried the inner door, which was locked of course; although it did feel as though one great shove with a shoulder would probably open it. And that was when the heavens opened. The snow was so thick in the air we could only just make out the suicidal cars thrashing up the main road to and from the Midlands. Peter is a careful driver, and he didn't much fancy heading on in a blizzard, and there didn't seem much point getting caked in snow just to go back and sit in the car, so we sheltered from the weather in the porch, and read the notices miserably.
I noticed that the presentation to the living had been suspended, which sounds drastic but simply means that the parish can't afford a Rector. The annual accounts were posted, and I noticed that the total income for the year was roughly the same as the weekly income of the church I attend in the middle of Ipswich, so this is a small parish. Eventually, I exhausted the possibilities of the noticeboard, and, feeling that I had probably squeezed the last ounce of pleasure out of the porch, I gazed out at the graveyard. This was when I noticed something rather curious. The back of the BMW estate was open, and beyond the second line of gravestones a smartly dressed man was standing in the snow bashing molehills with a spade.
At first I thought this must be an act of devotion on the part of a parishioner, or simply a Saturday morning habit. And then I wondered if it might be some kind of East Anglian country lore: if in the snow you clear his stack, mister mole will not be back. Perhaps this man had been waiting for it to snow for months.
We watched him for a while, the snow blanketing the sound of his spade into silence, rendering it surreal. But the wind was vicious, and so we stepped back into the porch, and worked out where we wanted to go next. It was while we were pondering over the map that we heard footsteps, and looking up saw that the smartly dressed man had approached us. He looked at us quizzically.
"Just here out of interest?" he asked.
"Well, we'd like to be", I replied, indicating the door. "But the church is locked."
This was such a heavy hint that, once dropped, it hit the floor with a loud clang. Surely, if this man had a key, he'd give it to us, or let us in. But he just smiled sadly and nodded in agreement, as if to say yes, the church was locked, and there was nothing he could do about it. Perhaps he'd been trying to see inside for years as well. Instead, the three of us exchanged a few polite comments about the weather, and he wandered off back to the moles.
The snow gradually thinned, and at last it stopped. We stepped out, examining the sky for signs. An uneasy truce had set in. Just a thin dusting remained on the grass to show that it had ever snowed; the sun was edging to come out, the white rime on the green fading, but there were more sheets of greying clouds huddled off in the distance. It was time to go. We wanted to make a statement of some kind, and so we left the porch gates open, as if to suggest that the the doors were not barred, and that God was in His dwelling house waiting to bid a welcome.
But by the time we got back to the car and headed eastwards past the church, someone had already closed them.
We were to go on a weekend trip to the Lake Macquarie and visit the Rose Festival while we were up there.Unfortunately the car broke down. We ended up getting it towed home and driving up in the modern car.
This photo was given to me several years ago. It shows two US Army medical "Dust Off" Iroquois waiting on standby in South Vietnam during the war. Photo taken around 1970.
Puddleduck is a name given to Mallards, especially domesticated varieties. Beatrix Potter published her Tale of Jemima Puddleduck in 1908 describing the misfortunes of a farmyard duck that wandered in search of a safe place to nest. In America they seem to use the term Puddleduck generically for what we in Britain call dabbling ducks. Both terms describe how the birds feed and dabblers include Mallard, Shoveler, Pintail, Teal and Gadwall. This term differentiates them from "diving ducks" (eg Tufted Duck, Pochard, Goldeneye) that, well, dive for their food. Dabblers do up-end but don't usually dive under the water. Mallards filter food just like the Shoveler I uploaded a few days ago. But Mallards are more generalist feeders and have smaller bills, with fewer, shorter lamellae (filtering elements). You can see the droplets of muddy water falling out of the rear of the bill, having been filtered of nice things to eat (nice if you are a Mallard).
Palazzo del Provveditore, commonly known as the Venetian Palace, was a royal palace in Famagusta, originally built by the Lusignan Kings of Cyprus. It was later modified and used as the governor's official residence during the Venetian rule. The central sections of the palace have been completely destroyed, with only its grand facade and back courtyard walls being left.
Lusignan kings used Famagusta as their second place of residence, in addition to Nicosia. The exact year when the palace was first built remains uncertain, however, most resources have adopted the years 1300-1302, reported by Genoese official Lamberto di Sambuceto, who used the term "palace of the King of Cyprus" (Latin: domini regis Cipri) to refer to the building. The king responsible for its construction is also uncertain. Camille Enlart has proposed Henry II.
The Venetians greatly renovated the palace, along with the city's walls and other public spaces. The front facade and the back of the palace was completely changed. Architecturally, the Gothic features were replaced with Italian Renaissance architecture. This occurred in the 16th century, and the precise dates given by Selton and Hazard are 1552-1554.
Most sources hold that the central sections were destroyed during the Siege of Famagusta in 1571, despite Ottoman descriptions of the palace in 1571 making no mention of any destruction. Structures of the palace were used as military barracks, a prison and a site for military drills during the Ottoman rule, leading to the building losing its importance in the urban fabric. There is no indication of any restoration during this time. During the British rule, the building was used as a prison and police headquarters for some time. In mid-20th century, the remaining structures were evacuated, parts converted into the Namık Kemal Dungeon Museum and the courtyard used for display of military equipment. Some modern cannons, cannonballs and "pieces of a large granite column" are currently displayed in the courtyard.
The palace is a rare example of Renaissance architecture in Cyprus. The surviving parts are the front facade, with its three arches and a coat of arms on the middle arch, an "arm" attached to this to the southeast, a chapel and an L-shaped wall at the very back of the courtyard. The arch at the front was made from material from Salamis: both the columns and the stones originate from there.
Behind the facade are a number of arches that run parallel to it and are very plain in comparison. It has been proposed that these are remnants of the original Lusignan palace. In the "arm" attached are small rooms facing the courtyard that have been used as prisons or arsenals and shops accessible from the street in the ground floor, an Ottoman-era structure used by the Department of Antiquities and some structures built in mid-20th century. Cross vaults and walls thicker than a metre in some of the shops indicate elements that predate the Venetian rule in these structures.
There is evidence that the chapel has been modified over time. The chapel had been used as a museum up to 1974 and had been restored between 1930 and 1950. The L-shaped walls date to the Venetian era. Enlart has proposed that parts of this may have surrounded a great hall.
Not much is known about the destroyed parts of the palace. Work by the Department of Antiquities has shown the presence of cisterns. Engravings and the account of a 15th-century traveler indicate that the palace had two floors, even though the current entrance only has one floor. In an engraving dated to 1571, a balcony was shown in the front of the palace.
Famagusta is a city on the east coast of the de facto state Northern Cyprus. It is located east of Nicosia and possesses the deepest harbour of the island. During the Middle Ages (especially under the maritime republics of Genoa and Venice), Famagusta was the island's most important port city and a gateway to trade with the ports of the Levant, from where the Silk Road merchants carried their goods to Western Europe. The old walled city and parts of the modern city are de facto part of Northern Cyprus as the capital of the Gazimağusa District.
The city was known as Arsinoe or Arsinoë (Greek: Ἀρσινόη, Arsinóē) in antiquity, after Ptolemy II of Egypt's sister and wife Arsinoe II.
By the 3rd century, the city appears as Ammochostos (Greek: Ἀμμόχωστος or Αμμόχωστος, Ammókhōstos, "Hidden in Sand") in the Stadiasmus Maris Magni.[5] This name is still used in modern Greek with the pronunciation [aˈmːoxostos], while it developed into Latin Fama Augusta, French Famagouste, Italian Famagosta, and English Famagusta during the medieval period. Its informal modern Turkish name Mağusa (Turkish pronunciation: [maˈusa]) came from the same source. Since 1974, it has formally been known to Turkey and Northern Cyprus as Gazimağusa ([ɡaːzimaˈusa]), from the addition of the title gazi, meaning "veteran" or "one who has faught in a holy war".
In the early medieval period, the city was also known as New Justiniana (Greek: Νέα Ἰουστινιανία, Néa Ioustinianía) in appreciation for the patronage of the Byzantine emperor Justinian, whose wife Theodora was born there.
The old town of Famagusta has also been nicknamed "the City of 365 Churches" from the legend that, at its peak, it boasted a church for every day of the year.
The city was founded around 274 BC, after the serious damage to Salamis by an earthquake, by Ptolemy II Philadelphus and named "Arsinoe" after his sister.[6] Arsinoe was described as a "fishing town" by Strabo in his Geographica in the first century BC. In essence, Famagusta was the successor of the most famous and most important ancient city of Cyprus, Salamis. According to Greek mythology, Salamis was founded after the end of the Trojan War by Teucros, the son of Telamon and brother of Aedes, from the Greek island of Salamis.
The city experienced great prosperity much later, during the time of the Byzantine emperor Justinian. To honor the city, from which his wife Theodora came, Justinian enriched it with many buildings, while the inhabitants named it New Justiniania to express their gratitude. In AD 647, when the neighboring cities were destroyed by Arab raiding, the inhabitants of these cities moved to Famagusta, as a result of which the city's population increased significantly and the city experienced another boom.
Later, when Jerusalem was occupied by the Arabs, the Christian population fled to Famagusta, as a result of which the city became an important Christian center, but also one of the most important commercial centers in the eastern Mediterranean.
The turning point for Famagusta was 1192 with the onset of Lusignan rule. It was during this period that Famagusta developed as a fully-fledged town. It increased in importance to the Eastern Mediterranean due to its natural harbour and the walls that protected its inner town. Its population began to increase. This development accelerated in the 13th century as the town became a centre of commerce for both the East and West. An influx of Christian refugees fleeing the downfall of Acre (1291) in Palestine transformed it from a tiny village into one of the richest cities in Christendom.
In 1372 the port was seized by Genoa and in 1489 by Venice. This commercial activity turned Famagusta into a place where merchants and ship owners led lives of luxury. By the mid-14th century, Famagusta was said to have the richest citizens in the world. The belief that people's wealth could be measured by the churches they built inspired these merchants to have churches built in varying styles. These churches, which still exist, were the reason Famagusta came to be known as "the district of churches". The development of the town focused on the social lives of the wealthy people and was centred upon the Lusignan palace, the cathedral, the Square and the harbour.
In 1570–1571, Famagusta was the last stronghold in Venetian Cyprus to hold out against the Turks under Mustafa Pasha. It resisted a siege of thirteen months and a terrible bombardment, until at last the garrison surrendered. The Ottoman forces had lost 50,000 men, including Mustafa Pasha's son. Although the surrender terms had stipulated that the Venetian forces be allowed to return home, the Venetian commander, Marco Antonio Bragadin, was flayed alive, his lieutenant Tiepolo was hanged, and many other Christians were killed.
With the advent of the Ottoman rule, Latins lost their privileged status in Famagusta and were expelled from the city. Greek Cypriots natives were at first allowed to own and buy property in the city, but were banished from the walled city in 1573–74 and had to settle outside in the area that later developed into Varosha. Turkish families from Anatolia were resettled in the walled city but could not fill the buildings that previously hosted a population of 10,000. This caused a drastic decrease in the population of Famagusta. Merchants from Famagusta, who mostly consisted of Latins that had been expelled, resettled in Larnaca and as Larnaca flourished, Famagusta lost its importance as a trade centre. Over time, Varosha developed into a prosperous agricultural town thanks to its location away from the marshes, whilst the walled city remained dilapidated.
In the walled city, some buildings were repurposed to serve the interests of the Muslim population: the Cathedral of St. Nicholas was converted to a mosque (now known as Lala Mustafa Pasha Mosque), a bazaar was developed, public baths, fountains and a theological school were built to accommodate the inhabitants' needs. Dead end streets, an Ottoman urban characteristic, was imported to the city and a communal spirit developed in which a small number of two-storey houses inhabited by the small upper class co-existed with the widespread one-storey houses.
With the British takeover, Famagusta regained its significance as a port and an economic centre and its development was specifically targeted in British plans. As soon as the British took over the island, a Famagusta Development Act was passed that aimed at the reconstruction and redevelopment of the city's streets and dilapidated buildings as well as better hygiene. The port was developed and expanded between 1903 and 1906 and Cyprus Government Railway, with its terminus in Famagusta, started construction in 1904. Whilst Larnaca continued to be used as the main port of the island for some time, after Famagusta's use as a military base in World War I trade significantly shifted to Famagusta. The city outside the walls grew at an accelerated rate, with development being centred around Varosha. Varosha became the administrative centre as the British moved their headquarters and residences there and tourism grew significantly in the last years of the British rule. Pottery and production of citrus and potatoes also significantly grew in the city outside the walls, whilst agriculture within the walled city declined to non-existence.
New residential areas were built to accommodate the increasing population towards the end of the British rule,[11] and by 1960, Famagusta was a modern port city extending far beyond Varosha and the walled city.
The British period saw a significant demographic shift in the city. In 1881, Christians constituted 60% of the city's population while Muslims were at 40%. By 1960, the Turkish Cypriot population had dropped to 17.5% of the overall population, while the Greek Cypriot population had risen to 70%. The city was also the site for one of the British internment camps for nearly 50,000 Jewish survivors of the Holocaust trying to emigrate to Palestine.
From independence in 1960 to the Turkish invasion of Cyprus of 1974, Famagusta developed toward the south west of Varosha as a well-known entertainment and tourist centre. The contribution of Famagusta to the country's economic activity by 1974 far exceeded its proportional dimensions within the country. Whilst its population was only about 7% of the total of the country, Famagusta by 1974 accounted for over 10% of the total industrial employment and production of Cyprus, concentrating mainly on light industry compatible with its activity as a tourist resort and turning out high-quality products ranging from food, beverages and tobacco to clothing, footwear, plastics, light machinery and transport equipment. It contributed 19.3% of the business units and employed 21.3% of the total number of persons engaged in commerce on the island. It acted as the main tourist destination of Cyprus, hosting 31.5% of the hotels and 45% of Cyprus' total bed capacity. Varosha acted as the main touristic and business quarters.
In this period, the urbanisation of Famagusta slowed down and the development of the rural areas accelerated. Therefore, economic growth was shared between the city of Famagusta and the district, which had a balanced agricultural economy, with citrus, potatoes, tobacco and wheat as main products. Famagusta maintained good communications with this hinterland. The city's port remained the island's main seaport and in 1961, it was expanded to double its capacity in order to accommodate the growing volume of exports and imports. The port handled 42.7% of Cypriot exports, 48.6% of imports and 49% of passenger traffic.
There has not been an official census since 1960 but the population of the town in 1974 was estimated to be around 39,000 not counting about 12,000–15,000 persons commuting daily from the surrounding villages and suburbs to work in Famagusta. The number of people staying in the city would swell to about 90,000–100,000 during the peak summer tourist period, with the influx of tourists from numerous European countries, mainly Britain, France, Germany and the Scandinavian countries. The majority of the city population were Greek Cypriots (26,500), with 8,500 Turkish Cypriots and 4,000 people from other ethnic groups.
During the second phase of the Turkish invasion of Cyprus on 14 August 1974 the Mesaoria plain was overrun by Turkish tanks and Famagusta was bombed by Turkish aircraft. It took two days for the Turkish Army to occupy the city, prior to which Famagusta's entire Greek Cypriot population had fled into surrounding fields. As a result of Turkish airstrikes dozens of civilians died, including tourists.
Unlike other parts of the Turkish-controlled areas of Cyprus, the Varosha suburb of Famagusta was fenced off by the Turkish army immediately after being captured and remained fenced off until October 2020, when the TRNC reopened some streets to visitors. Some Greek Cypriots who had fled Varosha have been allowed to view the town and journalists have been allowed in.
UN Security Council resolution 550 (1984) considers any attempts to settle any part of Famagusta by people other than its inhabitants as inadmissible and calls for the transfer of this area to the administration of the UN. The UN's Security Council resolution 789 (1992) also urges that with a view to the implementation of resolution 550 (1984), the area at present under the control of the United Nations Peace-keeping Force in Cyprus be extended to include Varosha.
Famagusta's historic city centre is surrounded by the fortifications of Famagusta, which have a roughly rectangular shape, built mainly by the Venetians in the 15th and 16th centuries, though some sections of the walls have been dated earlier times, as far as 1211.
Some important landmarks and visitor attractions in the old city are:
The Lala Mustafa Pasha Mosque
The Othello Castle
Palazzo del Provveditore - the Venetian palace of the governor, built on the site of the former Lusignan royal palace
St. Francis' Church
Sinan Pasha Mosque
Church of St. George of the Greeks
Church of St. George of the Latins
Twin Churches
Nestorian Church (of St George the Exiler)
Namık Kemal Dungeon
Agios Ioannis Church
Venetian House
Akkule Masjid
Mustafa Pasha Mosque
Ganchvor monastery
In an October 2010 report titled Saving Our Vanishing Heritage, Global Heritage Fund listed Famagusta, a "maritime ancient city of crusader kings", among the 12 sites most "On the Verge" of irreparable loss and destruction, citing insufficient management and development pressures.
Famagusta is an important commercial hub of Northern Cyprus. The main economic activities in the city are tourism, education, construction and industrial production. It has a 115-acre free port, which is the most important seaport of Northern Cyprus for travel and commerce. The port is an important source of income and employment for the city, though its volume of trade is restricted by the embargo against Northern Cyprus. Its historical sites, including the walled city, Salamis, the Othello Castle and the St Barnabas Church, as well as the sandy beaches surrounding it make it a tourist attraction; efforts are also underway to make the city more attractive for international congresses. The Eastern Mediterranean University is also an important employer and supplies significant income and activity, as well as opportunities for the construction sector. The university also raises a qualified workforce that stimulates the city's industry and makes communications industry viable. The city has two industrial zones: the Large Industrial Zone and the Little Industrial Zone. The city is also home to a fishing port, but inadequate infrastructure of the port restricts the growth of this sector. The industry in the city has traditionally been concentrated on processing agricultural products.
Historically, the port was the primary source of income and employment for the city, especially right after 1974. However, it gradually lost some of its importance to the economy as the share of its employees in the population of Famagusta diminished due to various reasons. However, it still is the primary port for commerce in Northern Cyprus, with more than half of ships that came to Northern Cyprus in 2013 coming to Famagusta. It is the second most popular seaport for passengers, after Kyrenia, with around 20,000 passengers using the port in 2013.
The mayor-in-exile of Famagusta is Simos Ioannou. Süleyman Uluçay heads the Turkish Cypriot municipal administration of Famagusta, which remains legal as a communal-based body under the constitutional system of the Republic of Cyprus.
Since 1974, Greek Cypriots submitted a number of proposals within the context of bicommunal discussions for the return of Varosha to UN administration, allowing the return of its previous inhabitants, requesting also the opening of Famagusta harbour for use by both communities. Varosha would have been returned to Greek Cypriot control as part of the 2004 Annan Plan but the plan had been rejected by a majority(3/4) of Greek Cypriot voters.
The walled city of Famagusta contains many unique buildings. Famagusta has a walled city popular with tourists.
Every year, the International Famagusta Art and Culture Festival is organized in Famagusta. Concerts, dance shows and theater plays take place during the festival.
A growth in tourism and the city's university have fueled the development of Famagusta's vibrant nightlife. Nightlife in the city is especially active on Wednesday, Friday and Saturday nights and in the hotter months of the year, starting from April. Larger hotels in the city have casinos that cater to their customers. Salamis Road is an area of Famagusta with a heavy concentration of bars frequented by students and locals.
Famagusta's Othello Castle is the setting for Shakespeare's play Othello. The city was also the setting for Victoria Hislop's 2015 novel The Sunrise, and Michael Paraskos's 2016 novel In Search of Sixpence. The city is the birthplace of the eponymous hero of the Renaissance proto-novel Fortunatus.
Famagusta was home to many Greek Cypriot sport teams that left the city because of the Turkish invasion and still bear their original names. Most notable football clubs originally from the city are Anorthosis Famagusta FC and Nea Salamis Famagusta FC, both of the Cypriot First Division, which are now based in Larnaca. Usually Anorthosis Famagusta fans are politically right wing where Nea Salamis fans are left wing.
Famagusta is represented by Mağusa Türk Gücü in the Turkish Cypriot First Division. Dr. Fazıl Küçük Stadium is the largest football stadium in Famagusta. Many Turkish Cypriot sport teams that left Southern Cyprus because of the Cypriot intercommunal violence are based in Famagusta.
Famagusta is represented by DAÜ Sports Club and Magem Sports Club in North Cyprus First Volleyball Division. Gazimağusa Türk Maarif Koleji represents Famagusta in the North Cyprus High School Volleyball League.
Famagusta has a modern volleyball stadium called the Mağusa Arena.
The Eastern Mediterranean University was founded in the city in 1979. The Istanbul Technical University founded a campus in the city in 2010.
The Cyprus College of Art was founded in Famagusta by the Cypriot artist Stass Paraskos in 1969, before moving to Paphos in 1972 after protests from local hoteliers that the presence of art students in the city was putting off holidaymakers.
Famagusta has three general hospitals. Gazimağusa Devlet Hastahanesi, a state hospital, is the biggest hospital in city. Gazimağusa Tıp Merkezi and Gazimağusa Yaşam Hastahanesi are private hospitals.
Personalities
Saint Barnabas, born and died in Salamis, Famagusta
Chris Achilleos, illustrator of the book versions on the BBC children's series Doctor Who
Beran Bertuğ, former Governor of Famagusta, first Cypriot woman to hold this position
Marios Constantinou, former international Cypriot football midfielder and current manager.
Eleftheria Eleftheriou, Cypriot singer.
Derviş Eroğlu, former President of Northern Cyprus
Alexis Galanos, 7th President of the House of Representatives and Famagusta mayor-in-exile (2006-2019) (Republic of Cyprus)
Xanthos Hadjisoteriou, Cypriot painter
Oz Karahan, political activist, President of the Union of Cypriots
Oktay Kayalp, former Turkish Cypriot Famagusta mayor (Northern Cyprus)
Harry Luke British diplomat
Angelos Misos, former international footballer
Costas Montis was an influential and prolific Greek Cypriot poet, novelist, and playwright born in Famagusta.
Hal Ozsan, actor (Dawson's Creek, Kyle XY)
Dimitris Papadakis, a Greek Cypriot politician, who served as a Member of the European Parliament.
Ṣubḥ-i-Azal, Persian religious leader, lived and died in exile in Famagusta
Touker Suleyman (born Türker Süleyman), British Turkish Cypriot fashion retail entrepreneur, investor and reality television personality.
Alexia Vassiliou, singer, left here as a refugee when the town was invaded.
George Vasiliou, former President of Cyprus
Vamik Volkan, Emeritus Professor of Psychiatry
Derviş Zaim, film director
Famagusta is twinned with:
İzmir, Turkey (since 1974)
Corfu, Greece (since 1994)
Patras, Greece (since 1994)
Antalya, Turkey (since 1997)
Salamina (city), Greece (since 1998)
Struga, North Macedonia
Athens, Greece (since 2005)
Mersin, Turkey
Northern Cyprus, officially the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (TRNC), is a de facto state that comprises the northeastern portion of the island of Cyprus. It is recognised only by Turkey, and its territory is considered by all other states to be part of the Republic of Cyprus.
Northern Cyprus extends from the tip of the Karpass Peninsula in the northeast to Morphou Bay, Cape Kormakitis and its westernmost point, the Kokkina exclave in the west. Its southernmost point is the village of Louroujina. A buffer zone under the control of the United Nations stretches between Northern Cyprus and the rest of the island and divides Nicosia, the island's largest city and capital of both sides.
A coup d'état in 1974, performed as part of an attempt to annex the island to Greece, prompted the Turkish invasion of Cyprus. This resulted in the eviction of much of the north's Greek Cypriot population, the flight of Turkish Cypriots from the south, and the partitioning of the island, leading to a unilateral declaration of independence by the north in 1983. Due to its lack of recognition, Northern Cyprus is heavily dependent on Turkey for economic, political and military support.
Attempts to reach a solution to the Cyprus dispute have been unsuccessful. The Turkish Army maintains a large force in Northern Cyprus with the support and approval of the TRNC government, while the Republic of Cyprus, the European Union as a whole, and the international community regard it as an occupation force. This military presence has been denounced in several United Nations Security Council resolutions.
Northern Cyprus is a semi-presidential, democratic republic with a cultural heritage incorporating various influences and an economy that is dominated by the services sector. The economy has seen growth through the 2000s and 2010s, with the GNP per capita more than tripling in the 2000s, but is held back by an international embargo due to the official closure of the ports in Northern Cyprus by the Republic of Cyprus. The official language is Turkish, with a distinct local dialect being spoken. The vast majority of the population consists of Sunni Muslims, while religious attitudes are mostly moderate and secular. Northern Cyprus is an observer state of ECO and OIC under the name "Turkish Cypriot State", PACE under the name "Turkish Cypriot Community", and Organization of Turkic States with its own name.
Several distinct periods of Cypriot intercommunal violence involving the two main ethnic communities, Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots, marked mid-20th century Cyprus. These included the Cyprus Emergency of 1955–59 during British rule, the post-independence Cyprus crisis of 1963–64, and the Cyprus crisis of 1967. Hostilities culminated in the 1974 de facto division of the island along the Green Line following the Turkish invasion of Cyprus. The region has been relatively peaceful since then, but the Cyprus dispute has continued, with various attempts to solve it diplomatically having been generally unsuccessful.
Cyprus, an island lying in the eastern Mediterranean, hosted a population of Greeks and Turks (four-fifths and one-fifth, respectively), who lived under British rule in the late nineteenth-century and the first half of the twentieth-century. Christian Orthodox Church of Cyprus played a prominent political role among the Greek Cypriot community, a privilege that it acquired during the Ottoman Empire with the employment of the millet system, which gave the archbishop an unofficial ethnarch status.
The repeated rejections by the British of Greek Cypriot demands for enosis, union with Greece, led to armed resistance, organised by the National Organization of Cypriot Struggle, or EOKA. EOKA, led by the Greek-Cypriot commander George Grivas, systematically targeted British colonial authorities. One of the effects of EOKA's campaign was to alter the Turkish position from demanding full reincorporation into Turkey to a demand for taksim (partition). EOKA's mission and activities caused a "Cretan syndrome" (see Turkish Resistance Organisation) within the Turkish Cypriot community, as its members feared that they would be forced to leave the island in such a case as had been the case with Cretan Turks. As such, they preferred the continuation of British colonial rule and then taksim, the division of the island. Due to the Turkish Cypriots' support for the British, EOKA's leader, Georgios Grivas, declared them to be enemies. The fact that the Turks were a minority was, according to Nihat Erim, to be addressed by the transfer of thousands of Turks from mainland Turkey so that Greek Cypriots would cease to be the majority. When Erim visited Cyprus as the Turkish representative, he was advised by Field Marshal Sir John Harding, the then Governor of Cyprus, that Turkey should send educated Turks to settle in Cyprus.
Turkey actively promoted the idea that on the island of Cyprus two distinctive communities existed, and sidestepped its former claim that "the people of Cyprus were all Turkish subjects". In doing so, Turkey's aim to have self-determination of two to-be equal communities in effect led to de jure partition of the island.[citation needed] This could be justified to the international community against the will of the majority Greek population of the island. Dr. Fazil Küçük in 1954 had already proposed Cyprus be divided in two at the 35° parallel.
Lindley Dan, from Notre Dame University, spotted the roots of intercommunal violence to different visions among the two communities of Cyprus (enosis for Greek Cypriots, taksim for Turkish Cypriots). Also, Lindlay wrote that "the merging of church, schools/education, and politics in divisive and nationalistic ways" had played a crucial role in creation of havoc in Cyprus' history. Attalides Michael also pointed to the opposing nationalisms as the cause of the Cyprus problem.
By the mid-1950's, the "Cyprus is Turkish" party, movement, and slogan gained force in both Cyprus and Turkey. In a 1954 editorial, Turkish Cypriot leader Dr. Fazil Kuchuk expressed the sentiment that the Turkish youth had grown up with the idea that "as soon as Great Britain leaves the island, it will be taken over by the Turks", and that "Turkey cannot tolerate otherwise". This perspective contributed to the willingness of Turkish Cypriots to align themselves with the British, who started recruiting Turkish Cypriots into the police force that patrolled Cyprus to fight EOKA, a Greek Cypriot nationalist organisation that sought to rid the island of British rule.
EOKA targeted colonial authorities, including police, but Georgios Grivas, the leader of EOKA, did not initially wish to open up a new front by fighting Turkish Cypriots and reassured them that EOKA would not harm their people. In 1956, some Turkish Cypriot policemen were killed by EOKA members and this provoked some intercommunal violence in the spring and summer, but these attacks on policemen were not motivated by the fact that they were Turkish Cypriots.
However, in January 1957, Grivas changed his policy as his forces in the mountains became increasingly pressured by the British Crown forces. In order to divert the attention of the Crown forces, EOKA members started to target Turkish Cypriot policemen intentionally in the towns, so that Turkish Cypriots would riot against the Greek Cypriots and the security forces would have to be diverted to the towns to restore order. The killing of a Turkish Cypriot policeman on 19 January, when a power station was bombed, and the injury of three others, provoked three days of intercommunal violence in Nicosia. The two communities targeted each other in reprisals, at least one Greek Cypriot was killed and the British Army was deployed in the streets. Greek Cypriot stores were burned and their neighbourhoods attacked. Following the events, the Greek Cypriot leadership spread the propaganda that the riots had merely been an act of Turkish Cypriot aggression. Such events created chaos and drove the communities apart both in Cyprus and in Turkey.
On 22 October 1957 Sir Hugh Mackintosh Foot replaced Sir John Harding as the British Governor of Cyprus. Foot suggested five to seven years of self-government before any final decision. His plan rejected both enosis and taksim. The Turkish Cypriot response to this plan was a series of anti-British demonstrations in Nicosia on 27 and 28 January 1958 rejecting the proposed plan because the plan did not include partition. The British then withdrew the plan.
In 1957, Black Gang, a Turkish Cypriot pro-taksim paramilitary organisation, was formed to patrol a Turkish Cypriot enclave, the Tahtakale district of Nicosia, against activities of EOKA. The organisation later attempted to grow into a national scale, but failed to gain public support.
By 1958, signs of dissatisfaction with the British increased on both sides, with a group of Turkish Cypriots forming Volkan (later renamed to the Turkish Resistance Organisation) paramilitary group to promote partition and the annexation of Cyprus to Turkey as dictated by the Menderes plan. Volkan initially consisted of roughly 100 members, with the stated aim of raising awareness in Turkey of the Cyprus issue and courting military training and support for Turkish Cypriot fighters from the Turkish government.
In June 1958, the British Prime Minister, Harold Macmillan, was expected to propose a plan to resolve the Cyprus issue. In light of the new development, the Turks rioted in Nicosia to promote the idea that Greek and Turkish Cypriots could not live together and therefore any plan that did not include partition would not be viable. This violence was soon followed by bombing, Greek Cypriot deaths and looting of Greek Cypriot-owned shops and houses. Greek and Turkish Cypriots started to flee mixed population villages where they were a minority in search of safety. This was effectively the beginning of the segregation of the two communities. On 7 June 1958, a bomb exploded at the entrance of the Turkish Embassy in Cyprus. Following the bombing, Turkish Cypriots looted Greek Cypriot properties. On 26 June 1984, the Turkish Cypriot leader, Rauf Denktaş, admitted on British channel ITV that the bomb was placed by the Turks themselves in order to create tension. On 9 January 1995, Rauf Denktaş repeated his claim to the famous Turkish newspaper Milliyet in Turkey.
The crisis reached a climax on 12 June 1958, when eight Greeks, out of an armed group of thirty five arrested by soldiers of the Royal Horse Guards on suspicion of preparing an attack on the Turkish quarter of Skylloura, were killed in a suspected attack by Turkish Cypriot locals, near the village of Geunyeli, having been ordered to walk back to their village of Kondemenos.
After the EOKA campaign had begun, the British government successfully began to turn the Cyprus issue from a British colonial problem into a Greek-Turkish issue. British diplomacy exerted backstage influence on the Adnan Menderes government, with the aim of making Turkey active in Cyprus. For the British, the attempt had a twofold objective. The EOKA campaign would be silenced as quickly as possible, and Turkish Cypriots would not side with Greek Cypriots against the British colonial claims over the island, which would thus remain under the British. The Turkish Cypriot leadership visited Menderes to discuss the Cyprus issue. When asked how the Turkish Cypriots should respond to the Greek Cypriot claim of enosis, Menderes replied: "You should go to the British foreign minister and request the status quo be prolonged, Cyprus to remain as a British colony". When the Turkish Cypriots visited the British Foreign Secretary and requested for Cyprus to remain a colony, he replied: "You should not be asking for colonialism at this day and age, you should be asking for Cyprus be returned to Turkey, its former owner".
As Turkish Cypriots began to look to Turkey for protection, Greek Cypriots soon understood that enosis was extremely unlikely. The Greek Cypriot leader, Archbishop Makarios III, now set independence for the island as his objective.
Britain resolved to solve the dispute by creating an independent Cyprus. In 1959, all involved parties signed the Zurich Agreements: Britain, Turkey, Greece, and the Greek and Turkish Cypriot leaders, Makarios and Dr. Fazil Kucuk, respectively. The new constitution drew heavily on the ethnic composition of the island. The President would be a Greek Cypriot, and the Vice-President a Turkish Cypriot with an equal veto. The contribution to the public service would be set at a ratio of 70:30, and the Supreme Court would consist of an equal number of judges from both communities as well as an independent judge who was not Greek, Turkish or British. The Zurich Agreements were supplemented by a number of treaties. The Treaty of Guarantee stated that secession or union with any state was forbidden, and that Greece, Turkey and Britain would be given guarantor status to intervene if that was violated. The Treaty of Alliance allowed for two small Greek and Turkish military contingents to be stationed on the island, and the Treaty of Establishment gave Britain sovereignty over two bases in Akrotiri and Dhekelia.
On 15 August 1960, the Colony of Cyprus became fully independent as the Republic of Cyprus. The new republic remained within the Commonwealth of Nations.
The new constitution brought dissatisfaction to Greek Cypriots, who felt it to be highly unjust for them for historical, demographic and contributional reasons. Although 80% of the island's population were Greek Cypriots and these indigenous people had lived on the island for thousands of years and paid 94% of taxes, the new constitution was giving the 17% of the population that was Turkish Cypriots, who paid 6% of taxes, around 30% of government jobs and 40% of national security jobs.
Within three years tensions between the two communities in administrative affairs began to show. In particular disputes over separate municipalities and taxation created a deadlock in government. A constitutional court ruled in 1963 Makarios had failed to uphold article 173 of the constitution which called for the establishment of separate municipalities for Turkish Cypriots. Makarios subsequently declared his intention to ignore the judgement, resulting in the West German judge resigning from his position. Makarios proposed thirteen amendments to the constitution, which would have had the effect of resolving most of the issues in the Greek Cypriot favour. Under the proposals, the President and Vice-President would lose their veto, the separate municipalities as sought after by the Turkish Cypriots would be abandoned, the need for separate majorities by both communities in passing legislation would be discarded and the civil service contribution would be set at actual population ratios (82:18) instead of the slightly higher figure for Turkish Cypriots.
The intention behind the amendments has long been called into question. The Akritas plan, written in the height of the constitutional dispute by the Greek Cypriot interior minister Polycarpos Georkadjis, called for the removal of undesirable elements of the constitution so as to allow power-sharing to work. The plan envisaged a swift retaliatory attack on Turkish Cypriot strongholds should Turkish Cypriots resort to violence to resist the measures, stating "In the event of a planned or staged Turkish attack, it is imperative to overcome it by force in the shortest possible time, because if we succeed in gaining command of the situation (in one or two days), no outside, intervention would be either justified or possible." Whether Makarios's proposals were part of the Akritas plan is unclear, however it remains that sentiment towards enosis had not completely disappeared with independence. Makarios described independence as "a step on the road to enosis".[31] Preparations for conflict were not entirely absent from Turkish Cypriots either, with right wing elements still believing taksim (partition) the best safeguard against enosis.
Greek Cypriots however believe the amendments were a necessity stemming from a perceived attempt by Turkish Cypriots to frustrate the working of government. Turkish Cypriots saw it as a means to reduce their status within the state from one of co-founder to that of minority, seeing it as a first step towards enosis. The security situation deteriorated rapidly.
Main articles: Bloody Christmas (1963) and Battle of Tillyria
An armed conflict was triggered after December 21, 1963, a period remembered by Turkish Cypriots as Bloody Christmas, when a Greek Cypriot policemen that had been called to help deal with a taxi driver refusing officers already on the scene access to check the identification documents of his customers, took out his gun upon arrival and shot and killed the taxi driver and his partner. Eric Solsten summarised the events as follows: "a Greek Cypriot police patrol, ostensibly checking identification documents, stopped a Turkish Cypriot couple on the edge of the Turkish quarter. A hostile crowd gathered, shots were fired, and two Turkish Cypriots were killed."
In the morning after the shooting, crowds gathered in protest in Northern Nicosia, likely encouraged by the TMT, without incident. On the evening of the 22nd, gunfire broke out, communication lines to the Turkish neighbourhoods were cut, and the Greek Cypriot police occupied the nearby airport. On the 23rd, a ceasefire was negotiated, but did not hold. Fighting, including automatic weapons fire, between Greek and Turkish Cypriots and militias increased in Nicosia and Larnaca. A force of Greek Cypriot irregulars led by Nikos Sampson entered the Nicosia suburb of Omorphita and engaged in heavy firing on armed, as well as by some accounts unarmed, Turkish Cypriots. The Omorphita clash has been described by Turkish Cypriots as a massacre, while this view has generally not been acknowledged by Greek Cypriots.
Further ceasefires were arranged between the two sides, but also failed. By Christmas Eve, the 24th, Britain, Greece, and Turkey had joined talks, with all sides calling for a truce. On Christmas day, Turkish fighter jets overflew Nicosia in a show of support. Finally it was agreed to allow a force of 2,700 British soldiers to help enforce a ceasefire. In the next days, a "buffer zone" was created in Nicosia, and a British officer marked a line on a map with green ink, separating the two sides of the city, which was the beginning of the "Green Line". Fighting continued across the island for the next several weeks.
In total 364 Turkish Cypriots and 174 Greek Cypriots were killed during the violence. 25,000 Turkish Cypriots from 103-109 villages fled and were displaced into enclaves and thousands of Turkish Cypriot houses were ransacked or completely destroyed.
Contemporary newspapers also reported on the forceful exodus of the Turkish Cypriots from their homes. According to The Times in 1964, threats, shootings and attempts of arson were committed against the Turkish Cypriots to force them out of their homes. The Daily Express wrote that "25,000 Turks have already been forced to leave their homes". The Guardian reported a massacre of Turks at Limassol on 16 February 1964.
Turkey had by now readied its fleet and its fighter jets appeared over Nicosia. Turkey was dissuaded from direct involvement by the creation of a United Nations Peacekeeping Force in Cyprus (UNFICYP) in 1964. Despite the negotiated ceasefire in Nicosia, attacks on the Turkish Cypriot persisted, particularly in Limassol. Concerned about the possibility of a Turkish invasion, Makarios undertook the creation of a Greek Cypriot conscript-based army called the "National Guard". A general from Greece took charge of the army, whilst a further 20,000 well-equipped officers and men were smuggled from Greece into Cyprus. Turkey threatened to intervene once more, but was prevented by a strongly worded letter from the American President Lyndon B. Johnson, anxious to avoid a conflict between NATO allies Greece and Turkey at the height of the Cold War.
Turkish Cypriots had by now established an important bridgehead at Kokkina, provided with arms, volunteers and materials from Turkey and abroad. Seeing this incursion of foreign weapons and troops as a major threat, the Cypriot government invited George Grivas to return from Greece as commander of the Greek troops on the island and launch a major attack on the bridgehead. Turkey retaliated by dispatching its fighter jets to bomb Greek positions, causing Makarios to threaten an attack on every Turkish Cypriot village on the island if the bombings did not cease. The conflict had now drawn in Greece and Turkey, with both countries amassing troops on their Thracian borders. Efforts at mediation by Dean Acheson, a former U.S. Secretary of State, and UN-appointed mediator Galo Plaza had failed, all the while the division of the two communities becoming more apparent. Greek Cypriot forces were estimated at some 30,000, including the National Guard and the large contingent from Greece. Defending the Turkish Cypriot enclaves was a force of approximately 5,000 irregulars, led by a Turkish colonel, but lacking the equipment and organisation of the Greek forces.
The Secretary-General of the United Nations in 1964, U Thant, reported the damage during the conflicts:
UNFICYP carried out a detailed survey of all damage to properties throughout the island during the disturbances; it shows that in 109 villages, most of them Turkish-Cypriot or mixed villages, 527 houses have been destroyed while 2,000 others have suffered damage from looting.
The situation worsened in 1967, when a military junta overthrew the democratically elected government of Greece, and began applying pressure on Makarios to achieve enosis. Makarios, not wishing to become part of a military dictatorship or trigger a Turkish invasion, began to distance himself from the goal of enosis. This caused tensions with the junta in Greece as well as George Grivas in Cyprus. Grivas's control over the National Guard and Greek contingent was seen as a threat to Makarios's position, who now feared a possible coup.[citation needed] The National Guard and Cyprus Police began patrolling the Turkish Cypriot enclaves of Ayios Theodoros and Kophinou, and on November 15 engaged in heavy fighting with the Turkish Cypriots.
By the time of his withdrawal 26 Turkish Cypriots had been killed. Turkey replied with an ultimatum demanding that Grivas be removed from the island, that the troops smuggled from Greece in excess of the limits of the Treaty of Alliance be removed, and that the economic blockades on the Turkish Cypriot enclaves be lifted. Grivas was recalled by the Athens Junta and the 12,000 Greek troops were withdrawn. Makarios now attempted to consolidate his position by reducing the number of National Guard troops, and by creating a paramilitary force loyal to Cypriot independence. In 1968, acknowledging that enosis was now all but impossible, Makarios stated, "A solution by necessity must be sought within the limits of what is feasible which does not always coincide with the limits of what is desirable."
After 1967 tensions between the Greek and Turkish Cypriots subsided. Instead, the main source of tension on the island came from factions within the Greek Cypriot community. Although Makarios had effectively abandoned enosis in favour of an 'attainable solution', many others continued to believe that the only legitimate political aspiration for Greek Cypriots was union with Greece.
On his arrival, Grivas began by establishing a nationalist paramilitary group known as the National Organization of Cypriot Fighters (Ethniki Organosis Kyprion Agoniston B or EOKA-B), drawing comparisons with the EOKA struggle for enosis under the British colonial administration of the 1950s.
The military junta in Athens saw Makarios as an obstacle. Makarios's failure to disband the National Guard, whose officer class was dominated by mainland Greeks, had meant the junta had practical control over the Cypriot military establishment, leaving Makarios isolated and a vulnerable target.
During the first Turkish invasion, Turkish troops invaded Cyprus territory on 20 July 1974, invoking its rights under the Treaty of Guarantee. This expansion of Turkish-occupied zone violated International Law as well as the Charter of the United Nations. Turkish troops managed to capture 3% of the island which was accompanied by the burning of the Turkish Cypriot quarter, as well as the raping and killing of women and children. A temporary cease-fire followed which was mitigated by the UN Security Council. Subsequently, the Greek military Junta collapsed on July 23, 1974, and peace talks commenced in which a democratic government was installed. The Resolution 353 was broken after Turkey attacked a second time and managed to get a hold of 37% of Cyprus territory. The Island of Cyprus was appointed a Buffer Zone by the United Nations, which divided the island into two zones through the 'Green Line' and put an end to the Turkish invasion. Although Turkey announced that the occupied areas of Cyprus to be called the Federated Turkish State in 1975, it is not legitimised on a worldwide political scale. The United Nations called for the international recognition of independence for the Republic of Cyprus in the Security Council Resolution 367.
In the years after the Turkish invasion of northern Cyprus one can observe a history of failed talks between the two parties. The 1983 declaration of the independent Turkish Republic of Cyprus resulted in a rise of inter-communal tensions and made it increasingly hard to find mutual understanding. With Cyprus' interest of a possible EU membership and a new UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan in 1997 new hopes arose for a fresh start. International involvement from sides of the US and UK, wanting a solution to the Cyprus dispute prior to the EU accession led to political pressures for new talks. The believe that an accession without a solution would threaten Greek-Turkish relations and acknowledge the partition of the island would direct the coming negotiations.
Over the course of two years a concrete plan, the Annan plan was formulated. In 2004 the fifth version agreed upon from both sides and with the endorsement of Turkey, US, UK and EU then was presented to the public and was given a referendum in both Cypriot communities to assure the legitimisation of the resolution. The Turkish Cypriots voted with 65% for the plan, however the Greek Cypriots voted with a 76% majority against. The Annan plan contained multiple important topics. Firstly it established a confederation of two separate states called the United Cyprus Republic. Both communities would have autonomous states combined under one unified government. The members of parliament would be chosen according to the percentage in population numbers to ensure a just involvement from both communities. The paper proposed a demilitarisation of the island over the next years. Furthermore it agreed upon a number of 45000 Turkish settlers that could remain on the island. These settlers became a very important issue concerning peace talks. Originally the Turkish government encouraged Turks to settle in Cyprus providing transfer and property, to establish a counterpart to the Greek Cypriot population due to their 1 to 5 minority. With the economic situation many Turkish-Cypriot decided to leave the island, however their departure is made up by incoming Turkish settlers leaving the population ratio between Turkish Cypriots and Greek Cypriots stable. However all these points where criticised and as seen in the vote rejected mainly by the Greek Cypriots. These name the dissolution of the „Republic of Cyprus", economic consequences of a reunion and the remaining Turkish settlers as reason. Many claim that the plan was indeed drawing more from Turkish-Cypriot demands then Greek-Cypriot interests. Taking in consideration that the US wanted to keep Turkey as a strategic partner in future Middle Eastern conflicts.
A week after the failed referendum the Republic of Cyprus joined the EU. In multiple instances the EU tried to promote trade with Northern Cyprus but without internationally recognised ports this spiked a grand debate. Both side endure their intention of negotiations, however without the prospect of any new compromises or agreements the UN is unwilling to start the process again. Since 2004 negotiations took place in numbers but without any results, both sides are strongly holding on to their position without an agreeable solution in sight that would suit both parties.
Given the popularity of the Fallout franchise of games, it shouldn't surprise anyone that it was built in brick form not once but twice this year for BrickCon. I don't personally know much about the game, but this build seems to evoke that sense of rust, decay, and post-apocalyptic desperation.
[22:59] Ginger (edyn.hoxley) had lifted an arm to rest across Kiryu's shoulders as they walked. She remained silent, deep in thought. She would have given the man a moment of affection once they got home... had he not bolted through the house and for the stairs like his life depended on it. She stopped after closing the front door, groaning to herself. Suddenly she felt the weight of a stereotype sinking into her thoughts; this was like a man running to catch the football game while ignoring his girlfriend. Except... THIS man was running to hang out with his new CROCODILE instead of ignoring his roommate/whatever the hell she was to him. Groaning quietly, she followed through the house until she reached the upstairs bathroom, eyes widening in horror at the sight before her. "Oh god, oh my god. OH MY GOD KIRYU." she shrieked, nearly levitating backwards as she tried backing out of the room.
[23:04] Kiryu Hideyoshi (shady.biscuit) was cuddling his gator lovingly, the man whispering sweet nothings into it's...eye. Cause gators didn't have ears, silly. Steve stared at him like he was a piece of food, a look Kiryu had given them during their epic battle to the death, which ended with him falling in love, naming the thing, and luring it home. It took him HOURS to get Steve to follow him, but once he did, oh lord, the bromance that ensued. If only he knew, Steve might have been a girl. Bah, oh well. "Steeeeeveeeeee! I'm homeeee my darling pet! Oh I missed you so!" he kissed the damn thing, right between the eyes, the Gator nearly going cross-eyed at trying to look at the manchild laying on top of him. He was glad to see the bathroom wasn't eaten, patting Steve on the side in approval, the man saying, "Who's a good gator? Huh? Who is he?" Talking in babytalk like a lunatic to a creature that wanted to eat him, rubbing the bottom of his neck.
[23:09] Ginger (edyn.hoxley) was nearly hyperventilating at his point, for entirely different reasons than her typist was. "WHAT IS THAT THING. IT'S HUGE. GET IT OUT GET IT OUT GET IT OUT!!!" She screeched like a banshee, hopping from one foot to the other in a rather comical freak out session. Sure, give her blood, gore and power tools like she was going to surprise him with later, and she was good to go.. sometimes it even turned the sick bitch on. But put a croc in her bathroom? Heart attack waiting to happen. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my goddddd! KIRYU!" She squawked again. "You said a pet... YOU SAID YOU WERE BRINGING HOME A PET BABE! THIS IS NOT A PET!" She shrieked, still hopping up and down in a complete panic as he sat there cooing to the fucking thing like it was a brand new baby and he was a proud father.
[23:11] Kiryu Hideyoshi (shady.biscuit) darted his eyes up to Ginger, blinking almost comically, lips parting and eventually twisting into a frown, the man sighing softly as he said, "What? He's not a pet! He's family! His name is Steve and we... I... relate to him! He's my babyyyyyy!" the poor, delluded man would never make a child at this rate, but for fucks sakes, he would have a gator pet goddammit! "Relax, Ging! He's not gonna eat you! Come pet him!"
[23:15] Ginger (edyn.hoxley) suddenly let out a very pathetic, very, VERY girly whine. "Babeeeeeee!" She whined, flailing her arms as she made noises of discomfort and well... just strange noises of fucking panic, alright?! "You... wait... what?! HOW CAN YOU RELATE TO A CROCODILE?!?!" She stopped suddenly, shaking her head as she held out her hands in front of her. "No! NO NO NO! Nevermind! Don't answer that question!" Because, cannibalism, Ginger, you dumbass! OF COURSE! Though... whether he would ever have the chance to make a child at this rate or not was QUICKLY DWINDLING with the shit he kept pulling in each of her houses! "Come PET him?! I swear to god Kiryu... if he eats my hand... I will kill you with my other one... if he eats both, I will fucking eat YOU." That thought alone made her cringe, her nose crinkling up. She couldn't do the cannibal thing. Ever. But it was a good threat, yeah?
[23:17] Kiryu Hideyoshi (shady.biscuit) was flailing his arms around, Steve tilting his head up, looking at Kiryu, the man whining back, "But Ginger! I gave him a bubble bath! He's all clean and shit! Come pet him! He won't bite you! Just pet his head! And of course I relate to him! He's my spirit animal!" he was talking as if he was on drugs, as if he was crazy (he was), and as if he had just had a child, the man standing up off of Steve and walking towards her, the man seriously whining, "Can we keeeep him?! He can live in the yard!"
[23:21] Ginger (edyn.hoxley) squeaked, clasping her hands together against her chest. Yeah, big tough Ginger with knives strapped to her thighs... talon rings on.. the woman had been tortured, beaten, and left for dead more than once, with the scars and broken bones to prove it. And right now? This big tough girl was acting like a three year old, hopping around and squealing as she panicked, staring up at Kiryu like he was insane. Which, yes, he was, but that's besides the point. "You gave him a BUBBLE BATH?! IN MY TUB?!!? KIRYU!!!! He WILL bite me.. he won't just bite... HE'LL EAT ME. I DON'T WANT TO BE EATEN TODAY BABE. FUCK. What about the baby?! jesus christ, she'd be like a chicken mcnugget for him babe! Ughhhhhh!" She squeaked again, gasping as he stood up off the croc, her hands reaching out to grab his shirt and yank him towards her so she could drag him out of the room and close that fucking door. Now, if she was successful.. great! If not... she would continue panicking.
[23:25] Kiryu Hideyoshi (shady.biscuit) was drug out of the bathroom, blinking repeatedly, looking at Ginger as if she was the crazy one, which she totally was, in his opinion, hating on a poor innocent little animal. Tsk tsk. "Ginger, calm down! It's just a gator! He won't eatcha! He didn't eat me! Well.. he tried.. till I beat him into submssion! Now look at him!" he opened the door halfway, watching the fucking thing snap at him, quickly slamming the door shut in horror, the man quickly saying, "He's unhappy. See what you did? You hurt his feelings! Now he's gonna eat ME!"
[23:28] Ginger (edyn.hoxley) stared at him, completely and utterly dumbfounded as he tried to tell HER to calm down. "ARE YOU FUCKING NUTS?! What do you mean until you beat him into submi-" Her words were cut off as she screamed bloody murder, her eyes falling on the gator or croc or whatever the fuck the rabid thing was, just as Kiryu opened the door and it snapped. "I HURT HIS FEELINGS?! HRGGHHHHHH KIRYU!!!!!" She probably wasn't that impressive with her anger, considering she was still busy hopping around and squeaking and whining.
[23:53] Kiryu Hideyoshi (shady.biscuit) realized Ginger wasn't gonna stop screaming and flailing around over poor Steve, so, he decided it best to just get her away from the poor gator, the man bending down and trying to throw HER over his shoulder now, intent on dragging her off to her bedroom, or his, or somebody's, the man grumbling, "You're makin' him angry! Shhhhhhh!"
[23:55] Ginger (edyn.hoxley) let out another squeak as she was suddenly thrown over his shoulder. How the fuck was he so good at doing that?! Rather than continuing to scream, she would clutch at his jacket for dear life... suddenly very afraid that he was going to end up dropping her on her damn head... maybe even on purpose if he was irritated enough! She whined a bit, but otherwise buried her head against the fabric of his jacket to keep from freaking out further, wherever it was he was carrying her.
....
((Yup. This just happened.))
©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)
.
.
I would like to say a huge and heartfelt 'THANK YOU' to GETTY IMAGES, and the 47.907+ Million visitors to my FLICKR site.
***** Selected for sale in the GETTY IMAGES COLLECTION on Friday 12th April 2024
CREATIVE RF gty.im/2148254618 MOMENT ROYALTY FREE COLLECTION**
This photograph became my 6,497th 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)
.
.
Photograph taken at 12:14pm on Wednesday 10th April 2024 at an altitude of Forty six metres in the Grounds of Warnham Nature Reserve in Horsham, West Sussex.
Here we see a Lesser Redpoll (Acanthis cabaret), a passerine measuring around 11-12cms with a wingspan of 20-23cms. It is sadly on the Red conservation list.
Nikon D850 Single-lens reflex digital camera F Mount with FX CMOS 35.9mm x 23.9mm Image sensor 46.89 Million total pixels Focal length: 600mm Shutter speed: 1/4000s (Mechanical shutter) Aperture f/6.3 Auto iso3200 Image area Full Frame FX (36 x 24) NEF RAW L 45.4Million pixels (8256 x 5504) 14 Bit uncompressed Hand held with Tamron VC control enabled AF-C Priority Selection: Release Nikon Back button focusing enabled 3D Tracking watch area: Normal 55 Tracking points Exposure mode: Manual mode Metering mode: Matrix metering White balance on: Natural light Auto, 0,0 Colour space: Adobe RGB Picture control: (SD) Standard (Sharpening +3.00/Clarity A+1.00)
Tamron SP 150-600mm F/5-6.3 Di VC USD G2. Nikon GP-1 GPS module. Hoodman HEYENRG round eyepiece oversized eyecup. Black Rapid Curve Breathe strap. My Memory 128GB Class 10 SDXC 80MB/s card. Lowepro Flipside 400 AW camera bag. Nikon EN-EL15a battery.
LATITUDE: N 51d 4m 48.1s
LONGITUDE: W 0d 19m 56.90s
ALTITUDE: 46.0m
RAW (TIFF) FILE: 130.00MB NEF: 93.6MB
PROCESSED (JPeg) FILE: 19.50MB
PROCESSING POWER:
Nikon D850 Firmware versions C 1.21 (8/12/2022) LD Distortion Data 2.018 (16/01/20) LF 1.00 Nikon Codec Full version 1.31.2 (09/11/2021)
HP 110-352na Desktop PC with Windows 10 Home edition AMD Quad-Core A6-5200 APU 64Bit processor. Radeon HD8400 graphics. 8 GB DDR3 Memory with 1TB Data storage. 64-bit Windows 10. My Passport USB 3.0 2TB portable desktop hard drive. Nikon NX STUDIO 64bit Version 1.2.2 (08/12/2022). 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 2.16.0 (08/12/2022). Adobe photoshop Elements 8 Version 8.0 64bit.
Done for the yellow theme for pakistani photographers group.
significance of yellow: Given that yellow is one of the secondary colours means it's a piece of a puzzle. But when you see it in the real world you tend to miss out on it's significance. You tend to take it for granted. Your bound to notice it in flowers but never get why the smallest and tiniest item in your room seems to brighten it up. Yellow just adds that wonderful effect. Paint a room yellow and u'll surely feel like your bathing in sunlight. Even though it's just another piece in this world's puzzle.
p.s anyone says i's goldenish brown i contest!.... it's a shade of yellow and that's good enough for me now!
Case Study 113 : Warning, these are the raw, bare unusual occurrences as originally chronicled. Some names, times, places and some facts have been, of course, altered.
Name: Angelica D circa 192__
Subject: an unscrupulous light-fingered body thief
Event: Posh Wedding Reception
Place: Upstate New York
Time: Warm early Autumn Saturday
Angie Being Receptive
Story line:
Angie had heard about the affair, a wedding, from a list of prospective functions provided by a discreetly paid contact. It was being given for the only daughter of a wealthy politician (as if there were any non-wealthy ones!) Angie had happily invited herself to the affair, carefully dressing up in her best for the special occasion!
**
Wedding receptions were by far Angie’s favorite hunting grounds. During the season there could be anywhere from upwards of 20 high end affaires every weekend in the bigger cities, and always 2 or 3 in even the smallest of towns.
Wedding s were usually easy pickings: free food, drink and entertainment, and seldom worn jewelry made for a ready-made mix for Angie to ply her trade. For Angelica D. was a uniquely skilled pickpocket, specializing in the removal for profit of the expensive jewelry worn by the (usually be -gowned) women and young ladies’ who hauntingly dwelt in societies upper crust!
So Weddings, by their nature, were the desirable choice for Angie. One only had to avoid the Bride, her Bridesmaids, and their court, which were usually the major focus of any security present. However, there were plenty of opportunities to be had by employing her special bag of tricks on the outlaying fringe.
Angie had arrived early at the mammoth facility, to scout out the establishment and to scope out who was wearing what. Used to these affairs either being feast or famine, she could quickly tell that in this one there was cooking up a devouring banquet.
**
After Angie had entered the mammoth reception room it did not take her long to spy her first plump prospect, nicely loaded with possibilities. It was a lady, bearing a haughty look, who had been making a b-line through the crowd as way was parted for her. She was wearing a luxuriously long rusty coloured sable fur coat that hid most of her long crimson -red satin gown. What Jewels were visible, ears, fingers and wrist, were all flashing with pricy fire. In tow she held the hand of a young girl, obviously her daughter, wearing actual makeup, which, along with her fetching gown and brite jewelry, made her appear far older than she was. A handsome man , looking like the actor William Powell in a tux, followed behind the pair, husband and father, Angie presumed. She shadowed the little family as they swished their way to a corner table, conveniently located by a rear exit, for a better look over. Her fingers had started with an all too familiar tingle as she took it all in.
**
The husband helped his wife out of the sable, laying it carefully along a bench against the wall. Angie was not disappointed. A silver necklace of large matched diamonds gracefully encircled her throat. A dazzling blood ruby and diamond brooch held up the center of her gown, positioned just below the bust line. Brooches, like this one, were worth a lot once fenced, but its placement required a little more dexterity and skill than she was willing to risk. In actuality, Angie had only attempted twice before to take a brooch pinned to a gown in this fashion. She had only been successful one of those times, only to find out it was a pretty piece of paste.( Years later, as Angie’s talents became more polished, relieving ladies of their dangling brooches, like this blood ruby, became her specialty.. the Eds.) Angie’s eyes moved on. The rest of the snooty lady’s jewels matched her necklace. Long earrings, free clipped, dangling brightly from her earlobe s. A pair of wide ruby bracelets clasped tightly home around elegant red elbow length satin gloves, sparkled devastatingly, matching her brooch. Her long fingers were home to a pair of ruby and diamond rings and a third ring set with a gold band and a vulgarly large solitaire diamond.
**
Angie’s attention turned to the daughter, whom had been helped by her Father , squirming, from the chocolate coloured satin cape that she had been wearing. The youngster, all of about 10, was wearing a cream coloured long puffy sleeved dress with a brown satin sash encircling her waist that matched her Cape. The young lady possessed impossible large bright eyes. The only thing that held more shine than those doe like eyes had been the antique rhinestone diamond necklace that fell dripping ever so invitingly down the front of the precious little imp’s rich glossy gown. The rest of her matching rhinestones (obviously belonging to the child’s mother) consisted of an engaging display of a bracelet, pair of dangling, screwed on clasp earrings, and matching rings encircling a chubby finger one on each hand. It all gleamed brightly, invitingly from her svelte girlish figure. A large round pin held her sash up in place; it sparkled with what looked like a ring consisting of one caret diamonds, as unlikely as it was they could be real.
**
The two females of the family presented a pretty package indeed. Not one to pass up an invite that alluring, Angie walked by , with the pretext of heading to a back exit behind the table the little family had staked, just so she could get a closer peek.
**
Angie’s practiced eye took in a wealth of information during the few seconds it took her to walk up and pass the group, so involved with themselves they never even looked her way. Her attention focused upon the young mother first scoping head to toe.
**
Angie scrutinized the brooch; it was definitely worth the effort. In her mind’s eye, Angie envisioned the mother as a stumbling drunk “bumping into” Angie. Fingers whisking along the slippery lustrously softness of the gown, as the lady was steadied. Angie would accept the women apologies and the pair would part their ways, Angie from the young mother, and the magnificent brooch from the rich satiny red gown. But then the mother raised her head, looking up past Angie, towards a commotion being made behind her. Typical Angie thought, she doesn’t recognize me, so I don’t exist, like some sort of servant. But it was as she caught the young mother in full profile that she realized this lady looked strikingly similar to another woman who had been wearing an expensive dress of teal charmeuse that Angie had had been having a long conversation with, while relieving the woman’s finger of a costly diamond sapphire ring. It had happened only just last weekend at a formal function, and Angie figured she may have not recognized her in passing, but may if Angie were to use one of her approaches again with the intent of taking some of her jewelry, he memory may be jarred, and she may remember her missing ring. This was why Angie only allowed herself to ply her trade for no more than a month in any given place per year. This was from a lesson she had learned early on in her career. And so, for that reason alone, Angie decided to, at least temporarily, abandon any designs she had on the young mother’s brooch, allowing her devious intentions to evaporate from her mind like smoke on the wind. There were plenty more fish in the sea she told herself.
**
Angie still allowed herself a quick appraisal of the squirming 10 year old. She admired the glossy dress of slippery satin that her mother had conveniently dressed her daughter up in, as it fell spilling down to her black open toed shoes. Angie’s fingers started to tingle; this was a perfect tickling gown. Angie liked to think of any long dress or gown that swept down to a females heels as a” tickling gown”. All it took was a strategically placed foot timed with a well place nudge to send the chosen victim tumbling. During the ensuing diversion, Angie would use her long subtle fingers to swiftly probe along the gowned figure, tickling she like to call it due to the tingling sensation of the usually rich material of the victim’s attire. In this fashion, a pre-targeted piece of valuable jewelry could then be easily acquired, no matter what its placement had been on the unfortunate female. If only the chatty youngster had something on better than rhinestones. It was a crying shame to have a child that young dolled up like an adult, but not wearing adult jewels.
**
Angie continued to walk past, unseen, and went out the door. She found herself in a large serenity garden of roses and shrubs, surrounded by a 10 foot high well-trimmed hedge. The sort of garden one usually found in those days around upscale Churches. The only exit was a gate leading onto the parking lot on the side of the church. Here was positioned a solitary, lonely guard in a neat little guard hut. In the opposite, far corner was a statue of Cupid, arrow drawn, standing above a display of blooming moss roses at the end opposite to the gate. There was always potential in places like these.
**
Angie had started to walk over to the Cupid statue when she heard the exit door open. Turning, she saw the young girl, whose mother’s brooch Angie had been scoping out, looking out the door. She snuck through, running out alone, silky tickling gown swishing out behind her. Her heart leapt to her throat as she watched the girls rhinestones sparkle radiantly. She actually turned to head towards the path the unsuspecting child was running up, flexing her fingers as she contemplating a little warm up practice. Angie watched as the dolled up imps necklace flashed with pinpricks of coloure as it bounced to and fro as she ran happily up the path .Angie turned her back to the girl, waiting to hear the telltale click of her heels come up just behind her. She would then move, bumping into the girl as she passed, tripping her to the ground. After which Angie would help her up, removing the girl’s fancy necklace in the process. Come to Mama Angie whispered under her breath, waiting to make her move as the skipping heels grew ever louder.
**
But then Angie froze, hearing the clicking of the exit door again opening behind her. She checked her stride letting the daughter slither past without a glance. She headed again towards the statue, watching her prize move on ahead. Then she heard the father in the background calling out to his little princess. The youngster turned, and ran back, beaming at Angie as she passed. Angie smiled back, her eyes again traveling to the girls neckline, and the sparkling jewelry the outlined her throat. It had been a silly thought she chided herself, as the girl passed from view. If only the necklace had been real, and the father about ten minutes later in discovering his daughter absence. It would have been an unbelievably easy pluck and she could be out the gate before anyone was the wiser. And the best part was that they would probably believe the scampering girl had just lost it in the garden. And, while the parents were looking about, Angie would have been free to renter to ply her trade again. As it was, it was silly of Angie, risking her opportunity on a child’s bauble worth a mere pittance compared to some of the other offerings so readily being flaunted this evening by her adult counterparts.
**
Angie continued her casual stroll through the Garden, happily playing over in her mind some of the jewels that she would like to see adorning the female guests inside, and the scenarios she may be using to acquire them
**
Finding herself approaching the guard hut, she allowed herself a glance back. Jealously she watched the father, who had caught and was carrying his slippery attired daughter, heading back inside. How Angie wished she had been the one carrying the squirming little imp, it would have been like a smorgasbord, with jewels instead of food. Pity her mother had not put the good stuff on the daughter, she sighed to herself. Tonight she would have to work for her butter. She walked past the bored guard, nodding at him, receiving a rather lecherous look in return. A smile was forming across her cunning face, for now it was time to get down to the real business at hand.
**
The affair turned out to be quite a showcase for the very rich. Who were indiscreetly flaunting their riches, trying to outdo one another, probably for the benefit of the politicians’ attention? Certainly not for the attention of the designer satin gowned and flashy diamonded daughter, whom most of the guests hardly knew, or had ever met.
**
Angie always felt like a little kid in a candy shoppe at these lavish affairs.
She spent the first part of the reception mingling and thoroughly enjoying the show her the reception’s guests were u wittingly putting on. Angie, wearing no jewels herself, was something of an anomaly compared to her fellow guests.
**
There were over a thousand luxuriously coloured, squawking female birds and their young chicks pompously displaying valuable finery, oblivious of the cat amongst them waiting to pounce. Angie patently mingled, watching as the adult guests had their fill of food and drink.
Once their guard began to relax, Angie raised hers’, her probingly skillful fingers now more than prepared to begin and ply her trade. For the more they imbibed, the less guarded they were, both about themselves and their female offspring. Angie would start with the adults, 2 or 3 of the right pieces of jewelry, once acquired, and would mean she could call it a night and have enough to support her for a solid month. If she came up empty in that department, her back up would then center on the female off-spring, daughters and nieces.
Most of said offspring would be by then scattered about, aware that their parents were no longer paying them any heed, exploring and playing, sporting their fancy satin gowns, silken dresses, and their dainty jewelry, ripe for the picking. Giving pickpockets like Angie endless opportunity to ply their trade on them, once they had finished working through the adults. Or if the thieves were beginners, plenty of easy practice while “learning the ropes!”
**
Now, when Angie herself was just starting out as a young pickpocket, she stumbled across a treatise written by a man using the pseudonym “Gaston Monescu”. Written around 1826, entitled the Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip, it covered the various tactics and moves used by master pickpockets.
Angie had studied it religiously, especially a ploy called the “Necklace Flimp.” This tactic was primarily used for body thieves working alone. Angie had been surprised to learn that a pickpocket could raise his/her skill level above just acquiring wallets. Having the ability to lift a woman’s necklace amazed her, not to mention the profit that could be realized. With practice, Angie had found that not only was it a good technique for acquiring necklaces, but it worked for other pieces of worn jewelry as well.
It was relatively simple process, but took a long time to master.
First part was to employ psychology and watch the potential victim for the unique movements and quirks in their personality and actions that could provide an opportunity for her skills. Then observe the selected piece the victim wore, for value, type of clasp, make, and accessibility. The second part was to employ a bump, slip, or grasp, and in one motion, flick open the studied clasp and send the piece away from the body by either pulling and palming, or dropping it to the floor or ground for retrieval later. If she was noticed, it was “sorry, miss, very clumsy of me” “here let me get if for you, no harm done?” Then walk away and let the waters settle before trying yet again (sometimes even on the same person!)
Angie had practiced the jewelry flimp until she had the technique totally mastered. Starting out first on specially dressed up mannequins in her apartment, than trying it on small pieces of cheap baubles worn by real women in crowded streets and stores. Then on younger, less guarded, better jewelry wearing young girls attending proms and social dances. Young looking for her age at the time, Angie had fit right in amongst them. Then, finally, she graduated to lifting the better jewels of the older, wealthy women attending society’s finer parties and receptions. And it was this path that led her here today, and would also lead several unlucky females to report missing jewelry to their respective insurance companies.
**
See Album “Angie having a Ball” for additional background on our master thief with the light fingers.
**
Angie now eagerly employed those useful talents learned from monsieur Monescu’s little pamphlet at the wedding reception. She mingled freely, carrying around a drink that never touched her lips. She watched and learned, her trained eyes missing very little. Soon, like that hypothetical kid in a candy shoppe, Angie’s head was spinning from so much to choose from that she really could not make any easy choice. So, she waited and watched patiently, knowing opportunity would knock.
**
Then, like it usually happened with Angie, the first genuine opportunity unexpectedly presented herself. Angie literally was run into a rather awkward, spindly lady in thick glasses clad in a fetchingly expensive costume consisting of a thick silver satin blouse with hanging ruffles down its front, combined with a long rustling tiered skirt that swept down to the top of her open toed silver high heels. Her diamond jewelry shone with exuberant flames as they caught the light from the many chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling. The lady expressed frantically her apologies, placing a hand with well ringed fingers on Angie’s shoulder, where they sparkled merrily. No worries Angie said smiling, her eyes taking it all in without appearing to move. She let the frazzled lady leave, allowing her a head start, it was only sporting to do so.
**
Angie shadowed her quarry for a while, seemingly rewarded for her efforts when the lady managed to spill a bit of her drink down on her skirt. In a show of flashing silvery satin and diamonds ,she retreated and disappeared into a nearby powder room, with Angie following eagerly, opportunity knocking.
**
As Angie grabbed onto the closing powder room door, a mid- twenty something girl in a deep green velvet gown came out. Her only jewelry was a wide diamond bracelet wrapped around a wrist of the matching long green gloves she wore. Angie caught it out of the corner of her eye, realizing that it was as expensive as it was bright. But it was her friend, a willowy short haired pretty young thing in a glamorous Chocolate Satin gown that made Angie’s jaw drop. Her jewels, like her friends, were also sparse, but enormously pricy. The long white satin gloves that graced her hands and arms also held matching bracelets, thin, but each one worth the effort. But her real eye catcher was the row of authentic, one caret white diamonds that were rippling exquisite fire along her throat. Angie held the door for them, nodding to as they passed. Noses in the air, they did not appear to notice Angie. Then, with the ladies backs to her, Angie abandoned Miss silver satin and turned to follow. Angie got in behind the two with the intention of getting a closure examination of the clasp of the fiery diamond necklace Miss Chocolate satin was wearing.
**
However, Angie never got her closer look. For at that moment the tossing of the bride’s boutique was announced and Angie was overwhelmed by a mad dash of single ladies heading for the bride. On a lark she allowed herself to be swept along, losing sight of Miss Chocolate satin, but found herself right smack behind Miss Green velvet and her cheerfully sparkling diamond bracelet, a beautifully expensive piece that would have cost someone a king’s ransom. Angie’s fingers began their all too familiar tingling, eager for a chance to acquire jewelry that valuable, but not for any king, just for herself!
**
Though the night was still relatively early, and Angie still had visions of those exquisite rippling diamonds of the pretty Miss in chocolate satin on her mind, she simply could not pass up this opportunity. Angie wedged herself close behind her chosen victim as the multitude of hopeful young women pressed forward to try their luck. As the Bride teased her guests before getting ready to toss her bouquet of white and red roses, Angie expertly scrutinized the bracelet as it dangled from the green velvet glove. When the bride finally turned her back and raised her arms every one of the richly clad single women’s eyes was focused on the bride’s bouquet, Angie’s eyes were fixated on the bracelet. With the music playing loud, the crowd giggling and laughing, and all eyes focused on the gorgeously outfitted young long haired bride, Angie again felt opportunity knocking. Her pulse beating in rhythm with the music, she made ready to seize the chance when it presented itself. The roses flew through the air and all the women raised their hands high, looking all for the world like being involved in a stick-up. Angie timed it perfectly, snapping the clasp, and snatching the bracelet easily away from the gloved wrist of its owner as she raised her arms high to grab at the boutique. In her excitement, shared by everyone, Miss Green velvet ( who did not catch the bouget of roses) never felt a thing. Angie had smirked as she left the giggling group, stowing securely the purloined diamonds, as she imagined what it would have been like to watch that group robbed in a mass stick-up. The money that some enterprising soul could have made from that haul would have been astronomical.
**
She went to the open bar, lighting her first cigarette; she ordered her first real drink of the night. She could feel the coolness of the weighty bracelet in its hiding spot, and Angie, pleased with herself, calmly sipped her drink as she relished in the moment. The toss of the Brides Boutique was, in Angie’s experienced opinion, one of the three common events occurring during a wedding reception that were fertilely prime times for pickpocketing. (Editor’s note.. Miss D. mysteriously never divulged what she considered the other two prime events to be….)
**
She looked about without a worry in the world, coolly watching the antics of some of the younger women on the dance floor. She spied the young miss in the green velvet gown over in a corner talking in an animated fashion with several other women. Green velvet gown’s now bare velvet glove, apparently not noticed by anyone but Angie. One of her group was displaying some bright emeralds peeking through the long silver fur she was wearing, obviously she was leaving, and she was talking excitedly about something to the group formed around her! Nowhere in sight was Miss chocolate satin, too bad, Angie would have loved another peek before leaving.
Angie watched around the room causally, as the cold bracelet pressed expensively against her figure from its hiding spot. She eventually lost track of green velvet and her friends while finishing her drink. Setting down the empty glass, she decided it was time to call it a night. The bracelet now in her possession was easily worth as much as the 2 or 3 separate pieces she usually acquired at functions like these, added together! And, she needed her rest, Angie had a couple of plans the next day, one revolving around the female guests who would be attending an upscale afternoon prom fashion show a, the other, an evening opera performance (invited guests only, and her contact had managed to supply a ticket, at a hefty price!) No rest for the wicked, Angie told herself.
**
On her way out of the main lobby, she found herself leaving behind the very lady in green velvet whose bracelet was now in Angie’s possession. She was with the same gaggle of her similarly dressed friends, including the one exhibiting the emeralds. However, miss chocolate satin was still not visible. They were laughing and joking as they collected their assorted pretty wraps, obviously heading for a nightclub. If she had not already relieved one of them of a bauble, Angie might have invited herself along, if only to have a go at some emeralds. Angie hesitated about leaving withy them, then shrugged, followed the group out the door past the pair of bored rent a cops.
**
She remembered thinking, as she followed the elegant young princesses ,their fluid gowns peeking from under their various furs and wraps, how shallow the very rich could be. She wondered if Miss Green velvets friends had even noticed that she had had diamonds around the wrist of her glove, let alone that they were now missing. She wondered how long it would be before the bracelets loss was discovered. She figured it would be several hours, long enough for its owner not to be sure what place they had been lost. As young Miss Green velvet fancy gown and her friends turned right outside the exit, Angie turned left, heading towards the guard hut at the entrance to the garden.
She decided not to follow them but rather circle around the outside of the garden to give her victim time to leave.
**
That simple decision to make a left turn proved to be a major turning point in Angie’s fortunes that evening.
**
As Angie passed the hut guarding the entrance to the serenity garden, she noticed it was deserted.
It was as she was looking it over, that she heard the sounds of clicking heels moving fast, followed by the sounds of a young girl giggling. On the alert she stole to the backside of the hut, soon spying a splash of something blue and silky between the gaps of a couple of large bushes. Her senses on their highest peak, she began to move cautiously in, hoping the female making the noise would be in need of aid and comfort perhaps.
**
She soon spotted a young lady of about 14 bending over, hands on her knees as she panted heavily. Her back was to Angie, and what pretty back it was. She was nicely attired in a long gown of shiny material dyed deep blue like an afternoon, cloudless summer sky. The gown cascaded down along her petite figure, spilling out on the ground around her feet. Her hair was pulled back, easily displaying a pair of small diamond and sapphire earrings, not rhinestones for this one, but the real McCoy. Around one finger was a gold ring with sapphires, and from her left wrist dangled a thin silver bracelet with a row of diamond chips, both pretty, both valuably real. But it was her last piece of visible jewelry that stole the show. It hung, swinging to and from her neck on a thick braided chain of solid silver. On its end, like a hypnotists prism, was a silver pendent in the shape of a flower, with 1 inch long, pear shaped real diamonds as petals and a fully 2 inch in circumference center stone of deep sea blue. Angie watched it, her eyes following it for a full minute, its expensive fire sealing its own fate as Angie began flexing her fingers. Angie took her eyes off of it and looked around to see why the princess had been running. But all was still as the girl continued to peek through the branches towards the back door leading into the hall. Angie silently approached, and walking up to the pretty miss she bent down and in a friendly tone, asked who she was running from.
**
I played a joke on my sister, and now I’m hiding from her, piped the girl breathlessly, as Angie placed a hand upon the girls shoulder in a conspiratorial fashion, said shoulder made silky soft by the gowns half sleeve.
**
I know a better place where you can hide from her, Angie whispered in the girl’s ear, the dangling earring ever so close to her lips. The girl looked up, smiling, and Angie pointed towards the guard hut, and as the girl looked, Angie’s fingers glided up along the silky shoulder and lifted the thick silver chain up from the back of the gowns’ scooped collar. Come Angie said, and as the girl rose Angie’s fingers nimbly flicked open the chains’ lobster clasp, holding onto the clasp as the other end of the chain slipped down, allowing the pendent to slide free and fall onto the grass at the girls feet, where it lay shimmering. Angie moved her hand to the girls shoulder, squeezing it, while slipping off the braided silver chain with her other hand, whisking it back and away from the guileless young girl. Angie led her princess away from the spot and walked with her to the guard’s hut, still empty, where she had her hide neath the counter.
**
Angie turned and went back to claim the pendent, there still was no sign of any sister. She secured the pendent, joining it with the chain and bracelet, and headed deeper into garden. Her plan was to watch the hut and see which way the girl went after getting bored waiting. But as she skirted the perimeter her plans were changed when, upon rounding a corner of the path at the far end, she saw yet another back belonging to a solitary lady in her late thirties, clad in a long slinky yellow coloured gown of expensively shiny taffeta, bending over to smell the yellow roses on a bush. Instinctively Angie knew two things about her. One was that whatever jewels this lady would be wearing, they would be expensive, and the other was that with an expensive gown like that; the lady would undoubtedly be wearing her jewels. Angie suddenly became aware that her fingers were tingling, as an all too familiar whelming feeling again delightfully washed over her.
**
Angie found herself automatically turning back onto the garden path. She headed around the women and went down to the cupid’s statue, where now out of sight, she carefully hid the purloined bracelet, and still warm fiery pendent and its ‘fancy silvery braided chain..
**
She then headed towards the unsuspecting flower admirer. The ladies’ long brunette hair had fallen, flowing down the backside of her shiny taffeta gown. Angie could see rings and a bracelet gleaming as she was holding up the rose to her face. A long double rope of pearls hung swaying deliciously from her throat. Coming up behind her Angie stood watching; calculating until the lady rose and with a start realized she was not alone.
**
Pretty Angie said, her eyes on the pearls now draping down the front of her marks yellow gown. They are lovely, are they not? The damsel responded thinking Angie was referring to the roses. Just like the ones in the park, my husband and I walked through on our way to catch a cab today. Actually, I meant your dress Angie said complimentary. Thank you the lady practically squealed, I love the way it flows, and she swirled it about to show Angie, who got an eyeful of sparkly jewelry for her efforts. As she continued engaging the women in conversation, Angie decided upon attempting for the woman’s necklace of pearl. Seeing opportunity knocking when Yellow Taffeta pulled her long hair forward so it hang down the front of her gorgeous gown, laying silkily over one shoulder, nicely exposing the pricy necklaces clasp. Angie looked around, they were alone, out of site of the opposite end of the garden where the inside door was, and the guards hut with it’s pretty occupant.
**
Angie, using the marks interest in roses to her advantage, managed to steer the capricious damsel in shiny yellow over to the cupid’s statue. There, she placed a hand upon a silky taffeta covered shoulder, and pointed down to the shrub of moss roses growing at the foot of the statue . When she stooped down to get a closer look, Angie’s fingers whisked from her marks shoulder to the clasp, in a single effort with two fingers, lifted it by the clasp, and snapped it open. At that moment the mark cried “spider” and jumped up, backing into Angie, who watched helplessly as the pearls fell down from the damsel’s throat and slipped along the front of the yellow taffeta gown. They fell with a soft plop unto the ground at their mistress’s feet. Angie tried to lead her away, hoping to come back and reclaim the necklace. But as Angie pointed to another rose bush some distance away, the lady took a step forward, instead of back, planting her feet right onto the pearl necklace. Hey she exclaiming, what’s that, looking down to her high heeled foot? Oh, my pearls the lady squealed again, a glittering hand shooting to feel around her throat. Angie reached down, and reluctantly retrieved them from the base of the rose bush for the squealing lady in yellow . My husband would not have been pleased if I had lost these, she said as Angie held them, feeling their pricey smoothness.
**
She asked if Angie could help her put them on, my maid usually does this sort of thing, you know. Angie reluctantly complied, re- hanging the pearls as the pretty damsel held up her hair, and reluctantly redid the clasp. The Damsel thanked Angie by embracing her in a full hug, her diamond and pearl earring hitting Angie’s cheek. But Angie’s arms were being held by the hugging woman, so Angie was able to only watch the tantalizingly close earring sway free. Angie left yellow-gowned damsel in the garden, getting nothing for her efforts other than the feel of an expensive gown of the likes she could probably never afford to own.
**
With the pretty damsel hovering around the cupid statue, Angie decided to go back into the reception hall until the coast was clear. She carefully looked towards the Guards hut, and seeing that the guard had returned, figured the girl, so fetchingly clad in blue, had been rousted out, so that loose end was probably tied up. She just had to keep a careful eye out. The quite valuable bracelet and pricy necklace with its pendent were well hidden; there was absolutely no danger of someone stumbling over it.
**
Truth was, Angie had found her appetite wetted and once again visions of a lady in chocolate brown satin exhibiting a row of flashy diamonds, teased her thoughts. An accomplished pickpocket like herself had a couple of well-practiced ploys she could utilize to obtain a tight fitting necklace from its mistress. In addition, Angie was now determined to find her and to risk a try. She had really nothing to lose.
**
It took almost an hour of hunting amongst the now well liquored, gaily mingling crowd before Angie could admit to herself that there was absolutely no sign of the willowy lady in the stunning chocolate satin gown. Damn she thought to herself, those diamonds were something special. She shrugged it off, reciting in her mind a wicked little mantra of hers, “Another one who got away, a chance to lose her jewels to Angie on another day!” She strolled about pondering on what her next course of action could be. There had been no sign of the pretty girl in blue whose necklace Angie now had hidden away, and Miss Green Velvet was definitely out of the picture, so she felt that it was still safe to try to pluck one last bird or chick. In her hunt for the brown, Angie had seen several inviting prospects; one lady(purple satin, diamonds), two girls( ivory silk, pearled pin; red satin, gold necklace set with chips of precious stones), and now was weighing the risks.
It was at that point she once again espied the thickly bespectacled awkwardly introverted young lady invitingly wearing the thick silver satin ruffled blouse, which she had been tailing much earlier. And as Angie watched here, she again accepted the invitation. Her prey had appeared on the dance floor, being led around by a rather charming young man. That would make a dandy consolation prize Angie drooled to herself happily as she took in the sparkling show put on by the dancers jewels.
**
Angie looked her over, reacquainting herself with the jewels she so nicely was displaying. A pair of long earrings cascaded down from her earlobes where they precariously held on by antique silver claps. Angie relished the opportunity to “flimp” pairs of earrings like these. Heavily jeweled, each one was worth a tidy sum. Angie mulled this as she continued to study the jewels of her appealingly dressed new target.
**
The girl’s only ring was a solitaire diamond of at least 3 carets on a thick solid gold band worn vulnerably loose on her un-gloved, bare ring finger. A wide silver cuff bracelet with what appeared to be at least seven rows of matching, shimmering diamonds was dangling around her left wrist (she was right handed Angie observed) . The bracelet had a habit of lying over her sleeve, and Angie could see that it was a costly tiffany piece, whose clasp was exceptionally easy to flick open. A diamond pendent hung swinging from her satiny ruffles, held by an extravagantly thick silver chain with a simple , small eye in hook clasp. The Diamonds in the pendent were as shimmery as stars plucked from the night’s sky.
Angie remembered reading that in a poem from a book she had picked up years earlier in a library, while stalking a young mother in a satin dress, wearing an authentic Gruen Watch on one wrist, and a bracelet of diamonds on the other, that had gone into the library in pursuit of her young son running inside. Like that young mother, It was obvious that this lady in silver satin was not accustomed to wearing jewels, and that set probably spent most of their days lying in a safe. Angie licked her lips as she imagined what the other contents of that safe might look like
**
Angie moved in to allow herself a much closer appraisal of her potential victim’s jewels.
The young lady was totally oblivious to anything but the rather surprisingly strikingly handsome man who to all appearances was her Fiancée, who was holding her ever so close. But Angie was able to see enough of what she wanted to. The young Ladies’ thick satin blouse shone richly in the lights, moving like glistening wet liquid silver, while from her waist spilled the long black skirt with satiny tiers that swished and swayed nicely along her figure as she uneasily danced. Her jewels were bursting with colour as they played hide and seek with Angie’s watchful eyes. From all appearances, they were a mismatched couple. He seemed to know everyone and moved with a confident air, she was just the opposite. It made an enticingly intriguing package indeed for someone with Angie’s skills.
**
Silver Satin was the perfect “Gaston Monescu” type of mark, a perfect combination of classic mannerisms, clothing and Jewels worth anyone’s efforts to take. This was the only fly in the ointment that Angie observed. For by the bar she could see that two other sets of eyes were watching the same young lady in shiny satin and blazing diamonds. Angie intuitively knew they were drooling over acquiring jewels she was wearing.
**
She had noticed the pair of young men in loose fitting suits when they had entered a little earlier about the same time as Angie’s reappearance. They were obviously casing the jewels of any woman, young, or old, who walked past them. Angie knew their type, simple thieves, with no real skills outside of holding a knife in a dark alley to the throat of their victim while they unceremoniously searched and stripped them of their treasures. Angie saw that they were whispering amongst themselves and instinctively knew they were watching and waiting for the fetchingly clumsy silver clad lady clad loaded with diamonds, to leave the “establishment”.
**
She is mine Angie whispered, possessively snarling the words under her breath. She looked around as she thought about how best to handle the situation. Her eyes opened wide as she saw a familiar woman waiting by the coat checkroom. Perfect she purred, placing an unlit a cigarette in her mouth and heading over the bar.
**
She sauntered up next to them and ordered a drink, catching their eyes she asked for a light. As they obliged she took a pull and puffed out smoke, asking in a casual tone, “how about my jewels? Boys!” They could see perfectly well that she was not wearing any, and one snarled, “What’s your game, sister?” Angie snarled back in her best cop like manner, “We know what you boys are up to, and we suggest you both call it a night!” “Yer no cop sister”, they challenged, calling her bluff,” what’s your angle!” Angie calmly looked towards the entrance, perfect she mused as she saw their eyes follow hers, “Maybe not” she stated, “but see that lady being helped into the black mink?” “The shiny yellow dame?” one of em asked? “ “yes”, Angie replied taking a puff on her cigarette before going on, “ well that man’s she’s with used to be mine .” “ Now, I aint one to hold a grudge, but, those pearls she’s waltzing around with are worth plenty. And her rings, they are an easy two grand alone.”
**
Angie could tell she had captured their interest, and that they were now paying rapt attention to the lady in the thick yellow taffeta gown whose necklace Angie had almost acquired in the serenity garden. One of them looked at Angie, a suspicious look crossing his mug, “What’s innit for you sister?!” He demanded. Angie looked at him, dripping with sarcastic innocence. “Nothing brother, other than to make sure the jewels of the dame who stole my husband get home safely .” “I just worry,’ Angie went on, “there is a park in front of their residence and that dame in yellow likes to stroll through it to smell the roses after their cab drops them off.” They watched the couple leave, her expensive yellow gown sweeping provocatively at her gold high- heeled shoed feet. Angie looked them in the eyes and said smoothly, “ Gentlemen such as yourselves may want to do a good deed and follow them home to make sure some miscreant doesn’t spot her in those valuable jewels and mink. Not to mention her man’s gold watch and three hundred sawbucks in his wallet!” Angie winked at the pair, “If you catch my drift.” She added.
**
Still not totally convinced about what Angie was selling them, but equally unsure over who Angie was, both men got up and quickly headed towards the main exit as the last slip of an expensive yellow taffeta gown disappeared through the door. Smugly, Angie puffed on her cigarette as she watched them leave.
**
It was then that a hand was placed on Angie’s shoulder from behind.
**
She froze for a split second, before becoming aware of the soft mummer of satin, and of a slender finger was home to a sparkling sapphire ring. Angie smiled and turned around, facing the girl. Pardon me ma’am, she says politely, but do you remember me? Of course dear, Angie gushes while beaming at the forlorn looking miss in the fetching blue gown; I met you in the garden. Yes she confirms, but I lost my necklace somewhere and I was wondering if you remember if I had it on when we met? Angie’s heart leapt, bless this babe in the woods, thinking her necklace had merely been lost, never suspecting that someone like, say, Angie could have been the cause. She absolutely adored the trusting nature of rich girls this age. For that aspect of their purity had allowed Angie, far too easily sometimes, to lift many a jewel from well attired unsuspecting young princesses like this one. Who was now standing before her, miserable, her desirable diamond and sapphire earrings dangling ever so beckoningly, her sad puppy eyes pleading ever so sweetly, and her missing necklace closer than she could ever imagine.
**
No dear, I did not see you with a necklace, Angie lied coolly, as she reached out and stroked the girl tenderly alongside her face, her fingers touching one of the earrings. Angie was looking her fully in the eye, you didn’t lose anything else, and did you dear she asked with a concerned tone. The girl checked her earrings, bracelet and ring (Angie smiled to herself, silently thinking thanks for the info kid!) But when she spoke, it was with hopeful words laced with honey, If you want, I can help you look, my dear. The girl’s eyes lit up for a second, thank you ma’am, I wanted to, but papa said to wait until tomorrow when the light is better.
Angie smiled winningly, don’t worry dear, I’m sure its somewhere in the garden. Someone will find it, she promised, thinking to herself maliciously, and keep it for their own profit!
**
Thank you Ma’am she chirped, at the encouraging words that had been spoken, luckily she could not hear the ones Angie was thinking to herself, and turning moved off, her scrumptious gown swishing pleasantly around her silver heels. Angie watched, as the girl disappeared in the crowd Angie marked her direction.
**
Angie Imagined if the girl had accepted her offer, and she had left with the vulnerable, unguarded princess to search in the garden, and in the process help relieve her of her remaining jewels. There would be enough light with the gas lamps that lined the paths in the garden. Enough light, so that as Angie helped the princess look, her fingers could slip ever so delicately slip in and search along her shiny sky blue gown.
**
Angie licked her lips slowly as she fantasied about the search. The girl bending down to look under a bush, Angie placing her knee sharply in a certain spot below the girl’s armpit, temporarily numbing her upper body. Allowing Angie enough time to pull off both her earrings without feeling it,( this also worked well on working off broaches placed in upper parts of gowns and dresses, not to mention necklaces!) The bracelet would be no problem; it would be the easiest and probably the first, snatched off while the rich girl’s attention was easily diverted away. Since she was not wearing silky gloves, her ring would be the trickiest, but manageable, by either having her walk too close to a water fountain and hopefully having her get her fingers wet, or by simple holding onto her hand and tripping her by stepping on her gowns hem. And just like that, Angie would become that much richer, the rich girl that much poorer. And it all would be done without giving the girl any additional stress, like say she had run into the two muggers Angie had chased off. They may not have been content with just the jewels of a girl dressed as she was that they had found wandering alone in the gardens at night.
**
As Angie excitedly thought about these things, she had trained her focus back upon her original meal ticket, whom for the second time that evening had almost been allowed to slip through Angie’s light fingers. Watching with half lidded eyes, the still dancing couple not unlike a wolf watches lambs, waiting for one to make an ill-fated move away from the flock. The lamb’s fate was sealed, when a vivacious blonde in a long wispy silken dress cut in on the dancing couple. Asking miss silver satin’s fiancé for a dance. He obliged, leaving his shimmering fiancée unaccompanied, nakedly exposed to the wolf that was Angie.
**
More than one way to skin a cat Angie thought, tingling from the thrill of the hunt her prey, now in a reachable situation. She happily headed towards the spot where Miss silver satin had moved off to. A small table, located conveniently by a powder room. One the way she grabbed a half full glass of red wine off a table. Angie circled around young miss silver satin, taking a position up about two table lengths behind her. She casually scoured the area; most of the nearby tables were deserted.
Knowing the band would stop playing soon for the evening; most of the couples were out on the dance floor. All in all, the situation presented the perfect opportunity for some one of Angie’s persuasion.
**
Angie watched as the young lady picked up a glittery silver clutch and opening it, started to search inside. Angie moved swiftly, catching up behind her , tripping intentionally into her, splashing some wine onto the front of the silver satin blouse as the unfortunate lady dropped her purse in surprise. Oh my gosh, I did not see you, miss silver satin pleaded apologetically to Angie, more concerned over Angie’s feelings than her soiled satin blouse. Angie accepted her apology and, producing a lacey silk handkerchief, began to wipe themselves both down.
Angie’s practiced eyes swiftly took it all in. Miss silver satin’s pretty earrings swaying out vulnerably from her long straggly hair as it fell into her face. The clasp of her necklace was also exposed and within easy grasp. A s she reached out for the floor to steady herself, Angie’s eyes took in the sparkling ring on her now wetted finger and then watched the wide bracelet with its’ easily open able clasp slip up glitteringly over her sleeve.
The girl, now thoroughly flustered, started to rise, tripping over her slippery long skirt( with no help from Angie) Angie caught her, taking advantage of the split second opening she had been waiting for and Angie took it, making her selection as she steadied the poor thing with one hand, as the other caressed along a slick silver satin back. Angie’s long supple fingers darted in and deftly did their trick, this time with no spiders interfering. She quickly removed her chosen glittery prize from the distracted lady, who never noticed so much as a prick as Angie removed the expensive piece from her person in the confusion.
**
Angie secreted he shiny jewel as she helped miss silver satin collect herself. Than they rose, and Angie happily accepted miss silver satin profuse and obviously well used, apology. Then, as she fumbled nervously with her thick glasses, Angie laid a calming hand upon her shoulder, her fingers relishing in the richness of her victims sleek ruffled blouse. Miss silver satin was by now so distracted and embarrassed that Angie was all but assured of a clean get away.
However, as an extra measure of caution Angie intentionally jarred silver satin’s elbow of the hand steadying her eye glasses. Thus sending her glasses falling from her face to the floor with a small clatter, then Angie kicked them under a table before the startled lady could react. Angie offered to help, but the lady implored that she was okay, just needed to find her glasses. Angie left as Miss silver satin started to frantically grope around for her glasses, her silver blouse and remaining jewels shimmering brightly along their miserable mistress..
Angie took her leave, knowing that once she found her glasses, Miss silver satin would flee for sanctuary into the ladies powder room, buying her more than enough time for Angie to make her escape. Taking one last look over the dance floor, she blithely saw that miss silver satins fiancé was still in the clutches of the vivacious blonde-haired girl, still safely out of the picture. Angie made her way with purpose to the rear exit leading to the garden that she had used earlier, intending to head out into the serenity garden to collect the hidden bracelet and pendent, adding them to her purloined plunder.
**
As she walked amongst the mostly deserted tables, her mind went to the woman in yellow taffeta and imagined that right about now she would be standing with raised arms and a forlorn look. Ruefully wincing as the man who was holding her mink busily stripped those luscious pearls from the neckline of her tight gown, as the shiny yellow material gleamed in the moonlight! Serves her right for being afraid of spiders, Angie thought unforgivingly.
***
Angie’s mind also went to the poor young princess in blue with the missing necklace. She looked towards the area she had headed, opposite of the back exit to the garden. She reluctantly decided not to push her luck, there was a sister and parents to contend with, and she really had no time left. So she decided to call it a day, a rather successful day, and made her way to retrieve her loot.
**
Angie had now reached the now deserted table by the back exit where the lady in the crimson gown and blood red rubies had been earlier, along with her rhinestone encumbered 10 year old daughter and handsome husband.
**
She paused between the table and the bench, something was not quite right, She eyed the area around the dance floor for any signs of trouble that may be centered on the quite valuable jewels now in her possession. All was quiet, except for a little murmur behind her. Turning she looked at the bench and was shocked to discover the soundly asleep ten year old, using the long rusty sable fur as a blanket. What have we here, Angie thought, licking her lips wickedly?
**
Angie pursed her lips, checking the coast; spotting the young girl’s parents, still on the dance floor, a safe distance away the other side of the room. No sign of miss silver satin. No one else was nearby. Perfect. She went over, bending down so the table hid her. The child looked so vulnerably innocent, sound asleep as she lay on her side, facing Angie. She was clutching an arm of the sable like a warm fuzzy teddy bear, her ring sparkling. Angie gently tugged the mink from the girl’s clasp, and gradually pulled until the fur swished away from along the inert silken figure on the bench, where it fell into a pile on the floor. The child looked very innocent, very vulnerable, like a sleeping princess. An earring lay exposed over one shoulder, her necklace dangled down slightly askew from her slender throat, the pin holding her sash, all of which shone brightly now that it was exposed to the low lights of the ballroom, still called out. Too bad, Angie thought to herself, too bad the mother had not dressed her little doll in real diamonds.
**
Angie again looked to the dance floor; she could see the mother’s jewelry twinkling brightly as the child’s parents danced close, very unaware of anything else but themselves. She looked back over the girl, contemplating. But the song was winding down, Angie stooped to pick up the sable, bird in hand she thought, and placing the rich fur over her arm, stood just as the song ended. Looking at the exit door, so near and yet so far, she started to hasten to it, but checked herself as the band immediately started another, rather slow song that Angie knew quite well.
**
She hesitated, incredibly, everyone was staying on the floor for the final dance, she looked back at the bench, and the sleeping imps exposed jewels still shined, tempting her to come for them. Angie knew that she would only have about four minutes. Always open to new challenges, Angie chose to answer that sweet little invite that the necklace was extending out to her. Checking once again to make sure the parents was still obliviously dancing; she laid the mink down by the door and eased back to the bench. Kneeling down, Angie began to perform the delicate operation.
**
Lifting up the necklace she gently tugged it loose from around the sleeping child’s neck until the clasp appeared. She subtly flicked open the clasp, then shamelessly slipped the necklace from around its perch on the little whelp’s throat. It flickered like some slithering shiny snake, glittering as it came away. Like taking candy from a baby, Angie drooled happily, as she let the necklace run along her fingertips while watching the sleeping princess for a few seconds.
**
Her fitted cream coloured dress shimmered with expensive richness in the shadowy light. The poor thing was so soundly asleep after her long exhausting day that Angie figured she could have peeled the dress off her without causing a stir. This for a pickpocket would be the ultimate test, the pinnacle of her criminal class. But, Angie thought; if she ever had the opportunity to do so, it would have to be worth her while, like a shiny gown, an appealing sky blue gown with half sleeves and scooped collar. And the jewels would be sapphire drop earrings, bracelet and ring, not plain rhinestones. She licked her lips at the enticing thought of such a perfect “coup fera”, than told herself to get back to work, time was money.
**
She slipped her hand along the satin cape being used as a pillow and felt under the girls head until she felt the cold earring she was laying upon. Deftly undoing the screw she pulled it free, watching with delight as it came out from underneath.
**
Angie than, gently lifted, and nimbly stroked back the girl’s ultra-soft hair, exposing her long silvery earring. She pulled the jewel out and laid it out upon the child’s shoulder, where it lay, shimmering vibrantly. Then she reached in with her fingers and began unscrewed its clasp. Pulling it free she added it to her growing collection. She next lifted the hand that had held the warm sable, gently prying open her clenched fingers. The sleeping child never stirred. Angie gently slipped off the glittering ring. She then peeled back a silky sleeve, checking for the bracelet, finding her wrist was bare. The rest of the jewels were hiding securely on the side she was laying upon. Smiling wickedly to herself, an idea popped into Angie’s head.
**
The music was now almost to the halfway point, and Angie thought for a brief second that she should leave . Another quick scan assured her the coast was still clear, and Angie decided to press her luck, eagerly going back to work, putting her idea into motion.
Angie fingers felt along the sleeping child’s waist until she located the brooch. Quickly unfastening the brooch from the chocolate satin sash, she pulled it out. Watching as the diamonds caught fire and burst into vibrant life, unusually vivid for plain rhinestones she thought contemplatively. Angie plopping it in with the growing pile of the sleeping girls purloined baubles. Again reaching in along the warm waist, Angie gradually tugged at the now undone sash. The sleeping girl, unconsciously obliged by turning over on her other side, as the sash was pulled away.
**
Her arm with the ring and bracelet was now exposed. Lifting the arm , and peeling back the puffy sleeve, Angie found and unclasped the bracelet, slipping it away, then allowing it to dangle in triumph before letting it join its purloined mates. Then lifting the child’s hand she pulled at the ring, it was a little tight. Angie licked her fingers, and moistened the girls finger, than began slipping the ring off ever so gently from the along her finger. Almost there, Angie thought, as the ring joined its abducted companions in her pocket.
**
As Angie finished pocketing the last of the girls jewels, her victim whimpers something discernible in her sleep, her small hand feeling to pull up the missing warm sable she had been using as a blanket. Angie quickly looked around, spying a cheap linen coat hanging on a nearby hook, she grasped it and laid it over the stirring girl, stroking her for a precious few seconds. Then rising, calmly Angie snatched a shiny purse from the table, and moved off, unbelieving of her luck. She reclaimed the sable fur, and strolled out the door without looking back.
**
As Angie closed the door she heard the last notes of the song waning from inside. She licked her lip, that was close, but her luck had held. Now all that remained was to visit the Cupid Statue In the garden to reclaim her other prizes. As she reached the statue, Angie realized that she still had the child’s satin sash in her hand.
She smiled as she tied it, blindfolding the cupid statues eyes. Retrieving and pocketing the now stone cold diamond bracelet, and the young Princess in blue’s necklace with its shimmering pendent, she slowly looked around, the cost was clear. Angie coolly made her way to the gate, the bored guard offering to help her with the mink she was carrying. , Angie stopped, and handed it to him. Then turning, allowed him to help her on with it. He puffed out his chest as Angie gave him a sweet smile; she thanked him, then turned and disappeared into the darkness of the night.
**
Angie disappeared from view into the foggy evening, relishing the warmth of the sensuous sable. Happily contemplating the small fortune in jewels it had been in contact with earlier that evening, and also the small fortune she had walked out of the reception with in her possession.
**
The guard watched the spot for some time where the pretty lady in the expensive fur had vanished in the mists. He fantasized for a good few minutes, wondered what had been behind the enchantingly secret smile she had given to him.
Excuse me, sir?, a female voice coming from the garden startles him, he had never heard anyone coming.
He turns, catching an eyeful of a long glamourous, brown satin gown, worn fetchingly by a willowy short haired pretty young thing. Diamonds blazed from around her throat, caught by the gas lights, and from around her white satin gloved wrists as she raised her hands in a pleading fashion.
She continues, pointing to a young girl in a smashing blue satin gown, bending over looking for something in the bushes. My sister lost her necklace and pendent while playing around here earlier, did you or anyone find it? She asked in a rather seductive tone of voice9 not a common, it was her regular voice)
No lady, no one turned in a necklace. Thank you sir, and she turns away, her gown flowing out behind her.
He watches for a minute as she and her sister both move elegantly down the path, continuing their search.
He sighed, and turns away, babysitting rich dames he mutters under his breath, what a dismal way to make a living. Why won’t this affair ever end he asked himself, as he reached for his silver pocket watch to check the time. Damnations he said, not finding it nor its chain and fob, must have dropped it in the alley earlier where I had gone for a nipper from his flask. He sauntered off quickly to the alley located in the direction Angie had disappeared, abandoning his post.
Soon after, a pair of dark figures who had been walking on the opposite side of the street, and had stopped to loiter when they spied the guard talking to some posh broad in a shiny brown dress, saw the guard leaving his post. They quickly stole with sinister intent across the road and entered into the gardens, disappearing into the darkness.
*********************************************************************************
This ended up being Angie’s first big score, She got more for the rhinestone set then she had imagined, the small brooch taken off the brown satin sash had proved to have real diamonds in its center! Also the princess in silky sky blue’s pendent and chain had fetched a nice tidy sum. The jewels lifted from the ladies in Green and Silver also realized quite a handsome profit, as did the sable and purse.
if one includes the real diamond ring slipped off the finger of a silky dressed debutante from the prom show and her rather nice haul of a slim pearl necklace and diamond pin from the Opera, the whole weekend was unimaginably successful.
**
From the profit realized, she had been able to spend a pleasant month away in Monte Carlo, even indulging in the purchase of a rich red wine coloured taffeta gown to wear.
Which she pleasantly found that, when paired with her deftly acquired collection of dripping rhinestone diamond jewelry, she attracted wealthy young males with expensive gold watches and fat wallets like honey bee drones to a bright moss rose.
**
She also enticed a long raven haired, Miss, richly clad in emerald silk, to enter into her snare.
But Angie did not make an entirely clean get away. For the last jewel to be taken was the girl’s brooch , and before Angie could hide it with the rest, the girl spotted its’ glitter in Angie’s hand, and with a gasp had looked down on her dress at the now vacant spot where it had been dangling ever so provocatively for Angie all evening.. Angie smiled at the girl as she had looked up in confusion. The girl had placed a hand to her throat, startled when feeling it bare of her necklace. She looked at Angie in hurt confusion, her eyes wide with fright. Angie placed a finger to the girl’s lips, hushing any fuss she may have been thinking of making over her missing jewelry, and turning her back to the forlorn miss, Angie left, not looking back….
**
But that was a story for another day, so we were promised by Angie, giving us an all too familiar look of devious satisfaction at making us wait.
.************************************************************************************
Editor’s Notes:
Our Thanks to Mr. J. Gardner for pointing out the existence of Mr. Monescu’s 1826 guide
If you enjoyed our little story, please like and leave a comment.
And if you wish, describe what intrigued you the most about it…
Thank You
************************************************************************************
Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents
No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.
These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.
As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment only, and should never be attempted in real life.
We accept no responsibility
©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)
.
.
I would like to say a huge and heartfelt 'THANK YOU' to GETTY IMAGES, and the 41.603+ Million visitors to my FLICKR site.
***** Selected for sale in the GETTY IMAGES COLLECTION on Thursday October 21st 2021
CREATIVE RF gty.im/1347381908 MOMENT ROYALTY FREE COLLECTION**
This photograph became my 5,550th 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)
.
.
Photograph taken at an altitude of Forty five metres at 13:23pm on an overcast summer afternoon on Tuesday 20th July 2021, off Chessington Avenue in Bexleyheath, Kent.
Here we see a juvenile Carrion crow (Corvus corone), ever the inquisitive little thing, a passerine bird of the family Corvidae and the genus Raven (Higher classification: Corvus), which is native to western Europe and eastern Asia. It can grow to twenty inches in length with a wingspan of up to thirty nine inches. This one keeps the magpie's and Jackdaw's in their place, as top of the food chain, afraid of nothing.They can reach a length of 47cm with a 104cm wingspan and a weight of up to 650g, and in the UK they are in the Green conservation list status with over one million breeding territories.
.
.
Nikon D850 Focal length 600mm Shutter speed: 1/320s Electronic front-curtain enabled Aperture f/7.1 ISO320 Hand held with Tamron VC Vibration control set to ON in position 1 14 Bit uncompressed RAW NEF file size L (8256 x 5504 pixels) FX (36 x 24) Focus mode: AF-C AF-Area mode: 3D-tracking AF-C Priority Selection: Release. Nikon Back button focusing enabled 3D Tracking watch area: Normal 55 Tracking points Exposure mode: Manual exposure mode Metering mode: Matrix metering White balance on: Auto1, 0, 0 (5350k) Colour space: RGB Picture control: Neutral (Sharpening +2)
Tamron SP 150-600mm F/5-6.3 Di VC USD G2. Nikon GP-1 GPS module. Lee SW150 MKII filter holder. Lee SW150 95mm screw in adapter ring. Lee SW150 circular polariser glass filter.Lee SW150 Filters field pouch. Hoodman HEYENRG round eyepiece oversized eyecup.Mcoplus professional MB-D850 multi function battery grip 6960.Two Nikon EN-EL15a batteries (Priority to battery in Battery grip). Black Rapid Curve Breathe strap. My Memory 128GB Class 10 SDXC 80MB/s card. Lowepro Flipside 400 AW camera bag.
LATITUDE: N 51d 28m 28.02s
LONGITUDE: E 0d 8m 10.63s
ALTITUDE: 45.00m
RAW (TIFF) FILE: 130.00MB NEF FILE: 90.7MB
PROCESSED (JPeg) FILE: 48.20MB
PROCESSING POWER:
Nikon D850 Firmware versions C 1.10 (9/05/2019) 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.
DAF SB120 / Wright Cadet.
New to Eastbourne Buses in August 2002 , with fleetnumber 52. Later, it became part of the Stagecoach South East fleet when they took over Eastbourne Buses in 2008, and given fleetnumber 35903. A few years ago, Stagecoach sold this vehicle (along with others of the type) as they are non-standard to their fleet, and Go-Coach now has this example.
Single, male, and Indian? It’s almost a disease
The guard outside the Gordon House Hotel in Colaba hated my face. I don’t think he’d even seen it, though. The way most of us casually blank out eyes of a beggar knocking on our tinted car windows, this guard had first looked away, then scowled, then mumbled something for a bit—still ignoring the four of us entirely, given that we were even unworthy of his inattention. And then he finally muttered ‘nahin’, or something to the effect.
We were all men, single (so, obviously molesters and rapists), standing outside the main gate of his posh discotheque, dressed in our Saturday night best. It appeared we could afford his hospitality, but he didn’t seem interested. Dogs and stags weren’t allowed, but then, suddenly, we (the dogs) were.
Galloping mindlessly across Mumbai’s backpacking district, we had left behind our only legitimate passports to status and nightlife—the four women friends with us. They caught up with us eventually and hence the guard welcomed us in. I don’t think he said sorry. He needn’t have. I didn’t blame him. Egos are too trivial to get in the way of a precious evening.
However, the gent outside Tito’s, with eight people inside on a Monday night, in the dead of the monsoon season, turned out to be a whole lot ruder. I heard him whisper under his breath some terrible things about the anatomy of our mothers and sisters. Not the sorts to pick a brawl still, we endured the humiliation, gently explained that we, in fact, did have women friends at the bar and then quietly left. This is common sufferance in Delhi. But we were in Goa, for God’s sake.
Being a man, with other men, in India’s semi-urban nocturnal jungle is to remain a gross, sometimes disgraced social outcaste, experiencing a strange tropical ailment—single-itis, for lack of a better name. These untouchables of nightlife don’t deserve their dance, with their drink, even if they could pay twice for the same simple pleasures.
You know something’s warped when watering holes that serve loud hard retro rock for music—still no one’s idea of a romantic date, by the way — remain officially open to couples only. Save if you are a regular. So they let me into Mumbai’s good old Ghetto the other night. I heaved a sigh of relief. We were five men, one woman. You can’t form political coalitions with right permutations each time you go out. The said ratio didn’t work at the next lounge, like it won’t at most clubs. Tough luck, I guess. And, no, there isn’t such a thing as ‘gay couples’. So, smart try.
It’s the sort of sexual discrimination few will take seriously and fewer still will care about. No one I know will fight against it. Suspicions are hard to erase. Some terrorists give all men a bad name. This is true for the average, Indian non-molester man, who makes for the vast majority. He stopped hitting on Indian women at some point. She instantly assumed him to be sleazy anyway. She had probably liked looking at him. He had seemed okay. He had enjoyed giving her the attention. She had thought that was fine as well. Their eyes had just met at the bar. But I know what they were both suffering from.
The Indian girl is hit by the silly ‘slut complex’. She won’t make the semblance of a first move—which should truly be her right—for fear of being judged as the loose one. The Indian guy is similarly down with the ‘creep syndrome’. He can’t be seen as one of those, you know, “one of those”. He has a reputation to protect.
Given such poor practice with making conversations with the unknown of the opposite gender, his skills get considerably worse with time. When he does try his luck now, once in a while, the possible openers get odder still: “You smell really nice . . .” Eww. She looks away. He goes back to his drink.
The times you must hang out with other men, just men, is when you’re at a quasi-gay joint celebrating old boys’ reunion of a frustrated boarding school. There are mostly men around at party places, which allow men to be by themselves. The topic of conversation is the woman, still.
Species single, male, and Indian, could consider themselves getting officially quarantined. It would help their cause. Female companionship is a mirage. Male company gets boring. Cloaking this lack of opportunity into a moral virtue, most prefer to get married instead. Their parents help them hook up, finally. Someone should. It’s hard to hold out beyond the late twenties. Arranged marriage isn’t always a matter of social conservatism or personal choice. It is often an urban necessity. Family feels proud. Segregation suits the status quo. Society approves. As does the petty politician, whether he’s the sicko who hassles lovers at public parks, or the old man in the gram panchayat. Unmarried love is fatal to his constituency. Inter-religious or inter-caste family can negate his existence. The conforming institution, the saviour, lives on.
Sooner or later, being single gets even tougher when everyone else around is already married. And there, those platonic female passports to an acceptable nightlife are gone as well. It may be fair to suggest that you can be happily single, in much the same way as you can be happily married . . . both being empirically impossible. To me the occasional woes of single men, however, seem diametrically opposite to those of the single women I meet. Except when they discuss the opposite sex, which is when they talk the same language.
Both on separate tables insist that a man or woman who is straight, smart, attractive, intelligent, interesting, funny, and, yet, available is an extinct specimen fit to hang at museums. Maybe because the two tables have never merged with each other’s. They’ve never really met. After school and college, where will they? At work? That’s where many do, it appears—unless you’re the supposedly shy sort, who only slimily stares at objects of desire, over the cubicle, under the staircase, when not stalking on Facebook.
New to sharing workspace with women, the traditional Indian man can barely get himself to open his hesitant mouth before a frothy female form. What comes out, when he does part his lips, bears promise of a sexual harassment case. He’s better off tongue-tied, quietly fantasizing. Dishonesty in sexual expression is probably better for the civilised world.
The less shady ones—fat, fugly, tall, talkative, short, sloppy—get to demonstrate their actual worth at work. This is a level playing eld. Women get attracted to the relatively
smart. The guy has something to prove. Bosses should be glad. Late hours aren’t a problem. Attendance goes up. Company’s productivity rises.
Sure, an office intern can shake up the White House and shock America. The gorgeous dimwit secretary can make the stern corporate CEO dance on his knees. Attraction demands no prior appointment. This may be unfair on the nerdy, pimply man who must work harder to command the same attention from his male superiors. But nature tends to balance this out in the long run.
That rookie biz-school grad, when he turns bald and old and if he is on top of his boardroom game, will be considered sexually attractive still. This isn’t necessarily true for the dumb hot intern in his office twenty years later. While he’s younger, freer, funnier, he stands a fair chance as well. Call centres and the movie industry merely get a bad name. All Indian offices with reasonable sex ratios, being 1:10, if you peer harder I reckon, will look like rocking dating sites, spiced up with secret romances, rebounds, heartburns, and heartbreaks. Pay closer attention to the HR department.
Mixing hormones with business may be a terrible idea, I know, but what to do? Where else to go? At a house party full of drunks? Where the inevitable cock-blocking and penis- fencing match is about to begin between twenty single men over the only woman who decided to stay back until late? Maybe. Or maybe not.
At a discotheque? Yes. That would be an ideal place for the lonely soul, seeking a happy ending to a day—a night of casual, naughty nirvana. It’s a large, dimly lit psychedelic dome singularly structured around eyeing men and women, since there’s precious little they can see of each other, through their beer goggles, under a shiny disco-ball. Loud music takes away the awkward discomforts of acquaintanceship. Burden of conversation safely lies in the lyrics of the songs. Akon sings ‘I wanna love you’, Snoop Dogg adds ‘I wanna fuck you’. Bodies move to booty calls. Eyes meet. The point’s made. Nobody need ask your place or mine?. Maybe that’s there in the song lyrics as well. Deal’s struck. Booze is expensive. Night’s young. So are you.
But then if you’re single, male, and around others with the same affliction, you were just dreaming right now. They won’t allow you into a nightclub. It’s for couples only. Despite weightier measures of time, the two people entering have already met, and so have already dated, drank, danced, and done all old-world things invented to break the ice since the Internet. Then, perhaps, they’re not single anymore. Social segregation is a vicious circle. Having a girlfriend exponentially increases your chances of finding another than being single ever does.
For a year or so I once co-ran an anonymous daily relationship column in an English daily in Mumbai. It was called Dear Diana, named after this well-travelled woman who could solve your daily problems. I was Diana. It was a popular read. Most of those writing in, I realised, were only checking if we would print their crazy queries, none of which were serious. They were almost all jigsaw puzzles about cousins sleeping with their daughters, who were in turn making love with both the dad and the aunt. The only genuine questions would inevitably be from a lost male soul: “I like this girl. What do I do?” Become her friend, I’d say. “How?” Get to know her friends first, and take it slowly from there, I guess. “How?” You know what, buddy? I don’t know.
A veteran tri-sexual acquaintance (the sort who serially tries for sex as his natural right) tells me he’s had it now. It is a hard life, unless you’re a rock star, or in the Indian context, a Bollywood hero who plays a rock star, I suppose. The friend says he’d rather start a political front for single men. There’d be enough support for his cause, he jokes. I don’t agree.
Nobody would openly join a group that automatically is presumed to comprise a bunch of cash-strapped, unstable varieties who walk around being single because, it is thought, they ought to be. No woman could stand the son of a gun, anyway. Even women are attracted more towards men who are already hitched. There’s mystique in the unattainable. Singles’ nights inevitably fail. Recent female responses to dating apps like Tinder suggest to me that it is mainly full of married freakoids or sexual ends. Neither help much in restoring the rep of the Indian single man anyway. “Deserters, all these people,” the ‘tri-sexual’ frowns at my analysis. You’d be the first one looking to desert your own group, I tell him. He agrees.
The Game is a celebrated Bible for single men that scientifically tutors an ‘average frustrated chump’ (AFC) to become a ‘pick-up artist’ (PUA) giving out few quick steps towards attracting pretty things at bars, cafés, malls, and discotheques. The bestseller studies various ‘seduction communities’ in the US. During the course of writing his experiences, author Neil Strauss, self- admittedly an AFC, attends workshops conducted by experts in serious ‘seduction communities’ before he gets anointed the world’s no. 1 PUA.
The single Indian man would be in awe of such a champion. Read the book and you’d be easily able to tell why the same methods could never be applied in his country. This isn’t to say I haven’t seen a desi dude with a ‘wing man’ at a local bar, ‘peacocking’ (dressing outrageously), ‘negging’ (sounding rude, but giving backhanded compliments), ‘kinoing’ (making harmless physical contact) . . . Yeah, I have basically seen him make a plum ass of himself in public. The desi girl is mostly unimpressed. She probably also knows he’s read the book.
The Game is yet another American dream. Women have widely panned the bestseller in the West for its overt male chauvinism. The premise is entirely sexist, yes. But sex-guru Strauss makes a significant point out there that should please the average female reader—that there are no ugly women, only lazy ones.
Everybody loves the single woman. The world donates her its affection, attention, drinks, dinner, coffee, couch, conversations, cupcakes, tags, hash-tags, friend requests, re- tweets, roses on Rose Day, proposals on Propose Day, self- respect on Valentine’s Day . . . She gifts them hope. Nobody loves a single man; not even the single man himself, and least of all the bouncer outside the club.
The KOM League
Flash Report
for
July 12, 2019
Christmas for 2018 came to an end on July 10, 2019. That is the date my Christmas present from the family name drawing pool concluded. I had been given subscriptions to a couple of Internet newspaper sites.
With the time drawing near the conclusion I decided to insert the names of some former KOM leaguers. A couple of names appeared who had left this world in the previous seven months and other items appeared that were of special interest regarding the early lives of some former players.
For a very long time my wife and I have subscribed to Ancestry.com and I recently located a section in that forum that heretofore I was unaware. The “new find” was the U. S. Baseball Questionnaires from 1945 through 2005. I was aware of those documents for Bill Weiss shared many of them with me. For those of you who subscribe to Ancestry.com you might find those old files interesting.
One thing that was quickly obvious is that the fellows filling them out “cheated” a bit on their real age. Most of the fellows wanted to appear younger, especially those returning from WW II. The reason was simple, they wanted a chance at playing professional baseball. With few exceptions they all listed their goal as being able to play major league baseball. One fellow stated it in an unique manner by saying “I want to attend the day they have for me, in about 20 years, at the Polo Grounds.” Another, more realistic young man had as his goal “Just being able to get out of Class D.”
After spending some time in those old files I came across some items, again, of which I was aware many years ago. It may not be obvious, in my writings, but I’m a bit partial to one team. That being the Carthage Cubs and the 1951 team in particular. They were burdened with putting up with a batboy that wasn’t the brightest light in the firmament.
In researching some of those names I came across the high school career of a fellow from Oshkosh, Wisconsin, a catcher, who teamed with a pitcher, who hurled one of the most fabulous games ever, at any level. That pitcher signed with the Detroit Tigers and the catcher would have as well had he been given the chance to play professionally in 1950. When the Tigers wouldn’t agree to that the catcher signed with the Cubs and would become one of the guys I got to know and like in 1951 and the feeling still remains 68 years after the fact.
So, this report, which was initially intended to be just a listing of some basic trivia items, turned into much more. While looking at the career of the catcher of the Carthage Cubs for part of 1950 and all of 1951 a decision was made to check on the rest of the surviving members of that team.. Unfortunately, when pulling up the name of John David Mudd, one of the top pitchers on that club out of Lane Technical High School, in Chicago, I discovered he passed away in Mesa, Arizona on June 6th of this year. Quickly, that information was shared with the surviving members of the 1951 Carthage team, with whom I have access. Within a short time feedback was being received and some of that is shared in this report.
In looking at the 1951 Carthage roster it seems like a long time ago in some respects and like last week in other ways.
______________________________________________________________________________
Donald Louis Gebbs Obituary
Obituary for Donald Louis Gebbs
Donald Louis Gebbs, age 86, of Oneonta passed away on Friday, April 19, 2019. He was a minor league pitcher in the Pittsburg Pirates Organization and a member of the First Baptist Church of Oneonta.
Mr. Gebbs is preceded in death by his parents, John and Corinne Gebbs; his son, Donald Louis Gebbs, Jr.; sisters, Ione Gebbs, Norma Gebbs, and Lynn Gebbs; and his brothers, John Gebbs, Jr. and Clyde Gebbs. Survivors include his wife, Penny Gebbs; daughter, Shelley Bausch (William); step-daughters, Phyllis Lawrence, Donna Turner (Rick), and Sherri Zeigler (Joey), and step son, Dwain Lawrence (Patricia); grandchildren, Eric Bausch (Samantha), Brian Gebbs, Kurt Gebbs, and Lauren Gebbs Lewis; great grandchildren, Grayson Gebbs, Gabriel Gebbs, Connor Lewis, Keegan Lewis, Hastings Hayden Bausch, and Elodie Starr Bausch; step grandchildren, Scott Herda, Ethan Nichols, Korbin Nichols, and Wesley McDowell (Danielle); step great grandchildren, Erika Herda, Kaylee Herda, Isabella Herda, Emily McDowell, Megan McDowell, and Drew McDowell; and sister, Eunice Stevens.
Services for Mr. Gebbs will be held at 11 AM on Tuesday, April 23, 2019 in the Chapel of Lemley Funeral Home. The family will receive friends at Lemley Funeral Home from 10 AM until service time on Tuesday, April 23, 2019. In Lieu of flowers, the family asks donations be made to the American Heart Association or to the First Baptist Church of Oneonta.
To send flowers or a memorial gift to the family of Donald Louis Gebbs please visit our Sympathy Store.
Ed comment:
When Don Gebbs showed in mid-season, of 1951, with the Bartlesville Pirates he was a “one of a kind.” He was the only lefty on the pitching staff. Bartlesville had some good right handers in Ronnie Kline and Donny Cochran but was short of portside help. The Harvey, Louisiana native had played a lot of amateur baseball in New Orleans and in the process had hurled a few no-hitters.
The early 1950’s wasn’t the best time to enter professional baseball and Gebbs was limited to brief appearances in the Evangeline league before Uncle Sam came calling. He didn’t play after the Korean War concluded.
One of the better photos in the book, “The KOM League Remembered,” is found on page 102. It is of Gebbs in his pitching form. He and his first wife attended some of the KOM league reunions before she passed away. For a few years nothing was heard from Gebbs. On Father’s Day of 2014 a call was received from the “new” Mrs. Gebbs and she inquired if it would be possible to meet her and Don at a local motel.
My wife sensing a good way to get me out of the house told me to go see them. They were traveling between Iowa and Alabama and gave me the honor to meet the new Mrs. Gebbs and the old Lefty. It was a pleasurable time together and we parted ways. Father’s Day of 2014 is the last time I have met face-to-face with a former KOM leaguer.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Former Ponca City Dodger pitcher from Panoka, Alberta, Canada
The following link is for extra reading credit and will not be covered in the final exam which will be forthcoming and without warning. Anyone flunking the test will be required to remain on the mailing list for this report, indefinitely.
www.canadiancattlemen.ca/2010/08/09/ralph-vold-launchesth... Ralph Nassen “Whitey” Vold.—1952 Ponca City Dodgers.
___________________________________________________________________________
The Life of John H Gilbert Sr.-- www.remembermyjourney.com/Memorial/17783663
John H. Gilbert, Sr., 87, a longtime resident of Prospect Park, Pa., passed away peacefully on December 9, 2017 at Crozer-Keystone Hospice Residence at Taylor Hospital surrounded by his loving family. John was born in Glenolden, Pa., the son of the late George and Effie Gilbert. He was a resident of Prospect Park for over 60 years.
He was a 1949 graduate of the former Glen-Nor High School, where he was a star pitcher on the high school baseball team. He was signed to a professional baseball contract right out of high school with the Pittsburgh Pirates. His contract was sold to the Brooklyn Dodgers and he played AA baseball for them in Mobile, Alabama. He played pro-baseball from 1949 to 1953. John worked as a machinist for Gulf Oil for many years until his retirement.
He married his high school sweetheart, Joyce Kahlert, and they were married for 69 wonderful years. He will be remembered as a loving husband, father, grandfather, and great-grandfather, who was devoted to his family.
John is survived by his loving wife, Joyce; his sons, John Gilbert, Jr., Glenn K. (Laurie) Gilbert, and David (Patty) Gilbert; his four grandchildren; his three great-grandchildren; and his brother, George Gilbert.
His burial will be in Arlington Cemetery in Drexel Hill, Pa.
In lieu of flowers, contributions made in John's memory to Crozer-Keystone Hospice Residence at Taylor Hospital, 175 E. Chester Pike, Ridley Park, Pa. 19078 would be appreciated by his family.
Ed note:
Mr. Gilbert played in the Pittsburgh chain in 1949 at Keokuk, Iowa, Bartlesville, Okla. in 1950 and Butler, Penn. in 1951. He was then purchased by the Brooklyn Dodgers and spent three seasons at Asheville, N. C. in the Tri-State league.
______________________________________________________________________________
Death of another member of 1951 Bartlesville Pirates
In searching for the current status of a former KOM leaguer here is what was found.
RICHARD MICHAEL "DICK" SUTTER --Sep 9, 1930 - Nov 14, 2018
OKLAHOMA CITY— Sutter, Richard Michael "Dick:" 88, died Nov. 14. Private services (Mercer-Adams, Bethany). Share your memories of Richard Michael "Dick" Sutter on social media:
Ed comment:
From that terse obituary listing in the newspaper I decided to “Share my memories” regarding Richard Michael Sutter. He was born on 9/9/1930 Tulsa, OK. There are many stories about his baseball prowess as an American Legion pitcher going back to 1946. His Tulsa team took on the Mosier Tire company team, from Oklahoma City, in the Oklahoma State American Legion tournament and Sutter was the losing pitcher. The pitcher for the Oklahoma City was Tom Sturdivant. www.google.com/search?q=tom+sturdivant&oq=Tom+Sturdiv...
During the rest of his high school days at Will Rogers High School, in Tulsa, Sutter was a top flight American Legion hurler. In 1947 he wore #13 on his jersey and also “wore out” opposing batsmen by tossing three no-hitters. That year the Tulsa American Legion team went to the regional tournament at Davenport, Iowa where a perennial power from St. Louis, Mo., the Stockham Post team didn’t hit Sutter either. That St. Louis team had a second baseman who went to the National Baseball Hall of Fame. However, he went as a manager, not a player, and that was, Earl Weaver.
Just out of high school, Sutter married in 1948 and then entered professional baseball in 1949 with New Iberia, Louisiana and Tallahassee, Florida. He compiled a 7-18 combined record and was on his way to Class C the next year with Oil City, Penn. and Hutchinson, Kansas where he had a combined record of 5 wins and the same number of losses.
Then came 1951 and Sutter’s “big chance.” He was sent to the Bartlesville Pirates and it was loaded with pitching, mostly right handers. In nine appearances he won five and lost three and had was in the top 10 in earned run average. His career appeared to be on track for advancement but along came the Korean War and at the age of 21 he was in more demand by Uncle Sam than he was by organized baseball.
For the record he pronounced his last name as “Sutt-er” not like Bruce of big league fame who pronounces his as “Suit-er.”
To see a photo of Dick Sutter there is one in “The KOM League Remembered” book published by Arcadia. It is located on page 107 and he is in the back row, second from far right wearing a big smile and spectacles.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Trivia found in many sources
•
Nicholas Louis Najjar. Played for two KOM league teams from 1946-48 and umpired in the KOM league in 1950. Until this past week I only had his middle initial on my database. Nick was a real interesting guy and he and his wife Anne were the last people to travel the Central Artery in Boston. It was once known as the “Highway in the Sky.” To prove Nick wasn’t kidding me back in 2003 and to let the readers know that “some” effort was put forth in preparing this report here is the story. archive.boston.com/news/local/articles/2003/12/21/drivers...
•
Norbert Bauers—Pitched briefly for the Blackwell, Okla. Broncos in 1952. Later became a Police Captain for Broward County, Florida out of Ft. Lauderdale. - Biggest headline of his police career was when he ran over a black panther on the Alligator Alley, in the dead of night. Bauers was a Pittsburgh, Pa. native but lived many years in Clover and Wagram, North Carolina.
•
John Michael Roth—Ponca City. Signed by Bert Wells off the Holdrege, Nebraska amateur team. He was born April 12, 1934 making him being one of the youngest former KOM leaguers known to mankind. His questionnaire sent to Bill Weiss had been typed and they erroneously listed his place of birth as Aurora, Illinois. That was half right. He was born in same town but in Colorado.
Roth was the subject of a Sporting News article in late 1952 which stated there were two John Roth’s on the same Ponca City team. That wasn’t the case. I discussed that with John Michael Roth and my old friend and book editor (Majoring in The Minors), Bob Dellinger and they have convinced me there was only one Roth on that club. Dellinger was the long time sports editor of the Ponca City News before taking up his position at the Oklahoma City Oklahoman. He was also one of the prime movers to establish the wrestling hall of fame in Stillwater, Oklahoma.
______________________________________________________________________________
Finally, figured it out.—Donald Wagner.
For a third of my life, time and effort (very little) has been expended in an attempt to identify a name on my Bartlesville 1948 database -- Don Wagner. He was a “one game wonder” for that team.
In recent days, with the help of the U. S. Baseball Questionnaires, I began looking at some clues and figured out the person was Donald Theodore Wagner who was born Dec. 30, 1928 in Flint, Michigan.
Following a short-lived KOM league career Wagner was headed to Santa Rosa, California where he had a good year as a rookie joining with another rookie by the name of Vernon Law. www.google.com/search?q=vernon+law+baseball&oq=Vernon...
In 1949 Wagner was sent back east to Hutchinson, Kansas of the Western Association and when that didn’t work out he was back in Class D ball with Mt. Vernon, Ill. of the Mississippi-Ohio Valley league. At the mid-point of the 20th century Wagner was playing at Yuma, Arizona and in 1951 split his time between the Yuma and El Centro, Calif. clubs. By that time he had established his residence in Laverne, California and stayed in that state until passing away on March 14, 2004 in San Bernardino.
___________________________________________________________________________
Article from a loyal follower of this report
I thought you'd be interested in this minor league baseball article I wrote for Oklahoma Today magazine.
www.oklahomatoday.com/history-culture/diamond-dogs
I hope all is well. Greg Echlin
______________________________________________________________________________
Former KOM leaguers who still are a mystery:
For lack of evidence to the contrary I still believe some former KOM leaguers are still living. Any help in contacting these guys would be welcomed or in the case of death where they were living at the time.
•
Salvatore John Campagna.—Born Nov. 21, 1931 in Omaha, Nebraska. He was a third baseman for the 1950 Bartlesville, Okla. Pirates. He was living in San Carlos, California by 1953 and my best efforts at being a bloodhound leads me to think he is still in that neck of the woods, assuming they have any trees. San Mateo might be where he pitches his tent these days.
•
Willis Frank Carruth Jr. was born September 22, 1922 in Bosqueville, Texas. He has lived in a number of towns in the Lone Star State, the last one being McKinney. However, every attempt at locating him, over the past quarter century, has failed to generate any response. He was a member of the 1948 Bartlesville Pirates.
•
William R. Waggener—Born 10/20/1923 in Beardstown, Illinois. He joined the Army on June 6, 1942. After WW II he was signed by the St. Louis Browns and sent to Pittsburg, Kansas. He played for both Pittsburg and Bartlesville in 1946 and then was with Bartlesville once again, in 1947.
Until recently his middle name was just “R” to me. In looking at the U. S. Baseball Questionnaires it revealed his middle name is Ruel. In searching the Internet for Ruel Waggener it was learned that was his father’s first name. When the elder Waggener passed away, in the 1980’s, his obituary listed a son, Ruel, as living in Peoria. Thus, I’m confident William Ruel Waggener is in a Peoria Nursing home and is pressing the century mark in regard to birthdays.
•
James Parker Williams was a pitcher in the Pittsburgh Pirate chain starting in 1949. For a short time in 1950, he was with the Bartlesville Pirates. He was listed as being from McRae, Arkansas in the Bartlesville papers. He was born January 3, 1931. He is either living or the Social Security Number I have on file for him is incorrect. This fellow has been a real enigma for me and conferring with “real” baseball historians has not led me any closer to determining his whereabouts or fate.
•
Donald Anthony Bussan was born June 13, 1931 in Jersey City, New Jersey to parents with the last name of Bussanich. He played for the 1951 Bartlesville Pirates and passed away on June 28, 2002. He had received his Social Security card in California but his place of death has eluded me.
Bussan played at Eugene, Oregon as well as Bartlesville in 1951. He played at Brunswick, Georgia in 1952 and then took some time off to serve in the Army. He came back to professional baseball in 1954 and played for Lubbock, Texas. In 1955 he left for the “Land of the Rising Sun. He played for the Tombo Unions in the Japanese Pacific league where he was a .220 hitter but tied for the team lead in homers with two other players by hitting six.
Well, that is a quick summary of some questions still bugging me about former KOM leaguers. If anyone wants to chime in feel free so to do.
______________________________________________________________________________
The passing of John David Mudd—Carthage Cubs 1951.
B. 4/22/1932—D. 6/16/2019
This note was sent to some of the surviving members of the 1951 Carthage Cubs
“Guys, I was trolling this Internet this afternoon and was shocked to find the notice of the death of your old teammate, John Mudd. I was going to send along his obituary but this is all I could find. www.dignitymemorial.com/zh-cn/obituaries/mesa-az/john-mud...
For some reason the lack of detail doesn't surprise me. Hope the rest of you are doing well. Kathy, I don't know if sharing this with Leonard would mean anything to him or not. Anyway, wanted to let all the known living 1951 Carthage Cubs, with whom I have contact, know about Mudd.”
The living members of the 1951 Carthage Cubs are: Don Biebel, Fred Bade, Bernie Tomicki, Jim Conroy, Wayne Baker, Dick Gintert, Orville Jacobs, Bill Eastburn, Leonard Vandehey, Walt Babcock and Len Bourdet. From that list I have regular to sporadic contact with five of them. I heard from two of them regarding Mudd’s passing.
•
Walt Babcock’s reply:
JOHN, I LOOKED UP JOHN ONCE WHILE I LIVED IN CHICAGO. NEVER DID AGAIN.
Don Biebel’s reply:
Thanks John, sorry to hear this, I loved John as did all of his teammates. My condolences to his family.
A short time later:
John: just a follow up to let you Biebel is hanging in there. Feeling good with the exception. Of a severe case of neuropathy in my feet and hands. Walk around like a drunk trying to stay on my feet. Had to give up golf but I keep busy. I collect cigar bands now and have over 57,000 in my collection. Yeah, I turned into a nerd. Hope you're well and even though you don’t hear from me I love your updates and look forward to seeing them although there is far too many obits these days. Take care, John and thanks again for the info on John (Mudd)
Ed reply:
Good hearing from you. In the last few days I have read a lot about your high school days with Billy Hoeft. That game where he struck out every batter must have been quite an experience. Of course, you had to be responsible for calling such a good game.
Do you have any special memories from that game? I read where the Detroit Tigers were after you as well.
Nothing wrong with being a nerd. Always good hearing from you.
Biebel’s reply:
Yeah the Tigers wanted to sign me for 51 and I was not about to wait until then. Wanted to get my feet wet right away. The Hoeft game was something else and it was against a pretty good team but he was something else. www.google.com/search?q=billy+hoeft+baseball&oq=Billy...
We ended up together again when he joined the Cubs in 64 or 65. Did you know my senior class in HS had three us make the majors, Bill as a pitcher, me as an official and Dutch Rennert as an umpire? Take care John and keep doing what you're doing you're loved
Ed reply:
Now that you mention it I do recall your telling me about Rennert.
Just think how your journey in life would have been changed had you signed with the Tigers. For sure you would have missed the bright lights of Carthage and the "dim bulb" batboy who fetched the drinking cup from the bottom of the water pail.
Closing remarks:
John Mudd was a graduate of Lane Technical High School in Chicago. He was not only a good pitcher but he was a magnate to a few of the Carthage “bobby soxer’s” and some of my buddies who admired his baseball smarts. This note came from one of my “bestest” friends. “Johnny: Johnny Mudd was very kind to us as kids, spent quite a bit of time talking to us. Somewhere, probably in a very old shoe box, I have a picture of him at Muny Park. If I ever find it I will send it to you. Thanks for telling me about his passing. One of my early Class D heroes -- and you know what? They meant as much as most of the big leaguers I've met. -- Corky Simpson
P.S. I once interviewed ____ _____ in the ______ clubhouse. He was naked and eating linguine. True story. Other players came and went as if, heck, nothing strange about this. Truth be told, the clubhouse is THEIR house and if you're there, you're a guest, a visitor or a trespasser. But they can be gross, just the same.”
Ed comment:
Just to protect my friend I expunged the name of the famous guy and the team he represented who ate in the nude during an interview. I read that note to my wife and her remark was “There is something wrong with that guy.” My wife never met the guy, but I have. I think my wife was spot on in her remark.
John Mudd was another of those guys who had it before his military service and not after it concluded. He was 14-8 at both Carthage and Sioux Falls, SD in 1951-52. He then went into to service and pitched for Ft. Chaffee, Ark. during 1953-54. After returning to professional baseball he pitched in the Sally, Three-I and Pioneer leagues in 1955-56 and compiled a 10-12 record before returning to his native Chicago and working many years for the city. In his latter years he moved to Arizona.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Well, sports fans it’s time to bring another “action packed” edition of the KOM League Flash Report to a conclusion. Yes, it will retain that title due to the “great outpouring” of support for it to not got through a name change. Great outpouring, in this instance was 1%. That is how many of the readers cast their vote for either change or retain the status quo. That kind of “support” has and will cause many in the presidential sweepstakes for 2020 to step aside. Do you think maybe the readership is sending along a message?
Sandal Castle is a ruined medieval castle in Sandal Magna, a suburb of the city of Wakefield in West Yorkshire, England, overlooking the River Calder. It was the site of royal intrigue and the setting for a scene in one of William Shakespeare's plays.
History
The Warennes
William de Warenne, 2nd Earl of Surrey (1081–1138) was granted the Sandal estates in 1107. The 2nd earl built the first Sandal Castle of timber. He supported Robert Curthose against Henry I and was banished from the kingdom for two years. Later he was given the Wakefield manor. William de Warenne, 3rd Earl of Surrey (1119–1148) spent little time at Sandal, having taken crusading vows and joined the Second Crusade. He had one daughter, Isabel de Warenne (1137–1199), who married William of Blois, son of King Stephen, who became the 4th earl. He died in 1159, leaving no children. Isabel, his widow, next married Hamelin (1129–1202), the 5th earl. He was the son of Geoffrey of Anjou and assumed the Warrene name on his marriage in 1164. Hamelin is thought to have built the early Norman stone fortifications at Conisbrough Castle and also begun to replace the wooden fortifications at Sandal with stone.
William de Warenne, 5th Earl of Surrey (1166–1240) married Maud Marshal in 1225. He was loyal to his cousin, King John and is one of the four nobles whose name appears in the Magna Carta for John. On King John's death in 1216 he supported Henry III. Maud de Warenne, William's widow, held the Wakefield Manor from 1240 until their son John de Warenne, 6th Earl of Surrey (1231–1304) came of age in 1252. John married Alice de Lusignan in 1247. In 1296 the 6th Earl was appointed warden for Scotland by Edward I and in 1299, the Earl and his royal master were triumphant over the Scots at the Battle of Falkirk.
William de Warrene (1256–1286) was killed at a tournament in Croydon pre-deceasing his father. His son John de Warenne, 7th Earl of Surrey (1286–1347) was born in the year of his death. John married Joan of Bar but lived adulterously with Maud de Nereford from a village near Castle Acre in Norfolk. In 1347, the 7th Earl died. His sons John and Thomas became Knights Hospitaller in the Holy Land, predeceasing their mother. The lands passed to Edward III. The Warennes had castles at Lewes in Sussex and Reigate in Surrey, Castle Acre Castle in Norfolk and Conisbrough in Yorkshire.
The Dukes of York
In 1347, Edward III granted Sandal to his fifth son Edmund of Langley who was six years old at the time. His elder brother John of Gaunt held Pontefract and Knaresborough Castles, Edmund was granted Wark Castle near Coldstream in the Scottish Borders, and in 1377 Fotheringhay Castle in Northamptonshire which was to become his home, and for the next 75 years the family seems to have spent little time at Sandal, leaving it to the management of constables or stewards.
In 1385 Edmund was made Duke of York as a reward for his support for his nephew, Richard II of England. He was succeeded by his son, also Edward who campaigned in Ireland and died at the Battle of Agincourt in 1415. Edward was succeeded by his nephew, Richard Plantagenet, 3rd Duke of York.
The Battle of Wakefield
Early in 1460, during the Wars of the Roses, Richard Plantagenet made a bid for the throne. He was initially not well-received, but an Act of Accord made in October 1460 recognised him as heir to the throne and named him Protector of the Realm. In December Richard went to Sandal Castle, either to consolidate his position or to counter Lancastrian dissent. He had an army of 3,000–8,000 men but on 30 December in the Battle of Wakefield, he was outnumbered and outmaneuvered by Queen Margaret's army, coming from nearby Pontefract. Richard suffered a crushing defeat and both he and his younger son Edmund, Earl of Rutland were killed (although only two months later Richard's eldest son Edward became king).
Richard III
The castle's last brush with royalty came in 1483 when Richard's eighth son (and twelfth child) Richard III chose it as a northern base and ordered significant investments. This hope was short lived however as Richard was killed in the Battle of Bosworth in 1485. After this the castle was maintained a little, but gradually declined, with the building of Wakefield Prison in the 1590s leaving it even less useful.
The English Civil War
During the English Civil War Sandal Castle was Royalist, although its neglected state left it out of the major conflicts. In 1645 however it was besieged at least three times by Parliamentarian troops. Butler recounts: Having been assured that they would receive a safe passage to Welbeck House in north Nottinghamshire they surrendered the castle at 10 o'clock on 1 October 1645. The garrison was then 10 officers and 90 men with two of the men called "seniors" implying that they were professional soldiers rather than just non-commissioned officers. They also surrendered 100 muskets, 50 pikes, 20 halberds, 150 swords and two barrels of gunpowder: no pieces of artillery are mentioned.
As a result of this capitulation, only Bolton Castle in Wensleydale and Skipton Castle remained in Royalist hands in Yorkshire, but Sandal "was the most resolute of all the three northern garrisons" and its fall caused great rejoicing among the parliamentarian forces. By the siege's end, it was a ruin. The following year, Parliament ordered that it be made untenable.
The castle
The motte at Sandal Castle
The castles built by William the Conqueror's followers were self-sufficient strongholds, some of which were tax-gathering points, some controlled the larger towns, river crossings or passes through hills. Two castles were built near Wakefield, one at Lowe Hill on the north bank of the Calder and Sandal on the south bank. The first castles were probably started and completed in the early 12th century by William de Warenne, 2nd Earl of Surrey after he had been granted the manor of Wakefield by Henry I.
Sandal and Lowe Hill were motte-and-bailey earthwork castles with wooden towers on the mound and baileys with timber palisades and deep ditches. Sandal is built on a natural sandstone ridge, the Oaks Rock. The motte was raised to 10 metres (33 ft) with the 7 metres (23 ft) deep moat surrounding it. Only Sandal survived and during the 13th century the keep, curtain wall and other buildings were rebuilt in stone, probably started by either the sixth or seventh Earls Warenne.[Timber motte and bailey castles were often converted into stone if they were in use for long periods; Sandal is a particularly good example of this.
The stone keep was circular with four towers each four storeys high; two of them close together formed a gatehouse, and the east tower contained a well, 37 metres (121 ft) deep. The double-walled keep would have had guardrooms, storerooms and servants' quarters on the ground floor, the main hall above and private apartments on the second floor. The tower rooms had garderobes, (lavatories) that discharged on the outer walls of the keep. The curtain wall was 6 metres (20 ft) high with a wall walk along its length, it enclosed the bailey and crossed the moat twice to reach the keep.
The barbican at Sandal was inside the bailey; it was a three-storey tower with a moat opposite two drum towers at the entrance to the keep, all of which were constructed in the early 1270s. The barbican with its own gate and portcullis added an extra line of defence between the main entrance gate and the keep. Attackers entering the barbican had to make a right-angled turn to enter the keep, which was protected by a drawbridge between the drum towers. A stairway from the barbican led to a sally port.
The bailey lay to the south-east of the keep with the main gatehouse on the north-east side. It was crescent shaped, about 71 metres (233 ft) long and 52 metres (171 ft) wide. Inside the bailey there was a 12 metres (39 ft) deep well and two privy shafts, one of which is 8 metres (26 ft) deep.
The ruins
The ruins were a source of stone for local building and became a place for locals to relax. They were depicted in the foreground of a drawing of Wakefield from the south by Samuel Buck in 1719 or 1722, and in 1753 an engraving was published of an Elizabethan survey drawing.
The ruins were first excavated by the Yorkshire Archaeological Society in 1893. A more detailed project began in the summer of 1964 and was a partnership between Wakefield Corporation, Wakefield Historical Society and the University of Leeds. This project started as an experiment in adult education, but with the help of over a hundred local volunteers it grew into a complete and rigorous excavation that continued for nine years. Whilst excavating the bailey, archaeologists found remains of flint tools suggesting a Mesolithic encampment was there in about 5,000 BC.
In 2003, a wooden walkway was provided to allow access to the summit of the motte without causing erosion: it was subsequently closed as unsafe. A visitor centre was constructed about 110 yards (100 m) from the castle. There have been historical re-enactments and "living history" days, including commemoration of the Battle of Wakefield and the deaths of Richard Duke of York and his son Edmund. In February 2015 Wakefield Council announced that due to budget constraints they were considering plans to either close the visitor centre or reduce its opening hours. The centre has since closed.
The castle is a Scheduled Monument, which means it is a "nationally important" historic building and archaeological site which has been given protection against unauthorised change. It is also a Grade II* listed building.
Lancaster 'Just Jane' seen during one of her regular taxi-runs at the Lincolnshire Aviation Heritage Centre, East Kirkby, UK.
16-06-2014.
The following full history of Lancaster NX611 was taken from the museum website:-
"Just Jane" was built by Austin Motors at Longbridge near Birmingham, in April 1945. Given the serial number NX611, she was one of the first 150 B Mk VII Avro Lancasters destined as part of the RAF's Tiger Force in the Far East. However, Japan's early surrender meant these aircraft were suddenly surplus to requirements and, instead of seeing service, NX611 ended up in storage at Llandow. There she stayed until 1952. From then on, a chequered career followed.
In April 1952 she was bought by the French Government. Painted midnight blue, she flew maritime patrol for the French Naval Air Arm. Ten years later, she went to Noumeau, New Caledonia, was painted white and used for air sea rescue and cartography. Then in 1964, the French presented her to the Historical Aircraft Preservation Society and flew her to her new home in Sydney where she was overhauled before being flown back to Britain. It took nine days to complete the 12,000 mile journey back to her homeland- seventy flying hours- landing at Biggin Hill on 13 May, 1965.
Temporarily grounded, due to expiry of permitted flying hours, it was 1967 before NX611 flew again, but even then public appearances were brief because of prohibitive costs.
She was flown to Lavenham in Suffolk and, a few years later, in 1972, was put up for auction at 'Squires Gate', Blackpool.
Meanwhile, in Lincolnshire, determined to commemorate the death of their brother Chistopher who was killed on the Nuremburg Raid in March 1944, and all of the men who served in Bomber Command, Fred and Harold Panton had decided to purchase a Second World War Bomber. At one time, they had had their eyes on a Halifax which was coming up for sale, but their father told them, in no uncertain terms, they would not be permitted to keep one at his farm.
The years passed, but the brothers still held on to their dream. Eventually, Fred and Harold became co-owners of their own farm. When some land came up for sale which included part of the defunct East Kirkby airfield they bought it. Some areas of concrete and a few buildings still stood on the old airfield, in a state of disrepair. They used part of the area to set up a chicken farm. However, with the idea of owning an exhibition aircraft still foremost in their in their minds, they also began to renovate the "working area" of the airfield. That included building a new hangar, where an original T2 hangar had stood there during the war years.
Learning about the forthcoming auction, via an advertisement, Fred and Harold decided to try and purchase the old Lancaster. This aircraft could be the perfect monument to their brother's memory. When Fred saw NX611 for the very first time at Blackpool, she stood lonely and forlorn, waiting to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Around her, a great Avro Lancaster NX611 at RAF Scamptoncrowd stood- some hopefully putting in bids, but most just watched- curious to see one of the country's finest types of Bomber at close range. Sadly, due to the reserve not being reached, she was withdrawn from the auction and later privately sold to the Rt Hon Lord Lilford. Fred and Harold kept in contact with her new owner and eventually, whilst she stood Gate Guardian at RAF Scampton, near Lincoln, and after one or two hiccups in the furtherance of their ambition to own her, a deal was struck with Lord Lilford's agent.
In September 1983, NX611 was finally purchased by Fred and Harold and, four years later, after completing an agreed total of ten years gate guardian at RAF Scampton, she was brought to East Kirkby, courtesy of the RAF. It was sixteen years since Fred had seen her at Blackpool auction.
The first moves towards restoring one of her four engines were made in 1993. Two ex RAF engineers were brought in to do the job. They began work on No3 engine. Although it had been idle for 22 years, they were confident they could bring it back to life. Accessing the spare parts was organised, the engine rotated to ensure it would still turn and the cam shaft covers removed. Both had to be replaced, although the engine cylinders were in good working order. Then the propeller was removed, stripped down and examined and - apart from having to adjust the blade settings - everything proved to be in fine order and was rebuilt.
Local contractors were brought in to check the wiring and make good where necessary. That alone was a ten-day job.
The engine's starter motor, magnetos, fuel booster pump and ignition harness were removed and checked, the fuel tank was pressurised and the fuel jettison system reset. When the throttle controls between the cockpit lever and the engine were uncovered, it was discovered that almost a third of the small control rods had to be replaced.
However after about seven hundred man hours and at a cost of £7000 the engine was finally ready.
This work was then completed for all four engines and they now at a fully operational taxiing standard.
+++ DISCLAIMER +++
Nothing you see here is real, even though the conversion or the presented background story might be based historical facts. BEWARE!
Some background:
In March 1941 Saab was given the task to design a better fighter than the Seversky Republic P-35s and Reggiane 2000s, at that time the only fighter aircraft Sweden was able or allowed to buy and the air force’s most modern fighters. Several other foreign designs, including the German Bf 109 or even the Japanese Mitsubishi Zero had also been considered.
Anyway, during the ongoing war the procurement of foreign equipment had no predictable future, and so a program for an indigenous fighter aircraft was launched the same year. This resulted in two different designs, which were both initially constructed around an imported German DB 603 engine – a deal which had become possible through the allowance of German transport flights to Norway over Swedish territory, a reason why no Allied equipment was sold to Sweden.
The resulting designs, the L-21 and L-23, differed considerably from each other. The Saab L-21 was a futuristic twin-boom pusher. This unconventional layout was a technological risk, with ejection seat and all, but it was expected to exploit the DB603 engine to the max, with a low-drag airframe (e .g. with a totally buried radiator installation inside of the inner wings) and a well-balanced center of gravity, which was expected to improve handling and turn radius. It was the favored design of Saab’s engineers.
As a fall-back option, though, the L-23 was added. It was a more conservative design with the same DB 603 engine, but with the engine in the classic nose position, a tunnel radiator under the rear fuselage, low tapered wings and a conventional tail. The overall outline resembled the P-51B/C Mustang. Most interestingly, the J 23 was to have a Bofors ejection seat, too, despite its conventional layout.
In December 1941 both designs were approved for prototypes, so that a direct comparison of both layouts could be made. The first of three J 21 prototypes flew on 30 July 1943, while the first three J 23 fighters followed on 10 August, just two weeks later.
Flight tests and evaluation continued until mid-1944 and, despite less weight and size, the J 23 turned out to be fast (Max. speed 626 km/h (388 mph) with the DB 603), but considerably less maneuverable than the J 21, which in itself was also not a perfect aircraft and frequently faced overheating problems.
Faced with two mediocre designs and an urgent need for a modern fighter, it was eventually decided to go ahead with the J 21 for serial production, but a pre-production batch of upgraded J 23 was also ordered for field tests and further development. In the meantime, Sweden had acquired rights to produce the DB 605 in license, and the new fighter was to be adapted to this more modern and powerful engine – it was hoped that the new engine would improve the J 23’s performance, and it was also fitted to the production J 21.
This re-engined variant was the J 23A, of which twelve aircraft were constructed at the main plant in Trollhättan and delivered from August 1945, too late to be involved in typical interception duties at the Swedish borders.
Deliveries of the favored J 21 started in December of the same year. The latter’s field performance turned out to be unsuited for the interceptor role, and the cooling problems persisted. Relegated mainly into the bomber and CAS role (the J 21 turned out to be a passable ground attack aircraft and a stable gun platform), the limitation of the J 21’s pusher design led to a revival of the front-engine J 23.
The resulting J 23B became the aircraft’s actual production variant, incorporating many improvements which had been developed and tested on the prototypes and the pre-production J 23As. These included aerodynamic modifications like a different airfoil on the outer wings and a lowered horizontal stabilizer, coupled with an extended rear fuselage for better directional stability and a slimmed-down radiator fairing for less drag. These machines were delivered from late 1946 on, and a total of forty-six J 23B airframes were produced until early 1948.
In service, the lighter J 23Bs proved to be a better interceptor than the J 21, with a higher top speed and rate of climb, but its handling was less responsive than the pusher aircraft with the same engine and armament.
Overall the J 23B was regarded as inferior to the very similar J 26 (the P-51D) in almost any respect, and the J 23B was never really popular with its flight or ground crews. Consequently, the J 23Bs active fighter career was short and the machines were only operated by the F 16 fighter wing and the F 20 Air Force Academy, both based at Uppsala Airfield, primarily used for advanced weapon and air combat training.
A new evaluation of the J 21 and the J 23 in 1947 led to the decision to retain the J 21 series but to consider the modification of the airframe to accommodate a jet engine. While production line J 21A series aircraft were first selected for conversion, the initial piston-engine version continued in production in five series "batches" that were completed in 1948–49.
Further J 23B production was not resumed, instead the J 26 and J 27 were procured. Anyway, the age of the piston-engine fighter came soon to a close and the Swedish Air Force entered the jet age. Consequently, the J 23B was already phased out, together with the J 21, after 1954.
General characteristics:
Crew: one
Length: 9.58 m (31 ft 4 in)
Wingspan: 11.3 m (37 ft 8 in)
Height: 3.96 (13 ft 0 in)
Wing area: 20.00 m² (215.28 ft²)
Empty weight: 2,535 kg (5,583 lb)
Loaded weight: 3,445 kg (7,588 lb)
Max. take-off weight: 3,663 kg (8,068 lb)
Powerplant:
1× Daimler-Benz liquid-cooled, supercharged, 60° inverted V12 DB 605B engine,
rated at 1,085 kW (1,455 hp / 1,475 PS) and license-built by SFA.
Performance:
Maximum speed: 680 km/h (367 knots, 422 mph)
Cruise speed: 495 km/h (265 knots, 308 mph)
Range: 750 km (466 mi)
Service ceiling: 11,200 m (36,685 ft)
Rate of climb: 17 m/s (3,340 ft/min)
Armament:
1× engine-mounted 20 mm Hispano-Suiza HS.404 or Bofors cannon,
firing through the propeller hub
4× 13 mm Bofors-built Colt machine guns in the outer wings nose
Underwing hardpoints for various bombs, drop tanks and unguided rockets
The kit and its assembly:
The “Swedish Season” continues! The Saab 23 is another “phantom of the past”, a real world design that never left the drawing board. The J 23 actually started as an alternative to the J 21, but was discarded in late 1941 in favor of the more promising, yet bigger and heavier, pusher design. But that would not stop modelers from trying to build one, even though I have never seen a model of this aircraft? Having recently tried to build a Saab 27 fighter caught me in the right mood for another whiffy Swedish design, so I took a chance on the J 23, too.
At first glance you can mistake the J 23 for a P-51B with an engine from a late Bf 109, some sources describe it as “a Swedish Messerschmitt”. But that’s only superficial, much like the later Griffon-powered J 27 project which can be described as a “Super Spitfire”, but this does not do justice to the aircraft’s construction.
Both were independent developments, even though the P-51 (some early specimen were forced to land in Sweden and closely examined) certainly had a massive impact on both designs.
Anyway, the information basis surrounding the J 23 is worse than the J 27’s, and I only had rather vague profile drawings/sketches at hand for reference. A basis model was also hard to find: the rear section from a P-51B (in this case an Intech kit from Poland) was settled, since the Mustang’s cockpit shape, dorsal section and fin come really close to the J 23. But you cannot simply mate a P-51 with a Bf 109 nose, it would result in a rather wacky Mustang-thing because the proportions are not right.
Finding a good solution was not easy, and I was lucky to find a Hasegawa Ki-61 in the stash – it has a German engine (an earlier DB 601, though) and an overall layout similar to the P-51B. But the Ki-61 is considerably larger than a Bf 109, more in the P-51’s size class. Despite many detail modifications I decided to mate these unlikely aircraft for the J 23s basis – engraved panel lines on both kits made the combination less obvious, too.
The InTech P-51B gave its tail and the cockpit section (excluding the radiator tunnel and the wing roots), cut away from the rest of the Mustang fuselage with a Z-shaped cut. With a matching cut on the Ki-61’s fuselage, the engine and the whole wing/fuselage intersection were used. Styrene strips held the fuselage sections in place, on the outside the seams were later blended with nitrous compound putty. One benefit of this solution is that the OOB P-51 canopy could be used (even though the rear end fit necessitated some body work), and the resulting cockpit position was just as far forward as on the J 23, right above the wings. As a consequence the rear fuselage behind the cockpit appears to be rather long, but that is AFAIK correct, the J 23 had these slightly odd proportions!
For the J 23’s DB 605 engine a different, bigger spinner had to be mounted – scratched from a massive PZL 23 spinner and single blades (from the Hasegawa Ki-61), together with a metal axis and a styrene tube adapter inside of the nose. Some putty work was necessary to fair over the Ki-61 guns on the cowling, the typical DB 601 front bulge and blend the bigger, new spinner to the rest of the fuselage, but the result looks O.K.
The Ki-61’s original wings and landing gear could, thanks to the original fuselage section from the Hasegawa kit, be carried over and easily mounted, even though the wing tips were clipped for a square, Mustang-esque shape (the J 23’s look in all illustrations I’ve seen like upscaled Bf 109E wings).
The InTech P-51’s horizontal stabilizers were used, but for a J 23 they had to be placed in a different position: further back (so that wedges for the vertical rudder had to be cut out) and considerably lower, necessitating some (more) body work to hide the original attachment points. The new position adds to the impression of an extended fuselage section behind the cockpit, even though the P-51 donor fuselage section is only a little longer than the Ki-61’s. All tail surface outlines were slightly modified, too.
The J 23’s typical, shallow radiator tunnel had to be scratched, the semi-buried construction sits far behind the wings’ training edge. In an initial step, the removed Ki-61 radiator’s gap as well as the P-51 tail wheel well were faired over with styrene sheet and new intake/outlet ramps integrated into the lower rear fuselage. The tunnel itself is the narrow, aerodynamic fairing of a Boulton Paul Defiant’s machine guns behind the turret (raised when not in use), left over from a Pavla kit, opened at both ends.
As a consequence of the new and long radiator tunnel, the P-51 tail wheel well was moved about 5mm further back and the fuselage profile under the tail fin re-shaped.
One of the final steps was the cockpit interior, because I was not sure concerning the relative position of the P-51’s canopy (cut into three pieces for open display) and dashboard and the Ki-61’s cockpit floor panel and seat. But both turned out to match relatively well, and I added a tank and radio dummy behind the seat in order to prevent a clear view into the rear fuselage.
The landing gear was taken OOB from the Ki-61 – it looks similar to the real J 23 arrangement, so I stuck with it. The tail wheel comes from the InTech P-51, just the covers were scratched for the re-located well.
All gun barrels on spinner and wings are hollow steel needles, no ordnance was hung under the wings, even though the Ki-61 hardpoints were retained. After all, it’s a fighter aircraft.
Painting and markings:
Once more a classic, if not conservative, livery for a fictional aircraft – and in this case I chose the simple olivgrön/ljust blågrå camouflage of the late Fourties, coupled with contemporary color-coded letters identifying the individual aircraft and its squadron within the Flygflöttilj group.
The uniform upper surfaces were painted with RAF Dark Green (Humbrol 163). This tone has an olive drab touch and comes IMHO pretty close to the original Swedish color, the frequently recommended FS 34079 is IMHO too blue-ish. For the underside I used Humbrol 87 (Steel Gray), which is a blue-greenish gray. The authentic tone would be FS 36270, but on a model it appears much too dark, so that the lighter Steel Gray is a handy and individual alternative.
A light black ink was applied in order to emphasize the panel lines, some more depth was added through dry-painted panels with lighter shades of the basic colors (in this case, Humbrol 155 and 128).
The cockpit interior was painted in dark gray (Humbrol 32), while the landing gear and the wells became Aluminum (Humbrol 56).
As an aircraft of the air staff flight, this J 23 received a white spinner and a white code letter on the tail. These and other markings came from various sources and spare decal sheets. Some extra color was added with red warning markings on the wings above the flaps, plus some visual markings - all made with generic decal stripes. The cock nose art is a personal addition - taken from a Spanish Bf 109D, but AFAIK such personal markings were not uncommon on Swedish Air Force aircraft in the post WWII era.
An eye-catcher and some variety on the otherwise simple green/gray livery are white high-viz markings on the wing tips and a wide fuselage band. Such additional markings were frequently used in the post WWII-era during exercises, training or public displays. Styles varied considerably, though, between “color blocks” and wide single bands which I used (seen on a J 21) and even dense, thin zebra stripes on wings and fuselage. In this case, the white markings were painted onto wings and fuselage (Humbrol 34).
Since most panel lines on the fuselage were lost I painted some new ones with a soft pencil. Finally, after some gun soot and exhaust stains made with grinded graphite as well as some dry-brushed silver on the wings’ leading edges and around the cockpit were added, the kit received a coating with matt acrylic varnish.
Another scratch build of an obscure Swedish aircraft that never reached the hardware stage – and pretty successful, IMHO. This sleek J 23 model looks just as harmless and innocent, but involved massive construction work in almost every area as the kitbashed J 27 before. It’s actually the first model rendition of the J 23 I have seen so far – and another funny fact is that this “Swedish Messerschmitt” was built without any Bf 109 part at all!
The Triumph Renown is strictly the name given to the Triumph's large saloon car made from 1949 to 1954 but it is, in reality, part of a three-car series of the 1800, 2000 and Renown models. Together with the Triumph Roadster, they were the first vehicles to carry the Triumph badge following the company's takeover by the Standard Motor Company.
Overview
ManufacturerStandard Motor Company
Production1946–54. 15,491 made[1]
Body and chassis
Body style4 door saloon, limousine.
Powertrain
Engine1766 cc or 2088 cc Straight-4 overhead valve
Transmission3-speed manual
Dimensions
Wheelbase108 in (2,743 mm) 1800, 2000 & Renown
111 in (2,819 mm) TDC & limousine[2]
Length168 in (4,267 mm) 2000
178 in (4,521 mm)Renown
181 in (4,597 mm) TDC & limousine[2]
Width64 in (1,626 mm)[2]
Height65 in (1,651 mm)[3]
Bodywork[edit]
The cars were distinctively styled in the later 1930s vogue for Razor Edge coachwork used in the 1940s by others including Austin for its big Sheerline. The six light (featuring three side windows on each side) design and the thin C pillars at the rear of the passenger cabin anticipated the increased window areas that would become a feature of British cars during the 1960s. The car's side profile resembled that of the contemporary prestigious Bentley saloons, which some felt was more than a coincidence. Similar styling subsequently appeared on the smaller Triumph Mayflower. The Managing Director of the Standard Motor Company at that time, Sir John Black, commissioned the design of the Razoredge saloon. There has been much discussion over the years as to exactly which designers of that period were responsible for the styling but it is very clear from the records that Sir John drove the production forward and used the Triumph name from the prewar Triumph company that had been bought by the Standard Motor Company.
The body was built by Mulliners of Birmingham in the traditional coachbuilder's method of sheet metal over a wooden frame.[1] The principal panels were constructed not from steel, which was in short supply in the wake of the Second World War, but from aluminium. It had been used extensively for aircraft manufacture during the war, which had taken place in a number of car plants (known at the time as "shadow factories") in the English Midlands. But by the mid-1950s aluminium had become the more expensive metal, which may have hastened the Renown's demise.Triumph Renown Mk I TDB 1949–52[edit]
The car was renamed the Renown in October 1949. It had an entirely new chassis based on the Standard Vanguard with pressed steel sections replacing the tubes previously used. The front suspension changed to coil springing. Although the 3-speed column change transmission was retained, from June 1950 an overdrive unit was offered as an option. Inside there was a new instrument layout.
A Renown tested by the British magazine The Motor in 1950 had a top speed of 75.0 mph (120.7 km/h) and could accelerate from 0–60 mph (97 km/h) in 24.3 seconds. A fuel consumption of 23.9 miles per imperial gallon (11.8 L/100 km; 19.9 mpg-US) was recorded. The test car cost £991 including taxes.[5]
Of the 6501 produced, fewer than 100 are known to have survived.[4]
Triumph Renown Limousine 1951–54[edit]
(188 in 1952; 3 in 1953; 3 in 1954)
In 1951 a limousine version was announced with an extra 3 in (76 mm) in the wheelbase. A division (glass partition) was placed behind the driver separating the front and back of the car. A radio and heater were fitted as standard.
A limousine with overdrive tested by The Motor magazine in 1952 had a top speed of 77.5 mph (124.7 km/h) slightly quicker than they had recorded two years earlier for the saloon and could accelerate from 0–60 mph (97 km/h) in 25.0 seconds. The reported fuel consumption was 21.6 miles per imperial gallon (13.1 L/100 km; 18.0 mpg-US). The test car cost £1440 including taxes.[3]
A total of 190 were made[4] though only very small numbers remain.
wikipedia
"The free man is the one whose choices have given him the power to stand on his own feet and determine his own life according to the higher light and spirit that are in him. The slave, in the spiritual order, is the man whose choices have destroyed all spontaneity in him and have delivered him over, bound hand and foot, to his own compulsions, idiosyncrasies and illusions, so that he never does what he really wants to do, but only what he has to do."
-Thomas Merton
The town's name was given by French military forces who founded the Fortress of Louisbourg and its fortified seaport on the southwest part of the harbour, in honour of Louis XV. The French fortress was demolished after its final capture in 1758 and the site was abandoned by British forces in 1768.
Subsequent English settlers built a small fishing village across the harbour from the abandoned site of the fortress. The village grew slowly with additional Loyalists settlers in the 1780s. The harbour grew more accessible with the construction of the second Louisbourg Lighthouse in 1842 on the site of the original French lighthouse destroyed in 1758. A railway first reached Louisbourg in 1877, but it was poorly built and abandoned after a forest fire. However the arrival of Sydney and Louisburg Railway in 1894 brought heavy volumes of winter coal exports to Louisbourg Harbour's ice-free waters as a winter coal port. The harbour was used by the Canadian government ship Montmagny in 1912 to land bodies from the sinking of the RMS Titanic.
Textures by pareeerica:
Paper Grunge:
www.flickr.com/photos/8078381@N03/2810474453/
Hint of Jade Lace:
©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) ©
.
.
I would like to say a huge and heartfelt 'THANK YOU' to GETTY IMAGES, and the 41.546+ Million visitors to my FLICKR site.
***** Selected for sale in the GETTY IMAGES COLLECTION on February 11th 2021
CREATIVE RF gty.im/1301185664 MOMENT ROYALTY FREE COLLECTION**
This photograph became my 5,504th 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)
.
.
Photograph of a Male Eurasian blackcap (Sylvia atricapilla), (Shot through glass in fading light), taken at an altitude of Fifty five metres at 16:13pm on Monday 8th February 2021, during snow brought in from the continent by 'The beast from the East 2', off Chessington Avenue in Bexleyheath, Kent, England.
The Eurasian blackcap usually known simply as the blackcap, is a common and widespread typical warbler. It has mainly olive-grey upperparts and pale grey underparts, and differences between the five subspecies are small. Both sexes have a neat coloured cap to the head, black in the male and reddish-brown in the female. The male's typical song is a rich musical warbling, often ending in a loud high-pitched crescendo, but a simpler song is given in some isolated areas, such as valleys in the Alps
.
.
Nikon D850 Hand held with Sigma OS Optical Stabilization enabled on normal setting. Focal length 600mm Shutter speed: 1/80s Aperture f/6.3 ISO1600 Exposure compensation: +1.0EV Image area FX (36 x 24) NEF RAW L (8256 x 5504). NEF RAW L (14 bit uncompressed) Focus mode AF-C focus. AF-C Priority Selection: Release. Nikon Back button focusing enabled. 3D Tracking watch area: Normal 55 Tracking points.AF-Area mode single point & 73 point switchable. Exposure mode: Manual mode. Matrix metering. White balance on: Auto1 (6660K). Colour space: RGB. Vignette control: Normal. Picture control: Auto (Sharpening A +1/Clarity A+1)
Sigma 60-600mm f/4.5-6.3DG OS HSM SPORTS. Lee SW150 MKI filter holder with MK2 light shield and custom made velcro fitting for the Sigma lens. Lee SW150 circular polariser glass filter.Lee SW150 Filters field pouch.Nikon GP-1 GPS module. Hoodman HEYENRG round eyepiece oversized eyecup.Mcoplus professional MB-D850 multi function battery grip 6960.Two Nikon EN-EL15a batteries (Priority to battery in Battery grip). Black Rapid Curve Breathe strap. My Memory 128GB Class 10 SDXC 80MB/s card. Lowepro Flipside 400 AW camera bag.
.
.
LATITUDE: N 51d 29m 11.33s
LONGITUDE: E 0d 8m 13.20s
ALTITUDE: 57.0m
RAW (TIFF) FILE: 130.00MB NEF: 94.1MB
PROCESSED (JPeg) FILE: 41.30MB
PROCESSING POWER:
Nikon D850 Firmware versions C 1.10 (9/05/2019) 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 that Lapwings are so close at Elmley I'm a little disappointed with the shots I took and this is probably the most interesting. Good excuse for another visit - as if I need one! This is an uncropped image too
Permission given by the land owner Abandoned WW2 radar dishes situated at Stenigot Lincolnshire.The site provided early warning of German air raids against Sheffield, Nottingham & Central Midlands. Decommission as a RAF base in 1980's & partly demolished in 1996. Wonderful monument for night shooting.
18/365
My great aunt was given this guitar in 1929. She played it so much the fingerboard is worn down in the root position and the top is well worn from the pick. She passed it down to me and I still play it in folk music jams.
----------------------
Guitarmaking has a long history of artist "endorsements", as in, "Segovia plays a Hausser so I want one, too." Late-19th-century makers used testimonials to promote various models, often by professionals. And special guitars have always been made to artist specs. But these are not quite the same thing.
The honor for first creating a model named for a popular artist may go to Harmony, which rolled out a line of Roy Smeck Vita instruments in the late 1920s. However, for sure the first modern media-driven guitar was the Supertone Bradley Kincaid Hounâ Dog, built by Harmony and sold primarily through Sears beginning in 1929 â the first âcowboyâ guitar.
The Houn' Dog reflects a fascinating confluence of developments on the eve of the Great Depression. William Bradley Kincaid (1895-1989) was born in Kentucky and learned to play guitar on a box his father had traded a canine for, hence the guitarâs nickname. Kincaid became a folk singer, known as the Kentucky Mountain Boy, and earned a sociology degree from YMCA College, in Chicago. In 1926, he debuted on Sears WLS National "Barn Dance" radio show, where he became a star. Kincaid was an avid song collector, and in 1928 published his immensely popular My Favorite Mountain Ballads And Old Time Songs. His recordings were also hits and included such classic songs as "Barbara Allen," "The Legend of the Robin's Red Breast," and "The Wreck of the Number Nine," among many others.
Zero out any perception of this guitar as one of those cheap birch units with the cowboy stencil. The Bradley Kincaid Houn' Dog was a fine little 12" standard-sized guitar with a solid spruce top and mahogany body and set mahogany neck with a nice V profile. The top and soundhole were bound in celluloid inlay and featured a large mountain hunting scene decal (called "decalomania") on the belly.
Ian's on the road again, wearing different shoes again.
Or something.
Yes, have audit will travel is taking me back to the north west and head office (UK) in Warrington.
I wasn't keen to go, as I would be one of those being audited, rather than being the auditor.
So it goes.
Up even earlier than usual, Jools went swimming first thing, while I woke up and packed.
It was to be a bright if cold day, and the promise of actual snow once I reached Manchester, so that was something to look forward to. No?
Jools dropped me off on the prom so I could have a walk, take some snaps before picking up the car.
It was cold.
Not Canada cold, clearly.
Minus three. And too cold to linger to watch the actual sunrise, so made do with snapping the reflected light of the hotels and a ferry coming into the harbour. I walked over Townwall Street, now cold to the bone, hoping the car hire place would be open on time.
It wasn't, but a couple of minutes later, a guy came to open up and let me inside where it was slightly warmer.
My old ruse of getting an automatic thus getting a larger car was ruined this time was I was given a Toyota Yaris. It struggled to get up Jubilee Way without the engine screaming. You'd better behave yourself for the next three days I told it.
Back home for breakfast, load the car and say goodbye to the cats. One last look, and I was off. The car had no sat nav, so had to use the phone.
Before going to the hotel, I was going to visit a former colleague who lives in Warrington, or nearly St Helens as I found out later, so programmed her address in, and off I went, along our street and towards the A2 and the long slog up to Dartford.
I connected my phone to charge, and straight away tunes from my Apple music store started playing. So, apart from the free U2 album it forced on all users, the rest was good if a little Skids and Velvet Underground heavy.
The miles were eaten up, even if I had to turn the music way up to drown the sound of the screaming engine.
Like all trips, I had something extra to sweeten the time away, and in this case it was a church. But not just any church, as you will see.
I watched a short documentary on Monday about Mary Queen of Scots, and remembered that she had been imprisoned and executed at Fotheringhay Castle in what is now Northamptonshire, and if I went over the Dartford Crossing, up the M11 to Cambridge, then were the A14 crossed the Great North Road, ten miles north was Fotheringhay.
So, I pressed on, under the river and into Essex, then along to the bottom of the M11, and north past Stanstead to Cambridge. Traffic wasn't bad, so I made good time, my phone telling me I would reach Fotheringhay at midday.
Turning off the A1, down narrow lanes, then the view to the church opens up, in what is possibly one of the finest vistas in all of England. St Mary and All Saints, 15th century and in its Perpendicular finest, it looks too good to be that old, but is.
Not only is the church mostly as it was, if plain inside, this was the parish church of the House of York, of several Kings including the final, Richard III.
This is real history.
I crossed over the narrow hump-back bridge that spanned the fast flowing, and nearly flooding, River Neane, into the village and parked outside the church. A set of grand gates lead off the main road to the northern porch, lined with fine trees, naked it being winter.
The tower seems over-large for the Nave and Chancel, it stands 116 feet tall, and is a chonker, the rest of the church seems small beside it, but the interior of the church is a large space, high to its vaulted roof.
I take shots, not as many as perhaps I should, but the church doesn't have centuries of memorials, but does have two House of York tombs, or mausoleums.
I had some time, so I thought I would visit any interesting church I might see before getting back on the A14.
That was the plan.
The road took me round Oundle, which had at least two interesting looking churches, but them being what you might call "urban", I passed both and carried on over the rolling hills of Northamptonshire, much hillier than you might have thought.
Just before the A14, I see a large tower, and a lane lead to the village of Titchmarsh.
Titchmarsh is the name of a very famous TV gardener over here in Britain, not sure if this is where he hails from.
The village itself is set along a long high street, lined with half-timbered houses, most thatched, which was very picturesque.
I parked up, screams from the primary school, out for lunch, filled the air. But I had eyes on the church.
Oddly, on the north side, the churchyard is marked by a haha, or half of one.
A ha?
Certainly not a ditch, but there was a grille in the wall to allow water to get out.
Access to the church was over a small bridge, the grand porch in front.
The door opened easily, and I saw first, lots of wall paintings. Not old, perhaps Victorian.
I set to work taking shots, using the compact to snap close ups of the windows.
In truth, not much of great interest, and I was aware from the radio there being talk of snow.
Better get going and head north.
Back outside, my phone tells me I should be in Warrington by four, my friend, Teresa, wouldn't be home until half past, so I could have another break on the way.
The sat nav took me back to the A14, and from there it is just a 60 mile drive to the bottom of the M6 and then the hike two hours north.
At least it was a sunny day, though clouds were building, and was it my imagination, or did it look like snow falling already?
No, it was snow. big, fat, wet flakes at first, not much to worry about, but I pressed on past Coventry to the toll road, I sopped for half an hour there, enough time to have a drink and some crisps, then back outside where darkness was falling, as well as more snow.
The M6 might have had its upgrade complete, but a trip on it is rarely without delays. And for me, an hour delayed just before Warrington due to a crash, so we inched along in near darkness.
Teresa lived the other side of Warrington, so I had to press on further north, then along other main roads, round a bonkers roundabout before entering the town. Roads were lined with two up/two downs, doors leading straight onto the pavement. Cozy and northern.
They have two dog-mountains, I'm not sure of the breed, but think of something like a St Bernard and go bigger. They had just been for a walk, were damp and happy to be inside, laying on the kitchen floor. Taking up all the kitchen floor.
We talked for an hour, then I received a call from a guy I was supposed to be meeting up with: heavy snow was falling, I should get there sooner than later. So, I said my goodbyes and programmed the route to the hotel. Sorry, resort. Golf resort.
16 miles.
Snow was falling heavy, not too bad on main roads back to the motorway, though traffic on that was only going 40, it was fast enough. But the final six miles was long a main road, but it was covered in snow, with more falling.
The the fuel warning light went on.
Ignore that, I just wanted to get to the hotel safe and have dinner. Not end up in a hedge.
The final mile was very scary, snow only an inch deep, but slippery. There was a gatehouse marking the entrance to the golf club, I turned in and parked in the first space I came to.
Phew.
I checked in, and the place is huge, swish, but full of golfers.
But it does a sideline in conferences, training centre and a hotel. It was full.
I checked in, walked to the room, which is huge, and very comfortable, dropped my bags and went to the bar for dinner of beer and burgers. The place was almost empty, I watched cricket live from South Africa while I ate and drank.
Would I be tempted by the cheeseboard?
I would, dear reader, I would.
To my room to watch the football and relax while snow fell outside.
--------------------------------------------------
Another bike ride into the wilds and wolds of Northamptonshire. I set off from Huntingdon railway station, and after a sixteen mile slog into the wind I crossed the county boundary at Clopton, a church I visited three weeks ago. Now, the real bike ride could now begin. Resisting a revisit to the church, I turned off on a very lonely, narrow lane through the woodlands. The Cambs/Northants borderlands are often like this, remote and lonely, wooded and rolling, devoid of houses outside the villages and with only the rare car, horse or other cyclist. It reminds me of parts of France.
After a couple of miles I came to Titchmarsh, and its splendid church, a big church in a pretty stone village. The tower is enormous ('The finest church tower in England outside of Somerset' - FJ Allen) and there is no spire. The churchyard is surrounded by a haha, with a little bridge across the moat. The church was being prepared for a rock concert, with a stage built up under the tower and tables and chairs in the nave. Not a huge amount to see in any case, although I liked the memorial to a servant who saved his master's life by getting in the way of an assassin's knife, only to later drown in the Nene. As you'd expect in this part of the world, good stone capitals in the arcades, with stiffleaves you could cut yourself on as well as dripping fruit.
And then it was on past the IKEA warehouse ('the largest building in the British Isles') into the town of Thrapston.
Simon Knott, July 2017.
www.flickr.com/photos/norfolkodyssey/35483761652/in/photo...
----------------------------------------------------
The Parish Church of St Mary the Virgin, standing in a prominent position on the higher ground to the North of the village, has been the centre of the Christian community in Titchmarsh for some 800 years.
The name of Tichmarsh (or the modern version Titchmarsh) seems to date from Anglo-Saxon times when a piece of land was granted to one Ticcea and became known as Ticcea’s marsh (Ticceanmersce, Tychemerche, etc).
The earliest records of the church date from 1240. It was from Tichmarsh that Viscount Lovell left his manor to fight with Richard III at Bosworth. Before that he had employed his Somerset mason to build what Pevsner described as “the noblest village tower outside Somerset”, on top of which in 1588 an Armada beacon was lit.
The church is remarkable for its magnificent tower, its long and lofty clerestory, its spacious chancel, and for its light and uncluttered interior. It also houses a collection of unique and interesting wall monuments, fine stained glass windows and a recently restored 1870 TC Lewis organ. (see separate links)
The building that you see today is not the first church to have existed on this site. The remains of a 12th century doorway in the chancel is the only relic of the Norman building, and the subsequent centuries have each made their distinctive architectural contribution. The building assumed its present appearance when, late in the 15th century, the tower, clerestory and porch were added, and the present perpendicular style windows were inserted. In the late 17th and early 18th century the Pickering family contributed a number of important memorials, including one to John Dryden the poet- laureate, who spent his childhood in Titchmarsh. In the 19th century a number of the windows had stained glass inserted, a vestry was added in the northwest corner, and much of the internal woodwork was replaced (including the pews, recently adapted to provide more mobile seating).
The focus of the church, both architecturally and spiritually, is the Altar. This is God’s table, at which the faithful share in the power of Christ’s Risen Life, by feeding on the Sacrament of his Body and Blood under the forms of bread and wine. The reredos of Caen stone and Derby alabaster (1866) depicts the Old Testament scenes of Melchizedek’s offering of bread and wine, and Abraham’s offering of his only son Isaac, illustrating different aspects of the eucharistic theme.
The semi-circular Norman arch to the south side is a visible reminder that Christian worship has been offered on this site for at least some eight centuries.
The two-level sedilia and the piscine are of the 13th century, as is also the arcading which opens into the north chapel (now occupied by the organ). The opening known as a hagioscope or squint, gave additional visual access from the north chapel to the High Altar. The low, pointed 13th century doorway to the north of the Altar probably led to a tomb or chantry adjoining the Chancel on the north side. Much of this work can be attributed to the patronage of the Lovel family, who were Lords of the Manor from about 1268 until 1485.
Piercing the north-west corner of the Chancel wall are the remains of the stairway which originally led to the Rood-loft.
Dimly discernible in the apex of the Chancel arch is a crowned head. Experts suggest that it most closely resembles Edward IV who died in 1483 when Francis 1st (and only) Viscount Lovel was Lord of the Manor. The last years of the reign of Edward IV covered a peaceful period, favourable to the rebuilding of a church. In 1486 Henry VII granted the Manor of Tichmarsh to Sir Charles Somerset when Francis Lord Lovel who had supported Richard III was deprived of his estates at the end of the War of the Roses. This is the Lovell, who as Richard III’s Chamberlain and friend, was lampooned in the contemporary rhyme:
‘The Cat, the Rat, and Lovell our dog
Rule all England under the Hog’.
The walls and windows of the chancel were much embellished in Victorian times. The stained glass in the chancel windows is all by Messrs. Hardman of Birmingham. The east window depicts Christ’s Nativity, Baptism, Crucifixion and Ascension, and several episodes from the life of the Blessed Virgin Mary, to whom the church is dedicated. The windows on the south side of the chancel depict various incidents from the New Testament, giving particular prominence to St Mary Magdalene and St Peter.
The reredos of Caen stone and Derby alabaster were completed.
The organ, a good example of the work of TC Lewis was installed and first used in 1870. (fully restored in 2016). We learn from the Parish Magazine that prior to the installation of the instrument, music for Devine service had been supplied by a barrel organ, the introduction of which in 1837 replaced the services of the eight singers who had occupied a musicians gallery under the tower, and sang very loud. Singing was also led by string and woodwind instruments until 1861.
According to the parish magazines, the paintings on the chancel walls were by Miss Agnes Saunders, who was sister-in-law to the Rev. F M Stopford, (rector 1861-1912). The fine limed oak chancel screen was the gift of Canon A M Luckock, (rector 1912-1962).
The North Chapel and Transept
This was largely rebuilt in the 14th century, and now houses many mural memorials to the Pickering family
Gilbert Pickering bought the manor of Tichmarsh from Charles Somerset’s grandson in 1553, and for more than two hundred years it remained in the possession of his descendants. When the direct line came to an end, the estates were acquired in 1778 by Thomas Powys, later the first Lord Lilford.
John Pickering married Susannah Dryden of Canons Ashby in 1609, and twenty-one years later, Susannah’s brother Erasmus married John’s cousin Mary Pickering. Of these unions were born two men well known in the highest circles of their day, the notorious Sir Gilbert Pickering (1613-1668) and the famous John Dryden the poet (1631-1700).
Sir Gilbert was a convinced Parliamentarian, and became Lord Chamberlain to Oliver Cromwell. John Dryden’s upbringing in Tichmarsh is mentioned in one of the memorials. This and another were painted by Sir Gilbert’s daughter, Elizabeth, who became the wife of John Creed.
A woman of talent with needle, pen and brush, Elizabeth Creed was responsible also for the wording of the altar tomb and wall angle memorials of the south aisle as well as the Dryden monument which has been moved to the north transept.
The South Aisle
Here we find Mrs Creed lamenting the death of her husband, a boon companion of Samuel Pepys, of their son Christ’s family. By ancient custom the Font stands near the main (west) door of the physical building, as a reminder that it is through Baptism that we enter Christ’s Church.
The West Window
The tracery of the tower window is 15th century, (extensively restored in 2016). In 1904 the west window was filled with stained glass, the gift of Rev’d F M Stopford to mark his 50th year in Holy Orders. It is a powerful representation of Christ’s Second Coming and the Day of Judgement, and approximately balances the episodes of Christ’s first Advent depicted in the east window. The same firm of artists, Messrs Hardman of Birmingham, was employed for the work, and it is interesting to notice how the passage of some forty years makes a considerable difference in style and taste between the tower window and their earlier work.
The Bells
The tower houses a fine ring of eight bells. All were recast and re-hung in 1913 as a memorial to Rev’d F M Stopford who died in office in 1912 having been rector for 51 years, and a chaplain to Queen Victoria, Edward VII and George V. Before recasting, the oldest bells dated from 1688, with additions in 1708 and 1781. The ring was completed in1885 by the gift of two bells in memory of Florence Augusta Stopford, the rector’s first wife. At the same time the present church clock, which strikes the hours and quarters, replaced the previous one made by George Eayre in 1745.
At the base of the tower are some interesting photographs of the re-hanging of the bells.
The South Porch
The original porch was a single storey structure, with window openings to east and west. The upper storey was added in1583 and housed the Pickering family pew, complete with fire place! After the death of the last Tichmarsh Pickerings the wall opening was blocked up. It was reopened in 1931, when Canon Luckock (rector 1912-1962) and his wife put in the present glass panel and hung the massive oak south door as a thanksgiving for their silver wedding. The seating around the walls of the porch is a reminder of its earlier function as a place of meeting.
The Exterior
The large and splendid tower is built in four stages, richly decorated with triple bands of quatrefoils in circles on the ground storey and similar bands on the second and third stages. The niches on the west face contain modern stone figures representing Moses and Aaron, the Blessed Virgin Mary and St. Peter, and the archangels Michael and Gabriel. The parish magazine for 1901 records that the rector’s wife paid for the replacements by breeding and selling black fantail pigeons.
The ‘crown’, ie. parapet and pinnacles above the fourth stage is considered by experts to date from about 1500. The will of one Thomas Gryndall, dated 1474, bequeaths money towards the building of the tower, probably completed except for the ‘crown’ in about 1480.
The prominence and size of the tower made it a significant landmark. In 1585 when the country prepared to resist the threatened invasion from Spain, the Lord Lieutenant, Sir Christopher Hatton of Kirby Hall, gave order for Beacons to be made in places accustomed and that ‘Tychemershe Beacon’ be sett upon Tychemershe church steeple
On the south wall of the tower is a painted sundial, dated 1798, and below it a disused clock face made in 1745. There are three scratch dials on the south side of the church – on the porch and on two of the buttresses.
The churchyard, which contains many good examples of local stonemasons’ work of the 18th and 19th centuries, is remarkable and perhaps unique in being bounded almost entirely by a ha-ha.
Acknowlegements: The Victoria County History of Northamptonshire; Northamptonshire by Niklaus Pevsner; and to various numbers of the Titchmarsh Parish Magazine; Titchmarsh Past and Present by Helen Belgion, published 1979
titchmarsh.info/church-of-st-mary-the-virgin/church-history/
Given that Harlech Castle offered one of the best vantage points for photographing trains I'm always a little mystified as to why so few photographs become available. This stunning shot confirms what could be achieved with a half-decent camera, even in the middle of the last century. Ex, G.W 'Duke' class 4-4-0 No 3254 'Cornubia' approaches Harlech station with an 'up' freight to Pwllheli on the 13 August 1949
Architects: Rogers Stirk Harbour + Partners, 2008.
Some architectural projects are given birth in unfortunate circumstances around them and are not able to shake these off throughout their existence. We may be witnessing this phenomenon in case of Oxley Woods.
An award winning prefabricated scheme with affordable energy measures built-in, was announced with a lot of political fanfare and now seems to be heading towards choppy seas of litigations and a triumph for “I told you so” army.
Taylor Wimpey, one of the largest house builders are hardly known for their cutting edge architectural and design led offerings. Perhaps the modernity surrounding Milton Keynes recent birth yet to celebrate its first half century encouraged them to take this rare trail blazing route. Perhaps they imagined an unbroken production line of flat packed profitable houses covering acres of green fields and selling like hot cakes all over the country.
For spectators on the side lines this was quite an amazing start but the mismatch of developers name and past portfolio with a scheme upsetting all rules of British taste of acceptability for millions living in their beloved ‘castles’ was hardly going to avoid ‘Legoland’ jibes.
This was bound to upset many proud owners who chose to live in the mutual security of near identical brand new replicas of ‘Tudor and Village Green’ houses up and down the country. The weirdo architects proposing alien designs and misguided people living in them and liking these monstrosities needed thrashing to bring them to their senses.
More photos here.
Given the huge population, it always surprises me just how much SPACE there is in India.
By contrast to the open countryside, the streets of Varanasi are narrow and full of daily life, and the buildings on the ghats stretch off shoulder-to-shoulder into the hazy distance.
For the story, please visit: www.ursulasweeklywanders.com/travel/life-on-the-ghats-of-...