View allAll Photos Tagged lithic
Some antagonism to the stacking of rocks exists. Apparently it'll ruin everything.
Newscaster on the sub-etha network: We'll be saying a big hello to all intelligent lifeforms everywhere and to everyone else out there, the secret is to bang the rocks together, guys.¹
Righto. Is stacking rocks the reason for the downfall of Europe's Neolithic peoples? If the Khmer people hadn't piled up Angkor Wat…? The Incan and Meso-American cultures, Egyptians, the builders of Great Zimbabwe…all victims of their own gravity-defying efforts?
They say it's unnatural. We've seen it all before. It's happened in libraries, and we all know how uppity common folk become once they get notions from books…
Ray Stantz: Symmetrical book stacking. Just like the Philadelphia mass turbulence of 1947.
Peter Venkman: You’re right, no human being would stack books like this.²
On a personal level, my awareness of widespread lithic gravity defiance commenced in New Zealand. I was largely smitten. Potentially in a minority, my meditations on deep time inform an opinion that human-sponsored rock stacking on most scales are nothing more than ephemeral art.
I can tell you that Nature is ignorant of land managers' concerns that ricketty vertical stony assemblages will destroy the romance of being without them. She has her own way of swatting away such nonsense while at the same time being untutored. Those impressive works along Bruce Bay are, well, gone. They are ex-assemblages. Gravity and the lateral forces of sea and sky with perhaps the occasional seismic adjustment have obliterated that civilisation-ending anarchy.
Back across the ditch… Oh no the contagion! On my own sacred coast, in a remote national park, this pillar of defiance. Now, here in the foothills of those wild ranges that keep drawing me back, on the migratory sands of the third longest domestic river, not some creek, some piddling little drain but a roughly 1500 km counduit from the mountains to the sea, there they are again. That's the point. Those shifting sands, this up and down, feast or famine flood will see this gone in a not distant tomorrow.
Enjoy it while you can!
¹ Douglas Adams: Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy
² Ghostbusters
Parked next to another abomination. Nice when the drvers of something lithe park next to something hideous and large; makes for easy photos. Notice the Dino lurking to the left - I was quite sated at this point and neglected to photograph it.
Don't know anything about this Super Seven aside from it being a Caterham, it is registered as a 2016 home-built vehicle with a NYS-issued serial number. In the Greenwich Concours parking lot.
These pictures from 2024 were taken on one of my best days. As well as the outline of a Large Blue Eye with a distinct blue spherical both iris and pupil there is a shadow at the left centre which casts very interesting even symbolic shades. The Witches' Stone just at the edge of the village of Spott is a good memorial of bad times and deeds. The Witches’ Stone always fills me with commemoration and remembrance of times not so long gone when Witch Hunts were after witches so upsettingly so that we still use the term Witch Hunt no more than ever for a falsely fuelled over active hunt often with vicious entanglements and outcomes.
The Witches’ Stone is on the East of Spott village and Easter Broomhouse Standing Stone is at the West of the village. In the village at the Church you can find The Jougs. From standing stone in the East past central stone church to a commemorative stone in the West there are three superb historic lithic sites. The Church has been a focal site to inspire and to contain history of the area and along with local archives there are some superb historic collections, myriad connections, and local recollections.
There are three tall Standing Stones near Spott, Easter Broomhouse, Pencraig Hill and Kirklandhill Standing Stones. Their placement in the landscape of natural bounties and hill forts is a key to some of the smaller monuments, This coastal area is full of life from the sea and the land and the stones stretch into the sky that keeps the seas calm and the lands fertile.
© PHH Sykes 2024 and 2025
phhsykes@gmail.com
Witches of Scotland is a campaign for justice; for a legal pardon, an apology and national monument for the thousands of people – mostly women - that were convicted of witchcraft and executed between 1563 and 1736 in Scotland.
The Witches of Scotland Limited. This tartan can be worn by anyone.
www.tartanregister.gov.uk/tartanDetails?ref=14651
Witches of Scotland podcast
Claire Mitchell QC and Zoe Venditozzi, Author co-host the Witches of Scotland podcast. Over the forthcoming weeks we hope to bring you interviews from those who know about the history, law and stories of those accused of witchcraft. Join our mailing list and we will let you know when a new podcast is out.
www.witchesofscotland.com/podcast
Witches' Stone, Spott
canmore.org.uk/site/57667/witches-stone-spott
Easter Broomhouse Standing Stone
www.themodernantiquarian.com/site/1492/easter_broomhouse_...
Easter Broomhouse - Standing Stone (Menhir) in Scotland in East Lothian
www.megalithic.co.uk/article.php?sid=6706
Spott Church
www.scotlandschurchestrust.org.uk/church/spott-parish-chu...
Welcome to Belhaven and Spott Parish Church
Witches' Stone, Spott
canmore.org.uk/site/57667/witches-stone-spott
Easter Broomhouse Standing Stone (Prehistoric)
canmore.org.uk/site/57622/easter-broomhouse
Pencraig Hill Standing Stone (Prehistoric)
canmore.org.uk/site/56240/pencraig-hill
Witches' Stone, Spott
www.themodernantiquarian.com/site/6453/witches_stone.html
Witches' Stone, Spott
www.megalithic.co.uk/article.php?sid=8239
Easter Broomhouse Standing Stone
www.themodernantiquarian.com/site/1492/easter_broomhouse_...
Pencraig Hill Standing Stone (Prehistoric)
www.themodernantiquarian.com/site/1494/pencraig_hill_stan...
Pencraig Hill Standing Stone (Prehistoric)
www.megalithic.co.uk/article.php?sid=6703
Kirklandhill Standing Stone
www.themodernantiquarian.com/site/1493/kirklandhill_stand...
Recently found on a net auction here in Sweden. Does anyone have info about this old paper? Lithable? All clues are welcome! Opened, so at this time I have no idea whether it's usable or not.
Otters are one of our top predators, feeding mainly on fish, waterbirds, amphibians and crustaceans. Otters have their cubs in underground burrows, known as a 'holt'. Excellent and lithe swimmers, the young are in the water by 10 weeks of age. Otters are well suited to a life on the water as they have webbed feet, dense fur to keep them warm and can close their ears and nose when underwater.
The Baker Chickadee began life as a Motorama show car designed to showcase Baker's innovative glass canopy design. Featuring whitewall tires, lithe styling, and bright colors, the Chickadee went on to become a popular production sports coupé with strong collector value.
©2018 Chris Elliott, All Rights Reserved.
Find me also on:
my old lith print on non-lithable paper with"snowflakes".
paper Slavich Unibrom,
LD20 (1:20) developer.
contact print from digital negative. I made 1 print and for years cosidered as a failure, but now,all of sudden, I like it and decided to show this print as it is.
image from series "Old Russia"
Scanned IR lith print.
Holga CFN 120 w/ IR filter (Hoya R72).
March 8, 2025.
Rollei IR 400 in HC-110 (18+482 ml), semistand 1h.
Lith printed on Kodak Medalist F-3 (single weight) and developed in Moersch Easy Lith.
Untoned.
A splendid lithable paper (credit to Travis Douane). Demanding some care in the wet process, as the paper is thin and easily rips.
Credits
****************
-CLOTHES-
!gO! cocoon shirt
::GB::Off Shoulder Cardigan
-ACCESSORIES-
Kunglers - Milena earrings
Kunglers - Thereza necklace
-HAIR-
Doe: Pippy
-SKIN & MAKE UP-
CATWA HEAD Catya
Insol: 'Mia' skin
[okkbye] Nefarious Freckles
[okkbye] Lithe Eyelashes
{S0NG} :: Alice eyes
Veechi - Furor Shadow
-PROPS-
DRD - Vagabond - Trailer - RARE
!APHORISM! Ragdoll Monkey
♰☽∘₊✧ sᴘᴏɴsᴏʀᴇᴅ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴘᴏsᴛ ✧₊∘☾♰
✞ sᴘᴏɴsᴏʀ: Mekaci | : CULT :
♰☽∘₊✧──────✧₊∘☾♰
✞☽ Mekaci // Almost Saint Gacha
↣Rigged for Reborn and Reborn Squish Size
↣Top/bra/panties/garters come in white, blue, pink, red & RARE gacha versions in black, glasses also available.
↣Available @ The Arcade Event
✞☽ : CULT : Shante Fatpack
↣Flat & high versions rigged for Reborn, MaitreyaX, MaitreyaOG, Legacy, Kupra
↣HUD includes 23 base colors + 2 specials, 21 strap colors + 2 specials, 3 colors for soles, 3 colors for metals & on/off option for shine
↣Available @ ACCESS Event 7.12.25 to 8.8.25
✞☽ ᴍᴀɪɴsᴛᴏʀᴇ ʟᴍs
↣Mekaci - maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Bad%20Waifus/128/128/1098
↣: CULT : - maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Cult%20Coven/155/67/33
✞☽ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛ ʟᴍs
↣ACCESS - maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/ACCESS/189/115/705
↣The Arcade Event - maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/The%20Arcade/77/131/32
♰☽∘₊ ✧──────✧ ₊∘☾♰
↔ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛs↔
↣Katalin Unit + Bangs - LUDIC
↣Imperius Face Tattoo - [VARC]
↣Lithe Brows - [VARC]
↣Dead Love Makeup - [VARC]
↣Furor Tattoos - Tintable - Lilithe
↣Sacrilegium Nails - Suicidal Unborn
Backlighting from a rising sun and a dark rock background made for an interesting photo of a fairly common shorebird. At times Egrets are fast and graceful, elegant and lithe, and at other times they can seem downright clumsy. In this case this egret was picture of elegance. The water trailing after takeoff reminds me of a signature on a page. It was a beautiful morning at Barnegat Light State Park yesterday. #iLoveNature #iLoveWildlife #Wildlifephotography in #NewJersey #Nature in #NorthAmerica #USA #WhiteEgret #DrDADBooks #Canon #Wildlifeconservation
Another picture of Little Tree.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bUhJRQSs6UQ
Little Tree is a persona of Ilirra, the guise she wears on the daily. I currently play Little Tree at Convergence: The Lost City, an urban roleplay sim with post-apoc, futuristic themes. It's really a great sim, rich in lore, and filled with good people. You should check it out!
This particular image was a quick snap I grabbed of my avatar and I turned it into a high exposure/contrast sort of practice. The idea was to take it as bright as I could without it getting washed out. Hopefully, I succeeded. :) I just felt like I'd been doing a lot of darker pictures lately and wanted to shake things up.
[visible items worn]:
Hair: .Olive. the Trish Hair
Ears: ^^Swallow^^'s new Pixie Ears - Protruding [if you haven't checked out Swallow, you're really missing out!]
Lashes: [okkbye] Lithe Eyelashes [again, you really need to check this maker out!]
Headpiece: [Keystone] Bru'ella - Bronze x Gold / Common /
Necklace: BP_Chelsea Choker - (Tourmaline)
Earring: Zaara : Sarika feather earrings *earth*
I am home near Edinburgh having been on a tour of Aberdeenshire taking in Stone Circles and Pictish Symbol Stones along with other lithic monuments and also enjoying the locality in finding whatever happenstance could bring. My memories are criss crossed in heavenly glimmering and my visions are still stellar shimmering. On one memory card there are just five images, from them here are three pictures and each photograph here has been edited to have a second version with the look of a painting. I have been editing these images in an ever darkening and darkened room and I may not like these results tomorrow in daylight. This day has ended and also tomorrow and tomorrow will end too. Some of these day to come might involve finding out where our ancestors chose to make their wondrous places and enduring spaces. Some of the days to come could be recovery and edit days like today where I could have done with more natural illumination, but the Sun waits not and it goes making monumental displays for those fortunate to be enjoying the sun setting rays.
© PHH Sykes 2025
phhsykes@gmail.com
Clothes -
Pink Cream Pie-Vivi Bra & Shorts [Kawaii Face]
Accessories-
.TeaBunny. - Special Drink Carton - Unicorn fluids
CURELESS [+] - Sterile Face Bandages
Bento Head: Catwa Catya Mesh Head
Mesh Body: Belleza - Freya
Hair: Sintiklia - Usagi
Eyes: Gloom. Ahegao Collection (Blue)
Eyelashes: - [okkbye] Lithe Eyelashes
Freckles: UniCult - UniCult V.1
Lipstick: Sintiklia - Fairy lipgloss
Teeth: CX - Strigoi's Fangs - Type.1
Collar: RealEvil Industries - Inked Collar
Featured Items-
MishMish - Unicorn Deco (Fatpack) @ COLLABOR88
+Half-Deer+ Giant Sleepy Cat (White) @ COLLABOR88
Foxwood - Ghost fish - Big (decor) @ COLLABOR88
Other pretties -
+Half-Deer+ - Dream Lantern - Moon (Silver)
♥CryBunBun♥ - Black Sheep
♥CryBunBun♥ -Sparkly Unicorn
The star of the show at this Tiwanaku museum is the massive 8m Monolito Bennett Pachamama, rescued in 2002 from its former smoggy home at the outdoor Templete Semisubterráneo in La Paz. You’ll also find a basic collection of other monoliths and artifacts dug up on-site here. Labeling is in Spanish.
Much of the collection is currently mothballed, as the roof of the relatively new museum is already collapsing.
You cannot take picture of this stone and more stones:
Someone did:
The "Monolito Bennett", also known as "Estela or Monolito Pachamama" or "Estela 10", is the largest monument that has been found inside the Monumental Archaeological Complex of Tiahuanaco, (site cataloged as a World Heritage Site by UNESCO from the year 2000), built by members of the Tiahuanaco Culture, pre-Columbian civilization that during its period of greatest expansion was distributed in part of what are now Bolivia, Chile and Peru. It comprised almost all the altiplano and valley of the south denominated plateau of the Collao until the coast of the Pacific Ocean by the west and the chapare by the east. Its capital and main religious center was the city of Tiahuanaco, located on the banks of the Tiahuanaco River in the department of La Paz in Bolivia.
Height: 7.20 meters
Width: 1.20 meters
Weight: 20 tons
Material: andesite stone in one piece.
Shape: vertical anthropomorphic monolith resting on a pedestal
Decoration: diverse engravings, carries two objects in the hands, and has a crown and a ventral belt.
The Baker Chickadee began life as a Motorama show car designed to showcase Baker's innovative glass canopy design. Featuring whitewall tires, lithe styling, and bright colors, the Chickadee went on to become a popular production sports coupé with strong collector value.
©2018 Chris Elliott, All Rights Reserved.
Find me also on:
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today, Lettice is entertaining the world famous British concert pianist, Sylvia Fordyce in her well appointed her Cavendish Mews drawing room. Lettice met Sylvia at a private audience after a performance at the Royal Albert Hall*. Sylvia is the long-time friend of Lettice’s fiancée, Sir John Nettleford-Hughes and his widowed sister Clementine (known preferably now by the more cosmopolitan Clemance) Pontefract, the latter of whom Sylvia has known since they were both eighteen. Lettice, Sir John and Clemance were invited to join Sylvia in her dressing room after her Schumann and Brahms concert. After a brief chat with Sir John (whom she refers to as Nettie, using the nickname only his closest friends use) and Clemance, Sylvia had her personal secretary, Atlanta, show them out so that she could discuss “business” with Lettice. Anxious that like so many others, Sylvia would try to talk Lettice out of marrying Sir John, who is old enough to be her father and known for his philandering and not so discreet dalliances with pretty chorus girls of Lettice’s age and younger, Lettice was surprised when Sylvia admitted that when she said that she wanted to discuss business, that was what she genuinely meant. Sylvia owns a small country property just outside of Belchamp St Paul** on which she had a secluded little house she calls ‘The Nest’ built not so long ago by architect Sydney Castle***: a house she had decorated by society interior designer Syrie Maugham****. However, unhappy with Mrs. Maugham’s passion for shades of white, Sylvia wanted Lettice to inject some colour into the drawing room of her country retreat by painting a feature wall for her. Thus, she invited Lettice to motor up to Essex with her for an overnight stay at the conclusion of her concert series at The Hall to see the room for herself, and perhaps get some ideas as to what and how she might paint it. Lettice agreed to Sylvia’s commission, and originally had the idea of painting flowers on the wall, reflecting the newly planted cottage garden outside the large drawing room windows of ‘The Nest’. However, after hearing the story of Sylvia’s life – a sad story throughout which, up until more recent years, she had felt like a bird trapped in a cage, Lettice has opted to paint the wall with stylised feathers, expressing the freedom to fly and soar that Sylvia’s later life has given her the ability to do. Delighted with the outcome of her new feature wall, Sylvia has come to Cavendish Mews today to pay the remainder of her bill in full, a result not always so easily come by, by some of Lettice’s previous wealthy clients.
Just as Edith, Lettice’s maid, is arranging one of her light and fluffy sponge onto a white gilt edged plate in the kitchen to serve to Lettice and her guest, she hears the mechanical buzz of the Cavendish Mews servant’s call bell. Glancing up she notices the circle for the front door has changed from black to red, indicating that it is the front door bell that has rung.
“Oh blast.” she mutters. “Just as I’m about to serve cake too.”
Quickly whipping off the stained apron she is wearing which has splashes of cream and strawberry juice from decorating the cake, she hurries from the kitchen into the public area of the flat via a door in the scullery adjoining the kitchen, snatching up a clean apron from a hook by the door as she goes. Quickly fastening the freshly laundered apron over her blue and white striped calico print morning uniform as she walks into the entrance hall.
The front door buzzer goes again, sounding noisily, filling the atmosphere with a jarring echo.
“Edith?” Lettice’s voice calls from the drawing room where she is sitting with Sylvia.
“On my way, Miss!” Edith assures her mistress in a harried tone as she hurries across the think Chinese silk carpet to the front door. “I’m coming, alright. I’m coming.” mutters Edith irritably to herself as she makes her way toward the front door with rushed footsteps. “Keep your hair on****.”
She pats her cap and the hairpins holding her blonde waves neatly in place as she goes, hoping that she looks presentable as she opens the front door.
“It’s only little me, dear Lettice.” Gerald simpers as he walks into the drawing room where Lettice sits in her usual black japanned, rounded back, while upholstered tup armchair next to the telephone, whilst Sylvia Fordyce lounges languidly in the one opposite.
“Oh Gerald! What a lovely surprise!” Lettice says, standing up, the lilt in her voice cheerful, but the look in her sparkling blue eyes murderous as she glances at Gerald. “I… I thought I told you I was entertaining Miss Fordyce is afternoon.”
“Oh, you may well have,” he answers, lightly tapping the side of his head beneath the brim of his straw boater absently. “But silly me, it must have completely slipped my mind. I’m so sorry!” His words are apologetic, and his behaviour contrite, but there is a mischievous hazel tinted glint in his own dark brown eyes, and a cheeky curl upturning the corner of his mouth as she speaks that betrays his true thoughts. “It’s only a fleeting visit. I merely came by to drop off a little something for you.” He holds out a small parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine towards Lettice.
For the moment, Gerald politely ignores Sylvia’s dark sloe eyed stare as she remains draped languidly in her armchair, her long fingers steepled in front of her chest. He can feel her silently appraising his well-cut navy blue blazer with glinting gold buttons, his pressed white trousers with a crisp crease down the middle at both the front and back, his natty yet at the same time slightly foppish blue and white striped tie with a matching pocket square*****, his bold red carnation boutonnière****** and his stylish straw boater.
“Oh Gerald! Lettice says, accepting the gift. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Oh,” Gerald retorts, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s nothing really, just a new scarf in silk I had printed with one of my designs in Lyon. I had a few made up, but I wanted you to the be first to have one, of course. They are very much your colours, my dear Lettice.”
“Ahh!” exclaims Sylvia, suddenly breaking her languid pose and leaning forward in her seat, looking up at Gerald with great interest as her red painted mouth hangs open in anticipation, her tongue pressed to the base of her mouth behind her slightly discoloured teeth. “So, this is the wunderkind******* Gerald Bruton, of whom I have read so much about in The Lady******** as he takes the London fashion scene by storm.”
“Oh! Where are my matters!” Lettice remarks, quickly putting Gerald’s unopened parcel aside. “Sylvia darling, may I introduce Mr. Gerald Bruton, Grosvenor Street couturier, and my oldest, dearest and sometimes,” She pauses for effect. “My most frustrating chum from childhood. Gerald darling, may I introduce Miss Sylvia Fordyce, the world famous British concert pianist.”
“And you latest client… and hopefully new friend.” Sylvia adds with a smile.
It is only then that Gerald allows himself to truly take his attention away from Lettice and focus upon her guest. Wearing an over-sized chocolate brown velvet cloche, Sylvia’s black dyed sharp bob pokes out from beneath it, framing her striking, angular face which is caked with a thick layer of white makeup. Her lips are painted a bright red, which appears even more garish against the white of her face paint, just as the darkness of her glittering eyes are intensified by her white, almost ethereal, pallor. She wears no necklace, nor any earrings that Gerald can discern beneath the bottom of her cloche. In fact, her only piece of jewellery is a large aquamarine and diamond cluster ring on the left middle finger on her elegant pianist’s right hand. However, being the only piece of ornamentation she wears, it makes the ring, already a striking piece in its own right, even more so as it sparkles and winks beneath the electric light of Lettice’s chandelier overhead. Her outfit is simple and stripped back: a white satin blouse accessorised with a black and white cheque silk scarf tied in a loose and artistic style, and a long column like skirt in black, beneath the hem of which poke the pointed toes of a pair of high heeled black patent leather boots. Far from being conventionally beautiful, the pianist has captured the power of dressing to make her presence unignorable, and she wears her cultivated look with unabashed pride.
“Miss Fordyce needs no introduction.” Gerald enthuses as he bends down and raises Sylvia’s elegant hand, kissing it gently just above the sparkling cluster ring. “Enchanté.” he breathes in French.
“Charmante,” Sylvia replies with an enigmatic smile, bowing her head slightly as she slowly withdraws her hand from Gerald’s, enjoying the attention her is lavishing upon her. “I could say the same about you, Mr. Bruton, for Lettice speaks of you fondly, and often. I believe that it is you I have to thank for our clever Lettice finishing my feature wall. She has just been telling me that when her inspiration or energy was flagging whilst she was painting it, you spurned her on to complete it. I’m most grateful.”
“I did my best, Miss Fordyce.” Gerald replies, his cheeks flushing red at Sylvia’s compliment. “Lettice is,” He turns his head away from Sylvia and focuses upon his best friend. “A remarkable artist, and highly skilled.”
“Oh Gerald!” Lettice gasps.
“It sounds like you are also her biggest champion, my dear Mr. Bruton.” Sylvia opines.
“But,” Gerald goes on. “She doesn’t have the faith in her own abilities that she should.” He returns his attentions to Sylvia. “I’m sure you agree, Miss Fordyce.”
“Indeed I do, Mr. Bruton. Your friend is highly accomplished, and I was just telling our clever Lettice how delighted I am with my new feature wall.”
“I think it is very beautiful too, Miss Fordyce. You are most fortunate.” Gerald replies.
Without saying anything, Lettice gently puts her hand on Gerald’s forearm.
“Well!” Gerald says, clearing his throat a little awkwardly, taking Lettice’s silent hint in his stride. “I did say that this was only a fleeting visit. I really should be off.” He looks at Lettice with a meaningful look. “I’ve been here enough times to show myself out, whilst you entertain your guest. I do hope you like the scarf.”
“Oh really?” Sylvia interjects rising elegantly from her seat, the fabric of her outfit draping down over her slender frame like shivering water. “Must you go?” She turns her head to Lettice. “Must he go, Lettice darling? Your maid was fetching us cake wasn’t she? Surely there is enough for three?” She turns back to Gerald. “Please, Mr. Bruton. I’d so love you to stay! Darling Lettice and I have finished up the tedious part of my visit, settling my account, and we were just prattling away idly, weren’t we Lettice darling? Besides, I would value your opinion, since you are an arbiter of fashion, Mr. Bruton. Please?” She pouts her scarlet painted lips, which even in a plumped up form still have a slender look about them. “Please!”
“Well I…” Gerald looks between Sylvia and Lettice. “I suppose I could tarry for a short while. I don’t have to be at my next appointment just yet, and I do so love Edith’s sponges, which she has told me she has made for you, Miss Fordyce.”
“Oh Gerald!” Lettice laughs. “Please drop the pretence and save yourself the embarrassment. Bring that chair over and join us.” She indicates with a sweeping gesture to the black japanned Chippendale chair, upholstered in silver and blue Art Deco fabric, which whilst unorthodox with such clashing styles , works under Lettice’s clever eye for design. “I’ll tell Edith we’re a trio now.” She steps over and depresses the servants’ call button by the fireplace, the buzzer echoing in the service area of the flat.
“Thank you, Lettice.” Gerald says gratefully as he takes off his straw boater and places it on one of Lettice’s black japanned side tables before drawing up the chair she has indicated to the coffee table and takes a seat.
“Did Cyril put you up to this?” Lettice asks him, mentioning Gerald’s young, fey and more overtly homosexual lover who lives in a boarding house for theatrical types in Putney with Gerald’s friend Harriet Milford, who designs hats in addition to running her rather dramatic boarding house. “Turning up on my doorstep, knowing that Miss Fordyce would be here?”
“Well...” Gerald says, blushing red as he speaks.
“I knew you hadn’t forgotten that I told you Miss Fordyce was visiting today!” Lettice wags a finger at Gerald. “It isn’t like you to forget a date, even if it isn’t one of your own.”
“Who is Cyril, Mr. Bruton?” Sylvia asks, intrigued as she resumes her languid stance in her tub chair again.
“Cyril is my… my friend, Miss Fordyce.” Gerald pipes up quickly. “He’s… he’s an oboist who plays in the West End theatres, and like me,” He bushes even deeper. “He is a very big fan of yours, Miss Fordyce.”
“A friend.” Sylvia muses, looking Gerald up and down knowingly, but keeping her impressions to herself behind her heavily painted face, only smiling politely in acknowledgement of Gerald.
“When I told him that I was going with Lettice to stay at your very lovely little country retreat in Essex, he was more than a little jealous.”
“Was he indeed?” Sylvia chuckles indulgently.
Just at that moment, Edith walks into the drawing room.
“You rang, Miss?” Edith says, bobbing a polite curtsey.
“Yes Edith.” Lettice replies. “Mr. Bruton is staying now, so it will be tea for three now, if you can manage it.”
“Of course Miss.” Edith replies. “May I take your hat, Mr. Bruton.”
“Thank you Edith.” he says, passing her his straw boater. “I do like your delicious sponge cake, Edith.” Gerald compliments the young girl.
“Thank you, Sir.” Edith replies, blushing as she basks momentarily in Gerald’s compliment before bobbing another quick curtsey to the assembled company and retreating back into the dining room and through the green baize door, back into the service area of the flat.
“Even if my figure suffers for it.” Gerald adds, turning his attentions back to Sylvia.
“Such high praise for your cook, Lettice darling.” Sylvia says with her expertly plucked black eyebrows arching high over her eyes. “I am in for a treat!”
“Edith is an excellent cook when it comes to cakes, Sylvia darling, so I asked her to bake her speciality today, a cream filled strawberry sponge cake.”
“Goodness!” Sylvia gasps. “No wonder your figure suffers, Mr. Bruton, at the sound of such extravagance. I myself,” She raises a hand to her throat. “Do not suffer the same problem. As a performer, I have far too much frenetic energy to burn.”
“And you do it with such theatricality,” Gerald enthuses.
“Why thank you, Mr. Bruton.” Sylvia says, smiling indulgently as she does. “Such a lovely compliment.”
“Oh Gerald!” Lettice giggles. “I do believe you are quite smitten with Sylvia.”
“Don’t be cheeky…” Gerald goes to call Lettice by her most hated childhood pet name, ‘Lettuce Leaf’, but being the presence of the pianist he so admires, and wanting to maintain a good impression, he swallows awkwardly and finishes a little lamely, “Lettice.”
Sylvia laughs heartily. “You two do know each other well, don’t you, Lettice darling? You have a way between you that seems very comfortable. Have you known Mr. Bruton all your life?”
“Yes.” Lettice replies.
“I’m just a little older than Lettice, and we grew up on neighbouring estates in Wiltshire,” Gerald goes on. “And all of Lettice’s siblings, with the exception of her beast of a brother Lionel, are much older that we are, and my own brother Roland is a few years my senior and never had time for me.”
“So we just ended up playing together, didn’t we Gerald?”
“We did, Lettice.”
“And so, we became the best of chums and have stayed as such ever since.”
“How utterly delightful!” Sylvia opines with a clap of her hands. “But please, do go on about your friend, Cyril, Mr. Bruton. I love the West End theatre scene, and attend whenever my schedule allows. We theatrical types must support one another and stick together. Perhaps I’ve seen, or rather heard, your young oboist friend in a show?”
“Well, Cyril was performing in Julian Wylie’s********* revue, ‘Better Days’********** at the Hippodrome***********, but it’s just finished, so he is between engagements at the moment.”
“I see.” Sylvia replies, nodding and staring deeply into Gerald’s eyes.
“You… err, you wanted to ask me something about fashion, I believe, Miss Fordyce?” Gerald asks, feeling uncomfortable under Sylvia’s inscrutable stare.
“I did, Mr. Bruton!” Sylvia replies animatedly, releasing Gerald from her scrutiny. “Thank you for reminding me. Being the arbiter and setter of current London fashion trends that you are…”
“Oh, I don’t know if I’d go quite that far, Miss Fordyce.” Gerald chuckles, blushing yet again.
“Nonsense! Mr. Bruton!” Sylvia scoffs. “False modesty doesn’t suit you any more than it does darling Lettice, and,” She wags her index finger admonishingly at him, the cluster of diamonds and aquamarines on the finger next to it glinting and gleaming in the light. “It’s no good for business. Did you not design this divine frock for Lettice?”
Gerald turns to face Lettice, although he has no need to, as he recognised the rose and marone silk georgette knife pleated frock, the same one she wore when she first arrived at ‘The Nest’ with Sylvia when she went to look at the wall her hostess wanted redecorated, as being one of his own designs for Lettice the moment he laid eyes on her upon walking into the drawing room. “Indeed it is, Miss Fordyce.”
“Then I stand by what I say, Mr. Bruton. You have an eye for colour and cut, style and panache, and you create things that flatter your customers.”
“Well, Lettice is a special case, Miss Fordyce. As you’ve heard, she is my best friend, and she has always been so supportive of my frock making, ever since I first began. She’s something of a muse to me.”
“Muse or not, if you couldn’t design frocks, had no style or awareness of colour, poor Lettice might be wearing something that makes her look perfectly hideous at the moment. Although,” She turns and ponders over Lettice sitting comfortably in her armchair. “I do think that would be very hard to do, since she is so lithe and lovely.”
“We concur in that opinion, Miss Fordyce.” Gerald agrees.
“However, I stand by what I said before, you are an arbiter of fashion, and your creations are influencing what London women are wearing. So, I wanted to ask you, what is your opinion on,” She stands up suddenly, and spreads her legs slightly, the movement causing the black fabric of what Gerald had thought was a dress to reveal itself as being a pair of roomy Oxford bags************. “Women wearing trousers?”
Lettice immediately sees this as being a test for Gerald, as to whether Sylvia, who doesn’t suffer fools or people who don’t tend to share her opinion, will want to invite him to join her exclusive coterie of friends, as she has Lettice. Lettice sits forward slightly in her seat, causing an almost imperceptible widening of her guest’s eyes opposite her, the change, and slight flash in her eyes as she stares at Gerald causing Lettice to sit back in her seat.
Without batting an eyelid, Gerald replies firmly. “I always admired Paul Poiret************* for introducing wide legged trousers for women in 1910. I thought it a pity that they only caught on amongst the most avant-garde and daring of his clients.”
Lettice releases the pent-up breath she has silently been holding, sighing with relief, knowing by the subtle curl in Sylvia’s red streak of a mouth that she is pleased with Gerald’s response.
“And when do you think it will be commonplace to see trousers for women in London shops, Mr. Bruton?” Sylvia goes on, placing her hands in a stance of defiance on her hips. “Currently I have to travel to Berlin to get mine.” She kicks up her right heel a little, making her slacks billow for a moment before falling back down elegantly against her legs.
“Ahh, that is a very good question, Miss Fordyce.” Gerald replies. “If I had my way, they would be readily available for all women to wear. However…”
“However?” Sylvia asks.
“However, the English are conservative by nature, Miss Fordyce, and women wearing trousers would be too shocking for their taste, at least currently. London is not Paris, or Berlin, madam.”
At that moment, the conversation is broken by the sound of china rattling against silver, as Edith pushes open the green baize door leading from the scullery to the dining room carrying a large silver tray laden with Lettice’s best Art Deco Royal Doulton ‘Falling Leaves’ tea set, cups, saucers and plates to match, and one of her beautiful strawberry sponge cakes. The trio watch, transfixed as she slowly walks across the dining room and into the drawing room carrying the tray, which looks far to heavy for a girl as dainty as Edith. They observe in silence as she lowers the tray onto the low, black japanned coffee table, before rising and bobbing a curtsy to her mistress.
“Will there be anything else, Miss?” Edith asks, aware of the attention and curiosity she has created with her presence, but determined not to let it impact her polite and calm manner.
“No, thank you, Edith.” Lettice replies politely. “However, I’ll be sure to call if we need anything else.”
“Very good, Miss.” She bobs another curtsey and quickly retreats back to the kitchen.
“Yes,” Sylvia says quietly with a sigh as she watches Edith’s retreating figure disappear back through the green baize door. “The idea of women wearing trousers does seem to be too unpalatable for so much of the British population. Take your maid, for example, Lettice darling. Both times I have visited you here at Cavendish Mews, she cannot help but look aghast at my outlandish roomy trousers, her horror as plain as the nose on her face!”
“Oh Sylvia, darling!” Lettice protests, as she begins to unpack the tray and set up the teacups onto saucers. “That isn’t fair to poor Edith!”
“Whyever not, Lettice darling?” Sylvia retorts. “Surely it would be more practical for her to do her job, were she to wear trousers than some calico frock like she is wearing now. She should find the idea of me wearing trousers exciting, not abhorrent!”
“That may well be, Miss Fordyce, but she’ll never wear them.” Gerald replies.
“How ridiculous! I ask again, whyever not?” Sylvia asks again, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation.
“Because Edith is what is known as a good girl.” Lettice elucidates. “She was brought up by her parents: a factory worker and a laundress I believe, to have moral scruples.”
“Moral scruples!” Sylvia scoffs dismissively.
“Where she comes from, Sylvia darling, women are servants, wives or mothers. They don’t rune businesses. They aren’t concert pianists. And they certainly don’t wear trousers.”
“She’ll never wear them, Miss Fordyce,” Gerald agrees. “Never!”
“And you, Mr. Bruton?” Sylvia asks with a cunning smile.
“Me, Miss Fordyce?”
“Would you be willing to make trousers for women, even if it would shock some parts of London society?”
“Well, as a matter-of-fact, Miss Fordyce,” Gerald says with a conspiratorial smile and a twinkle in his eyes. “I happen to be in the process of designing a range of beach pyjamas************* at the moment.”
“Beach pyjamas?” Sylvia asks, licking her lips with excitement. “What are they?”
“Well, rather like the name suggests, it’s a pair of wide-legged trousers with a matching blouse, made from colourful, brightly patterned cotton fabrics, similar to what you might wear to bed.”
“I don’t wear anything to bed, Mr. Bruton.” Sylvia replies with a throaty chuckle.
“Sylvia!” Lettice admonishes her guest as Gerald blushes red.
“Please pardon my lack of moral scruples, Mr. Bruton.” Sylvia says teasingly. “Perhaps I should take a leaf from your maid, Lettice darling.” She then continues, “Do go on about your beach pyjamas, Mr. Bruton! They sound positively delicious!” Sylvia murmurs.
“They are all the rage in Deauville.” Gerald goes on.
“Deauville is hardly Bournemouth, Brighton or Lyme Regis.” Lettice counters as she removes Edith’s cake from the tray.
“I just need an exponent of them who would be brave enough and willing to wear them.” Gerald defends.
“Maybe.” Lettice mutters doubtfully.
“Could they be made of silk or satin, Mr. Bruton?” Sylvia asks, sitting up, her eyes twinkling darkly.
“Of course, Miss Fordyce. In fact, they lend themselves to being made of something so deliciously extravagant.”
“Surely you aren’t suggesting you’d be Gerald’s proponent and wear beach pyjamas, Sylvia darling?” Lettice asks.
“Well why not, Lettice darling?” Sylvia counters her friend. “You know me well enough by now to know I don’t give a fig what people think! I am my own woman.” She pats her chest proudly. “Besides,” she adds with a throaty chuckle. “I’d enjoy nothing more than shocking those ghastly prudish Edwardian matrons sitting in their deckchairs along the pier at Bognor Regis*************** as I parade before them in a pair of Mr. Bruton’s beach pyjamas!” She pauses. “Made of satin, of course!”
“Of course, Miss Fordyce.” Gerald agrees, quickly getting swept up in the promise of the idea.
“Excellent!” Sylvia laughs. “What jolly fun!”
“Rather!” Gerald agrees, growing excited at the thought. “Jolly good show, Miss Fordyce!”
“Do you know what, Mr. Bruton?” Sylvia asks, as she accepts a cup of freshly poured tea from her hostess. “I’ve just had the most marvellous idea! I was saying to Lettice here, just before you arrived, how I was thinking of throwing a small soirée at ‘The Nest’ with a few like-minded friends: musicians, artists and the like,” She gesticulates about her as if demonstrating who the people’s professions might be. “To celebrate the completion of my fabulous Lettice Chetwynd original feature wall, and for me to be able to show it off to a few of my dearest friends.”
“That sounds splendid, Miss Fordyce.” Gerald says.
“Well I was just thinking, why don’t you join us? Lettice will have a familiar face beyond mine and Nettie’s to look at.”
“Nettie?” Gerald queries.
“It’s John’s pet name given him by Clemance and a select group of close friends.” Lettice pipes up as she hands Gerald his teacup. “But please don’t you call him that, Gerald darling!” she implores. “I don’t think I could take it seriously, coming from you.”
“Have no fear, Lettice darling!” Gerald chuckles. “I don’t think I could come at calling Sir John that, even if you wanted me too.” He screws up his nose in a mixture of perplexity and distaste. “Nettie…. Nettie.” He shakes his head.
“You could bring your… friend,” Sylvia goes on, her eyebrows arching over her eyes before she gives Gerald a cheeky and conspiratorial wink. “Cyril. Playing the oboe, he’s a musician after all, so he’d be in good company, and you did say just before that he was a trifle jealous of you getting to visit ‘The Nest’ without him.”
“That really is most generous of you, Miss Fordyce!” Gerald exclaims.
“Oh, my offer doesn’t come for free.” Sylvia’s dark eyes widen and sparkle in the light of the room. “There are strings attached to my invitation. I’m an artist, Mr. Bruton. I can’t afford to be that altruistic. No. I’d do you a trade. You and Cyril may come for a weekend at ‘The Nest’ and enjoy my company, and my largess, in return for a pair of your delicious sounding beach pyjamas, in satin! Deal?” she holds out her right hand, rather like an American businessman.
Gerald feels awkward as he mimics Sylvia, but he reaches out and shakes her hand. “Deal.”
*The Royal Albert Hall is a concert hall on the northern edge of South Kensington in London, built in the style of an ancient amphitheatre. Since the hall's opening by Queen Victoria in 1871, the world's leading artists from many performance genres have appeared on its stage. It is the venue for the BBC Proms concerts, which have been held there every summer since 1941.
**Belchamp St Paul is a village and civil parish in the Braintree district of Essex, England. The village is five miles west of Sudbury, Suffolk, and 23 miles northeast of the county town, Chelmsford.
***Sydney Ernest Castle was born in Battersea in July 1883. He trained with H. W. Edwards, a surveyor and worked as chief assistant to Arthur Jessop Hardwick (1867 - 1948) before establishing his own practice in London in 1908. From 1908 to 1918 he was in partnership with Gerald Warren (1881-1936) as Castle & Warren. He worked on St. George's Hill Estate in Weybridge, Surrey with Walter George Tarrant (1875-1942). Castle was elected a Fellow of the Royal Institute of British Architects (FRIBA) in 1925. He designed many buildings, including the Christian Association building in Clapham, a school in Balham and a private hotel in the Old Brompton Road, as well as many private residences throughout Britain. His firm’s address in 1926, when this story is set was 40, Albemarle Street, Piccadilly. He died in Wandsworth in March 1955.
****Syrie Maugham was a leading British interior decorator of the 1920s and 1930s and best known for popularizing rooms decorated entirely in shades of white. She was the wife of English playwright and novelist William Somerset Maugham.
****Meaning to keep calm and be patient, the earliest occurrence of the phrase “to keep your hair on” is recorded in The Entr’acte magazine in London in 1873, which mentioned that at the Winchester, a London music hall, an artist named Ted Callingham sang “Roving Joe” and “Keep Your Hair On”, two very laughable comic songs. A year later in 1874, it was being used commonly amongst the working classes. It is generally said that the phrase is based on the image of pulling one’s hair out in exasperation, anger or frustration, however some connect it to an earlier phrase from the Eighteenth Century “pulling off one’s wig” which refers to irascible and aged gentlemen, “when mad with passion,” have been known not only to curse and swear, but to tear their wigs from their heads, and to trample them under their feet, or to throw them into the fire.
*****A pocket square is a decorative square of fabric, typically silk or linen, that is displayed in the breast pocket of a jacket or suit. It serves as a fashion accessory to add a touch of style and visual interest to an outfit. Pocket squares can be folded in various ways, and the fabric is often chosen to complement or contrast with the rest of the attire. The exact origins of the pocket square are open to debate, but many believe they began in Ancient Egypt and Greece. These white fabric squares originally served practical purposes, such as maintaining cleanliness or deterring smells. Men would store them out of sight, only pulling them out when needed. Over time, pocket squares became a fashion statement and status symbol. Wealthy men would purchase brightly coloured fabrics, especially in bold red hues, to stand out from the crowd. They also often had infused scents to block unwanted smells. Throughout the Eighteenth Century, the popularity of pocket squares spread across Europe, even making their way into royal outfits. Pocket squares remained popular throughout the Eighteenth Century, but they truly evolved into the modern accessory we know today in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries.
******A boutonnière is a floral decoration, typically a single flower or bud, worn on the lapel of a tuxedo or suit jacket. While worn frequently in the past to distinguish a gentleman from a common labourer, boutonnières are now usually reserved for special occasions for which formal wear is standard, such as at balls and weddings.
*******The term "wunderkind," meaning a child prodigy or someone who achieves exceptional success at a young age, was invented in the late Nineteenth Century. Specifically, the first documented use in English dates back to 1891, with the term being borrowed from German, where it had been in use earlier.
********The Lady was a British women's magazine. It published its first issue on 19 February 1885 and was in continuous publication until its last issue in April 2025, at which time it was the longest-running women's magazine in Britain. Based in London, it was particularly notable for its classified advertisements for domestic service and child care; it also has extensive listings of holiday properties. It still has an online presence which offers a classified advertisements, jobs board and recruitment service.
*********Julian Wylie (1878 – 1934), originally Julian Ulrich Samuelson Metzenberg, was a British theatrical agent and producer. He began as an accountant and took an interest in entertainment through his brothers, Lauri Wylie and G. B. Samuelson. About 1910, he became the business manager and agent of David Devant, an illusionist, then took on other clients, and formed a partnership with James W. Tate. By the end of his life, he was known as the 'King of Pantomime'.
**********Julian Wylie’s last revue at the London Hippodrome was ‘Better Days’ in 1925. Comprising 19 scenes, Better Days had a try-out at the Liverpool Empire from 9th March 1925 before its debut at the London Hippodrome on 19th March 1925. The stars of the first edition of Better Days were Maisie Gay, Stanley Lupino, Madge Elliott, Connie Emerald with Ruth French and Anatole Wiltzak. The production had the usual Wylie flourish and touch with the dances and ensembles arranged by Edward Dolly and all the gowns and costumes designed by Dolly Tree. The modern gowns were created by Peron and Florence Henry and the costumes by Alias, Clarkson and Betty S. Roberts. ‘Better Days’, only ran for 135 performances and closed in early June, proving to be the last of Wylie’s run of productions at the London Hippodrome.
***********The Hippodrome is a building on the corner of Cranbourn Street and Charing Cross Road in the City of Westminster, London. The name was used for many different theatres and music halls, of which the London Hippodrome is one of only a few survivors. Hippodrome is an archaic word referring to places that host horse races and other forms of equestrian entertainment. The London Hippodrome was opened in 1900. It was designed by Frank Matcham for Moss Empires chaired by Edward Moss and built for £250,000.00 as a hippodrome for circus and variety performances. The venue gave its first show on 15 January 1900, a music hall revue entitled "Giddy Ostend" with Little Tich. The conductor was Georges Jacobi. In 1909, it was reconstructed by Matcham as a music-hall and variety theatre with 1340 seats in stalls, mezzanine, gallery and upper gallery levels. It was here that in 1910 Tchaikovsky's ‘Swan Lake’ received its English première in the form of Act 2 with Olga Preobajinska as the Swan Queen. The Hippodrome hosted the first official jazz gig in the United Kingdom, by the Original Dixieland Jazz Band, in 1919.
************Oxford bags were a loose-fitting baggy form of trousers favoured by members of the University of Oxford, especially undergraduates, in England from the mid-1920s to around the 1950s. The style had a more general influence outside the university, including in America, but has been somewhat out of fashion since then. It is sometimes said that the style originated from a ban in 1924 on the wearing of plus fours by Oxford (and Cambridge) undergraduates at lectures. The bagginess allegedly allowed plus fours to be hidden underneath – but the argument is undermined by the fact that the trousers (especially in the early years) were not sufficiently voluminous for this to be done with any success. The original trousers were 22–23 inches (56–58 cm) in circumference at the bottoms but became increasingly larger to 44 inches (110 cm) or more, possibly due to a misunderstanding of the measurement as the width rather than circumference.
*************Paul Poiret was a French fashion designer, a master couturier during the first two decades of the 20th century. He was the founder of his namesake haute couture house. Poiret established his own house in 1903. In his first years as an independent couturier, he broke with established conventions of dressmaking and subverted other ones. In 1903, he dismissed the petticoat, and later, in 1906, he did the same with the corset. Poiret made his name with his controversial kimono coat and similar, loose-fitting designs created specifically for an uncorseted, slim figure. Poiret designed flamboyant window displays and threw sensational parties to draw attention to his work. His instinct for marketing and branding was unmatched by any other Parisian designer, although the pioneering fashion shows of the British-based Lucile (Lady Lucy Duff Gordon) had already attracted tremendous publicity. In 1909, he was so famous, Margot Asquith, wife of British prime minister H. H. Asquith, invited him to show his designs at 10 Downing Street. The cheapest garment at the exhibition was thirty guineas, double the annual salary of a scullery maid. Jeanne Margaine-Lacroix presented wide-legged trousers for women in 1910, some months before Poiret, who took credit for being the first to introduce the style.
*************Beach pyjamas, which generally consisted of a pair of wide-legged trousers and a jacket of matching fabric, first gained popularity in the years immediately following the Great War, with evidence pointing to the early 1920s, specifically at European seaside resorts like Deauville in France. It is thought that French fashion designer, Coco Chanel, was also an early proponent of this style.
**************Deauville is a seaside resort on the Côte Fleurie of France’s Normandy region. An upper-class holiday destination since the 1800s, it’s known for its grand casino, golf courses, horse races and American Film Festival. Its wide, sandy beach is backed by Les Planches, a 1920s boardwalk with bathing cabins. The town has chic boutiques, elegant belle epoque villas and half-timbered buildings. As the closest seaside resort to Paris, Deauville is one of the most notable seaside resorts in France. The city and its region of the Côte Fleurie (Flowery Coast) have long been home to the French upper class's seaside houses and is often referred to as the Parisian Riviera.
***************Bognor Regis, also known as Bognor, is a town and seaside resort in West Sussex on the south coast of England, fifty-six miles south-west of London, twenty-four miles west of Brighton, six miles south-east of Chichester and sixteen miles east of Portsmouth. A seaside resort was developed by Sir Richard Hotham in the late Eighteenth Century on what was a sand and gravel, undeveloped coastline. It has been claimed that Hotham and his new resort are portrayed in Jane Austen's unfinished novel ‘Sanditon’. The resort grew slowly in the first half of the Nineteenth Century but grew rapidly following the coming of the railway in 1864.
This 1920s upper-class domestic scene is different to what you may think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures including items from my own childhood.
Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:
Lettice’s tea set sitting on the coffee table is a beautiful artisan set featuring a rather avant-garde Art Deco Royal Doulton design from the Edwardian era. The very realistic looking chocolate sponge cake topped with creamy icing and strawberries has been made from polymer clay and was made by Karen Ladybug Miniatures in the United Kingdom. The green tinged bowl behind the tea set is made of glass and has been made by hand by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. Made by the Little Green Workshop who specialise in high-end artisan miniatures, the black leather diary with the silver clasp is actually bound and has pages inside. The silver pen with the pearl end is also from the Little Green Workshop.
The black Bakelite and silver telephone is a 1:12 miniature of a model introduced around 1919. It is two centimetres wide and two centimetres high. The receiver can be removed from the cradle, and the curling chord does stretch out. The vase of yellow tiger lilies and daisies on the Art Deco occasional table is beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium. The vase of roses and lilies in the tall white vase on the table to the right of the photo was also made by hand, by Falcon Miniatures who are renowned for their realistic 1:12 size miniatures.
Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The black japanned wooden chair is a Chippendale design and has been upholstered with modern and stylish Art Deco fabric. The mirror backed back japanned china cabinet is Chippendale too. On its glass shelves sit pieces of miniature Limoges porcelain including jugs, teacups and saucers, many of which I have had since I was a child.
To the left of the Chippendale chair stands a blanc de chine Chinese porcelain vase, and next to it, a Chinese screen. The Chinese folding screen I bought at an antiques and junk market when I was about ten. I was with my grandparents and a friend of the family and their three children, who were around my age. They all bought toys to bring home and play with, and I bought a Chinese folding screen to add to my miniatures collection in my curio cabinet at home! It shows you what a unique child I was.
The painting in the gilt frame is made by Amber’s Miniatures in America. The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug. The geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.
Scanned print.
Mamiya 645 Pro TL w/ M-S 120 mm/f4 macro.
Fomapan 100 in Adonal 1+100 semistand, 1 h.
Printed on Fomatone MG 132, developed in Moersch SE 2 Warm and toned in Moersch MT 2 Carbon toner (1+20, 3 min).
Even if FT MG isn't lithable anymore, it still is a good warmtone paper for traditional b&w printing.
1978 Ibanez Artist 2622.
elprobadordesl.blogspot.nl/2017/12/surprise.html
LOCATION: Wynn's Winter Wonderland, Beauty Forest:
I would never have promised cake for breakfast. I only eat healthy....are you laughing?
Kitten: Half-Deer - Kitty Galore
Head: Genesis Lab - Sofie Bento (The Epiphany April 2017)
Skin: Soul - Fala Albino (H2)
Cosmetics: Lithe Silhouette - Fantasy Warm; Genesis Lab - HD Lipstick Retro Vintage
Hair: Magika - Hunter
Ears: Logo Expressive Ears
Hair Accessory: Lode - Morning Glory
Nails: Hello Dave - Nonconformist
Clothing: Seul - Flame Decal Hoodie; Dead Dollz - Smash Tennis Dress
Food: BunBun - Sweet Cafe (The Epiphany April 2017)
wohoo, i'm on facebook! fuck, i feel famous.
[leben 1.0]
lith on agfa mcp 310 + 5 min in selen 1:15 (at 14°C).
i definetely prefer the ilfospeed... i won't use the mcp for lithing anymore.
Scanned lith print.
Mamiya 645 ProTL w/ M-S 120 mm/f4 macro. Nov 2021.
Fomapan 100 in Rodinal 1+100, semistand 1 h.
Lith printed on Fomatone MG 133 and developed in 2 baths:
1. Moersch Easy Lith (15A+20B+100OB+ H2Oqs800).
2. Moersch Lith Omega 1+100, 90 sec.
July 2024.
Untoned.
PS borders.
R.I.P. my last lithable Fomatone MG 133's...
For a 2025 full of good times!
FEATURED CREDITS:
voodoo. - Lithic Eyeliner Style 3 @ Anthem
voodoo. - Roxanne Face Blushes @ Kinky Event
voodoo. - Roxanne Body Blushes @ Kinky Event
•Head: Catwa - Catya
•Body: Maitreya Lara Mesh Body
•Hair: Stealthic - Lithe
•Dress: =Zenith=lolita Spring Picnic Dress
•Shoes: =Zenith=Lace Socks Bow Heels
•Bag: =Zenith=Rattan Spring Picnic Bag
•Hat: =Zenith=Rattan Spring Picnic Hat
Poses: Find Joy in the Ordinary - Where is the flower? Pose
♰☽∘₊✧ sᴘᴏɴsᴏʀᴇᴅ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴘᴏsᴛ ✧₊∘☾♰
✞ sᴘᴏɴsᴏʀ: FaeTal | NOR | CULT
♰☽∘₊✧──────✧₊∘☾♰
✞☽ FaeTal - River - Ebody, LaraX, Legacy, Kupra & Unrigged
↣Includes unrigged and rigged versions for Ebody, LaraX, Legacy F & Kupra
↣HUD includes 8 metal colors for each part + hide/show options
↣Available @ Androgyny Event 7.5.25
✞☽ NOR - Roten Set. Fatpack
↣Includes top & shorts rigged for Reborn/Waifu and Legacy F
↣HUD includes 6 colors for top, 6 colors for shorts, 4 colors/patterns for panties, & 5 colors for dice accessory.
↣Available @ Kawaii Secrets Event 7.4.25
✞☽ : CULT : Dagny Fatpack
↣Rigged for Reborn, MaitreyaOG, MaitreyaX, Legacy F, Legacy Athletic Male & Kupra. Optional ankle lock also included.
↣HUD includes 21 colors for shoe + 2 special colors, 3 colors for soles, 3 colors for metals, and a shine on/off option.
↣Available @ Androgyny Event 7.5.25
✞☽
↣ : CULT : - maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Cult%20Coven/155/67/33
↣ FaeTal - maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Cult%20Coven/211/89/46
↣ NOR - maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/She/129/10/3302
✞☽
↣ Androgyny Event - maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Calico%20Bay/228/65/2501
↣ Kawaii Secrets Event - maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Apple%20Bloom/179/81/826
♰☽∘₊ ✧──────✧ ₊∘☾♰
↔ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛs↔
↣ Faye Hair - Magika
↣ Imperius Face Tattoo - [VARC]
↣ Lithe Brows - [VARC]
↣ Dead Love Makeup - [VARC]
↣ Remorse Ear Tattoos - Swallow Ears - [VARC]
↣ Furor Tattoos - Tintable - Lilithe
↣ Scribbles Tattoos - BOM - [VARC]
↣ Sacrilegium Nails Crosses - -SU!-
↣ ELION GLASSES - GRAAL STORE
The Flat
A Distracting Gem.
She crouched like a cat in the shadows… Dressed in a tight black spandex jogging suit, she was almost invisible, except for her long ginger hair that fell past her shoulder in curling silken waves. She didn’t care if her hair was seen, after all, what was life without a bit of challenge?
As one of her mom’s countrymen would say:
We learn from failure, not from success! Abraham (Bram) Stoker,
She was looking through a tall hedge, past a row of neatly trimmed roses, to a large dark stone manor house that had been repurposed into four flats.
The house lay on the opposite side of a well-manicured green lawn.
It looked like a golfing green she thought, Licking her red lips, as she pulled something black out of the brown leather satchel that was held by a strap to her shoulder.
She looked down at the fuzzy black material in her left hand, a black ski mask, well worn. She smiled as she opened the mask and slipped it over her head, adjusting it so her sharp grey eyes could see out the eye holes. She pulled out the thin black silk gloves, and with a business-like manner, slipped them on.
She was ready, the time was ripe.
Stretching up like a cat does from being stationary for far too long, she felt her muscles deliciously relax, ready to pounce.
She turned her attention back to four flats … it was the top flat that was her objective,
No lights had been turned on, no one had come back home…
Her thoughts went back to earlier that evening when she and her fellow thief Emy, had cased a party together:
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Emily had worn a salmon color satin blouse, a black tube skirt in combination with opaque black stockings, and also black high heels. A wide necklace of glimmering gemstones hung with a mesmerizing sway from her throat. Looking sharp as a tack, she was the lure, the distraction maker, bait for the rich quarry.
Cassie, Emy’s ginger-haired partner, was the lift, the inside thief. It was her job to gather the information once they had selected a likely victim. She was dressed in a sensible black velvet dress with pearls.
Tonight it had been instantaneous and collectively deciding between the pair of female thieves as to who that victim would be.
An elegant lady wearing a long black gown of expensive satiny material was stunningly sporting a collection of diamond jewelry that made one wish they had on sunglasses. Her wealthy husband was handsomely attired in fitted tux and tails.
The pair of thieves quickly made the couple their focus.
On one of his numerous forays away from his wife, the thieves moved in.
As Emy distracted the wealthy lady, Cassie snuck in from behind and lifted the expensive purse of gold chain that she had been carrying, from the table behind her.
Cassie had left the party, and using the information she found amongst the expensive items inside the(£580 costing ) purse, had gone to stake out the couple's flat.
Finding the layout to be quite to her liking, Cassie changed into her burglar’s outfit and entered the grounds.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
An owl hooting broke into her thoughts.
She shook her head clear of those delightful thoughts.
Silently she moved off along the hedgerow, sneaking up to a small wrought iron garden gate a good 200 yards off.
Nimbly she grasped its ornate top, and jumped over it, landing in a crouch, looking all about.
She was in, no turning back now, not that she would have ever dreamed of doing so. The riches she imagined inside the flat , like catnip to a cat, were a far too tempting a lure to resist….
She moved off, soon lost in the swirling mists coming in on cats' pads from a nearby bog.
Reaching the outside of the house, she saw a long iron trellis had been bolted to the side of the wall running up next to each of the balconies of the flats. Four in total. One at each level. The trellis was covered in ivy up to the roof
This was how Cassie intended to enter.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^*^^^^^^^^^^^
Cassie swiftly climbed up the metal trellis, her lithe figure easily maneuvering up to the top floor.
A stone gargoyle, a relic from when the manor housed a single family, glared down at her. Cassie blew it a kiss as she climbed over a thin wall into the stone balcony of the empty 4th flat.
Staying in the shadows, reaching a glass door, she easily picked open the lock and slipped inside.
As the burglar went in on her hunt, Her mind drifted to her old schools male induced Latin motto, the femininized version She had herself changed and had used in a school essay( and had received a stern lecture from the headmaster for doing so!)
“Et qui vincit, ipsa vincit”
She who conquers, conquers herself
Once inside Cassie allowed her eyes to adjust. Then reached inside her pouch and pulled out a small torch, using its thin beam of light to sweep the room, watching for anything shiny or glittery that may indicate an object(s) of value.
She was in the master bedroom. Savoring the elegantly beautiful items that were caught in her torch’s beam, Cassie decided to do the bedroom last, knowing most of the good stuff was here, in favor of checking out the rest of the flat.
Cassie crossed over to the fat door and opening it, entered into a large living room
Then she again casts her beam of light, quickly seeing a small elephant of green jade. She went over and snatched it up, placing it inside her leather satchel. Her light caught up several more small statues of silver, ebony, and more jade, and they all quickly were collected and placed in with the elephant.
On the far side was a pair of closed doors, on either side of the double main entrance doors.
Cassie went to the one on the right and discovered an obviously empty second bedroom. Pity no female guest was visiting. She didn’t bother checking the dressers. Took a quick look inside the closet. Here gowns were hanging. She ran her hand sling each one checking for brooches or pins that may have been left on the sleek scintillating material. Nothing other than some rhinestone decorations.
Cassie quickly vacated the room and tried the door on the left. It was locked.
As curious as any cat would be when finding a door locked, Cassie pulled out her thin pick and had the lock opened in record time. She opened the door, licking her lips as she slipped inside.
It was the husband’s study. The smoke of old cigars hung heavy in the atmosphere of the leather-accentuated room.
Her torch beam caught a solid silver frame on a fireplace. She went over. It was a wedding picture of the couple. The bride was wearing an eye-catching scooped necked cream satin gown, with mouth-watering diamonds dripping down along her model-like figure. Cassie liked the picture so much that she kept it in the silver frame as she stuffed it inside her satchel. None of the other pictures had expensive frames.
Cassie then went over to the desk.
Snatching up a solid gold table lighter, and silver cigar cutter, and a matching silver cigar case, filled. The husband must have another with him, probably gold. The cigars would be a victory smoke later if this heist was pulled off.
There was a decanter with matching glasses on the desk. An amber liquid inside the decanter looked appealing and Cassie took a small swig. Expensive brandy burning sweetly down her throat.
She looked around the room, it looked, felt, and smelled of wealth, and power.
She swept her beam on the rug, noticing a slightly worn path that led to the wall behind the desk chair. There was a picture, of no value, hanging there.
Correctly reading the signs, Cassie walked to the picture and placed her hand on one side feeling a hinge. Going to the other side she swung the picture out, revealing a wall safe.
Almost purring, Cassie began working the tumblers, easily hearing them in the dead silence of the flat. Then the sweet sound of a click, and the door was opened.
She put the torch in her mouth to free her hands.
Her light caught a few piles of cash, fat envelopes, velvet-covered cases, and small boxes of various colors and sizes.
Quickly the notes and envelopes were lifted out and placed in the satchel.
She reached in and lifted out a velvet case. Opening it her eyes were met by the sparkling that only the most expensive jewelry can give off. She closed it and slipped it inside the leather satchel at her side. Then quickly scooped up the remaining cases and boxes. All felt heavy, filled with more jewelry she didn’t bother to inspect.
Something odd caught her eye in the back of the safe. Reaching in she pushed a button set in the back, that had been exposed by the removal of the jewel cases. The back slid open, exposing a small niche in the wall… Cassie gasped.
For there, in all, it’s glory, was a diamond tiara, worth a king's ransom!
She reached in and plucked it out, mesmerized by its beautiful shimmer. She placed it greedily inside the satchel.
Finished she closed the safe, turned the tumblers, and swung closed the picture
Not bothering to check the desk drawers, Cassie quickly exited the room, closing and locking the door.
Then she made a beeline back to the master bedroom. To be quickly(she was sure all the ‘good stuff in the flat had been found) and expertly looted before making her escape on the bedroom’s stone balcony.
Entering the room she followed her beam to the bed, where she had spotted a jewellery case on a small table.
The car burglar quickly began scooping out the compartments of the jewelry case. Day jewels of Gold, silver, pearls, and several pieces of gemstone encrusted lovelies. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, and rings. All deliciously expensive in their own right.
She went to the other side of the bed where the oak doors of the closet sat shut.
Opening them she found more expensive clothes.
Satins, velvets, silks, and more. She again ran her fingers along the sleek materials. This time being rewarded with a diamond clip on a Raylon dress, and a sapphire broach from the high ruffled neckline of a satin blouse, along with a thick gold pin from a velvet jacket. All of which were plucked off and added to the valuable collection inside her now heavy satchel.
Suddenly She hears the outside door of the flat click open, and a light comes on in the living room. Cursing herself for not locking the bedroom door, Cassie hides inside the closet.
A figure swished in.
It’s the wife.
Cassie pressed into a corner of the closet, ready to spring.
The elegantly attired lady crossed to the bathroom, Turning on the light.
She turns towards the dresser inside the bedroom next to the bathroom door.
Her elegant satin gowned figure is bathed in light, diamond heavy jewels glittery.
The burglar’s heart leapt to her throat. Was she going to have the opportunity to acquire those jewels also? Where was the bloody husband?
It was then she heard a bird's call from outside. The burglar knew it was her partner Emy, giving a warning.
“Too late luv.”
The lady of the house meanwhile is removing her earrings, bracelet, and rings, laying them on the dresser. She then approached the bed, not seeing the burglar crunching in the shadowy corner of a closet door that was open a crack.
Her necklace and broach blaze into fiery life as she bends down and picks up her satin robe from the bed.
Turning away, she swished across the oak wood floor and enters the bathroom.
The burglar began to move as soon as the lady disappeared into the bathroom.
Cassie sat the satchel down by the closed glass doors leading to the balcony.
Reaching the dresser she looks inside the bathroom and sees the lady admiring her necklace in the mirror.
Meanwhile, the cat burglar’s gloved hands are quickly picking up and pocketing the diamond earrings, bracelet and rings from the top of the dresser. Placing them all inside her pants' deep pockets. Along with a small carved ivory statue of St. Patrick holding a 24k gold staff.
Cassie daringly held her ground, watching the lady remove her gown and hang it up next to the bathroom’s vanity on a hook next to the mirror. Next, she slips off her silky undergarments. Now naked, she turns and goes to the shower and turns it on.
Going back to the mirror the lady removed her necklace and laid it carefully on the vanity. Her beautifully bare figure in profile to the watching thief.
Cassie had to admit to feeling a bit of tingling in certain areas. And it wasn’t just from the diamond necklace laying so tantalizing close in reach.
The wealthy lady enters the shower, failing to notice the figure watching her at the door.
As the lady begins to hum inside the shower, the thief is also humming to herself, as she sneakily enters the now steamy bathroom.
Lifting the necklace she admired it’s dazzling radiance before placing it inside her pocket. Then Cassie, eyeing the diamond brooch, cautiously goes to the hanging gown.
Only inches away, the thief freezes as the lady in the shower says:
“Is that you honey? I need a washcloth.”
She holds out her hand, beckoning for it, a gold ring set with diamonds flashes from her pinky.
The cat burglar looks around quickly spying a washcloth. With daring, she lifted her mask, She carried it over to the voluptuous nude figure outline behind the shower curtain, holding it up, she used it to take hold of the hand.
Then leans over, licking the lady’s fingers with her tongue. Sucking off the ring easily from a soapy pinky.
“Silly!, I know that ring always is bloody tedious to remove after wearing it out. Thank you for taking it off for me.” The lady says snagging the washcloth and going back to her showering without looking out.
The thief meanwhile had spit out the ring, pocketed it, then grabbed the gown off the hook, backing out.
When she is at the door, the thief says to herself:
“Thanks for the jewels, and the heads up about your husband, Honey”
The thief turns and goes for a listen at the bedroom door. She heard the clinking of ice being placed in glasses inside the study.
She closes and locks the bedroom door.
She turns and goes back out onto the bedrooms balcony
Whistling to the shadows below, Emy emerged, looking up with brite , questioning eyes
She nimbly caught the satin gown, weighted with the brooch, falling straight, as it was thrown down.
Blowing yet another kiss to the menacingly grinning stone gargoyle, Cassie makes her way back down, the bulging leather satchel strung over her back.
Below, Emy watched as her partner finally reach the ground.
Cassie gives Emy, who had been admiring the diamond broom, a thumbs up, patting the bulging satchel.
They give each other an exciting hug.
Both then turn and steal their way across the now heavy mist-filled yard. Disappearing into the night.
Another adventure attained…
Fini
Scanned IR lith print.
Rolleiflex T w/ Tessar 75 mm/f3.5 + Rollei IR filter.
Aug 1, 2023.
Rollei IR 400 in Rodinal 1+100, semistand 1 h.
Lith printed on Oriental Seagull G-3 (Moersch Easy Lith).
Toned in Se 1+4, 25 sec.
War Airfield 16.
The Oriental Seagull G-3 isn't that colourfully lithable as Rollei Vintage 332, but presents a more
"straight" print even if there are some pepper formation in the darks (so it's probably bromide dominant). A print variant of previously uploaded neg.
♰☽∘₊✧ sᴘᴏɴsᴏʀᴇᴅ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴘᴏsᴛ ✧₊∘☾♰
✞ sᴘᴏɴsᴏʀ: ASCENT
♰☽∘₊✧──────✧₊∘☾♰
✞☽ ASCENT - Nifty Eyebrow Piercings
↣ Unisex, unrigged eyebrow piercings, resizable by script. Folder includes piercings in either rings or spikes for L&R, single and multi-piercing options available in folder. HUD includes 9 metal colors for piercings
↣Available @ WASTELAND Event 6.30.25
✞☽ ASCENT - Insurgent Piercings
↣ Unisex unrigged eyebrow, cheek and septril piercings, resizable by script. Piercings for L&R sides, spike or stud, shadow addons for cheeks/nose/eyebrows included in folder. HUD includes 9 metal colors for piercings.
↣ Available @ WASTELAND Event 6.30.25
✞☽
↣ ASCENT - maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Makai/205/79/3334
✞☽
↣ WASTELAND Event - maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Mount%20Amore/182/103/2181
♰☽∘₊ ✧──────✧ ₊∘☾♰
↔ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛs↔
↣POMPSKY EARS + TAIL - .STOIC.
↣Fern Hair - [Monso]
↣Lithe Brows - [VARC]
↣Dead Love Makeup - [VARC]
↣Imperius Face Tattoo - [VARC]
↣Rupture Tattoo - [VARC]
↣Remorse Ear Tattoos - Swallow Ears - [VARC]
↣Furor Tattoos - Lilithe
↣Yamiyo Earring L+R - KNIFU
↣Narius Tongue + Piercings - [The DeadBoy]
↣After Dark Jacket - Black - CryBunBun
↣After Dark Suit - Black - CryBunBun
↣Miya Skirt, Ebody - [The Forge]
↣Nyx Boots & Stockings (Reborn) Black - - TRIGGERED - & theROOM
Rolleiflex T w/Tessar 75 mm/f3.5 + Rollei IR filter.
Rollei IR 400 in Rodinal 1+100, semistand 1 h.
Lith printed on "old" lithable Fomatone MG 133 and developed in Moersch Easy Lith (15A+15B+H2Oqs700).
Untoned.
First print in the lith soup, exp 60 sec and developing time 3-4 min.
Florence Emery (or Embry) Jones
singer
b 1892 Bridgeport CT
Married to jazz pianist, Palmer Jones
died in New York in January 1932
Florence Jones was the first African-American woman to rule the Paris jazz world in the 1920s. She preceded both Ada "Bricktop" Smith and Josephine Baker in that regard. Her fame was built less on her singing and dancing than on her ability to amuse and captivate the crowds at the clubs where she held sway. First at Eugene Bullard's, Le Grand Duc, and later at Louis Mitchells cub across the Rue Pigale, Florence kept the late crowd dancing throughout the night. Mitchell soon renamed his club, Chez Florence, in her honor. She was known for snubbing all but the most illustrious of guests, and making her victims love her all the more for it.
Time Magazine
Monday, Jun. 20, 1927
"Chez Florence"
"Ivory-white, lipstick-red, and a suave, tawny brown are the colors of Florence Jones. These were colors good enough for smart, expatriate Americans of both hemispheres who discovered "Florence" making excellent waffles in the Rue Pigale some four years ago. Her waffles became a fad, and so many rich waffle eaters washed the golden morsels down with amber champagne that, today, Florence Jones te more purseful than many of her clients. The fact that this handsome Negress, genuinely from Harlem, keeps the smartest boite de nuit* in Paris, was evident again last week, when His Royal Highness, 27-year-old Prince Henry of Britain, strolled into Chez Florence, atop Montmartre, at 3 a. m., with a highly unofficial entourage.
Habituéés, such as the Princess Murat, and Sem, famed cartoonist, were unsurprised. What if the third son of George V had come in? They recalled how once the King-Emperor's eldest son, on a memorable visit to Chez Florence, called across to her:
"Hey, Florence! How many poules do you know in Montmartre?"
Replied Florence: "Poules ? 'chickens,' your Royal Highness?" Then, dropping into Harlemese, as she seldom does, Miss Jones addressed the crowd, pointing at Edward of Wales: "Poules! He as' me 'bout poules! Hey-ho! Haah! Jus' look who's askin'!"
Edward, fairly caught, laughed among the first; and since then Miss Jones has been an all-licensed Negress. Nightly she coaxes or drags celebrities out on her jazz floor, makes them perform, makes them ridiculous to their own intense delight—for the crowd are all clannishly impersonal and good-humored. Therefore, last week Prince Henry was not irked when Miss Jones sought to draft him as a contestant in an impromptu black bottom contest.
Florence's chic ankles twinkled toward him. Her figure is svelte, lithe—though she does not dance—her voice sultry, a blues voice. At a curt nod from her the huge, perspiring black who is Miss Jones' husband snapped his hot-time jazz baton. Prince Henry hesitated, then rose, followed Florence out on the floor and black-bottomed.
"Hey! Hey!" she cried. "Give the little boy a hand! Hey! Hey!"
Then to pace His Royal Highness at black bottoming, she called up from the crowd Nora Bayes, Georges Carpentier and Florence Walton.*
"Hey! Hey! Shake that thing!"
To some present it seemed that Nora Bayes black bottomed better than Prince Henry; but when the moment of judging came they "gave the little boy a hand." Florence, stamping her small right foot for quiet, awarded to His Royal Highness the first prize, held it aloft before the crowd, explained in mock Negro dialect: "Dis y'ere fust prize am an ostrich feddah suit o' cat's pajamas!""
never had seen her so graceful, she was a dancer, and it makes sense, a openminded dionysian stretching dancer, i can relate!
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hengistbury_Head
Hengistbury Head /ˈhɛŋɡəstbri/ is a headland jutting into the English Channel between Bournemouth and Mudeford in the English county of Dorset. It is a site of international importance in terms of its archaeology and is scheduled as an Ancient Monument.[1] Declared a Local Nature Reserve in 1990, the head and its surroundings form part of the Christchurch Harbour Site of Special Scientific Interest.[2] It is also a Special Area of Conservation, Special Protection Area, an Environmentally Sensitive Area and a Site of Nature Conservation Interest.[3] The name "Hengistbury Head" refers to the immediate area; the elevated portion is called Warren Hill.
There has been human activity on the site since the Upper Palaeolithic; during the Victorian era, it was heavily quarried, and in recent years tourism has become significant – it receives over a million visitors annually. The various habitats on the Head provide a home for many plants, birds and insects, some of them rare and critically endangered. Erosion remains a threat to the site, although long-term projects are intended to secure it for the future.
Location
After the counties were redesignated in 1974, the site has been considered part of Dorset. The isolated building near the centre of the image (labelled "Summer House") is the thatched barn still at the Head. The barn forms part of the new visitor centre.
Hengistbury Head is a sandstone headland forming part of Southbourne, which is a suburb of the town of Bournemouth to the west; the nearest major settlement is Christchurch to the north. It is the most easterly part of the Borough of Bournemouth, and marks the most easterly point of Poole Bay. Historically part of Hampshire, the Local Government Act 1972 designated the area a part of Dorset. The northern slope of the hill tailing off towards the sea forms Mudeford spit, the sand bar closing Christchurch Harbour from the south.
Buildings
The spit is home to more 300 privately owned beach-huts, one of which in 2012 became one of the UK's most expensive, selling for £170,000 just two days after being put on the market.[4] The hut measures a little over five by three metres, has no running water, and the occupants may only stay overnight from March to October. Despite the relative lack of amenities, the area has become one of the UK's most desirable; huts are rented out for up to £600 a week.[5]
The Black House, a local landmark, stands at the end of the spit, opposite Mudeford Quay, site of the Battle of Mudeford in 1784. Built in 1848, it was once a boat-builders' house, but is now rented out to holidaymakers.[6] It has served a variety of functions over the years, and is commonly associated with the area's smuggling past.[7]
Toponymy
Mentioned as Hednesburia in a church deed of the early 12th century, and referred to as Hynesbury Head in the 17th, Hengistbury only took on its current spelling in the 19th century, during a period of what archaeologist Barry Cunliffe calls "antiquarian romanticism".[8] Many prehistoric sites around this time were renamed to link them with historical figures.[8] It was thought at the time that the legendary Anglo-Saxon leader Hengist could be buried here, as he was said to have been laid to rest in an unlocated mound. Twentieth-century excavations have established that the tumuli at Hengistbury Head date to the Bronze Age however.[9]
History
Hengistbury Head is home to a plethora of nationally and internationally significant archaeological sites, with features dating from the Late Upper Palaeolithic to the Roman settlement of Britain, earning the site Scheduled Ancient Monument status.[10] Interest in the site declined throughout the Dark Ages, until extensive development took place in Christchurch around 890 AD, when the Head may have been used as a lookout post. The area was heavily quarried during the Victorian period and nowadays receives over a million visitors annually.[11]
Stone Age
Several archaeological digs have revealed that the site was occupied during the Upper Palaeolithic.[12] There is evidence of an open settlement of the Creswellian culture on the hill in the middle of the headland dating to around 14,100 years ago. With over 13,000 lithic artefacts it is probably the largest site of the period.[13][14] Most interesting were several blades typically found at Upper Paleolithic sites across Europe, but rarely seen outside of caves in the UK, where open air sites of this age are extremely rare.[15] People at the Head were heavily involved with the production of blades, further excavations identified 649 tools, dominated by backed blades, endscrapers and burins.[16]
At the time the Warren Hill would have overlooked a large river valley that was to become the English Channel. Once the sea had inundated the surrounding valley, Mesolithic hunter gatherers exploited the site. Pollen analysis of peat from the Solent bed suggest a lightly wooded headland free of close-knit undergrowth during this period, an ideal habitat for game.[17]
Bronze Age
In Bronze Age Britain this was an important seaport.[18] Eleven Bronze Age Britain round barrows sit on the promontory with two more a little further inland. Eleven of the round barrows were excavated; three by Bushe Fox in 1911–12 and eight by Harold St George Gray in 1919 and 1922.[9][19] Two appear to be undisturbed. Numerous finds including Early Bronze Age axes and cremation urns were recovered from these tumuli, which have been consistently found to be between 3500 and 4000 years old.[9]
One of the barrows (south of where the thatched barn now stands)[20] contained a high status cremation of a woman of about twenty years in age, accompanied by an incense cup, a halberd-style pendant made from amber and copper alloy, and two gold cones that would have covered buttons of an organic material.[21] The burial-goods recovered are similar to those of the Wessex culture, the Wilsford and Dorset Ridgeway series in particular.[20] An urn from one of the barrows likely to have been made between 1700 and 1500 B.C., has been identified as Trevisker ware, a type widely found throughout Devon and Cornwall which was transported east in lesser amounts, this find being one of the easternmost discovered.[22]
Iron Age
In Iron Age Britain around 700 BC, a settlement on the Head was established;[23] also around this time, the headland was cut off from the mainland by the construction of two banks and ditches called the Double Dykes, similar to those found at Maiden Castle.[24] The earthworks consisted of an inner bank three metres high, with a ditch three and a half metres deep. An outer ditch six metres wide and two metres in depth is now obscured due to wind-blown deposits of sand and a gradual silting process.[25] These defences turned Hengistbury Head into a fortified settlement area which seems to have grown over succeeding centuries until it became an important port.[26] The Iron Age port at Hengistbury Head forms a final site in a small chain of fortified earthworks, starting from Hambledon Hill, and also including Hod Hill, Spetisbury Rings, Buzbury Rings, Badbury Rings and Dudsbury Camp.[27]
John Lavender of the local Red House Museum noted evidence of small iron-ore smelting hearths on Warren Hill, while green vitreous slag has been also found on the Head.[28] In his 1911 to 1912 excavations, Bushe-Fox found evidence for working of lead, copper and silver; two ingots discovered at this time revealed that raw materials would have been imported to the area.[28] One ingot was of nearly pure copper, while the other, which weighed 8.6 kg, was roughly 50/50 copper-silver alloy with around one percent gold.[29] Argentiferous (i.e. silver-bearing) copper was refined to produce silver at the Head.[29] There are also indications that gold was worked at Hengistbury.[30] One excavation produced part of a torc, twisted together with a small gold bracelet and another fragment in a manner suggesting it was scrap; a different site produced a streaked touchstone indicating use in gold testing.[30]
Thousands of bronze coins have been found from the pre-Roman period, the vast majority having been struck by the Durotriges.[31] The abundance of coins, together with various hearths and smelting artefacts found within a close proximity suggest that the Durotrigan finds were minted here.[32]
International trade centre
The advanced level of metallurgy in the area, coupled with its ease of access from the Continent, meant that Hengistbury Head became a significant Late-Iron Age port; trading worked metal of iron, silver, and bronze in return for figs, glass, tools and other goods. Armorican coins and pottery uncovered here show links to the Brittany peninsula.[33] Amphorae used for the transportation of North Italian wine have been found in such quantities (more than all other sites in the south of England put together), that it is clear that the Head was a main port of entry into the country.[34] However, no similar amphorae have been unearthed in Armorica, hinting at a more direct trade route between Hengistbury Head and Italy.[34] Most of these vessels date from before 50 B.C., while later styles are absent despite being common in other parts of Britain, indicating the wine trade seems to have declined at about the time Caesar began his Gaulish campaigns.[35]
Roman occupation to Medieval period
After the Roman conquest, the south-east of England started to develop into a more urban economy, while the socio-economic system of the south-west remained little changed.[36] Hengistbury would still have served as an important hub for the Dumnonii of Cornwall and Devon, and the Durotriges of Wiltshire and Dorset; since transport by water was more efficient at the time, and the Head offered both a coastal route, and freshwater options via the Stour and Avon rivers.[36]
No evidence of Saxon use has been found at the Head.[37] The area was not substantially reoccupied until Alfred the Great decided to rebuild the harbour as a defence against raiders. He built the town that later became Christchurch, on the north side of the harbour. Access to Salisbury up the River Avon made this a more strategic place. The Head may have been used for harbour defence at this time. In the 11th century, some of the iron-ore rich stones found at the Head were used in the construction of Christchurch Castle. These reddish-coloured stones can still be seen in the base of the now ruined castle.[38]
17th, 18th and 19th centuries
In the late 1600s, Andrew Yarranton (with backing from the Earl of Clarendon) commenced a scheme to improve the harbour. In 1693 a channel was cut out to sea, whilst ironstone boulders from the head were used to create a pier.[39] The plans proved ineffective; the pier was poorly positioned and subsequent storms (including the Great Storm of 1703) soon undid most of the work although parts of the pier known as "Clarendon's Jetty" or the "Long Rocks" are still visible today.[40] Many tons may have been removed from the beach and the head itself to make the jetty.[41]
In 1733 a new Excise and Customs Bill was introduced, restricting imports and raising taxes on many luxury items. Christchurch rapidly became a hot-bed for smugglers, where they were known as "freetraders", and much of the town was involved in the trade. The "Double Dykes" are said to have been used to hide contraband,[42] while Mudeford spit is rumoured to have been used in the construction of "Guinea boats" (cheaply built galleys sometimes capable of outrunning the day's steamships).[43][44] One apocryphal story is that the black house acquired its distinctive black colour when customs officers tried to smoke out some holed-up smugglers by lighting fires around the base.[43] The house was constructed in 1848 and used by shipwrights as a dwelling and workshop, smuggling was in decline with the introduction of a free trade policy and more effective measures being implemented by the Coast Guard by this time, so the house may not in fact have had much involvement in smuggling. The spit has a long association with shipbuilding with two large ships being built in the mid 19th century, the "Viscountess Canning" of 193 tons and the "Enterprise" 253 tons.[6]
From 1848 to 1872, the Hengistbury Mining Company – formed by a Christchurch-based merchant, John E. Holloway – extracted many more ironstone boulders through quarrying. Holloway brought coal from Southampton, and took the ironstone as ballast for the return journey.[45] These boulders, known as Iron Doggers, were prized for their high quantity of iron ore (up to 30%).[46] They form the base of Hengistbury Head, and the removal of a substantial amount of doggers over the years has weakened the headland. These and earlier excavations resulted in a loss of up to a third of the Head, caused mainly by erosion after the quarry's closure. The silt being washed down also threatened the ecology of the saltmarsh below. This has been reduced by the building of a dam, in 1976, to create a pool. Many "doggers" can still be seen lining the route of the land-train and at the quarry.[46]
UK's first airshow
In 1910 the first international aviation meeting ever held in Britain took place on a specially laid out aerodrome consisting of a mile of grassland between the "Double Dykes" and the nearby village of Tuckton. About twenty pioneer aviators from around the world participated in various competitions including spot landing, altitude tests and speed trials (both for the fastest and slowest circuit).[47]
On the second day of the meeting, co-founder of Rolls-Royce and pioneer aviator Charles Rolls was thrown from his plane, which disintegrated beneath him. Despite the fact that the first-ever powered flight had occurred only seven years previously, Rolls had been attempting a precision landing. He died from his injuries shortly after his fall.[48] The event was Britain's earliest fatal flying accident involving a powered aircraft.[47]
20th century
There were a number of development schemes for the head including a major railway and docks scheme proposed in 1885, proposals for housing and a golf course were also put forward before World War I, though none of these schemes came to fruition.[49] In 1919 the head was sold by Sir George Meyrick to Harry Gordon Selfridge with plans to construct a grand house. These plans also came to nothing, apart from the establishment of a nursery garden.[50] Bournemouth Borough Council purchased the head in 1930 for £25,200;[51] although plans for housing existed west of double dykes, the head itself was to be kept as public open space. During World War II the head was closed to the public and was occupied by the army, becoming home to a number of installations including a radar station. The area was also extensively mined. The Head was finally cleared of the military defences by the 1950s.[52]
Present day
Hengistbury Head Local Nature Reserve is currently owned and managed by Bournemouth Borough Council. In 1990, the land was declared a Local Nature Reserve, as a commitment by the town of Bournemouth to conserve and enhance the environment.[53] The heathland forms part of the Dorset Heaths and is internationally protected as a Special Area of Conservation and Special Protection Area. Nearby, the upper reaches of Christchurch Harbour (including the meadows at Wick) are recognised as an Environmentally Sensitive Area.[53]
The head today is used for a variety of reasons. Firstly it is a tourist spot where country walks can be taken all over the head due to the well defined gravel paths, some of which form part of the Bournemouth Coast Path.[54] In 2008, many paths were resurfaced, making more (though not all) parts of the Head wheelchair accessible. For example, it is now possible to gain wheelchair access to Quarry Pool. Regular field trips to the site are made by students of all ages and there are occasional guided tours or meetings around the Head covering a wide variety of subjects.[3]
There is a cafe at the bottom of the Head on the Bournemouth side. Hengistbury Head Outdoor Education centre is located near here on the south shore of the harbour. Run by Brockenhurst College, the centre offers a variety of water and outdoor activities.[55] A scenic land train (known as "the Noddy train") makes regular journeys from the cafe to the end of the spit, a journey of ten or so minutes.[56] On the head itself is a H. M. Coastguard radio relay station, a nature reserve and a triangulation pillar, shown on Ordnance Survey maps as 36 metres above sea level. Ample parking (subject to charges) can be found near the cafe, but the Head is also within walking distance of Southbourne and parts of Christchurch.
The Quarry Pool is now a significant part of the nature reserve features of the Head. While it was very acidic in the early years, since 1990 it has allowed the growth of a significant number of plant and insect species, as well as mallard and little grebe. The insects provide valuable food for migrating sand martins and swallows.[57]
Visitor centre
A new visitor centre for Hengistbury Head is scheduled to open by the end of 2013. Developments are currently underway on the thatched barn, which is being made in an eco-friendly way.[58] the new addition will cost over a million pounds with funding provided by developer contributions, the Heritage Lottery Fund and £300,000 from landfill tax.[58]
The centre will house a new display area concerning the site's archaeology, ecology and geology,[59] while work space will be created for volunteers and other community groups such as the Hengistbury Head Supporters Group, Residents' Association and Christchurch Harbour Ornithological Group.[3] The public will have the chance to scrutinise a selection of the finds discovered at Hengistbury Head in the last century, and to interact with experienced staff, as well as providing them with the opportunity to become actively involved in the administration of the nature reserve.[59]
The surrounding area will be extensively landscaped to create outdoor learning areas and a wildlife garden.[60] Energy-saving features will include photovoltaic panels for electricity and ground source heat pump for heating. A green roof (a living roof that is partially or completely covered with vegetation and a growing medium), will be used to absorb rainfall and provide insulation.[58] The centre will be constructed using timber-frame walls insulated with straw bales.[58]
Geography
According to Ian West of Southampton University, "Hengistbury Head is the best part of the Bournemouth coast for geology and geomorphology .... [and] is geologically important for the unusual nodules of sideritic ironstone [found] in Middle Eocene strata."[61] The exposed and relatively untouched cliff face at the Head perfectly lends itself to students of stratigraphy. Warren Hill itself is composed of Tertiary Bracklesham Beds,[62] a mixture of clays and marls with overlying sandy and lignitic beds.
Erosion
One serious threat to the future of the Head is erosion of the exposed southern cliff face from wind and rain, as well as erosion caused by the sea primarily through the process of Longshore drift. A comparison of Ordnance Survey maps reveals that 25 metres of cliff was washed away from 1915 to 1962,[62] a process accelerated by the Bournemouth cliff's concreted promenade and groynes, construction of which started in the early 20th century. It is thought that in the last 200 years around 150 metres of land has been lost from the Head.[62] The first attempt to counteract erosion came in the 1930s when Bournemouth Council constructed a breakwater now known as "the Long Groyne".[63] Since then, a gabion revetment has been constructed to secure the weakest point at the eastern end of the Head.[38] In a long-term project to secure the Head's future, from 2005 to 2008 Poole Bay was replenished with 1.8 million cubic metres of beach material,[64] drawing ire from some surfers and beach lovers owing to the increase in sharp stones on Southbourne beach in particular.[65] The project's organizers, the Poole Bay Partnership, state that: "The resulting wide beaches have been a success in terms of their function as a coast protection structure and for the enjoyment they provide to the area's residents and visitors."[64]
Flora and fauna
Hengistbury Head forms part of the Christchurch Harbour Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI), and in May 1990 was declared a Local Nature Reserve.[66] The Head supports 500 plant species (a quarter of the national flora), including eight red data book species, 14 nationally scarce, and 39 locally rare species. The main nature reserve area faces Christchurch Harbour, and is contiguous with the reed beds of Wick Fields. The Head contains a large variety of habitats from the heathland on Warren Hill to freshwater ponds, sand dunes, and salt marshes. The woodland (known as Withybed Wood) is home to English oak and silver birch amongst many other trees, and is of particular interest, as it is the only such area to be shown on an 1811 O.S. map of the Bournemouth/Christchurch area.[66] In 2002, cattle-grazing commenced in a field near the new visitor centre known as "Barn Field". This, combined with gorse eradication, has assisted in the restoration of this habitat to its ancient character.[67]
Present on the site is Sea knotgrass (Polygonum maritimum), the rarest of the knotgrasses in Britain,[68] and currently listed as a "schedule 8 species" under the Wildlife and Countryside Act 1981. Such plants are afforded greater than usual protection against damaging activities – such as "cutting, picking, destroying or selling."[69] The heathland is both a Special Area of Conservation and a Special Protection Area, part of a network of the best wildlife sites in Europe.[66]
The various habitats provide homes to numerous species of insects. There are 700 moth species recorded in the nature reserve, again a quarter of the national total. At different spots across the site butterflies (including the green hairstreak),[70] damselflies (like the large red), and dragonflies (such as the hairy dragonfly) can be observed.[3][66][71] The exceedingly rare thirteen-spotted ladybird (Hippodamia 13-punctata), was recently observed at the Head, the first recorded UK sighting since 1952.[66]
Over 300 bird species have been recorded in the area,[72] making Hengistbury Head an important migratory point. The Balearic shearwater, considered critically endangered with extinction by the IUCN and seldom sighted in the UK, has been seen in the area.[72] Other rare birds spotted here include the purple heron, the pink-footed goose, the European honey buzzard and the melodious warbler.[73] The fields and reserved areas near the car park provide an ideal spot to watch and listen to a significant population of skylarks during the summer months.
In 1989 a project commenced to re-introduce the country's rarest amphibian, the natterjack toad, to Hengistbury Head. The natterjack was last recorded on the headland in the 1950s before its extinction, probably as the result of a lack of suitable ponds.[74] The project has been a great success and today there are thriving populations at various locations.[74] The ideal time to witness their mating rituals is in May as dusk approaches, when the distinctive call of the natterjack can be heard for miles around.
Scanned lith print.
Mamiya 645 ProTL w/ M-S 300 mm/f5.6.
Fomapan 100 in Rodinal 1+100, semistand 1 h.
Lith printed on PAL Brom K 10-4 18x24 cm (FB, double weight, glossy) and developed in Moersch Easy Lith (25A+25B+H2Oqs700 ml) @ 30°C.
Untoned.
PS borders.
Well, this was a very nice bromide gritty ("peppery") lithable paper I have never heard of before. Together with Orwo the most positive surprise in the newly acquired old paper lot.
I was visiting Shrewsbury, and had planned a drone take off spot and the time of the RHTT over the river. In the event, Storm Babet meant the RHTT didn't do its Holyhead leg and was back at Coleham while I was still in bed, and the path along the Severn was under three feet of water. So some local spots after my return home, here is 4Z33 Peterborough to Hams Hall arriving at destination, the rivers Cole and Blythe flooding the fields just before the confluence with the Tame. I presume the service was from Felixstowe and terminated at Peterborough last night before coming along today.
A detail from the sawmill I explored recently.
The lith developer was diluted significantly (1+35) as I wanted to explore the change in color. It lithed well, and the colors are not that dominant than in some other omega prints. So this is an alternative I will use for suitable subjects..
From this perspective, the limbs on this tree make it appear to be a lithe figure with its arms raised over its head.
Its no wonder that some cultures believe that trees have souls when they take on human like forms.
Stanton in the Peak, Derbyshire
September 2024.
Leica MP, 75mm f/1.4 Summilux-M
Kodak Tri-X @ 400
Caffenol C-L/S 30’ semi-stand, home-made TF2 Fix
Also shot (initially) as wide-angle with 21mm Super-Elmar-M, which I'll show in due course. Vertical views too.
Chiesa di Santa Maria di Sibiola (Anno 1125)
Sul fianco sinistro è integra la scala d’accesso al tetto e al campanile, di cui rimangono invece solo i conci di base. I mensoloni litici infissi nel muro ricordano le scalinate dei nuraghi.
Church of Santa Maria di Sibiola (Year 1125)
On the left side, the access staircase to the roof and the bell tower is integrated, of which only the base ashlars remain. The lithic corbels fixed in the wall recall the stairways of the nuraghi.
2023 A New Year's Eve Soliloquy
I was asked recently by a friend if I would ever be likely to teach someone what
he/she felt were my skills at pickpocketing.
Extremely flattering as the question was, I had never thought of what we do as a skill. Rather than just role play, or taking advantage of a friend’s condition ( like Pissed drunk, or compellingly overwhelmed emotionally) that makes them vulnerable.
We had a discussion over this with my brother and our group of friends, concluding that since non of us would ever try to do a lift on a stranger for keeps, the topic of this being an actual skill is pretty much mute.
That all being said, if there are professional pickpockets that are adept enough to actively lift jewelry from a victim, then either they are incredibly skilled, or just know how to spot an advantage brewing that would cook up into a victim’s concocting condition as described above.
For a clearer example of a concocting condition, let me relate my own experience this past New Year’s Eve.
As is our habit, my friends and I celebrated New Year's Eve at our local “The Poet & Peasant Pub”.
I was on the decorations committee, so I was there to observe most of the guests coming in.
I was at the top of the stairs leading to the upper rooms, placing a party hat on Erik, the skull of the medieval poet who is the pub’s namesake. The macabrely grinning thing sits high on a ledge of the stairs overlooking the pub and its guests (peasants).
So I had a great vantage point to take an early drink and watch.
A friend(and he knows of whom I speak) had sorta challenged me to make a lift this evening. So it was with a thief’s eye that I tried to look innocent as I watched the partiers coming in.
The pub proper is not large, but it has two larger first-floor rooms, one for dance, the other for dart competitions. Since we usually can expect a crowd of two hundred, all three areas come into play.
The upstairs rooms are old bedrooms used for various pub-related antics.
Now, It’s not supposed to be a dressy affair at this party, but the guests, regulars, and visitors make it one.
The gents in suits, and tuxes, the lady’s getting a second chance to show off by wearing an old gown or dress they’ve only worn once.
Rhinestones and pearls are the majority of jewels worn with splashy brilliance.
This year was no exception.
Once it was in full swing one would have thought it was an after-party at a actors' awards show.
Use that thought to picture in your mind a quick visual without me going into boring paragraphs of detail.
But for a brief idea, I’ll describe what my clique was wearing…
Which, since it was one(or more)of us girls that became a victim that evening, it appears appropriate to do so.
So, In my role-play thief's mind I observed:
First off, myself.
I had on a smart ocean blue coloured satin dress with a below-knee length skirt and a slick solid top with a mock turtleneck collar. The sleeves flared out just below my elbows. I was wearing my gold necklace set with diamond Sapphire rhinestones with matching long earrings. Also being worn was my rhinestone cuff bracelet. The same one my brother once nicked from me at the very pub we were now partying at.
I also added two of my real cocktail rings to complete the glittery effect.
As far as the type of mark I’d be for a thief? Well if being a twit came in degrees, and I was in my monthly period, I would be certified as a solid brown belt. If I was wearing real jewels, thieves would be able to have a field day lifting the bloody things, as did actually happen to me in a very similar situation as this evening. But it was not done by a real thief, just by an opportunist who took advantage of a victim who had been having herself a pisser.
But then, this is not that story.
My friend Byrne was wearing an old-fashioned black tux, black vest, black shirt, and blue bow tie, topped off by a black bowler. He had to work late at the Dyfed station that day and said he was wearing the suit he had on. So it was a pleasant surprise to see him dressed up, and I let him know it in no uncertain terms.
My brother was dapper in his tawny-colored herringbone vest suit, brown silk shirt, and gold satin necktie. A gold satin handkerchief stuck jauntily out from a vest pocket.
Ginny had again poured her lithe figure into the sleek satin Japanese-style Qipao sheath dress she had bought to wear in a play she acted in last spring. It was midnight black with a brite lime green inner lining and tight lime green Lycra pants. The only decoration on the elegant dress was a glittery silver rhinestone Dragon, with green slanted eyes and a red fiery tongue. It was embroidered crawling up one side of the dress, reaching around up towards her bosom.
Ginny was wearing a bib-style necklace of rhinestone emeralds with matching earrings.
The necklace she usually wore was still in a police evidence locker at Dyfed ( see my tea party story).
Her hair was held up on one side by a glittery clip. She wore no gloves, so her diamond rhinestone cuff bracelet lay on bare skin, as were the 3 cocktail rings she was wearing.
Ginny would be a tougher nut for thieves to crack. For she is logical to a fault and witty. She is also a black belt in Jiu-Jitsu.
But one really after her jewels, would just have to follow her around to see she is on the wee bit clumsy side. I immediately thought how useful a satin handkerchief could be if employed along the high, partially exposed neckline of her gown to acquire her necklace. And I happened to now know where to obtain one ….
Two other two close friends (members of our role-playing troupe) also eventually showed up.
Merrick was dashing in a James Bond-styled black tux. The vest he wore had a gold and black calico silk pattern.
His Heather enticingly was wearing a very shiny black satin, slightly off shoulders gown with long white lace frills hanging down from the neckline and the gown’s puffy elbow-length sleeves.
Her jewellery was a ruby rhinestone necklace with matching earrings. Like Ginny, one side of her hair was pulled back and held by one of her real diamond chip hair clips. She wore black satin gloves, and around one wrist was the wide tennis bracelet Merrick had given her last Valentine’s Day. It was a beauty, two rows of diamonds and a centre row of round rock rubies. She also wore twin ruby cocktail rings.
Heather is a timid meek little thing who blushed easily and turn her head away whenever complimented(think of Actress Alison Pill ). Also, those black satin gloves of hers would hinder feelings of lifting from her skin.
Mum and Auntie were also in attendance.
Mum was wearing a shimmering dress of silvery metallic material. She was wearing a necklace of round diamond rhinestones, with matching earrings and bracelets. They were ones I first “borrowed “, sneaking them out of mum’s day jewel case and started wearing as my twin and I began first exploring our games of thievery.
Her personality and looks matched the actress Haley Mills. Her eyes getting delightfully large as she was surprised by something. It would be worth trying for her necklace just to witness that reaction.
Father was working the Dyfed station this evening, so my bodyguard-built uncle was the escort of both ladies.
Uncle(or the man from U.N.C.L.E . As I thought of him) was a rugby player in his youth and still had the physic for it. The tight tux he wore looked like it was bursting from the seams over his muscular build. But for all his looks he was a pussycat. Though a fierce darts competitor.
Auntie was very elegant in a long white silk dress with a red and green flowery print. She was wearing her gleaming set of pearls.
Our Aunt reminded me of the actress Janine Duvitski, in looks, and the way she was insecure, like Janine’s character in the Telly series” Waiting for God.” She was a foil to far too many things in her life and would offer no challenge to a proper thief, which may be her saving grace.
Then there was our cousin Michelle(Micke)
She has come there with a group of her coworkers but divided her time with us.
Micke was enticingly wearing a very sleek, slick brown satin fully off-shoulder number that nicely outlined her petite figure as it poured along it down to her silver high heels.
Her Jewels were a sparkling collection that consisted of a wide V-shaped necklace that looked like a falling river of rhinestones, amazingly sparkling chandelier earnings, her favorite diamond-appearing bracelet, and several enticing rings.
But the real showpiece was the eye-grabbing broach she had pinned to the gown just at her waistband. It had a sparrow egg-sized diamond at its centre.
Now blonde Micke just wears her heart upon her sleeve. Just as gullible as her mum, she has fallen victim to many of our pranks. Micke was easy prey to a compliment or falling into a tight, searching hug.
And by now most of the rest of the crowd had entered.
I tapped Erick’s boney jaw open so the poor sod of a poet was grinning, then came down from my perch to begin mugging, er, mingling.
^^^^^^^^
And so the party rambled on, properly behaving like most pub-held New Year’s Eve affairs.
I highly recommend going to one if you have never been.
Plenty to drink, and eat, games to play dancing to music( ours was live this year) camaraderie, storytelling and jokes, attempts to lite the cigar someone had stuck in Erik’s mouth, etc
Oh, And did I mention games?
Especially the one I was playing on my own, pretending to be a thief on the prowl.
I did miss one early opportunity on me mum’s necklace when I stood behind her in the snack line. She had literally backed into me and was reaching down to snag a small pork pie, exposing her throat and necklaces' clasp. But uncle was in front of her and turned to look as she asked him if he had one for himself.
Victims 1 Thief 0
But then as the night went by quickly and since I’m not a real thief, I found myself having so much fun I almost forgot I was looking for a further lifting opportunity.
Almost…
End Acte 1
^^^^^^^^^^^^*
Acte 2
Almost forgot I had been dared to do a lift, that is until I had l came out of the loo around 11:00 and realized I was on my own.
For the first time that evening.
Everyone I had been with was split up into small groups now doing their own thing
I could either join in, watch, or….
And now I thought licking my freshly touched-up lips, time to do something on my own.
So like my pretend thief, I decided to have a walk around and seek an opportunity amongst my chosen potential victims.
Byrne, Merrick, Uncle, and my brother Craig were we’re still playing darts with another group of men. I had been watching before slipping away to freshen up.
Micke and one of her co-workers ( in green taffeta) were amongst a group dancing. I thought of cutting in as a possibility to make a score, for that glittering broach of hers was an enticing calling card.
I watched for a minute or so when suddenly an opening appeared that paved my way in. A man had cut in and was dancing with Micke’s girlfriend. His back to Micke. I curled my fingers while licking my lips ready to plunge in and make a lift of a glittery broach.
I got no more than two steps in when the music stopped and the dancers headed off the floor in the opposite direction, including my Cousin.
I walked away, my heart pounding.
Victims 2 Thief 0
Our Mum and Auntie were sitting at a side table of the long mahogany bar, chatting away. Mum has an almost empty glass, so I surmised she may need to be making a trip to the ladies' room. I stored away that tidbit.
But there, in an opposite corner, underneath Erik’s perch, a makeshift stage was set up. With guests coming up to tell jokes and stories.
It was at one of the tables, chairs backed against the stairway, Ginny and Heather sat listening to an Irishman telling one of his drinking stories.
Both, in my thief’s eye, were a royal treat to be observed. Two enticingly dressed and deliciously jeweled prospects, very distracted, sitting in a rather vulnerable location.
It was all far too tempting, and I felt an overwhelming urge to acquire a piece of jewellery and strted to excitedly tingle from deep within.
Ginny’s necklace was beckoning with a flashy invitation. Heather's elegantly gloved hands with the inviting jewelry she wore, also called out to my inner thief with a fiery blazing hot lure.
^^^^^
The Irishman telling the joke was holding a long cigar as he started, his accent and mannerisms adding much embellishment to the story.
(Look up on Utube Mike Dunafon. An Irish drinking joke)
“Irishman Paddy O'Brien has moved to a small city in Wales. And as men are won’t to do, looks for a new local. He walks into the first pub he finds, and tells the bartender, "Give me three pints of Guinness."
The bartender obediently brings him three pints…..
As the story started I had circled over to the empty staircase and snuck up it till I was level with Heather and Ginny’s chairs. Then I sat down.
I earlier decided that my game would be to lift a piece and make it outside to the victim’s car and write gotcha on it, for my thief to win, if I was caught or stopped by anyone, then I lost.
The Irishman took a long puff of his cigar and carried on.
Paddy proceeds to alternately sip one, then the other, then the third until they're gone. Then he rose, threw coins on the table, winked at the bar mistress, and left.
Meanwhile, I was leaning against the rails, my hands reaching out to the back of Ginny’s throat, aiming for the clasp of her emerald-laden necklace. Figuring once the punchline was given, the laughing (if it was as funny as I hoped) would provide the perfect opportunity.
The Irishman continues…
The next Saturday evening Paddy walks in, hanging his cap, taking a seat, he walks again and orders three more pints.
The bartender brings them over, and says, "Sir, you don't have to order three pints at a time. I can keep an eye on one and when you get low, I'll bring you a fresh pint."
Paddy responds, "You don't understand. I just moved to wales and I have two brothers, one in Australia and one Canada. We made a vow to each other that every Saturday night we'd still drink together. So right now, me brothers are having three Guinness Stouts and we're drinking together.
The bartender thought that it was a wonderful tradition and said as much.
Both Ginny and Heather were now leaning back in their chairs. My fingers had been slowly working on pulling Ginny’s necklace down lower on her back so it would dangle. Just then Heather put her arms behind her chair. Her bracelet danced with rippling sparks that just cried out to the thief in me to be taken.
So, as the Irishman took a sip of his drink, I moved my hands from Ginny, and moving down a stair reached for Heather’s ruby bracelet. As the next part of the joke was told, I delicately worked at removing it.
Now, every week for several years Paddy came in and ordered three pints at a time.
Then one Saturday week he came in and ordered only two pints.
He solemnly drank them, rose. Put on his cap and went over to pay his tab.
The bartender, who had worriedly been watching, said to Paddy, "I know your tradition, and I'd just like to say that I'm sorry that one of your brothers died."
Paddy responded, “oh no, both my brothers are just fine Dontchay knows now.”
The Bartender, puzzled asked, “then why only two beers now? laddie?”
But I never heard the answer, for as Paddy was still drinking his two beers, I had fiendishly slipped off Heather’s glittering ruby bracelet from around her sleekly gloved wrist and had snuck off the staircase and was heading towards the back door.
Victims 3 Thief 1
I managed to slip past the table where my Aunt sat( mum was gone).
Behind me, I hear vigorous laughter and applause at the ending of the Irishman’s joke.
I would have to ask later what it was.
Then, by the entrance to the dart room, I waited until everyone was watching a dart being thrown before walking past the room.
The dance floor was again packed. But I couldn’t spy Micke, so I took a chance and scurried past.
I made it to the door, excitedly letting out my breath as I pulled it open and slipped through into the chilly night.
A couple was walking in the parking lot, so I ducked into a shadowy side alley and skirted around a fence. Kneeling, I peeked through the pickets.
I did not know the couple, but they obviously had been having a great time, though I wondered why they were leaving so soon. The lady was dressed in a blue taffeta gown with prickling rhinestone adornments. Her jewelry also prickled fire in the moonlit evening.
In my thief’s eyes, I saw them being approached and held up. The lady is forced to hand over her jewels to a masked female thief. Not me though, the thief I was picturing had bigger boobs.
Of course, that would be something only I would find to be that amusing, and let out a giggle.
They both heard it and looked around as I slinked back into the shadows.
They shrugged it off and got inside the car.
I took my eyes off them and soon spotted Merrill and Heather’s black sports car.
I rose.
Suddenly a male voice snarled sinisterly from behind me...
“Who let you out all dressed up looking like a mugger's dream?”
I let out a shriek as I jumped up and turned around.
Byrne stood there grinning.
I playfully pounded his shoulder, my heart thumping as I scolded him between breaths that gave off wisps of vapor into the cold night.
“Byrne you rotter. Scared the Jesus out of me you did, and almost peed my undies. And how would that have looked I ask you?!”
Byrne held onto my shoulders and laughed.
“Sorry, you looked so mischievous as I saw in the corner of my eye you sneaking out. I followed, then lost you until I heard the giggle. So tell me what you are up to now?”
I explained to him my game, that upon the thief’s success, I had come out to write “gotcha” on the car door.
“Then what were you gonna after that Ms. Cadence?”
“Follow Heather out when she left and give it back …?”
Byrne looked thoughtfully at Merrick’s car.
“I have got a better idea. She won’t know who did it.”
He led me over to his auto. Goes to the back and pulls a long slender bar from what I call his cop box, in the trunk.
We go over to Merrick’s black sports car and Byrne, looking around first, uses the tool to lift the latch on the passenger side.
“Now lay her bracelet out on the seat.
I did so letting it curl up on the black leather, where it lay sparkling. Then I locked and shut the door.
With a smirk, Byrne reminded me not to forget what else I was going to do
I nodded and in the dirty side of the door, I traced the word “Gotcha” as Byrne went over to put back his tool.
Arm in arm, with a co-conspirator's air, we walked onto the sidewalk, making our way to the front of the pub and went back inside. Innocent as a sparrow…
Another gent was getting up on the stage telling a story so we went and joined Ginny and Heather with an air of innocence as we began laughing along with them.
An old Irishman, Paddy, is about to go to his eternal reward. He looks at his grieving friend, Mike, and says, "Michael, I have one last request."
Ginny’s necklace was still lifted and the backside hanging down. She hadn’t noticed that fact. Nor had giggling Heather noticed her flashy bracelet was now missing.
"Anything, Paddy," Mike says. "What is it?"
"In me kitchen pantry lad, you'll find a bottle of whiskey from the year I was born. When they put me in the ground will you pour it over me grave as a final salute?"
"I will, Paddy," Mike says.
“Thank you Michael, you have been a true and thoughtful lad.”
I nudged Byrne and pointed to my wrist. He looked over and saw that Heather had her hand on the table, with her other gloves hand over it. I was tingling with excitement over how my game had played out.
Byrne nudged me back and I shook my head in agreement. He was loving the fact that we had pulled it off. So like a man to take the whole credit now that he had contributed a wee bit to my game.
We both turned back to listen to the stories finish.
"But Paddy?”
Mike asks earnestly ….
“Would you be minding if I be passing it through me kidneys first?"
The whole room erupted into laughter as the gent merrily raised his glass.
It was then announced that we were only ten minutes away from midnight and everyone should take their places.
I gasped inwardly. Blimey had not been keeping track of the time.
Byrne helped us out of our chairs, and we followed Ginny and Heather to where my brother was standing next to Merrick.
Lights soon dim as the countdown begins
10,9,8,
Everyone behind us is prancing around
7,6,5
We go around hugging. I lift my brother's satin handkerchief from his pocket as I hug him.
4,3,2
I hug Ginny
Wrapping the handkerchief around Ginny’s throat as we hug. Feeling the clasp of her necklace. Oh so tempting.
Victims 4 Thief 1
Then 1 was called out at the stroke of midnight.
“Happy new years everybody!!!”
Lights flicker horns are honked, crackers exploded, and drinks were toasted.
As Ginny turns to hug my brother, I grab and hug Heather, seeing Merrick and Byrne hugging.
I then pull Bryne from his man crush on Merrick and hug him.
Then we spilt up to wish others a Happy New Years.
^^^^^^^^^
We party for another hour before Merrick and Heather say they must leave.
We say our goodbyes and as Byrne and I watch Heather being helped on with her wrap we smirk at each other knowing what she will be finding on her car seat. Love to be a fly on the wall for that.
The music was still playing. A series of slow dances now that the party was winding down.
As we dance, Byrne, looking over at Ginny, commented:
“Damn if Ginny’s necklace isn’t a corker. If I’d been playing your game, I would have had a go for it, though I may have needed a bit of good luck to pull it off.”
I smirked and explained I had originally been attempting to lift it but had gone for the bracelet instead…and that in his case luck may have been needed, but it would not have been good.”
Then, as we both were watching Ginny, with that lovely necklace just sparking away around her throat, I purred into his ear…
“Say the word, and I’ll get for you, my love.”
He shook his head no…
“The scary part is if I said yes you would do it.”
I giggled:
“And wear it until she noticed.”
Byrne smiled:
“You will play nice here the rest of the party won’t you now?”
I nodded as a delighted thought crept into my head.
“So if Ginny had been skulking outside would you have snuck up on her luv, maybe had her hand it over?”
“And have my arse thrown over the fence. No, think I’ll stick to the easily distracted ones who meltdown in my arms.”
“Dream on mister.” I chide him happily.
^^^^^^^^^^^^
Early the next morning as the last of us were kicked out long after the party was officially over, Byrne bundled me into his car, knowing I was too wasted to drive my own self home. I sat there in a mute stupor, hornily replaying the evening's fun.
Suddenly Byrne spoke into the windshield.
“Let’s go to the playground.”
I perked up, for ideas like that usually came from me.
“Your drunk.” I teases
“Well, So are you Lass.”
“But it’s too cold. Let’s go to your flat and play at burglars…”
Byrne, sensing my hot flashy feelings, nudged me…
“I knew you would like to role-play since you were playing your games this evening.”
I poked him
“You were the one to mention muggers. Steal my jewelry and strip me naked, is that what’s in your head me lad?”
“Something like that.”
“Do you have your cuffs?”
That perked him up royally.
“Do you want me to use them?”
I giggled with a burgeoned horny appetite.
“Yes, laddie. On yourself. So you can do the thieving and stripping of my easily distracted person without using your hands.”
I do so enjoy it when one can score by making my Byrne speechless.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
So I would like to think that in real life, once upon a time, there may have been an actual pickpocket attending an actors' award show after a party, with real jewellery being worn, that may have seen what I saw, made observations as I did. and lurked, and waited to take advantage of the situation once it developed.
As I did.
Food for thought
Fini
Mike Dunafon. An Irish drinking joke
- O U T F I T -
Babydoll and Panties {Le Fil Casse} Millie Set
Slippers - #Empire - Slippers Flat - Chain
- A C C E S S O R I E S -
Rings - **RE** Luxy Rings Set
Necklace - [ kunst ] Valeria Set
Nails - Spark - Peppermint **Coming 12/12/18** {Thank You}
Leg Chain - Phedora ~ Molly Leg Chains
Wrist Bow - *MUKA* Burlesque Bow
Wine glass - [Cosmic Dust] - Silver Glittered Wine Glass
- B O D Y -
Head - Catwa
Brows - IDTTY Faces - CUT Bold Eyebrows
Ears - Swallow Princess Ears
Body - Maitreya Lara
Skin - Go&See
Hair - Stealthic - Lithe
Lipstick - IDTTY Faces - Angelique Lipstick (Seduction Fair)
Eyes - s0ng - Kiki eyes
Body Bruises - TWC - Silky Kisses