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In 1709 vestigen de Engelse theresianen een nieuw klooster aan de Kerkstraat in Lier. Het kloostercomplex werd begrensd door de Nete en de Sint-Pietersvliet. Rond 1736 werd in de ommuurde kloostertuin een barokke hofkapel (boetekapel) gebouwd. De bak- en zandstenen kapel heeft een verzorgde binnenafwerking met een fraai barok stucplafond. In 1980 werd de hofkapel beschermd als monument.
Foto: Iris Van Dessel
en este ultimo tiiempo me eh desepcionado de tanta gente qe crei qe era de vdd :/ qe ya ni se en quien confiar ... :/
L'événement caritatif de la montagne française. 24h de glisse (course à ski en relais par équipe), de défis et de concerts au profit d'une cause liée à l'enfance avec des personnalités du monde du spectacle, des médias et du sport.
Un événement caritatif, sportif et festif au profit cette année de l'association « A Chacun son Everest », qui bénéficiera de 60% des dons collectés par le Fonds de Dotation pour l'Enfance. Il a pour but auprès des enfants d'améliorer leur condition de vie, favoriser leur accès aux soins, à l’éducation, au sport, à la culture ou à leur éveil écologique, ainsi qu’à la protection du patrimoine humain et naturel sous toutes ses formes.
Le Fonds de Dotation pour l'Enfance reversera le reste des dons aux associations locales retenues.
Du 24 au 26 mars 2023 - Le Grand-Bornand.
© JM. Favre / Le Grand-Bornand tourisme - Tous droits réservés.
The small rural parish of Southrop lies on the west side of the river Leach 18 km. east of Cirencester. It was known as Leach after the river in 1086, but from at least 1211 the name Southrop, associating it with the local group of names that includes Hatherop, Botherop (Eastleach Martin), and Williamstrip, was used.
St Peter's church is set back from the main road through Southrop village, beside Southrop Estate buildings. The church pre-dates the Norman Conquest, showing the long-and-short quoins and herringbone stonework associated with the late Saxon period. Certainly there was priest here at the time of the Domesday Book in 1086.
In the 13th century the church was granted to the Hospitalers order of knights (the forerunners of the St John Ambulance), and the knights rebuilt the Saxon chancel and added a south transept. That leaves the nave as the oldest part of the building - and it shows, for the nave is built entirely in herringbone style construction. There is a Norman window on either wall, though the west window is Perpendicular.
The most impressive interior feature is a marvellous Norman font. This is a simple tub shape, exquisitely carved with an eight-arched continuous arcade. Facing east is a figure of Moses flanked by a synagogue and Ecclesia, a female figure representing the Christian church. In a telling bit of symbolism the synagogue is shown crumbling into ruin. Ecclesia carries a pennon on a shaft; the shaft is broken and the pennon falls across her eyes. There is then a series of five fascinating figures representing Virtues triumphing over Vices. The names of the virtues are carved above each figure, while the name of the vice is carved backwards on the figure's side, probably the first incidence of political correctness so as not to offend!
Chợ Lớn is a quarter of Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon). It lies on the west bank of the Saigon River, having Bình Tây Market as its central market. Cholon consists of the western half of District 5 as well as several adjoining neighborhoods in District 6 and District 11. The quarter is long inhabited by Chinese people, and is considered the largest Chinatown in the world by area.
The Vietnamese name Chợ Lớn literally means "big" (lớn) "market" (chợ). The Chinese name (and original name) of Chợ Lớn is 堤岸 (pronounced Tai-Ngon in Cantonese and Dī'àn in Mandarin, which means "embankment"). The Vietnamese reading of the Chinese name is Đê Ngạn, but this is rarely used. Vietnamese speakers exclusively use the name Chợ Lớn, while Chinese speakers (both inside Vietnam and in China) are the only users of the original Chinese name.
In 1778, the Hoa (Chinese minority of Vietnam) living in Biên Hòa had to take refuge in what is now Chợ Lớn because they were retaliated against by the Tây Sơn forces for their support of the Nguyễn lords. In 1782, they were again massacred by the Tây Sơn and had to rebuild. They built high embankments against the flows of the river, and called their new settlement Tai-Ngon (meaning "embankment" in Cantonese).
Chợ Lớn was incorporated as a city in 1879, 11 km from Saigon. By the 1930s, it had expanded to the city limit of Saigon. On 27 April 1931, Chợ Lớn and the neighboring city Saïgon were merged to form a single city called ‘Sài Gòn–Chợ Lớn.’ The official name, however, never entered everyday vernacular and the city continued to be referred to as ‘Sài Gòn.’ ‘Chợ Lớn’ was dropped from the city's official name in 1956, after Vietnam gained independence from France in 1955.
During the Vietnam War, soldiers and deserters from the United States Army maintained a thriving black market at Chợ Lớn, trading in various American and especially U.S Army-issue items. This was the area, near the Quan Âm Pagoda where photojournalist Eddie Adams took his famous execution photograph. Four Australian journalists were also killed in Chợ Lớn during the Tết Offensive in 1968.
Today, Chợ Lớn especially attracts many Mainland Chinese and Taiwanese tourists.
Information from: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cholon,_Ho_Chi_Minh_City
St-Sacrament, Boulevard Haussmann, Paris, France
Unassuming church upstairs in a modern building a short walk from the Arc de Triomphe. Inside is preserved and displayed the body of St Pierre-Julien Eymard, who founded the order of the Blessed Sacrament. He was recognised as a Saint in the early 1960s. He lies here in a glass casket, like Snow White, albeit more wax than flesh, but still worth seeing.
You can read my account of my travels at pariswander.blogspot.co.uk.
Dudiptsar lake or Dudipat Lake is a beautiful lake encircled by snow clad peaks. The lake lies in the extreme north of Kaghan Valley at N35.0185 E74.0895 and is about a four hours drive from the chief town Naran. The road is not entirely accessible for cars, even Jeeps. From Besal onwards the visitors have to trek about 6-8 hours in vast alpine meadows to reach the lake.
Trek consists of at sometimes steep climb while at other places walk through huge flat valleys, but at all the time filled with amazing sights.
Its water is a beautiful greenish blue and very cold too. Dudipatsar is also close to another major Lake Lulusar which is the main contributory to the Kunhar river that runs through Kaghan valley. At a distance from the lake lies the Babusar Top or the Babusar Pass which is the end of 150 km long Kaghan valley.
Royalty free stock photo of pensive 5 months old baby girl lying on bed.
Can be licensed at soc.li/ih2U8KN
There was never any doubt I would go to Rob's funeral. Rob was born just two weeks before me, and in our many meetings, we found we had so much in common.
A drive to Ipswich should be something like only two and a half hours, but with the Dartford Crossing that could balloon to four or more.
My choice was to leave early, soon after Jools left for work, or wait to near nine once rush hour was over. If I was up early, I'd leave early, I said.
Which is what happened.
So, after coffee and Jools leaving, I loaded my camera stuff in the car, not bothering to program in a destination, as I knew the route to Suffolk so well.
Checking the internet I found the M2 was closed, so that meant taking the M20, which I like as it runs beside HS2, although over the years, vegetation growth now hides most of it, and with Eurostar cutting services due to Brexit, you're lucky to see a train on the line now.
I had a phone loaded with podcasts, so time flew by, even if travelling through the endless roadworks at 50mph seemed to take forever.
Dartford was jammed. But we inched forward, until as the bridge came in sight, traffic moved smoothly, and I followed the traffic down into the east bore of the tunnel.
Another glorious morning for travel, the sun shone from a clear blue sky, even if traffic was heavy, but I had time, so not pressing on like I usually do, making the drive a pleasant one.
Up through Essex, where most other traffic turned off at Stanstead, then up to the A11 junction, with it being not yet nine, I had several hours to fill before the ceremony.
I stopped at Cambridge services for breakfast, then programmed the first church in: Gazeley, which is just in Suffolk on the border with Cambridgeshire.
I took the next junction off, took two further turnings brought be to the village, which is divided by one of the widest village streets I have ever seen.
It was five past nine: would the church be open?
I parked on the opposite side of the road, grabbed my bag and camera, limped over, passing a warden putting new notices in the parish notice board. We exchange good mornings, and I walk to the porch.
The inner door was unlocked, and the heavy door swung after turning the metal ring handle.
I had made a list of four churches from Simon's list of the top 60 Suffolk churches, picking those on or near my route to Ipswich and which piqued my interest.
Here, it was the reset mediaeval glass.
Needless to say, I had the church to myself, the centuries hanging heavy inside as sunlight flooded in filling the Chancel with warm golden light.
Windows had several devotional dials carved in the surrounding stone, and a huge and "stunningly beautiful piscina, and beside it are sedilia that end in an arm rest carved in the shape of a beast" which caught my eye.
A display in the Chancel was of the decoration of the wooden roof above where panels contained carved beats, some actual and some mythical.
I photographed them all.
I programmed in the next church, a 45 minute drive away just on the outskirts of Ipswich, or so I thought.
The A14 was plagued by roadworks, then most trunk roads and motorways are this time of year, but it was a fine summer morning, I was eating a chocolate bar as I drove, and I wasn't in a hurry.
I turned off at Claydon, and soon lost in a maze of narrow lanes, which brought be to a dog leg in the road, with St Mary nestling in a clearing.
I pulled up, got out and found the air full of birdsong, and was greeted by a friendly spaniel being taken for a walk from the hamlet which the church serves.
There was never any doubt that this would be open, so I went through the fine brick porch, pushed another heavy wooden door and entered the coolness of the church.
I decided to come here for the font, which as you can read below has quite the story: wounded by enemy action no less!
There seems to be a hagioscope (squint) in a window of the south wall, makes one think or an anchorite, but of this there is little evidence.
Samuel and Thomasina Sayer now reside high on the north wall of the Chancel, a stone skull between them, moved here too because of bomb damage in the last war.
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Suffolk's most secret places are among the twisting valleys to the west of Ipswich, the little churches hidden in glades on hilltops or in the dips below where the narrow lanes snake down into groves of ash and elm. Maybe there's a stream nearby, but not many houses, hardly a village at all. The churches in these places are among my favourites. Their ancient stones endure through the shadowy grip of winter, and cool the summer haze. They sit in silence as the centuries go by, far from the mundane bustle of traffic, beyond the scope of the tourist guides.
Nettlestead is one of these places. The pretty unbuttressed 14th century tower shows evidence of Norman work in its lower reaches, although Mortlock thought this may have been found and reset during the 19th Century restoration. Similarly, a Norman lancet window in the north wall is surmounted by a reset delicate carving, interlacings of beads, arches and scrolls. You see such things in the Victoria and Albert museum, but they do not have the same power there, out of context. Here, a thousand Suffolk summers and winters have come and gone and still it endures. Speaking of Victoria and Albert, their portraits form the headstops to the outside of the east window.
The inside of the church is neat, bright and welcoming. It is easy to describe the interior of a small church as pretty, but Nettlestead really is so, and once stepped into it will not easily be forgotten.
The crowning jewel here is one of Suffolk's loveliest fonts. Panels intersperse lively evangelistic symbols with grinning men, one with his tongue sticking out (a wild man I suppose, but could he be a lion?), a jolly bishop, and, almost surreally amongst all this merriment, St Catherine clutching her wheel of martyrdom. There are noticeable cracks around the bowl, as if at some point it has been seriously damaged. There is a story behind this font and its survival, as we shall see.
Another curious survival is the large squint in the splay of a window in the south wall. It seems to be focused on where the pulpit is now, so we might assume that there was once an altar in the nave there. But why was the squint where it is? Mortlock thought there might have been an anchorite's cell outside the south wall there, but it is hard to see how an outbuilding could have offered a view through the squint without its east wall cutting into the window. I wondered if the Easter sepulchre had been built where the pulpit is now, and the squint allowed parishioners a view of it on Good Friday, when the church was out of use.
Cautley doesn't mention the squint in his 1935 survey, so it was probably uncovered during a major restoration after the war. On the night of 12th August 1940, this pretty church suffered the same fate as that at Akenham, six miles away, when German bombers returning from a raid on the Midlands dropped their remaining bombs in a swathe across this part of rural Suffolk before embarking on the crossing of the North Sea. The church was gutted, and its restoration and reopening in 1950 was one of Munro Cautley's last jobs for the Anglican diocese. He is responsible for the meticulous piecing back together of the font, which was wrecked in the explosion.
The east end of the sanctuary is a curious thing, too. Its rather sober classical blank arcades are elegant, but beside them on the north wall are the remains of the grimly morbid early 17th century memorial to Samuel and Thomasina Sayer holding hands above a skull. They survived the explosion, but much of their memorial didn't, and so they have been reset on a kind of shelf, their inscription beneath. Sayer built a faire almes house at Bewdley in Worstershier for six poore men and gave thirty powndes a yeare for ever, but he seems none too happy about it.
Rather jollier are the lion and unicorn on the George IV coat of arms, which, instead of supporting the shield, emerge dramatically from behind it. Bizarrely, a ledger stone to Thomas Wingfeilde of 1629 in the chancel has had the words who dyed altered to was buryed. Did they perhaps keep him around for long?
As lovely as this church is, only the font has survived until today from the Medieval period. But there was once much more. The iconoclast William Dowsing visited Nettlestead on 22nd August 1644. It was one of seven churches he visited in the area that day. One of his houses was in the adjacent parish of Baylham, and these small churches are close together, but in any case the going on horseback would have been easy that day.
He found plenty to do at Nettlestead. The Saints on the screen, of which no trace survives, had not been defaced, and there were a dozen further Saints in stained glass, again none of which survive. It appears that his instructions with regard to the screen and ancient glass were carried out by the churchwardens in full, and he also noticed a prayer clause in brass which had gone by the time the antiquarian William Blois visited in 1660. The knight above its matrix survives, suggesting that the inscription wasn't taken by collectors or early modern metal thieves. The armour is early 16th Century and it may be to Richard Wentworth who died in the 1520s in the last days of Catholic England.
Dowsing does not usually get too worked up about fonts, but he mentions St Catherine on the one here, who survives, unlike her saintly companions in paint and glass, so presumably she was consequently either plastered over, or the font was removed from the church and used as a drinking trough for cattle or something. Further, and most unusually, Dowsing names the Saints he sees at Nettlestead, and this despite it being just one of many churches he visited that day. Why was Dowsing so thorough at Nettlestead? The obvious conclusion is simply that, being local, he already knew the church well.
And there is one further intriguing connection between Dowsing and Nettlestead. Thomasina Sayer on the Sayer memorial in the chancel was born Thomasina Lea, and she was the sister of Thamar Lea, William Dowsing's first wife.
The thought that this wonderful little church once had a medieval screen and medieval glass that had survived the Reformation makes you want to weep. Ho hum. Back outside, then.
The pompous memorial by the north east hedge to Stephen Jackson, publisher of the Ipswich Journal, is a quite different prospect to the quiet beauty we have encountered so far. You might see this in the V&A as well, as an example of the arrogance of the Gothic revival. Here is someone who thought very highly of himself, and now lies under flowering columns, pillars, balls, pyramids and curlicues. An antidote by the south porch is the memorial to a child who died after just ten hours. Just a Perfect Day as the inscription reminds us. It's one of the loveliest modern memorials I know in Suffolk.
So there you are, what a delightful little church this is, how can you possibly resist? And then, if you are on foot, or on a bike, just keep going. On the other side of Somersham, you'll come to Flowton, which is equally remote, equally lovely, equally welcoming. If you are in a car - well, you should be ashamed of yourself.
Simon Knott, November 2019
Written in brick-dust(?) in the abandoned former trailer park behind the Payless Shoe Source and JimBoy's Tacos on Stockton Boulevard in Sacramento:
REGINA
HILL IS
A LIER + [sic]
DOPE HO
Again, a new series of Zürich zoo pictures.
It's been a long time I haven't photographed Coto. Here is he, lying in the shadow.
1200 Government Street, Victoria, BC.
Description of Historic Place:
The Bank of Montreal is a four-storey Chateau Style building on a corner lot on Government Street and Bastion Square.
Heritage Value:
The Bank of Montreal is a significant example of the stylistic evolution of one of British Columbia's most prominent architects, Francis Mawson Rattenbury. Rattenbury's relationship with the Bank of Montreal - which was the primary sponsor of the Canadian Pacific Railway (CPR) - is significant; the specifications of this Quebec-based bank considerably influenced his architectural style at the end of the nineteenth century. Notably, the 1896 Bank of Montreal is Rattenbury's first work in the Chateau Style, Canada's signature architectural language which became predominant in his subsequent work across the country as the CPR's principal architect.
The value of this building lies in its distinctive architecture styling conducted in such local building materials as stone from Haddington and Nelson Islands. The distinctive asymmetrical massing, steeply pitched hipped roof, castle-like appearance and stone cladding are unique amongst Victoria's commercial and institutional architecture, and create a significant west coast landmark representative of one of Canada's leading nineteenth century banking houses. Constructed with the most advance building technology of its day - a combination of steel and concrete structural elements - it is notable that this building stands with a complete elimination of wood from its essential construction components. Additionally, the location of this building is significant, as it reflects the early grandeur of Government Street as the first major commercial and financial artery of the city, and it is a significant landmark at the western end of View Street.
Source: City of Victoria Planning and Development Department
Character-Defining Elements:
The character-defining elements of the Bank of Montreal building include:
- the prominent location and building entrance on the corner of Government Street and Bastion Square;
- the unimpeded view of the building from View Street;
- the castle-like asymmetrical form and massing;
- Chateau Style details such as the steeply sloped hipped slate roof, the crenellated cornices, the truncated turret, the gargoyles, and the alternating bands of rusticated and ashlar masonry;
- the lack of wood structural elements, and the prominence of local building materials such as granite and Haddington and Nelson Island stone
- interior spatial configurations relevant to Rattenbury's original design, such as the open floor plan of the ground floor banking hall.
Lying between the chancel and south chapel - 1531 Robert Scargill of Thorpe Hall, Richmond and wife Jane d1546 daughter of Christopher Conyers of Sockburn and Marske by Anne daughter of Sir Thomas Markenfield www.flickr.com/photos/52219527@N00/8668473781/
Robert was the son of William Scargill who founded a chantry here in 1448 and Elizabeth daughter of Thomas Pygott of Clothoram
Children
3 sons who died young leaving their sisters as co-heiresses
1. Margaret d1575 m Sir John Gascoigne d1568 of Cardington son of c1540 Sir William Gascoine by 1st wife Elizabeth Pennington
www.flickr.com/photos/52219527@N00/9710143872/ (They had 2 sons, George d1577 and John, and 1 daughter In July 1543, Margaret complained to the Privy Council about her husband's behaviour and in 1556, Cardinal Pole ordered Gascoigne to end his adultery with a servant. He eventually had to settle an annuity on his ex-mistress).
2. Mary Scargill d1578 m. c.1525 Sir Marmaduke Tunstall 1557 of Thurland
" Orate pro alab' " dmi roberti scargyll millitis & dne Jahne uxoris sue et ancetoru ** suoro fundatora hui' cantarie quor[um animabus] propicietur [Deus •* ac] etiam hie jacent [filii] eorum."*
;Alabaster monument built as stipulated by Jane's Will. "to be built by her executors within 3 years of her death"
Will of "Jane, Ladie Scargill, of Leade Hall "— "That is to sale, firsle and principallie I yelde and bequeathe my soule to Almyghtie God my Creator and Redemer, to that mosle glorious immaculate virgine our ladie Sainte Marie and to all the copanyne in heven and my bodie to bee buried in the psh churche of Whitkirke within the chauntrie quere there besides my saide late
husbinde where I will that myne executores within three years nexte and immediately ensuenge my decease shall cause a tombe of albaster to be raaide and sette over the boannes of my saide laite husbande and me withe such armes and scuptures as to my saide executores shall seme moste convenient : the same to be in facion like to one erected within the Colledge at Macclesfeld."
Phoenix Park is an urban park in Dublin, Ireland, lying 2–4 km west of the city centre, north of the River Liffey. Its 16 km perimeter wall encloses 707 hectares (1,750 acres), one of the largest walled city parks in Europe. It includes large areas of grassland and tree-lined avenues, and since the seventeenth century has been home to a herd of wild Fallow deer. The English name comes from the Irish fionn uisce meaning "clear water".
After the Normans conquered Dublin and its hinterland in the 12th century Hugh Tyrell, 1st Baron of Castleknock, granted a large area of land, including what now comprises the Phoenix Park, to the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem. They established an abbey at Kilmainham on the site now occupied by Royal Hospital Kilmainham. The knights lost their lands when Henry VIII confiscated monastic properties in 1537 and eighty years later the lands once more reverted to the ownership of the King's representatives in Ireland. On the restoration of Charles II, his Viceroy in Dublin, Lord Ormonde established a Royal Hunting Park in 1662 which contained pheasants and wild deer, therefore it was necessary to enclose the entire area with a wall. It was opened to the people of Dublin by Lord Chesterfield in 1745.
This is the young male rhinoceros who was only a few days old, lying in the enclosure (under the supervision of his mother).
Dime que no me deseas, dime que ya no te gusto, o mejor todavía, que ya no me quieres. ¡Vamos! ¡Mienteme! Dímelo a la cara y mirame a los ojos, noto como tu mirada se humedece, tus palabras se traban, tus manos tiemblan.