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Thanks for treating me to breakfast, Simon! He runs my favorite DFS market: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Alkaia%20Paramour/54/36/2001
The Watcher in the woods
Pursuing the Posh
A Cat Burglar Saga
From the files of Chatwick University Criminology Department.
C.B. Case Study 13 , File B
Subset Source: Journal
Subject “Harley Q” -- Real name?
ORIGINATION STORY:
flic.kr/p/BcnW2J
Synopsis:
The young lady was approaching sweet sixteen if I estimated accurately. She was clad in a tailored dress of bronze velvet that shone richly over her lithe figure. Her long blonde hair tied in back, flickered like a horses’’ tail. She had come bounding from a ladies powder chamber, one of several located at either end of the grand ballroom that sat off the formal dining rooms.
I fell in step behind her, watching as her splendid jewelry bounced merrily as she pranced along like some untried colt, sorry filly. Her pearls were lovely things, a matched set, double strands all, real diamond clasps, shone gleaming with a pristine whiteness that reminded me of fresh snow.
The pearls were a sweet lure, of that there was no doubt; but apologies if I am prattling n a bit about them, for after all, what is a jewel thief who fails to notice a ladies jewels? A starving bugger, that’s who.
Now I have found out during my times here on the earth that I can make quite a profit from burgling the safes of wealthy ladies whilst they slept peacefully within their fancy chambres. But I had started out walking my morally tainted chosen path by picking the pockets of the unwary along the way. It was my fate to eventually discover the delightfully chilling sensation that was experienced when lifting the very jewels displayed by unsuspecting female targets. And this was still my guilty pleasure, to the point that I would still take that far riskier venture of lifting worn jewelry whenever opportunity arose, which was quite often in my travelled circles.
So, that is why I habitually started to follow this meandering youth, only because of her jewels, which I found to be quite vexing. Especially her earrings, a dangling set held to her ears by genuine diamond studded hinge clasps. I had seldom attempted sets of worn earrings, not for the lack of desire, and with this one’s head just reaching me chest, it was a very tempting prospect to try and pluck em both off just to see?
Fortunately, for her (not me), this pretty miss was a bit too young for my standards to make any attempt to lift from her any of the swinging pearls, earrings or otherwise. I do prefer my marks to be a bit older, a bit wiser, a bit more of a challenge to my abilities, thank you very much! Besides, I had already had my eye on a few other, challenging female prospects wearing some rather nice pieces in their own right. Including one sapphire laden Lass in a silky frock that had greatly provoked my attentiveness.
So I just followed this young one while she skirted the ballroom and entered a dining area. There she rejoined, what were quite obviously, her parents.
There were, it appeared, just the three of them, no older jewel laden siblings in sight. But, speaking of appearances, the Mother certainly presented a rather nice one, and so I stopped to drink it all in.
The mother/wife was fluidly clad in an all so elegant purple satin number, poured rather snugly along her still quite lovely figure. Said figure had been made even more eye catching (especially for me) by being emblazon with a matching set of jewels, all set with small 1 caret white diamonds, encircling her neck, wrists and fingers with energetic ripples of fiery colour.
She was with her husband, a distinguished looking gent in tails who may have passed as a Barrister, for which all I knew he was. Now Sandwiched in between was their charming young daughter, who was happily chatting away without a care in the world. Her pristine pearls still dangling, mocking me it would seem, to just make the one exception and attempt to take them home with me. I just smiled to wickedly to myself, maybe someday I would I promised them, once their young mistress had grown up a bit, then we would see who was mocking whom from the wickets!
But I did not dwell too long on such thought’s , or on the pretty family either, for, like I have revealed, I had other fish frying, and only am mentioning this particular incident because of what would occur in two days hence. So after a bit I turned and began wandering off.
But then, speaking of starving jewel thieves, I observed at the precise moment I turned away, a most stunning red head wearing a long black gown that fluttered about, here and there, in a most alluring fashion. She was making a beeline towards the very same powder chamber I had just passed. She was obviously in a rush to reach it, and once I laid my eyes on the pearls she was wearing, I moved towards her in an equally purposeful stride. I intercepted her, letting her bump against me, as I stepped on the hem of her long gown. She stopped abruptly, and I momentarily placed an arm around her smooth waist, steadying her as I apologized and begged the ladies pardon for my clumsiness.
She begrudgingly accepted my apologies, and I watched as she scurried off, having already pocketed the pearled bracelet I had slipped from her red satin gloved wrist, and made my own path. I smirked to myself that the bracelet was some consolation for not having an unscrupulous go for the pearls that had hung around the young daughter’s throat, hung from her ears, and encircled one petite wrist, as I stole one last look back towards the pretty families’ table.
I walked away, turning my attentions back to relocating a certain lady elegantly wearing a silky frock, displaying those magnificent sapphires. I was watching, waiting for her to leave, in order to follow to her next stop, eventually hoping to be led to her last, having decided to acquire the fair damsel’s collection of jewels enmasse!
***** Two productive evenings later ****************
It was at a wedding reception the 2 evenings later that I again, quite un-expectantly, spied the Barrister and his entourage.
I had been having a delightful chat with the newly minted wife of the titled Scion of a rather old family. I had won the sweepstakes of receiving a dance with the charming Miss. But alas my chat was cut short as she was whisked away to dance with yet another admirer. I watched as she swept off, my hand reaching into me breast pocket, fingering a still warm diamond brooch. That jewel had been merrily dangling down from her satin gowns’ cleavage, over shadowed by her ample bosom. As we had danced, I had managed to work open its silvery clasp, and lift the brooch cleanly away. My hidden vest pocket also contained at the time a rather pretty ring with a blue carbuncle surrounded by sparkly diamonds. Said ring had been wrapped around the finger of a rather vexing long raven haired lass. I had admired the silken dress she was wearing, and as she had happily swirled and twirled to give me a better look, I had taken the opportunity to relieve her finger of its burden. Since I was only allowing meself a couple of prospects with an affair this small, I now made my way, leisurely, contentedly, towards an exit (stage right as they say in the trades).
But, no sooner had I put me back to the dance floor, than whom do I spy across the room? That rather delightful miss with a long blonde ponytail, who was now dressed elegantly in cream lace, that I had spied at dinner a few evenings back. It was the very same young lady, wearing the same set of mocking white pearls, and as I discreetly draw near, I soon spied her parents.
The “Barrister” was dapper in crisp white shirt and tux, with a fancy gold pocket watch and fob at his waist. The daughter’s look alike mother was now smartly encased in a fitted red gown that shimmered delightfully as it swished about. She was also wearing a nice display of brite emeralds to boot.
This time I took closer notice of the Mothers Jeweles. Between the emeralds today and the diamonds the night before, this lady in red could be a nice meal ticket if the stars were aligned properly. And so it turned out they very happily (for me) did.
With a few discreet questions from some acquaintances quickly garnered for just such information, I found out where my “Barrister” and his family were spending their late evenings asleep. It so happened that they were staying in a penthouse suite 3 floors above my own modest single. So instead of leaving the reception to scout out a way to gain easy access to their rooms, I could stay and enjoy myself, already being all too familiar with the place. Which I did, later acquiring a gold jeweled bracelet from a charming maiden attired delightfully in teal satin, who had kept flaunting her jewels in me face as she told me all about her perfect self. Another jewel added for my growing collection of the evening.
Now, don’t ask me why I was so familiar with my hotels’ penthouse suites, being a cat burglar, the reasons should be quite clear! So when the pretty family left the reception early, around 9 pm returning to their rooms, I was able to follow them with less discretion then I usually do, but still with growing eager anticipation. Also, even more remarkably, they were in bed and asleep by 10:30 pm, which allowed me a much earlier window of opportunity than I had grown accustomed to having.
And so it was, that soon after the stroke of midnight, with the happy family deep in their slumbers that I, wearing my black burgling attire, climbed onto the balcony of their rooms. After jimmying open the double glass doors with my Fairborn dagger, I found myself in a small sitting room. Carefully allowing my torch to search around I spied a door on the far end. Opening it cautiously, the first thing I see are the daughters pricey pearls piled loosely on a vanity by the bed where she lay sleeping, dressed in white, looking ever so like the angel she is. I picked up the necklace of pearls, eyeing them as I watch the slumbering figure on the bed. But I passed the pretty things up, for even though I am a thief by nature, I do possess some scruples, albeit maybe a little warped! Besides, those taunting pearls had led me to the small treasure trove that was awaiting me in her Mothers’ chambers. So with a silent thanks, I replaced them upon the vanity, and move off…
The parents were found in the next room, soundly sleeping off their alcohol induced haze. The mother was draped over her husband, fetchingly clad in a long satin nightdress that looked almost like an evening gown. Her vulgarly large wedding diamonds flickered pleasantly from her finger as I let my torch sneak up along her shimmering figure. On the bed stand laid the “Barristers” gold watch and a rather pleasing selection of his wife’s gold “day” jewelry, but I passed the lot up, my eyes looking for the good stuff that would be snuggled inside the small room safe that I knew would be behind a false door in one side of the oak dresser ( having already discovered that fact a year previously in a different room of the same hotel)!
I went directly to it, and opening the cabinet door, began to use my finely attuned skills to crack it. It was a simple American lock and only took me a minute to have open. I than emptied the small collection of jewel cases ( lovely things) placing them into my small sack. I also find inside the mothers small clutch purse made expensively of red silk and rhinestones, that had been at her side all evening. Out of curiosity (why in the safe?) I placed it inside my bag with the jewels. After checking that the parents were still out cold, I closed the safe, flickering my torch around one last time, it settles upon her red gown, and its emerald rhinestone clips coming blazing into lively flame. I passed on them, and headed back out towards the door. I had almost regained it, and my freedom, when the husband let out a loud snort, and I heard rustling going on in the bed behind me. I froze and carefully looked back. Neither had woken, but the wife had turned onto her side, and her left hand was now hanging limply over the side of the bed. I watched as the diamonds set in the gold ring encircling her slender finger blazed into life (the ring was somewhat loose I keenly noticed)! Blimey, there was enough dosh in the value of that ring that would have paid for all the expenses of the Cardiff C.C. for an entire season, perhaps 2! But, Bird in the Hand, I am always telling meself, so I left the pretty thing dangling there, and finished my careful retreat. I made it out without further incident.
Passing the daughters room ( and her pearls again), I checked in. The young filly was still was sound asleep in her own pleasant dreams, her taunting pile of pearls still on the vanity, where they would remain. I regained the balcony and slipping over, made my way down to the window of my own room.
Back in my room I empty my sack, the pile of jewels flickering in a frenzy of colours. I admire the little darlings briefly before stashing them. I than pick up the purse and open it. Inside amongst the usual feminy items, I found a letter. Looking at it my heart, already beating quickly from the exhilaration of being on the prowl, skipped one beat, for it was addressed to the lady whose jewels I now possessed, and it was an address of an area I knew quite well. I thought about her address, the house she presumably shared with husband and daughter, the house which should be empty seeing its owners were sleeping just three floors above me. A house that was little over an hour away, only about ¾ of that hour by driving my Lotus. It was a house that I figuratively knew; being in the same neighborhood (relatively speaking) of a house I had reconnoitered and quite lucratively burgled the previous spring.
It was perfect. While the family was asleep snug in their beds here, I could reach their abode, with its jewel laden safe ( they all had jewel laden safes in that area), ½ hour to creep the place, an hour to do the job proper and I would be back in time to catch a two hour kip and be checked out and on my way before the pretty family have had breakfast. It, bears repeating, was perfect.
I looked at the envelope, was its contents that valuable that she felt the need to lock it up. More than mildly curious, I pulled it out and read it. It was from someone named Samuel. In no uncertain terms, he was informing the lady that for only ₤5000 sterling he would leave for the States and never bother her Daughter Claire again. I thought of the young girl asleep in the suite I had just left. What kind of Scoundrel would lure a young girl like that into his clutches with the intent of extorting her parents! For a moment I pondered this bit of information, before deciding that the opportunity was too ripe to pass up just because I felt a small twinge of compassion. Besides, if the parents could afford to cough up a cool 5 thousand, they weren’t hurting in the financial department.
I changed, and quickly gathered my things and headed out quietly via a back entrance. Placing my burgle kit (containing the ladies jewels) into the boot of me two seater, I fired up the lotus’s engine and was off on my little undertaking!
A half hour away I turned down a little used rutty road/path. Pulling over I grabbed my burgle kit and headed down to some ancient stone ruins. Checking to make sure none of my warning snares had been tripped, I entered a small stone building. Going down into one of its old, crumbling basements, I uncovered a small cubby and added the jewels to the growing collection of my recent takings.
Included in the collection were sets of pearls burgled from a coach stop overnight room occupied by a pair of fairly insufferable spinster sisters. Other burgled items were a rather pretty , if not vulgarly large, diamond set obtained from a naive damsel who thought hiding them under the pillow she slept on was safer than a safe, (always happy to enlighten someone upon the error of their ways that’s me), and of course the sapphires that the lass in the silky frock had been wearing 2 nights previous ( along with some rather nice sets of rubies and diamond adorned amethysts that had lain in the same safe, located above her soundly sleeping figure! ) The rest of the lot consisted of items I had “picked up” while on the prowl: a nice collection of brooches, rings, bracelets, and an eye-catching sapphire pendent hanging from a diamonded chain.
I than closed everything up, rechecked my warning snares, and headed back to my Lotus.
Another 30 minutes and I had reached my destination.
The house itself was pretty secluded, located by an intersection of two lanes. I drove its perimeter than doubling back found a pull off. I backed up and turned down and off the road hiding the small sports car in a grove of pines.
Already wearing some of my burglar attire, (black military trousers and sweater), I placed a hood over my head, pulled out my small kit, fastening a torch and military knife to my belt, I was off. The house appeared to be deserted, I found the servants quarters located at the back of the house over a small barn, the only cars were a small sports car in a shed, and a roadster sitting out front. A large garden surrounded by hedges lay to the west of the house, a larger Tudor, with several porches and balconies. Using the hedges as cover, I shimmed up an old tree located by a balcony, and slipping onto the balcony proper, I made my way to the door. Shimmed the latch with my Fairborn commando knife, and then entered into a side bedroom. I was looking for the master suite, and this was not it, the daughter’s by all appearances. I spied a small ornate silver box on a table, but passed it up , on the search for bigger game!
Turning on my torch I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. At the end was a set of double mahogany doors and this is where I set my sights. Along the hallway wall were several rather nice paintings (not copies) and I let the pool of my light flicker along them. Included in the lot was a small painting of a young fox, half asleep, eyeing something in the distance? I stood for precious seconds admiring it, and then turned my attention to the mahogany doors. They were not locked, and I cautiously, very slowly, opened one. Pay dirt! A large empty canopied bed stood in the middle of the room, a love seat to one side, a settee on the other, and directly across from the bed a large ornate sideboard with mirror. Along one side of the wall was a series of chains with different rooms labelled underneath, presumably connected to bells in those rooms. It definitely belonged to the mistress of the house, and, hopefully, her jewels.
I let my light flow over the room, avoiding the window and glass door that led out onto another balcony. I soon spotted the location of the safe; it was behind an old painting of a Harlequin. Said Harlequin was standing on a black and white checked tile floor, as he looked inquisitively into his own reflection from an ornate wall mirror. The painting was located on the wall between the corner and the intricately carved oak sideboard. I slid back the painting on its hinges, exposing the small safe.
It was exactly the same safe as their neighbors, the ones I had burgled clean in the spring. Quickly getting to work I spin the tumblers, listening intently for the correct paths of clicks. Bingo! , it opened up like a dream. Inside I found a bonanza of about a dozen small jewel cases handedly printed with the jewelers names (Cartier and Tiffany’s amongst them! ) I quickly open and empty their contents into my kit, pouring out a delightfully pricey array of colorful gems of all types and styles. Replacing the empty cartons, I rummage around, finding a small stack of gold and silver coins and a couple of bundles of notes, currency of the realm. I favorably pocket the lot.
Suddenly I freeze, hearing the unmistakable sounds of muffled giggling from down the corridor. Closing the safe and picture I back off and hide inside a closet, wishing I had had the foresight to have opened the balcony door to see if that had offered escape, but I had been so sure I would be alone that evening that I had let me guard slacken a bit. I hoped that whoever it was they were heading off to bed.
They were off to bed, problem was it was the bed in the room I was in for which they were heading. I heard the door open, and from the crack in the closet door, I saw a young couple come in, tipsy and fondling the heck out of one another. The female was obviously an older daughter of the house, a mini version of the mother and her sister. She was resplendent in a long flowing cream satin evening gown; her paramour was a beady eyed, weasely faced chap in loose fitting tux and tails. It must have been his roadster outside; the couple must have been snogging in the garden, and drinking wine, judging from the smell and the way they were acting. Again I kicked myself for not checking the grounds more thoroughly. But why hadn’t the bloody twit of a daughter been at the wedding with her family where she belonged? But a bit later I was to reason that if she had, I would have been tempted to lift a diamond bracelet, and me path may have ended there. Missing out entirely, the opportunity to burgle the contents of 2 bedroom safes, master and penthouse!
They headed right to the bed, (doing it on the parents bed, and old cracker that was) the lady not even taking off her long satin gloves, just falling onto the bed with her doe wide eyes gleaming, while her beady eyed lover was falling all over her. Oh god! Samuel, I heard her mummer in passion. My eyes were opened, this must be the daughter Claire, and the beady eyed bloke was the infamous Samuel. Now it made a little more sense, but not any less wicked. I watched them in a new light, my mind going a full mile a minute trying to see a way out of the situation. . “Si vous voulez faire rire Dieu , faire des plans” I muttered an old saying in French, chastising myself inwardly for taking on such a gamble rushed for time.
Now, I am certainly no voyeur, and my belief that some things private, are, well private! But actually, in this instance, there was no choice. I tried not to watch, but the couple’s raw, animal like lovemaking and all its trimmings were happening just feet away. I began to amuse myself by watching the flashy show put on by the daughter’s sparkling jewels and the fluidly movement of her shiny, slinking gown as they were caught in the moonlight that streamed thru the glass of the balcony door. It was the type of show that engrosses any jewel thief worth his salt (hell, any bloke worth his salt for that matter). My mind also kept going back to the letter that I had found in the red silk purse and I hoped that a way would open to cause “Mr.” Samuel some sort of grief.
Beady eyes comes onto her, driving her mind off everything but what he is doing, as her eyes are closed tight, his are open, looking about. I slink in a little more into the shadows, keeping his face in my view. Occasionally a white satin gloved hand appears, rings and bracelets sparkling in a frenzied flickering as her fingers grip his face. Suddenly his eyes open wide as he looks towards the painting of the Harlequin. Cripes I mutter as I look there also, for on the floor lies a diamond bracelet, the fancy bugger must have slipped out as I scurried to my hole. I prepare to bolt like a fox hiding close to where the hounds are heading (my mind went to the painting of the watchful fox in the hallway outside the bedroom).
But beady eyes says nothing..
He finished the job, with her squealing like a piglet, before she slumps back exhaustedly onto the bed. Her eyes were closed, her breathing became heavier as she lost all drink induced conscious. I watched as her lover’s half closed eye stayed focused on the bracelet, as he listened to her breathing become heavier. When he was sure she was asleep he slipped off and heading to the vanity scooped up the bracelet and placed it inside a pocket of his tux’s vest. He then crawls back next to her, gently fingering her diamond rings before (finally) joining her into heavy, wine induced sleep alongside.
It seemed like hours, but the whole episode, by me watch, lasted only a ¾ of hour, but it was a precious time I could ill afford to have lost atoll.
I was running late, but knew what I had to do next. Walking over to the pair I watched them for a few seconds, plotting my next course of action. Her jewels were flickering nicely in the moon’s light.
I reached down an lifting ever so gently one still gloved lifeless feminine hand, I slipped off a couple of sparkly rings from satin clad fingers, and unfastened a tight cuff bracelet emblazon with diamonds from around her wrist. Then I lifted the other hand, easily gliding off another brace of glistening rings from her fingers, and a second diamonded bracelet from her limp wrist. Than lifting her necklace of diamonds, I pulled it gently around admiring the way they rippled fire along her throat, till its jeweled clasp was exposed. Then I slowly pry open the jeweled clasp, and slipped the necklace away, watching it sway in the moonlight like a glistening snake. They were both still out cold, It wasn’t really very much of a challenge, not that I was complaining mind you.
I happily pocketed the lot, except for a cheaper ring. I swapped that ring for the diamond bracelet in Samuel’s vest pocket, hoping that the outcome would prove interesting. In the process of placing the ring in the Sammy boy’s vest, I came across his fat pocketbook, which I gladly lifted and added to the collection in my own now bulging pocket.
I then left the room, leaving quietly by stepping upon the soles of my feet. As I pass the small painting of the watching fox, I pull it off and stick it into my kit, a bonus for me extra worries. I than slip back through the daughter’s bedroom, its door now slightly ajar.
In a corner of the room lay the small silvery jewelry case I had passed up earlier thinking it was the younger daughters. But, I hesitated, wondering to which daughter the room belonged, for someone had slightly opened the door for a reason? I shook my head, no chances. But, wait a minute, I grinned as my thoughts grew ever more pleasing. I walked over to the small table that held the ornate silver jewel case (casket was what my Gram had called hers), above it was a small picture of the family daughters in full riding regalia, the older daughter, Claire, had a small pin of a fox in her shiny white satin caveat.
I bent down and opening the small case. There on top was the fox pin, glittering with brownish Sardonyx gemstones and bright red ruby eyes. I plucked it up and added it to my sparkling collection. Then I admired the shimmery collection of gold and pearled jewelry (no lowly silver for this lass). Selecting the better ones I placed them with the fox pin and the Mothers jewels in my kit, then scooping out the rest, I placed them in unceremoniously in a side pocket.
I then went back out the balcony and down the tree. I headed over to the roadster out front and taking out a few of the lesser jewels I had scooped into me pocket, and I began placing them in and underneath the passenger seat of the vehicle.
Finished I admired my handiwork, then looking leisurely around, let out a deep sigh of absolute relief, mixed with exquisite feelings of pleasure of an adventuer winningly pulled off, before melting off into the shadows of the woods. I soon reached my lotus, gunned the engine to life, and then proceeded to slowly drive off without headlights until I reach the main road.
I once again stopped at my hidden cubby and deposited my burglar’s kit and purloined jewels with the rest of my stash, reset my snares, and headed quickly back to the hotel.
I reached my destination just at cock crow, went upstairs and finished packing. It was later than I had anticipated, so no kip for the sinners. I just loaded my luggage into the boot of the two seater, checked my key in at the desk, settled my bill, and headed for a quick breakfast.
But I wasn’t quick enough, for about halfway through my breakfast The “Barrister” and his family came down to have the same. They appeared to be calm, so I knew that my activities earlier that morning had not been exposed yet.
I pushed aside my almost finished plate and standing, walked past them, allowing the daughter, who was clad in a silky skirt and matching satiny top, and wearing those taunting white pearls of hers, to bump into me as she pranced to their table. Steady girl I says, catching her as I eye for the last time her dangling jewelry. So sorry sir, she replied apologetically. I complimented her parents on their charming daughter. The father, in a formal suit and tie, grunts his thanks. The mother, in a scintillatingly swishing long red skirt, and heavy cream silk blouse, blushes prettily. I look over her plentiful “everyday” jewelry as I take their leave. What she was wearing for a normal day of activates was expensive enough to catch any thief’s desire to acquire.
As I walked away, a vision of her walking the streets, dressed as she was, back in Dickens London formed in my thoughts. She attracted the notice of a small street urchin, his devious heart pounding as he left huis vigil from the wall he had been leaning against too closely follow her as she swished by. Catching up to her in the hopes of brushing against her and with a sorry ma’am, walk away with some of it.
This was actually from a memory of mine ( long after Dickens time though) about an incident I had witnessed while working at my old uncles “eel and mash” shop.
A finely decked out young couple (the long haired lady wearing pearls as it so happened) had been inside the shop and finishing their meal, had walked out across the street. A street youth had been hanging out by the shop and had followed them across the street close on their heels. They all turned a corner, so I never knew what had happened, if anything ( which I sincerely doubted)! But that image had plagued many an unsettling adolescent dream with images of finely dressed ladies bending down to a begging young grimy faced lad, well ringed fingers and bracelets jangling as a coin was offered, gold lockets or pearls swaying out from tightly satin clad breasts to just within the reach of his grubby fingers….
I have come to believes that it was the seeds planted in my mind by those dreams that may have very well guided and nudged me onto the course I have continued following to this day.
So, naturally I guess, as I walked away my train of thoughts took a similar course as those dreams/nightmares. I imagined the mother I had just left, walking along a street alone, dressed as she was last evening, the jewels that were now in a cold small cubby, once again upon her figure, glittering their fiery beacon. Then suddenly her daughter, dressed as she was now, was strolling alongside her. The street urchin I had seen that morning so long ago was here also, following close, eyeing the ladies reflected jewels in a storefront window as they walked past……
But at that point in my daydream I realized that I had reached and was standing beside my two seater, and shaking my head clear of such thoughts (once again, sadly not seeing the outcome) I happily hopped over the door and into the driver’s seat, firing up the engine, and quite eagerly pulled away from the hotel and roared down the road.
I stopped by my secret cubby, and without haste, fully on the alert, made my way down to the basement. I collected my stash and made it back to the Lotus without incident. Lighting me pipe, I smiled to meself, promising a nice stiff one once I got back to the abode. I pulled away, slowly, cheerfully, driving down the warm sunlit road. I was now on to new quests, filled with promises of many lucrative acquisitions.
One of those quests was wrapped around a young lady in Soho, who recently had inherited a jewellery collection worth ₤25,000 which she loved wearing out in public, flaunting the richly jeweled pieces all about whenever she could. The quite, almost vulgarly rich, young lass had so many Beaus seeking her affections that she was being invited out almost weekly out to some special dress up affair. This all made her overly ripe for the plucking by some jewelry procurement minded thief. And being one meself, a jewel thief that is, I intended to be the first in line.
Once I returned home, I first visited my London banks strongbox to deposit my newly acquired ” glittering with fire” trophies to let them “cool” down a bit. Then I made sure the Yard received an anonymous post. Said post containing a red silk evening clutch, inside which was beady eyes’ pocketbook( sans money) along with the letter incriminating one certain rogish gent by the name of Samuel for attempting extortion of 5000 pounds sterling from the fair Claire’s Mother. I know how the chaps in the inspector’s squad so love a mystery!
And so, for now dear journal, I bid farewell, adieu.
************************************
Si vous voulez faire rire Dieu , faire des plans
Roughly translated:
If you want to make God laugh, Make plans
Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
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Threadsday, January 1, 2026
Caption: Venus Diamandis rings in the New Year in this stunning black dress from Bell Epoque.
Alt: Stylecards Idol Venus Diamandis poses on a stage with a black and gold background. She is wearing a black sleeveless dress from Belle Epoque and black platform heels from Phedora, while her smoky eyeshadow and red lipstick are from Dotty's Secret.
-- Model
Body: Maitreya Lara Petite
Head: LeLutka Halle
Head skin: theSkinnery Rita, Champagne tone
Body Skin: theSkinnery Luna, Champagne tone
Hair: Opale Eumei
Eyes: SHIMM CCXXXII Set IV 11
Eyeshadow: Dotty's Secret Lane
Lipstick: Dotty's Secret Obsessed
-- Outfit
Dress: Belle Epoque Miranda
Shoes: Phedora Cher
-- Meta:
Model: Venus Diamandis
Photographer: Xinnia Amore
Pose: STUN Sindel
Location: The Paramour Gentlemen's Lounge
STAND4LOVE:
<3PHOTOGRAPHERS MAKE A DIFFERENCE <3
Many super talented and amazing photographers in Second Life are helping promote a simple message: LOVE IS ALL THAT MATTERS: NOT race, religion, gender or sexual orientation. We are so honored of their support and can’t thank them enough for their generosity in offering their time and talents.
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STAND4LOVE. Open Your Mind. Open Your Heart.
LOGO by Valentine "Sachy" Rexen
The Palaces of Nevsky Prospekt
Belosselsky-Belozersky Palace illuminated at night
On the southern corner of Nevsky Prospekt and the Fontanka river at No.41 is the faded dark red Belosselsky-Belozersky Palace seen here. This was the last private palace constructed on this multi-palatial street and was completed in stages between 1840 and 1848. The prime riverside site having been purchased by Prince Alexander Mikhailovich B-B in 1800.
This unique eye catching elegant rococo building with muscular Atlantes supporting Corinthian columns was the concept of the architect Andrei Stakenschneider, who was born in the nearby city of Gatchina and the son of a German miller.
The pseudo-baroque exterior has two front facing façades, west to the Fontanka river, and north to the street. Like many prominent buildings in the city, this palace has recently undergone extensive restoration in preparation for the tricentennial celebrations.
The interior is as dramatic and elegant as the exterior. In the main rooms the architect used an extensive blend of composite materials for the baroque decor. Many of the walls are carved and all of the doors are decorated. Especially interesting are the front stairs in the entrance hall, the large and small Golden sitting rooms, the Purple, the Green and the White Halls and the Great Mirror Hall which is used for concerts.
Extravagant imperial courts reigned here well into the 20th century, when the palace was the residence of Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich (Alexander III's brutal brother - assassinated in 1905). In 1905, Grand Princess Elizaveta Fedorovna, having just become a num, willed the palace toher nephew, Grand Prince Dmitry Pavlovich, who sold it in 1917. During the Soviet period the grand palace was used as the party headquarters for the Kuibyshev district of Leningrad, but its interiors were preserved almost intact. Nowadays the palace houses the Wax Museum, an art gallery and a concert hall, which holds regular performances of the folk group Petersburg Mozaik, The Wax Museum collection contains 80+ wax figures, including models of many prominent figures in Russian history such as Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Kutuzov, Alexei, Speransky, Kerensky, various tsars and other members of the Romanov Dynasty. On the wall inside the entrance hall of the former Belosselsky-Belozersky Palace there is a plaque which indicates that during World War I the palace housed the Anglo-Russian Hospital.
On the other side of the Fontanka and separated by Quarenghi's Stalls, is the Anichkov Palace at No.39 Nevsky Prospekt. In the 18th century this was a suburban area and the broad Fontanka river was lined with palaces for the elite that were usually accessed by boat. Which explains why the main entrance to this great building faces the river rather than Nevsky. The palace was named for Colonel Mikhail Anichkov who set up his camp on this site at the time of the founding of the city and whose regiment built the original wooden bridge over the Fontanka, now known as the Anichkov Most.
This palace was commissioned by Tsarina Elizabeth as a gift for her lover, Alexei Razumovsky, between the years 1741 and 1750. In continuing with this tradition after Razumovsky's death, Catherine the Great gave this palace to her paramour, Prince Grigory Potemkin. As an able statesman and military officer Potemkin is famous in his own right for his attempts to deceive Catherine about the squalid conditions of the Russian south. He had fake villages built for Catherine's area tour of 1787. The term "Potemkin village" has come to mean any impressive façade that hides an ugly impoverished interior. Not so the Anichkov Palace, which was originally designed by Mikhail Zemtsov and completed by Rastrelli. Little remains of those early Baroque designs as the building has undergone a number of changes and in the early 19th century, Neoclassical details were added by Carlo Rossi.
After Rossi's alterations the palace became the winter residence of the heir to the throne. However when Alexander III became tsar in 1881, he continued to live there, rather than the customary Winter Palace. After his death, his widow Maria Fyodorovna remained there until the revolution.
Many young princes grew up in this palace and in 1935 the premises were returned to children and it was known as the Leningrad Palace of Pioneers. Today is is still occupied by a children's organization and the Anichkov Lyceum. Exhibitions of their works are regularly held in the palace or grounds, where there is a modern theater and concert hall.
The elegant colonnaded (Quarenghi's Stalls) building overlooking the Fontanka to the east had been another addition to the palace, by Giancomo Quarenghi in 1803-05. Initially this was built as a trading arcade where imperial goods destined for the palaces were stored prior to their delivery. This extension was later converted into government offices and was known as the Cabinet.
Lifestyle Dominatrix, sybarite, sensualist and joyful kinky paramour to the submissive and curious – I’m Seattle Mistress, Victoria Rage. Email; Officialvictoriarage@gmail.com
Text me::206 234-4295
A summer stroll with my wonderful girlfriend Gorgeous Gillian – what could be nicer? As you may know, the river in London is tidal, and this shot was taken at low tide!!
...Along the shore of silver-streaming Thames,
Whose rutty bank, the which his river hems,
Was painted all with variable flowers,
And all the meads adorn'd with dainty gems
Fit to deck maidens' bowers,
And crown their paramours
Against the bridal day, which is not long:
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.
[Edmund Spenser, 'Prothalamion']
Lots more to come soon, but bye bye for now! Kisses to all my wonderful friends!
xxxxxxx
Rebecca
The Watcher in the woods
Pursuing the Posh
A Cat Burglar Saga
From the files of Chatwick University Criminology Department.
C.B. Case Study 13 , File B
Subset Source: Journal
Subject “Harley Q” -- Real name?
ORIGINATION STORY:
flic.kr/p/BcnW2J
Synopsis:
The young lady was approaching sweet sixteen if I estimated accurately. She was clad in a tailored dress of bronze velvet that shone richly over her lithe figure. Her long blonde hair tied in back, flickered like a horses’’ tail. She had come bounding from a ladies powder chamber, one of several located at either end of the grand ballroom that sat off the formal dining rooms.
I fell in step behind her, watching as her splendid jewelry bounced merrily as she pranced along like some untried colt, sorry filly. Her pearls were lovely things, a matched set, double strands all, real diamond clasps, shone gleaming with a pristine whiteness that reminded me of fresh snow.
The pearls were a sweet lure, of that there was no doubt; but apologies if I am prattling n a bit about them, for after all, what is a jewel thief who fails to notice a ladies jewels? A starving bugger, that’s who.
Now I have found out during my times here on the earth that I can make quite a profit from burgling the safes of wealthy ladies whilst they slept peacefully within their fancy chambres. But I had started out walking my morally tainted chosen path by picking the pockets of the unwary along the way. It was my fate to eventually discover the delightfully chilling sensation that was experienced when lifting the very jewels displayed by unsuspecting female targets. And this was still my guilty pleasure, to the point that I would still take that far riskier venture of lifting worn jewelry whenever opportunity arose, which was quite often in my travelled circles.
So, that is why I habitually started to follow this meandering youth, only because of her jewels, which I found to be quite vexing. Especially her earrings, a dangling set held to her ears by genuine diamond studded hinge clasps. I had seldom attempted sets of worn earrings, not for the lack of desire, and with this one’s head just reaching me chest, it was a very tempting prospect to try and pluck em both off just to see?
Fortunately, for her (not me), this pretty miss was a bit too young for my standards to make any attempt to lift from her any of the swinging pearls, earrings or otherwise. I do prefer my marks to be a bit older, a bit wiser, a bit more of a challenge to my abilities, thank you very much! Besides, I had already had my eye on a few other, challenging female prospects wearing some rather nice pieces in their own right. Including one sapphire laden Lass in a silky frock that had greatly provoked my attentiveness.
So I just followed this young one while she skirted the ballroom and entered a dining area. There she rejoined, what were quite obviously, her parents.
There were, it appeared, just the three of them, no older jewel laden siblings in sight. But, speaking of appearances, the Mother certainly presented a rather nice one, and so I stopped to drink it all in.
The mother/wife was fluidly clad in an all so elegant purple satin number, poured rather snugly along her still quite lovely figure. Said figure had been made even more eye catching (especially for me) by being emblazon with a matching set of jewels, all set with small 1 caret white diamonds, encircling her neck, wrists and fingers with energetic ripples of fiery colour.
She was with her husband, a distinguished looking gent in tails who may have passed as a Barrister, for which all I knew he was. Now Sandwiched in between was their charming young daughter, who was happily chatting away without a care in the world. Her pristine pearls still dangling, mocking me it would seem, to just make the one exception and attempt to take them home with me. I just smiled to wickedly to myself, maybe someday I would I promised them, once their young mistress had grown up a bit, then we would see who was mocking whom from the wickets!
But I did not dwell too long on such thought’s , or on the pretty family either, for, like I have revealed, I had other fish frying, and only am mentioning this particular incident because of what would occur in two days hence. So after a bit I turned and began wandering off.
But then, speaking of starving jewel thieves, I observed at the precise moment I turned away, a most stunning red head wearing a long black gown that fluttered about, here and there, in a most alluring fashion. She was making a beeline towards the very same powder chamber I had just passed. She was obviously in a rush to reach it, and once I laid my eyes on the pearls she was wearing, I moved towards her in an equally purposeful stride. I intercepted her, letting her bump against me, as I stepped on the hem of her long gown. She stopped abruptly, and I momentarily placed an arm around her smooth waist, steadying her as I apologized and begged the ladies pardon for my clumsiness.
She begrudgingly accepted my apologies, and I watched as she scurried off, having already pocketed the pearled bracelet I had slipped from her red satin gloved wrist, and made my own path. I smirked to myself that the bracelet was some consolation for not having an unscrupulous go for the pearls that had hung around the young daughter’s throat, hung from her ears, and encircled one petite wrist, as I stole one last look back towards the pretty families’ table.
I walked away, turning my attentions back to relocating a certain lady elegantly wearing a silky frock, displaying those magnificent sapphires. I was watching, waiting for her to leave, in order to follow to her next stop, eventually hoping to be led to her last, having decided to acquire the fair damsel’s collection of jewels enmasse!
***** Two productive evenings later ****************
It was at a wedding reception the 2 evenings later that I again, quite un-expectantly, spied the Barrister and his entourage.
I had been having a delightful chat with the newly minted wife of the titled Scion of a rather old family. I had won the sweepstakes of receiving a dance with the charming Miss. But alas my chat was cut short as she was whisked away to dance with yet another admirer. I watched as she swept off, my hand reaching into me breast pocket, fingering a still warm diamond brooch. That jewel had been merrily dangling down from her satin gowns’ cleavage, over shadowed by her ample bosom. As we had danced, I had managed to work open its silvery clasp, and lift the brooch cleanly away. My hidden vest pocket also contained at the time a rather pretty ring with a blue carbuncle surrounded by sparkly diamonds. Said ring had been wrapped around the finger of a rather vexing long raven haired lass. I had admired the silken dress she was wearing, and as she had happily swirled and twirled to give me a better look, I had taken the opportunity to relieve her finger of its burden. Since I was only allowing meself a couple of prospects with an affair this small, I now made my way, leisurely, contentedly, towards an exit (stage right as they say in the trades).
But, no sooner had I put me back to the dance floor, than whom do I spy across the room? That rather delightful miss with a long blonde ponytail, who was now dressed elegantly in cream lace, that I had spied at dinner a few evenings back. It was the very same young lady, wearing the same set of mocking white pearls, and as I discreetly draw near, I soon spied her parents.
The “Barrister” was dapper in crisp white shirt and tux, with a fancy gold pocket watch and fob at his waist. The daughter’s look alike mother was now smartly encased in a fitted red gown that shimmered delightfully as it swished about. She was also wearing a nice display of brite emeralds to boot.
This time I took closer notice of the Mothers Jeweles. Between the emeralds today and the diamonds the night before, this lady in red could be a nice meal ticket if the stars were aligned properly. And so it turned out they very happily (for me) did.
With a few discreet questions from some acquaintances quickly garnered for just such information, I found out where my “Barrister” and his family were spending their late evenings asleep. It so happened that they were staying in a penthouse suite 3 floors above my own modest single. So instead of leaving the reception to scout out a way to gain easy access to their rooms, I could stay and enjoy myself, already being all too familiar with the place. Which I did, later acquiring a gold jeweled bracelet from a charming maiden attired delightfully in teal satin, who had kept flaunting her jewels in me face as she told me all about her perfect self. Another jewel added for my growing collection of the evening.
Now, don’t ask me why I was so familiar with my hotels’ penthouse suites, being a cat burglar, the reasons should be quite clear! So when the pretty family left the reception early, around 9 pm returning to their rooms, I was able to follow them with less discretion then I usually do, but still with growing eager anticipation. Also, even more remarkably, they were in bed and asleep by 10:30 pm, which allowed me a much earlier window of opportunity than I had grown accustomed to having.
And so it was, that soon after the stroke of midnight, with the happy family deep in their slumbers that I, wearing my black burgling attire, climbed onto the balcony of their rooms. After jimmying open the double glass doors with my Fairborn dagger, I found myself in a small sitting room. Carefully allowing my torch to search around I spied a door on the far end. Opening it cautiously, the first thing I see are the daughters pricey pearls piled loosely on a vanity by the bed where she lay sleeping, dressed in white, looking ever so like the angel she is. I picked up the necklace of pearls, eyeing them as I watch the slumbering figure on the bed. But I passed the pretty things up, for even though I am a thief by nature, I do possess some scruples, albeit maybe a little warped! Besides, those taunting pearls had led me to the small treasure trove that was awaiting me in her Mothers’ chambers. So with a silent thanks, I replaced them upon the vanity, and move off…
The parents were found in the next room, soundly sleeping off their alcohol induced haze. The mother was draped over her husband, fetchingly clad in a long satin nightdress that looked almost like an evening gown. Her vulgarly large wedding diamonds flickered pleasantly from her finger as I let my torch sneak up along her shimmering figure. On the bed stand laid the “Barristers” gold watch and a rather pleasing selection of his wife’s gold “day” jewelry, but I passed the lot up, my eyes looking for the good stuff that would be snuggled inside the small room safe that I knew would be behind a false door in one side of the oak dresser ( having already discovered that fact a year previously in a different room of the same hotel)!
I went directly to it, and opening the cabinet door, began to use my finely attuned skills to crack it. It was a simple American lock and only took me a minute to have open. I than emptied the small collection of jewel cases ( lovely things) placing them into my small sack. I also find inside the mothers small clutch purse made expensively of red silk and rhinestones, that had been at her side all evening. Out of curiosity (why in the safe?) I placed it inside my bag with the jewels. After checking that the parents were still out cold, I closed the safe, flickering my torch around one last time, it settles upon her red gown, and its emerald rhinestone clips coming blazing into lively flame. I passed on them, and headed back out towards the door. I had almost regained it, and my freedom, when the husband let out a loud snort, and I heard rustling going on in the bed behind me. I froze and carefully looked back. Neither had woken, but the wife had turned onto her side, and her left hand was now hanging limply over the side of the bed. I watched as the diamonds set in the gold ring encircling her slender finger blazed into life (the ring was somewhat loose I keenly noticed)! Blimey, there was enough dosh in the value of that ring that would have paid for all the expenses of the Cardiff C.C. for an entire season, perhaps 2! But, Bird in the Hand, I am always telling meself, so I left the pretty thing dangling there, and finished my careful retreat. I made it out without further incident.
Passing the daughters room ( and her pearls again), I checked in. The young filly was still was sound asleep in her own pleasant dreams, her taunting pile of pearls still on the vanity, where they would remain. I regained the balcony and slipping over, made my way down to the window of my own room.
Back in my room I empty my sack, the pile of jewels flickering in a frenzy of colours. I admire the little darlings briefly before stashing them. I than pick up the purse and open it. Inside amongst the usual feminy items, I found a letter. Looking at it my heart, already beating quickly from the exhilaration of being on the prowl, skipped one beat, for it was addressed to the lady whose jewels I now possessed, and it was an address of an area I knew quite well. I thought about her address, the house she presumably shared with husband and daughter, the house which should be empty seeing its owners were sleeping just three floors above me. A house that was little over an hour away, only about ¾ of that hour by driving my Lotus. It was a house that I figuratively knew; being in the same neighborhood (relatively speaking) of a house I had reconnoitered and quite lucratively burgled the previous spring.
It was perfect. While the family was asleep snug in their beds here, I could reach their abode, with its jewel laden safe ( they all had jewel laden safes in that area), ½ hour to creep the place, an hour to do the job proper and I would be back in time to catch a two hour kip and be checked out and on my way before the pretty family have had breakfast. It, bears repeating, was perfect.
I looked at the envelope, was its contents that valuable that she felt the need to lock it up. More than mildly curious, I pulled it out and read it. It was from someone named Samuel. In no uncertain terms, he was informing the lady that for only ₤5000 sterling he would leave for the States and never bother her Daughter Claire again. I thought of the young girl asleep in the suite I had just left. What kind of Scoundrel would lure a young girl like that into his clutches with the intent of extorting her parents! For a moment I pondered this bit of information, before deciding that the opportunity was too ripe to pass up just because I felt a small twinge of compassion. Besides, if the parents could afford to cough up a cool 5 thousand, they weren’t hurting in the financial department.
I changed, and quickly gathered my things and headed out quietly via a back entrance. Placing my burgle kit (containing the ladies jewels) into the boot of me two seater, I fired up the lotus’s engine and was off on my little undertaking!
A half hour away I turned down a little used rutty road/path. Pulling over I grabbed my burgle kit and headed down to some ancient stone ruins. Checking to make sure none of my warning snares had been tripped, I entered a small stone building. Going down into one of its old, crumbling basements, I uncovered a small cubby and added the jewels to the growing collection of my recent takings.
Included in the collection were sets of pearls burgled from a coach stop overnight room occupied by a pair of fairly insufferable spinster sisters. Other burgled items were a rather pretty , if not vulgarly large, diamond set obtained from a naive damsel who thought hiding them under the pillow she slept on was safer than a safe, (always happy to enlighten someone upon the error of their ways that’s me), and of course the sapphires that the lass in the silky frock had been wearing 2 nights previous ( along with some rather nice sets of rubies and diamond adorned amethysts that had lain in the same safe, located above her soundly sleeping figure! ) The rest of the lot consisted of items I had “picked up” while on the prowl: a nice collection of brooches, rings, bracelets, and an eye-catching sapphire pendent hanging from a diamonded chain.
I than closed everything up, rechecked my warning snares, and headed back to my Lotus.
Another 30 minutes and I had reached my destination.
The house itself was pretty secluded, located by an intersection of two lanes. I drove its perimeter than doubling back found a pull off. I backed up and turned down and off the road hiding the small sports car in a grove of pines.
Already wearing some of my burglar attire, (black military trousers and sweater), I placed a hood over my head, pulled out my small kit, fastening a torch and military knife to my belt, I was off. The house appeared to be deserted, I found the servants quarters located at the back of the house over a small barn, the only cars were a small sports car in a shed, and a roadster sitting out front. A large garden surrounded by hedges lay to the west of the house, a larger Tudor, with several porches and balconies. Using the hedges as cover, I shimmed up an old tree located by a balcony, and slipping onto the balcony proper, I made my way to the door. Shimmed the latch with my Fairborn commando knife, and then entered into a side bedroom. I was looking for the master suite, and this was not it, the daughter’s by all appearances. I spied a small ornate silver box on a table, but passed it up , on the search for bigger game!
Turning on my torch I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. At the end was a set of double mahogany doors and this is where I set my sights. Along the hallway wall were several rather nice paintings (not copies) and I let the pool of my light flicker along them. Included in the lot was a small painting of a young fox, half asleep, eyeing something in the distance? I stood for precious seconds admiring it, and then turned my attention to the mahogany doors. They were not locked, and I cautiously, very slowly, opened one. Pay dirt! A large empty canopied bed stood in the middle of the room, a love seat to one side, a settee on the other, and directly across from the bed a large ornate sideboard with mirror. Along one side of the wall was a series of chains with different rooms labelled underneath, presumably connected to bells in those rooms. It definitely belonged to the mistress of the house, and, hopefully, her jewels.
I let my light flow over the room, avoiding the window and glass door that led out onto another balcony. I soon spotted the location of the safe; it was behind an old painting of a Harlequin. Said Harlequin was standing on a black and white checked tile floor, as he looked inquisitively into his own reflection from an ornate wall mirror. The painting was located on the wall between the corner and the intricately carved oak sideboard. I slid back the painting on its hinges, exposing the small safe.
It was exactly the same safe as their neighbors, the ones I had burgled clean in the spring. Quickly getting to work I spin the tumblers, listening intently for the correct paths of clicks. Bingo! , it opened up like a dream. Inside I found a bonanza of about a dozen small jewel cases handedly printed with the jewelers names (Cartier and Tiffany’s amongst them! ) I quickly open and empty their contents into my kit, pouring out a delightfully pricey array of colorful gems of all types and styles. Replacing the empty cartons, I rummage around, finding a small stack of gold and silver coins and a couple of bundles of notes, currency of the realm. I favorably pocket the lot.
Suddenly I freeze, hearing the unmistakable sounds of muffled giggling from down the corridor. Closing the safe and picture I back off and hide inside a closet, wishing I had had the foresight to have opened the balcony door to see if that had offered escape, but I had been so sure I would be alone that evening that I had let me guard slacken a bit. I hoped that whoever it was they were heading off to bed.
They were off to bed, problem was it was the bed in the room I was in for which they were heading. I heard the door open, and from the crack in the closet door, I saw a young couple come in, tipsy and fondling the heck out of one another. The female was obviously an older daughter of the house, a mini version of the mother and her sister. She was resplendent in a long flowing cream satin evening gown; her paramour was a beady eyed, weasely faced chap in loose fitting tux and tails. It must have been his roadster outside; the couple must have been snogging in the garden, and drinking wine, judging from the smell and the way they were acting. Again I kicked myself for not checking the grounds more thoroughly. But why hadn’t the bloody twit of a daughter been at the wedding with her family where she belonged? But a bit later I was to reason that if she had, I would have been tempted to lift a diamond bracelet, and me path may have ended there. Missing out entirely, the opportunity to burgle the contents of 2 bedroom safes, master and penthouse!
They headed right to the bed, (doing it on the parents bed, and old cracker that was) the lady not even taking off her long satin gloves, just falling onto the bed with her doe wide eyes gleaming, while her beady eyed lover was falling all over her. Oh god! Samuel, I heard her mummer in passion. My eyes were opened, this must be the daughter Claire, and the beady eyed bloke was the infamous Samuel. Now it made a little more sense, but not any less wicked. I watched them in a new light, my mind going a full mile a minute trying to see a way out of the situation. . “Si vous voulez faire rire Dieu , faire des plans” I muttered an old saying in French, chastising myself inwardly for taking on such a gamble rushed for time.
Now, I am certainly no voyeur, and my belief that some things private, are, well private! But actually, in this instance, there was no choice. I tried not to watch, but the couple’s raw, animal like lovemaking and all its trimmings were happening just feet away. I began to amuse myself by watching the flashy show put on by the daughter’s sparkling jewels and the fluidly movement of her shiny, slinking gown as they were caught in the moonlight that streamed thru the glass of the balcony door. It was the type of show that engrosses any jewel thief worth his salt (hell, any bloke worth his salt for that matter). My mind also kept going back to the letter that I had found in the red silk purse and I hoped that a way would open to cause “Mr.” Samuel some sort of grief.
Beady eyes comes onto her, driving her mind off everything but what he is doing, as her eyes are closed tight, his are open, looking about. I slink in a little more into the shadows, keeping his face in my view. Occasionally a white satin gloved hand appears, rings and bracelets sparkling in a frenzied flickering as her fingers grip his face. Suddenly his eyes open wide as he looks towards the painting of the Harlequin. Cripes I mutter as I look there also, for on the floor lies a diamond bracelet, the fancy bugger must have slipped out as I scurried to my hole. I prepare to bolt like a fox hiding close to where the hounds are heading (my mind went to the painting of the watchful fox in the hallway outside the bedroom).
But beady eyes says nothing..
He finished the job, with her squealing like a piglet, before she slumps back exhaustedly onto the bed. Her eyes were closed, her breathing became heavier as she lost all drink induced conscious. I watched as her lover’s half closed eye stayed focused on the bracelet, as he listened to her breathing become heavier. When he was sure she was asleep he slipped off and heading to the vanity scooped up the bracelet and placed it inside a pocket of his tux’s vest. He then crawls back next to her, gently fingering her diamond rings before (finally) joining her into heavy, wine induced sleep alongside.
It seemed like hours, but the whole episode, by me watch, lasted only a ¾ of hour, but it was a precious time I could ill afford to have lost atoll.
I was running late, but knew what I had to do next. Walking over to the pair I watched them for a few seconds, plotting my next course of action. Her jewels were flickering nicely in the moon’s light.
I reached down an lifting ever so gently one still gloved lifeless feminine hand, I slipped off a couple of sparkly rings from satin clad fingers, and unfastened a tight cuff bracelet emblazon with diamonds from around her wrist. Then I lifted the other hand, easily gliding off another brace of glistening rings from her fingers, and a second diamonded bracelet from her limp wrist. Than lifting her necklace of diamonds, I pulled it gently around admiring the way they rippled fire along her throat, till its jeweled clasp was exposed. Then I slowly pry open the jeweled clasp, and slipped the necklace away, watching it sway in the moonlight like a glistening snake. They were both still out cold, It wasn’t really very much of a challenge, not that I was complaining mind you.
I happily pocketed the lot, except for a cheaper ring. I swapped that ring for the diamond bracelet in Samuel’s vest pocket, hoping that the outcome would prove interesting. In the process of placing the ring in the Sammy boy’s vest, I came across his fat pocketbook, which I gladly lifted and added to the collection in my own now bulging pocket.
I then left the room, leaving quietly by stepping upon the soles of my feet. As I pass the small painting of the watching fox, I pull it off and stick it into my kit, a bonus for me extra worries. I than slip back through the daughter’s bedroom, its door now slightly ajar.
In a corner of the room lay the small silvery jewelry case I had passed up earlier thinking it was the younger daughters. But, I hesitated, wondering to which daughter the room belonged, for someone had slightly opened the door for a reason? I shook my head, no chances. But, wait a minute, I grinned as my thoughts grew ever more pleasing. I walked over to the small table that held the ornate silver jewel case (casket was what my Gram had called hers), above it was a small picture of the family daughters in full riding regalia, the older daughter, Claire, had a small pin of a fox in her shiny white satin caveat.
I bent down and opening the small case. There on top was the fox pin, glittering with brownish Sardonyx gemstones and bright red ruby eyes. I plucked it up and added it to my sparkling collection. Then I admired the shimmery collection of gold and pearled jewelry (no lowly silver for this lass). Selecting the better ones I placed them with the fox pin and the Mothers jewels in my kit, then scooping out the rest, I placed them in unceremoniously in a side pocket.
I then went back out the balcony and down the tree. I headed over to the roadster out front and taking out a few of the lesser jewels I had scooped into me pocket, and I began placing them in and underneath the passenger seat of the vehicle.
Finished I admired my handiwork, then looking leisurely around, let out a deep sigh of absolute relief, mixed with exquisite feelings of pleasure of an adventuer winningly pulled off, before melting off into the shadows of the woods. I soon reached my lotus, gunned the engine to life, and then proceeded to slowly drive off without headlights until I reach the main road.
I once again stopped at my hidden cubby and deposited my burglar’s kit and purloined jewels with the rest of my stash, reset my snares, and headed quickly back to the hotel.
I reached my destination just at cock crow, went upstairs and finished packing. It was later than I had anticipated, so no kip for the sinners. I just loaded my luggage into the boot of the two seater, checked my key in at the desk, settled my bill, and headed for a quick breakfast.
But I wasn’t quick enough, for about halfway through my breakfast The “Barrister” and his family came down to have the same. They appeared to be calm, so I knew that my activities earlier that morning had not been exposed yet.
I pushed aside my almost finished plate and standing, walked past them, allowing the daughter, who was clad in a silky skirt and matching satiny top, and wearing those taunting white pearls of hers, to bump into me as she pranced to their table. Steady girl I says, catching her as I eye for the last time her dangling jewelry. So sorry sir, she replied apologetically. I complimented her parents on their charming daughter. The father, in a formal suit and tie, grunts his thanks. The mother, in a scintillatingly swishing long red skirt, and heavy cream silk blouse, blushes prettily. I look over her plentiful “everyday” jewelry as I take their leave. What she was wearing for a normal day of activates was expensive enough to catch any thief’s desire to acquire.
As I walked away, a vision of her walking the streets, dressed as she was, back in Dickens London formed in my thoughts. She attracted the notice of a small street urchin, his devious heart pounding as he left huis vigil from the wall he had been leaning against too closely follow her as she swished by. Catching up to her in the hopes of brushing against her and with a sorry ma’am, walk away with some of it.
This was actually from a memory of mine ( long after Dickens time though) about an incident I had witnessed while working at my old uncles “eel and mash” shop.
A finely decked out young couple (the long haired lady wearing pearls as it so happened) had been inside the shop and finishing their meal, had walked out across the street. A street youth had been hanging out by the shop and had followed them across the street close on their heels. They all turned a corner, so I never knew what had happened, if anything ( which I sincerely doubted)! But that image had plagued many an unsettling adolescent dream with images of finely dressed ladies bending down to a begging young grimy faced lad, well ringed fingers and bracelets jangling as a coin was offered, gold lockets or pearls swaying out from tightly satin clad breasts to just within the reach of his grubby fingers….
I have come to believes that it was the seeds planted in my mind by those dreams that may have very well guided and nudged me onto the course I have continued following to this day.
So, naturally I guess, as I walked away my train of thoughts took a similar course as those dreams/nightmares. I imagined the mother I had just left, walking along a street alone, dressed as she was last evening, the jewels that were now in a cold small cubby, once again upon her figure, glittering their fiery beacon. Then suddenly her daughter, dressed as she was now, was strolling alongside her. The street urchin I had seen that morning so long ago was here also, following close, eyeing the ladies reflected jewels in a storefront window as they walked past……
But at that point in my daydream I realized that I had reached and was standing beside my two seater, and shaking my head clear of such thoughts (once again, sadly not seeing the outcome) I happily hopped over the door and into the driver’s seat, firing up the engine, and quite eagerly pulled away from the hotel and roared down the road.
I stopped by my secret cubby, and without haste, fully on the alert, made my way down to the basement. I collected my stash and made it back to the Lotus without incident. Lighting me pipe, I smiled to meself, promising a nice stiff one once I got back to the abode. I pulled away, slowly, cheerfully, driving down the warm sunlit road. I was now on to new quests, filled with promises of many lucrative acquisitions.
One of those quests was wrapped around a young lady in Soho, who recently had inherited a jewellery collection worth ₤25,000 which she loved wearing out in public, flaunting the richly jeweled pieces all about whenever she could. The quite, almost vulgarly rich, young lass had so many Beaus seeking her affections that she was being invited out almost weekly out to some special dress up affair. This all made her overly ripe for the plucking by some jewelry procurement minded thief. And being one meself, a jewel thief that is, I intended to be the first in line.
Once I returned home, I first visited my London banks strongbox to deposit my newly acquired ” glittering with fire” trophies to let them “cool” down a bit. Then I made sure the Yard received an anonymous post. Said post containing a red silk evening clutch, inside which was beady eyes’ pocketbook( sans money) along with the letter incriminating one certain rogish gent by the name of Samuel for attempting extortion of 5000 pounds sterling from the fair Claire’s Mother. I know how the chaps in the inspector’s squad so love a mystery!
And so, for now dear journal, I bid farewell, adieu.
************************************
Si vous voulez faire rire Dieu , faire des plans
Roughly translated:
If you want to make God laugh, Make plans
Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
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.
For nearly a year Lettice had been patiently awaiting the return of her then beau, Selwyn Spencely, son of the Duke of Walmsford, after being sent to Durban by his mother, Lady Zinnia in an effort to destroy their relationship which she wanted to end so that she could marry Selwyn off to his cousin, Pamela Fox-Chavers. Having been made aware by Lady Zinnia in October that during the course of the year, whilst Lettice had been biding her time, waiting for Selwyn’s eventual return, he had become engaged to the daughter of a Kenyan diamond mine owner whilst in Durban. Fleeing Lady Zinnia’s Park Lane mansion, Lettice returned to Cavendish Mews and milled over her options over a week as she reeled from the news. Then, after that week, she knew exactly what to do to resolve the unpleasant issues raised by Lady Zinnia’s unwelcome news about her son. Taking extra care in her dress, she took herself off to the neighbouring upper-class London suburb of Belgravia and paid a call upon Sir John Nettleford-Hughes.
Lettice is now engaged to Sir John Nettleford Hughes. Old enough to be her father, wealthy Sir John, according to London society gossip enjoys dalliances with a string of pretty chorus girls of Lettice’s age and younger. As an eligible man in a aftermath of the Great War when such men are a rare commodity, with a vast family estate in Bedfordshire, houses in Mayfair, Belgravia and Pimlico and Fontengil Park in Wiltshire, quite close to the Glynes estate belonging to her parents, Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, invited him as a potential suitor to her 1922 Hunt Ball, which she used as a marriage market for Lettice. Although she did not become engaged to him then, Lettice did reacquaint herself with Sir John at an amusing Friday to Monday long weekend party held by mutual friends Sir John and Lady Gladys Caxton at their Scottish country estate in 1924. To her surprise, Lettice found Sir John’s company rather enjoyable. She then ran into him again later that year at the Portland Gallery’s autumn show in Soho, where she found him yet again to be a pleasant and attentive companion for much of the evening. Sir John also made a proposition to her that night: he offered her his hand in marriage should she ever need it. More like a business arrangement than a marriage proposal, Sir John offered Lettice the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of his large fortune, be chatelain of all his estates and continue to have her interior design business, under the conditions that she agree to provide him with an heir, and that he be allowed to discreetly carry on his affairs in spite of their marriage vows. He even suggested that Lettice might be afforded the opportunity to have her own extra marital liaisons if she were discreet about them. When Lettice’s understanding with Selwyn Spencely, son of the Duke of Walmsford, fell apart, Lettice agreed to Sir John’s proposal. Then, during the General Strike* that almost brought the nation to a standstill, Selwyn and Lettice were reintroduced, and she found out that Selwyn wasn’t engaged to another woman at all, as she was led to believe by Lady Zinnia, and it had all been a fabrication, leaving her in a quandary over what to do: break her engagement with Sir John and marry the man she truly loves and has never stopped loving, or remain engaged to Sir John, preserving his honour and the good name of her own family.
The General Strike that gripped the nation for nine days and caused major social as well as distribution issues is not long over, and with all but the coal miners up north back at work, life is returning to normal again with only a few minor inconveniences causing any disturbances to life in the capital. The railways and the London motor buses have resumed usual services, and the volunteer canteen** organised by Lady Edwina Mountbatten*** that Lettice was helping in has been disbanded. Lettice has resumed working on the interior designs for the Queen Anne’s Gate**** townhouse of Whig***** politician and Member for the constituency of Tower Hamlets****** Mr. Charles Hatchett, whose wife Dolly, has commissioned Lettice to redecorate several principal rooms for her.
Today however, she has put aside her designs, and sits comfortably in her drawing room, entertaining her old childhood chum Gerald, also a member of the aristocracy whose family, unlike Lettice’s, are in straitened circumstances owing to Gerald’s father, Lord Bruton, refusing to modernise and move with the times. Gerald has gained some independence from his family by designing gowns from a shop in Grosvenor Street. His atelier has received some favourable reviews over the last few years and his couturier is finally starting to turn a profit thanks to an expanding clientele.
“I say!” Gerald remarks, sniffing the air around him appreciatively as he picks up a waft of sweet pastry. “Something smells jolly ripping, Lettice darling!”
“Edith is making us some jam tarts, Gerald darling.” Lettice explains before taking a sip of tea from her cup. “She’s a whizz in the kitchen, even with the food shortages****** we are still experiencing in the aftermath of the General Strike.”
“She’s a whizz on the sewing machine too, Lettice darling!” Gerald adds with enthusiasm. “Do you know what she told me as she helped me off with my hat and took my coat, when I arrived?”
“No I don’t, but,” She returns her teacup to its saucer in the small table to her left which serves as both her telephone and wireless******** table, as well as a side table for her. ‘I’m sure you are going to tell it me.”
“She’s making a new spring frock from a Lady’s World********* pattern for her best friend, the Channon’s maid-of-all-work.”
“Not when she is supposed to be working for me, I hope.” Lettice retorts, giving Gerald an alarmed look.
“Calm Lettuce Leaf! Calm!” Gerald replies, using Lettice’s hated childhood pet name.
“Gerald!” scowls Lettice, folding her arms akimbo. “Don’t call me that! We aren’t four anymore, and you know how much I hate it!”
“Well then stop stymieing the girl’s creativity, darling. The poor dear gets little enough joy out of life when she is too busy working as a slave for you.”
“Hardly a slave, Gerald!” Lettice scoffs. “I provide a comfortable home with modern appliances, offer Edith a half day off on Wednesdays as well as Sundays free until four, and,” she adds. “I have Mrs. Boothby come up and char********** for me and do all the hard tasks. I’d hardly call it slaving.”
“Nevertheless, I don’t think there is room for much joy in a domestic’s life, Lettice darling, and she enjoys sewing, and is rather a talented seamstress.”
“So long as she is not being a talented seamstress on my time, Gerald darling.” Lettice opines.
“Well she certainly isn’t sewing now, judging by that heavenly scent coming through the green baize door*********** darling, so I think you’re safe.” Gerald answers. “But one day, when you least expect it, I’m going to steal her right from underneath your nose!”
“I’ll consider myself forewarned then, Mr. Buttons.” Lettice answers with a giggle as she uses the nickname given Gerald by her former client, Lady Gladys Caxton.
Gerald cringes before speaking. “Her talent as a seamstress is wasted here with you as your maid-of-all-work.”
“That’s a matter of opinion, Gerald. I happen to think her talents are well utilised by me.” She looks wryly at her best friend. “And I suppose you think Maison Bruton in Grosvenor Street would benefit greatly from her services as a seamstress?”
“I don’t think,” Gerald laughs in reply. “I know she would.”
“And how would your current les petites mains************ feel about an addition to the atelier*************?”
“I should think that Gladys, Edna and Nelly would welcome an extra set of hands.” Gerald opines. “Many hands make for light work. Things are going so well at Maison Bruton with so many orders, that I am probably going to need to take on another seamstress before too long.”
“Well, Mr. Buttons,” Lettice says with a wagging index finger. “Just you keep your eye off Edith! She’s mine, not yours.”
“Well,” Gerald sighs. “I won’t approach her now, but one day…” He deliberately leaves the end of his sentence unspoken. “Anyway, even if I don’t nab her first, one day Edith will leave your employ, Lettice darling.”
“And why should she do that, Gerald darling? As I said, I provide an exemplary home that would be a dream for any domestic to clean, and the wages I pay are very reasonable.”
“You don’t imagine that Edith plans to remain a domestic her whole life, do you Lettice darling?” Gerald chuckles.
“Well why not? There are several ladies who are still in Mater and Pater’s employ, and they came to work for them as soon as they were old enough to enter service.”
“A pretty thing like Edith? She’ll never spend her whole life a domestic. No your girl does these days, and being as lovely as she is, I am quite sure that has plans of marriage one day.”
“Don’t be preposterous, Gerald. Edith hasn’t time for that.”
“With a half day Wednesday, and Sundays free until four? That’s ample time for her to find a beau.”
“Don’t talk such nonsense, Gerald.” Lettice retorts dismissively. “She’ll never leave me.”
“Now thinking of beaus, I didn’t do wrong by you the other day, did I Lettice?” Gerald asks nervously from the white upholstered black japanned Art Deco tub chair opposite his hostess.
“What on earth do you mean, Gerald?” Lettice asks from her own chair, giving her best friend a perplexed look. “The other day?” She chuckles. “How could you, of all people, do wrong by me?”
“Well, I just want to be sure.” He runs his left finger distractedly along the gild edged rim of the teacup in his right hand. “Make sure that there is no awkwardness between us.”
“Why would there be, Gerald darling?” Lettice evidently doesn’t follow, judging by the baffled expression on her face. “You’re my oldest and best chum.” She reaches out her hand across the low black japanned coffee table to Gerald. “I’d never let anything come between us.”
“So you… you aren’t cross with me over bringing Spencely with me to your volunteer canteen? I did genuinely run into him, just as I was about to go in.”
“Oh that,” Lettice answers lightly. “No.” She shakes her head. “I’m not cross with you at all.”
“When he told me about how he’s been carrying a torch************** for you all this time, and explained that he wasn’t engaged, contrary to all that you had been lead to believe by that odious and treacherous dragon, Lady Zinnia, I knew you’d want to hear it for yourself.”
“And I’m so grateful you did, Gerald darling. It was quite a shock seeing him, I’ll confess.”
“As it was for me.”
“But it was also lovely.” Lettice sighs. “And our little tête-a-tête that day in the volunteer canteen revealed so much, and made things so much clearer to me. It helped add a few pieces to the puzzle.”
“So lady Zinnia was behind all the lies then?”
“I’m convinced of it, Gerald darling. Positively convinced!” Lettice nods shallowly and lowers her lids. “We just don’t quite know how.”
“Well, at least our Pinkerton***************, Mr. Cookson, should help with that, now he’s heading for the Dark Continent***************. He’s sure to dig up some evidence linking Lady Zinnia to this whole affair of obfuscation and lies.”
“Well, I do hope you’re right, Gerald darling. We need that proof to get married.”
Gerald sists up straighter in his seat, paying full attention to Lettice sitting opposite him. “Why should you need that, Lettice darling? Surely all you need do is break it off with Sir John and then there is no impediment to you two getting married.”
“You’re being remarkably cavalier, Gerald darling.” Lettice replies in a hurt tone. “I’d expect more from you.” she admonishes.
“Cavalier, Lettice darling?”
“Yes, about Sir John. You sound just like Selwyn did when we were talking.” Lettice nods more emphatically this time. “He said I should break it off with John and marry him without delay.”
“Well, you love the old boy, Spencely, don’t you, darling?”
“Of course I do, Gerald.” Lettice admits, lowering her gaze once more. “I’ve never stopped loving Selwyn. I’ve always held out hope that someday,” Her voice tightens with resolve. “Someday, somehow he’s come back to me.”
“And so he has, and he is still obviously quite mad for you, Lettice darling. What’s the impediment?” he shrugs.
Lettice points to a very expensive looking box of chocolates on the low table between them. The round box is decorated with luxurious looking blue and white paper, the lid’s open edge is trimmed with silver braid, and a large and ostentatious bow made from gold trimmed blue ribbon cascades from the lid’s top. A selection of deluxe chocolates, some wrapped in colourful foil and others like little works of art with marzipan decoration or candied fruit on their tops stand proudly on a plate and peep furtively from the confines of their palatial box. Gerald has been helping himself to them with Lettice’s blessing, whilst she herself, hasn’t touched a one.
“A box of chocolates?” Gerald queries as he helps himself to a dark chocolate with a slice of candied orange on its top and pops it delicately into his mouth. “How is a box of chocolates,” He chews away on the sweetmeat, sighing with pleasure at its deliciousness. “An impediment?”
“Don’t be obtuse, Gerald!” Lettice snaps. “It’s not the box of chocolates that is the issue, but whom they are from.”
“Well, whom are they from?” Gerald asks. “I thought you had bought them.”
“Who do you think they’re from, darling, considering how incredibly ostentatious they are?”
“Well, conceivably they could be from either of your paramours, Lettice darling. After all, Spencely is as generous and indulgent as Sir John.” He indicates with a sweeping hand towards the gleaming brass wireless, which had been a gift from Selwyn Spencely when he and Lettice were first stepping out together in 1923. Gerald considers the box for a moment before continuing. “Sir John never was a man to hold back on generous gifts either, was he?”
“Indeed not, darling! Just think of the Picasso hanging in my bedroom that he bought me.” Lettice sighs heavily. “There are his feelings to consider. I can’t just go around to his Belgravia townhouse right now and blurt out that I wish to end our engagement because suddenly Selwyn has reappeared in London and is courting me. I would be ungrateful.”
“And it would be ungracious, which of course I know you are not, darling.”
“Exactly.”
“All the same, I don’t think Sir John would take the news too badly. After all, thanks to Mr. Cookson, we now know that there was no conniving between Sir John and Lady Zinnia around his proposal to you, which makes me think that it was a rather flippant offer on his part, and he probably never actually expected you to accept it. In fact,” Gerald goes on. “I think in some respects, he might be rather pleased if you break it off with him. A wife, even one appraised of the situation like you, would still complicate matters in his love life. Sir John doesn’t want to be married. He wants to continue with his liaisons with impunity.”
Lettice considers what Gerald has said for a moment. “There may be some truth in what you say, Gerald darling, but I suspect it would still hurt John a little: his pride if nothing else. Then there are also the feelings of Clemance, his sister. I’ve grown awfully fond of her, and I know she treats me rather like a surrogate daughter. I have no wish to cause her undue pain.”
“But you will need to break it to her sooner or later, Lettice darling, or Sir John will, so wouldn’t it be better to do it sooner, rather than later, and prolong the agony.”
“You’re forgetting, there is one other, rather large impediment, Ferald darling, who is far more of a problem than either John or Clemance.”
Gerald thinks for a moment. “Lady Zee!”
“Precisely. Lady Zinnia does not want me to marry Selwyn under any circumstances, and she will do anything, and avail herself of any powers at her disposal to prevent us getting married, unless we have the upper hand.”
“She is positively vile!” Gerald spits hotly. “I loathe her!”
“No more than I do, dear Gerald,” Lettice admits. “However, she is not an adversary to underestimate if this whole affair about Selwyn’s counterfeit engagement to Miss Avendale is anything to go by. Do you know what Selwyn told me?”
“I imagine Spencely told you a great many things, Lettice darling.” Gerald answers. “But what exactly is it that you wish to appraise me of?”
“Selwyn told me that no-one knows who Kitty Avendale is. She just turned up out of thin air, exactly like Mr. Cookson intimated to us. No-one could trace her lineage, even finding her father, the so-called diamond mine millionaire, was a dead end, which strikes me as a very odd business indeed.”
“Oh yes! A very rum business****************, Lettice darling.”
“Selwyn went on to say that she courted the press in Durban and they followed her everywhere, toadying and ingratiating themselves towards her, and that she was always vying to be the centre of attention, and that it was she who always sought him out for photographs, not the other way around.”
“The plot thickens, darling.”
“Exactly! And I am determined that in order for Selwyn and I to be able to marry freely as we would like, we must gain the upper hand on Lady Zinnia. And the only way we can do that, is by finding definitive proof that she created the ruse of Selwyn’s sham engagement. If we can do that, or rather if Mr. Cookson can find that proof for us, we will hold a trump card that even she cannot outplay, so she cannot refuse the marriage.”
“Revenge, Lettice darling.” Gerald breathes. “How delicious!”
“And something that Lady Zinnia has taught me, Gerald, is that revenge is a dish best well prepared, and served cold.
“Indeed, Lettice darling.” Gerald concurs. “Then in order for me to extract a little revenge of my own, may I make one request?”
“Of course, Gerald darling!” Lettice claps and clasps her hands together. “Name it!”
“That I may design your wedding frock.” Gerald smiles cheekily at Lettice.
“Mater will be so thrilled with me marrying a future Duke of Walmsford that she could hardly refuse such a request.” Lettice smiles back.
*The General Strike in Britain occurred between May the 3rd and May the 12th, 1926. It was a nine-day nationwide stoppage called by the Trades Union Congress (TUC) to support coal miners facing wage reductions and worsening conditions. Roughly one million, seven hundred thousand workers went on strike, primarily in transport and heavy industry.
**During the 1926 General Strike, the volunteer canteens — often staffed by "titled ladies" to feed volunteers maintaining essential services — were largely organized and supported by the upper classes, society women, and the government's emergency volunteer network. Women from high society and the aristocracy, including Lady Louis Mountbatten, Lady Quilter, Lady Mary Ashley Cooper, and Lady Carmichael-Anstruther, participated in and helped manage these canteens. Canteens, such as those overseen by a "Mrs. Loeffler" at Scotland House and similar efforts in Hyde Park, provided food and refreshments to the thousands of middle-class volunteers, such as special constables, who broke the strike. These canteens were part of a coordinated effort by the Conservative government to maintain essential services and counter the strike's effectiveness. The focus of these efforts was to support the volunteer workforce—such as the "special constables"—to keep services running, as opposed to the soup kitchens operated in mining communities by workers' wives to support the miners.
***Born Edwina Cynthia Annette Ashley, she was the granddaughter of the wealthy financier Sir Ernest Cassel, making her one of Britain's richest women when she married Louis Mountbatten in 1922, a ceremony dubbed "the wedding of the year". Before marrying him, she was a glamourous socialite and society beauty, but once married, used her new position of influence to draw attention to her humanitarian work. When the Second World War broke out, Lady Edwina devoted herself to the St John Ambulance Brigade and the British Red Cross, eventually acting as Superintendent-in-Chief of the St John Ambulance Brigade, earning her high honours. As the last Vicereine of India, she was crucial in navigating the transition to independence, maintaining a close working relationship and friendship with Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru. Initially known as a rebellious and glamorous socialite, she transitioned into a dedicated humanitarian worker. She was known for her immense energy and, at times, controversial personal life.
****Queen Anne’s Gate is a street in Westminster, London. Many of the buildings are Grade I listed, known for their Queen Anne architecture. Simon Bradley and Nikolaus Pevsner described the Gate’s early Eighteenth Century houses as “the best of their kind in London.” The street’s proximity to the Palace of Westminster made it a popular residential area for politicians.
*****Historically, the British Liberal Party evolved from the Whigs. While Tories became the Conservative Party, the Whigs merged with radicals and Peelites in the 1850s to form the Liberals. The Whigs championed constitutional government and, over time, progressive reform, distinguishing them from the traditionally conservative Tories.
******The London constituency of Tower Hamlets includes such areas and historic towns as (roughly from west to east) Spitalfields, Whitechapel, Bethnal Green, Wapping, Shadwell, Mile End, Stepney, Limehouse, Old Ford, Bow, Bromley, Poplar, and the Isle of Dogs (with Millwall, the West India Docks, and Cubitt Town), making it a majority working class constituency in 1925 when this story is set. Tower Hamlets included some of the worst slums and societal issues of inequality and poverty in England at that time.
*******The General Strike was short lived, lasting only nine days, so there were not lasting food shortages in London in the immediate aftermath of the strike. Whilst transport was crippled and food deliveries were disrupted during the strike, the government’s emergency measures, including the establishment of regional food control officers in 1925 and military-escorted supply convoys during the strike, prevented severe food shortages. There were however, unavoidable disruptions to supply chains as life and deliveries returned to normal, so whilst there were not food shortages as such, there were some products and foodstuffs that were less available in the days following the General Strike.
********In 1920s Britain, a "wireless" was the standard term for a radio receiver, a new and popular household device that allowed people to receive audio broadcasts without physical wires connecting them to a transmitter. Unlike in the United States, where "radio" quickly became the preferred term, Britain retained "wireless" or "wireless set" as the dominant name for this technology well into the 1940s and beyond.
*********The Lady’s World Fancy Work Book was a quarterly magazine published from 1906 until the late 1920s – a spin-off from a monthly magazine, The Lady’s World. The Fancy Work Book covered sewing, included dress patterns and was well known for all the kinds of needlecrafts it covered, but especially knitting and crochet.
**********A charwoman, chargirl, or char, jokingly charlady, is an old-fashioned occupational term, referring to a paid part-time worker who comes into a house or other building to clean it for a few hours of a day or week, as opposed to a maid, who usually lives as part of the household within the structure of domestic service. In the 1920s, chars usually did all the hard graft work that paid live-in domestics would no longer do as they looked for excuses to leave domestic service for better paying work in offices and factories.
***********A green baize door is a historical, felt-covered door, often featuring brass tacks, that served as a sound-insulating barrier in large 18th-to-20th-century British houses. It separated the "upstairs" (family living quarters) from the "downstairs" (servants' work areas), blocking noise and cooking odours from disturbing the residents.
************Seamstresses in British couture houses were sometimes referred to in French as “les petites mains” ("small hands") to add to mystique of couture clothing, which had originated in Paris, which in the 1920s when this story was set, was at the vanguard of fashion and the setting of trends.
*************The atelier (French for workroom) is the dedicated studio or workroom in a couture house where the designers, tailors, and seamstresses create garments.
**************To "carry a torch" for someone means to be in love with, infatuated with, or harbor strong romantic feelings for a person, especially when those feelings are not reciprocated or the relationship has ended. It often implies holding onto hope for a lost love. The idiom is believed to originate from ancient Greek and Roman wedding traditions, where a torch was lit in the bride’s home and carried to light the hearth in her new home, symbolising the lasting fire of love and passion. While rooted in antiquity, the phrase began taking its modern idiomatic form in the 1800s. By the 1920s, it was popularized in "Broadway slang" for a one-sided, often painful, love, spawning the term "torch song" to describe songs of unrequited affection.
***************A “Pinkerton” is a private detective, and refers to the Pinkerton Detective Agency, founded by Allan Pinkerton, known for its historical role in labour disputes and spying. For decades after Allan Pinkerton's death, his name became a slang term for any private investigator, regardless of whether they worked for the Pinkerton Agency or not. Today, the agency (now simply called Pinkerton) focuses on risk management, intelligence, and security services.
***************The Dark Continent is an outdated, Nineteenth Century European term for Africa, originating from a lack of knowledge about the continent's interior due to geographical barriers like the Sahara and tropical diseases. It was often used to misrepresent the continent as unknown or uncivilized to justify colonialism, disregarding its rich, flourishing civilizations. It was still a popular term in regular use in 1920s Britain.
****************"A rum business" is an old-fashioned British, informal phrase meaning a situation that is strange, peculiar, odd, or suspicious. It is often used to describe a "queer" or dubious, problematic situation, rather than one that is simply funny.
This beautifully decorated 1920s upper-class drawing room is different to what you may think at first glance, 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 tableau include:
The chocolates in the midground have been made in England by hand from clay by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination. Each chocolate is only one to one and half millimetres in diameter and around one millimetre in height! And yes, two of the chocolates are wrapped up in foil! The box of chocolates itself, which has chocolates affixed inside comes from Mary Jane’s Dollhouse Emporium in the United Kingdom. Lettice’s tea set sitting on the coffee table and the table next to her chair is a beautiful artisan set featuring a rather avant-garde Art Deco Royal Doulton design called “Falling Leaves” which comes from the Edwardian era.
Lettice’s copy of ‘The Radio Times’ is a 1:12 size miniature made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Ken is renown for his creation of miniature 1:12 scale books. Most of the books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed, sitting on shelves or closed on desks and table surfaces. As well as producing books, he also created magazines such as this one. This magazine is one of the rarer exceptions that has been designed not to be opened. Nevertheless, the cover is beautifully illustrated. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s books and magazines are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make this a miniature artisan piece. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago, as well as through his estate via his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter. I hope that you enjoy this peek at just one of hundreds of his books that I own, and that it makes you smile with its sheer whimsy!
The copy of the McCall’s magazine from 1926 sitting on the coffee table beneath the Radio Times was made by hand by Petite Gite Miniatures in the United States.
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 apricot roses on the Art Deco occasional table is beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium.
The brass wireless in the background, which is remarkably heavy for its size, comes from Melody Jane’s Doll House Supplies in the United Kingdom.
Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The Art Deco tub chair upholstered in white embossed fabric is made of black japanned wood and has a removable cushion, just like its life-sized equivalent. The Hepplewhite chair in the background has a hand woven rattan seat and has been painted with floral patterns along its back and arms by hand.
The Chinese folding screen in the background 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.
In front of the screen on a pedestal table stands a miniature cloisonné vase from the early Twentieth Century which I also bought when I was a child. It came from a curios shop. Cloisonné is an ancient technique for decorating metalwork objects. In recent centuries, vitreous enamel has been used, and inlays of cut gemstones, glass and other materials were also used during older periods. The resulting objects can also be called cloisonné. The decoration is formed by first adding compartments (cloisons in French) to the metal object by soldering or affixing silver or gold wires or thin strips placed on their edges. These remain visible in the finished piece, separating the different compartments of the enamel or inlays, which are often of several colours. Cloisonné enamel objects are worked on with enamel powder made into a paste, which then needs to be fired in a kiln. The Japanese produced large quantities from the mid Nineteenth Century, of very high technical quality cloisonné. In Japan cloisonné enamels are known as shippō-yaki (七宝焼). Early centres of cloisonné were Nagoya during the Owari Domain. Companies of renown were the Ando Cloisonné Company. Later centres of renown were Edo and Kyoto. In Kyoto Namikawa became one of the leading companies of Japanese cloisonné.
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.
they have been dancing for a long time, sharing their own music, on a stretch of embankment - quite oblivious to the rest of us ---
no graphical GROUP ICONS, INVITES, or AWARDS please (they will be [sadly] deleted) - just comments and critiques ---
please click here: www.flickr.com/photos/qmusaget/?details=1" to see HOW our streams should be preferably [or at least optionally] viewed ---
.
.
The stranger
I would like to become your stranger,
be done with your politeness,
withdraw from your ABC,
emigrate from our moments of intimacy.
Beyond the solid core
I will sail in other waters
unfamiliar and far away.
I would like to become your stranger
and shock an inexistent time.
Unpublished letters,
dated, beaten,
from the heart to the quill.
Washed out words,
of generous spirit
living warmth lived.
... unfamiliar and far away
from everything, far away from you,
far from there and beautiful!
I would like to become your stranger,
from the heart to the quill.
I would like to become your stranger...
I would like to become your stranger,
from the heart to the quill...
your stranger...
Cryptic towards your idioms,
towards your precarious paramours,
I would like to become a stranger
to your humour and
your singular whims.
Equestrienne in exile,
embedded in two thousand flowers,
here or preferably elsewhere.
... unfamiliar and far away from you
far from me and far from everything,
and beautiful...!
I would like to become your stranger,
from the heart to the quill...
© 17 Hippies, Hipster-Records 2011
M / T: Max Manila (Christopher, Kiki)
translation: Matthew Partridge
Album: PHANTOM SONGS
German postcard by Filmbilder-Vertrieb Ernst Freihoff, Essen, no. AX 6510.
Singer Mary Wilson (1944), who co-founded the Supremes as a 15-year-old in a Detroit housing project and stayed with the fabled, hitmaking Motown Records trio until its dissolution in 1977, died on Monday night at her home in Las Vegas. She was 76. The Supremes were always known as the ‘sweethearts of Motown.’ Mary, along with Diana Ross and Florence Ballard, came to Motown in the early 1960s. After an unprecedented string of No. 1 hits, television and nightclub bookings, they opened doors for themselves, the other Motown acts, and many, many others. Just two days prior to her death, Wilson put up a video on her YouTube announcing that she was working with Universal Music on releasing solo material.
The Supremes is still the most iconic female singing trio of all time. With lead vocalist Diana Ross and founding member Florence Ballard (and with Ballard’s replacement Cindy Birdsong), Mary Wilson appeared on all 12 of the Supremes’ No. 1 pop hits from 1964-69; during that period, the act – the biggest of Motown’s vocal groups' thanks to their silken sound – charted a total of 16 top-10 pop singles and 19 top-10 R&B 45s (six of them chart-toppers). If Ross became renowned as the group’s international superstar and Ballard, who died prematurely at the age of 32 in 1976, came to be memorialized as its tragic figure, Wilson was its steady, omnipresent, and outspoken driving force — though many views her as little more than a supplier of the backup hooks that supported Ross’ lead work. After Ross departed the group in 1970 for solo stardom, Wilson remained its linchpin, and dutifully backed up a succession of front women. Though the Supremes never recaptured their dominance of the ‘60s, they still managed to collect a 1970 R&B No. 1, “Stoned Love,” and returned to the pop-top 20 five times. The act’s image of glamour and offstage sisterhood that was carefully crafted by Motown was belied by Wilson’s scathing depiction of bandmate Ross in a bestselling 1986 memoir, “Dreamgirl: My Life As a Supreme,” the first tell-all tome by a member of the so-called “Motown Family.” In the book, Ross – referred to pointedly throughout by her birth name of Diane – was portrayed as an attention-seeking and backstabbing diva who used her relationship with Motown founder-chairman Berry Gordy to get what she wanted professionally and personally. Opening the book with an episode in which Ross literally shoved her aside onstage during a taping of the 1983 taping of the NBC anniversary special “Motown 25,” Wilson wrote, with some mixed emotion, “She has done many things to hurt, humiliate, and upset me, but, strangely enough, I still over her and am proud of her.” Wilson, who released two solo albums and toured successfully with a solo act that combined cabaret with renditions of her old Supremes hits, was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a member of the group in 1988.
Mary Wilson was born in 1944, in Greenville, MS. After moving to St. Louis and then Chicago with her parents, she was sent at the age of three to live with her aunt and uncle in Detroit, and she grew up believing she was their daughter. She only learned who her real parents were at the age of six when her mother came to Detroit to live with the family. She moved with her mother several times until she settled in at the Brewster-Douglass Housing Project at 12. Wilson had already briefly sung in a group led by Aretha Franklin’s younger sister Carolyn when she was approached by Ballard, a charismatic neighbor in the Brewster projects, to form a new group that would serve as a “sister act” to the Primes, a male quintet that included Paul Williams and Eddie Kendricks, both future members of the Motown unit the Temptations. The two girls were soon joined by Ross (who would only take the professional name “Diana” after the group’s first hits). With fourth member Betty McGlown and her successor Barbara Martin, they would perform as the Primettes until they rechristened themselves as the Supremes in early 1961. After auditioning unsuccessfully for the rising Detroit label Motown, the group cut a pair of tracks for another hometown imprint, LuPine; Wilson sang lead on the single B-side “Pretty Baby,” but, like Ballard, she was soon displaced in front by Ross. Finally brought on board at Motown, they struggled to find their musical niche, recording songs (by Smokey Robinson and others) that either languished on the charts or sat in the vault. In 1963, fourth member Martin exited the unit. The trio finally began to hit pay dirt when the songwriting team of brothers Brian and Eddie Holland and Lamont Dozier became their principal cleffers. After reaching No. 2 on the R&B side with the writers’ “When The Lovelight Starts Shining Through His Eyes” in late 1963, the Supremes simultaneously climbed to the pinnacle of both the pop and R&B lists with the foot-stomping “Where Did Our Love Go” during the summer of 1964. With Ross now installed as the lead vocalist, the trio rivaled the Beatles for radio and chart ubiquity over the course of the next three years. Their pop No. 1’s of 1964-67 included “Baby Love,” “Come See About Me,” “Stop! In the Name of Love,” “Back in My Arms Again,” “I Hear a Symphony,” “You Can’t Hurry Love,” “You Keep Me Hanging On” and “Reflections.” In mid-1967, the increasingly unreliable Flo Ballard, wracked by alcoholism, drug abuse, and depression, was expelled from the Supremes and replaced by Birdsong. Gordy – who already envisioned a career in Las Vegas, TV, and films for Ross, with whom he was now involved romantically – established his paramour’s supremacy by rebranding the group as Diana Ross & the Supremes that year.
The writing was truly on the wall for the Supremes after Ross began recording as a soloist in 1968, and late the following year it was announced that she would be departing the group. The act’s swan song with its founding lead singer, “Some Day We’ll Be Together,” topped the pop and R&B charts in December 1969, and Ross made her exit after a heavily stage-managed farewell show at Las Vegas’ Frontier Hotel in January 1970. The single marked the act’s last visit to the top of the U.S. pop chart. The Vegas show introduced Jean Terrell – sister of heavyweight prizefighter Ernie Terrell, and a singer in his group the Knockouts – as the Supremes’ new lead vocalist. Astonishingly, Berry Gordy swiftly tried to replace Terrell with Stevie Wonder’s wife Syreeta Wright, but, according to Mark Ribowsky’s tart, dishy 2009 history of the group, Wilson intervened; while Terrell remained, the Supremes never enjoyed the kind of budgets or promotion they had with Ross in the fold. With Terrell taking the lead, the Supremes maintained some momentum: Beyond “Stoned Love,” they reached the R&B Top 10 with “River Deep, Mountain High,” “Nathan Jones” and “Floy Joy. But Wilson remained the lone constant in an ever-shifting lineup after 1972, and by the late ‘70s the trio was mired in lightweight disco material – some of it supplied by the returning Holland-Dozier-Holland team. The Supremes folded their tents with a London farewell show in June 1977. Wilson’s self-titled solo LP for Motown (which Marvin Gaye had planned to produce before his divorce wrangle with Gordy’s sister Anna scuttled it) failed to scratch the national album chart, and its lone single peaked at No. 95. Except for her appearance on the ’83 Motown special, Wilson was little heard from until her eyebrow-raising memoir was published. (She would go on to write two more books about the Supremes, in 1990 and 2019.) The title of “Dreamgirl” was inspired by the hit 1981 Broadway musical, which the singer claimed was a largely accurate depiction of the tumult within the Supremes during Ross’ tenure. Defending herself in a 1986 interview in Jet magazine against potential charges of serving up sour grapes, she said, “I’m sure people will have their own opinions about that, but I really don’t care. My main thing is that when I was in the group I maintained my position and I didn’t step into Diane’s position. I’m no longer in the group now. I have my own position to uphold and it’s not in the background.” An attempt to reunite Wilson with Ross and the other surviving members of the Supremes for a 2000 tour came to a naught after a protracted and public wrangle over Wilson’s fee for the trek. Mary Wilson’s album “Walk the Line” was released on the CEO label in 1992; she issued a pair of live DVDs in the new millennium. In 2015, she released what was to be her last single, “Time to Move On,” which reached No. 23 on the Billboard dance chart. Her publicist said that she had been working on trying to get a U.S. postage stamp designated for Ballard. Wilson’s activism included traveling to Washington, D.C. to lobby for the Music Modernization Act, which was passed into law in 2018. She is survived by her daughter Turkessa and grandchildren (Mia, Marcanthony, Marina); her son, Pedro Antonio Jr, and grandchildren (Isaiah, Ilah, Alexander, Alexandria). Both children are from her marriage to the Dominican businessman and former Supremes manager Pedro Ferrer, whom she divorced in 1981. In 1994, the couple’s 14-year-old son Rafael was killed and Wilson was injured when her Jeep flipped on the road between Las Vegas and Los Angeles. Wilson is also survived by her sister Kathryn; her brother, Roosevelt; her adopted son/cousin Willie and grandchildren (Erica (great-granddaughter, Lori), Vanessa, Angela).
Source: Chris Morris (Variety).
And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.
British postcard by GB Posters, no. PC 0006. Photo: Channel 4 Film Production / Figment Films / Underworld Merchandising. Ewan McGregor in Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996). Caption: "I'm cleaning up and I'm moving on, going straight and choosing life". Renton Denim shirt Trainspotting.
Scottish actor Ewan McGregor (1971) first received worldwide acclaim with his role as heroin addict Mark Renton in Trainspotting (1996). Later, he played the young Obi-Wan in the Star Wars prequel trilogy, and poet Christian in the musical Moulin Rouge! (2001).
Ewan Gordan McGregor was born in 1971 in Crieff, Scotland, just a few miles north of Edinburgh. His parents were the schoolteachers James Charles Stuart McGregor and Carole Diane Lawson. His uncle is actor Denis Lawson. He also has a brother Colin, who became a RAF pilot. As a child, Ewan did little acting, but enjoyed singing, and became a soloist for his school's orchestra and choir. At age 16, he left Morrison Academy in Crieff to join the Perth Repertory Theatre. His parents encouraged him to leave school and pursue his acting goals rather than be unhappy. Ewan worked as a stagehand and had small roles in the productions of the Perth Repertory Theatre. Then, he studied three years at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama in London. Six months prior to his graduation from Guildhall, he landed a major role as Private Mick Hopper in the excellent TV series Lipstick on Your Collar (Renny Rye, 1993), written by Dennis Potter. McGregor then starred in the miniseries The Scarlet & The Black (Ben Bolt, 1993), an adaptation of Henri Beyle Stendhal's 1830 novel. In that same year, McGregor made his film debut with a bit part in the American drama Being Human (Bill Forsyth, 1993), which starred Robin Williams. The film undeservedly flopped and closed almost as soon as it opened, which limited McGregor's exposure. He continued to make television appearances in the United States and Britain, including Family Style (Justin Chadwick, 1993), Doggin' Around (Desmond Davis, 1994) and an episode of the crime series Kavanagh QC (Colin Gregg, 1995). He got his first major film role in the Noir Shallow Grave (Danny Boyle, 1994), which was received well by the critics. Samuli Launonen at IMDb: “A great modern thriller containing all the necessary ingredients of a decent suspense story: constantly growing tension, sly humor, and genuinely surprising plot twists. (…) The three leads are all great, but there's no question about who the movie belongs to: Ewan McGregor is energetic, powerful and photogenic in his portrayal of a young journalist.” In 1995, McGregor married, French production designer Eve Mavrakis. He continued to work in British films as the surfing parable Blue Juice (Carl Prechezer, 1995) with Catherine Zeta-Jones, and Peter Greenaway's The Pillow Book (1996). Then he had his big break with Trainspotting (1996), his second film with director Danny Boyle. McGregor shaved his head and lost 30 lbs to play the main character and heroin addict Mark Renton. The film, an adaptation of Irvine Welsh's novel, and McGregor's role received worldwide critical acclaim. Following this success, he took a completely different role as Frank Churchill in the Jane Austen adaptation Emma (Douglas McGrath, 1996), starring Gwyneth Palthrow. His next films included Brassed Off (Mark Herman, 1996), The Serpent's Kiss (Philippe Rousselot, 1997), A Life Less Ordinary (Danny Boyle, 1997), and Nightwatch (Ole Bornedal, 1998). He also acted opposite Jonathan Rhys Meyers and Christian Bale in Velvet Goldmine (Todd Haynes, 1999), as a 1970s-era glam rocker in the mode of Iggy Pop. Ewan McGregor landed the largest role of his career when he signed on in 1998 as Obi-Wan Kenobi in the Star Wars prequel trilogy. McGregor already had a connection with the iconic movie series as his uncle, Denis Lawson, appeared as Wedge Antilles in the original three films. He studied Alec Guinness' films in preparation for his role as Obi-Wan Kenobi to ensure accuracy in everything from his accent to the pacing of his words. Star Wars: Episode I–The Phantom Menace (George Lucas, 1999) was a box-office blockbuster, which launched the then 28-year-old actor into megastardom. The next two instalments of the trilogy would follow years later.
In the early 21st century, Ewan McGregor started his own production company called Natural Nylon. He founded it with fellow actors Jude Law, Sadie Frost, Jonny Lee Miller and Sean Pertwee. The group's first film was the biopic Nora (Pat Murphy, 2000), which dramatized the real-life relationship between Irish author James Joyce and Nora Barnacle. McGregor starred as Joyce opposite Susan Lynch as Barnacle. McGregor took on another challenging role in the musical Moulin Rouge! (Baz Luhrmann, 2000), set in Paris in 1899. McGregor starred as the young poet Christian, who falls in love with the terminally-ill courtesan Satine, played by Nicole Kidman. Perry Seibert at AllMovie: “A bold artistic statement, Moulin Rouge is Baz Luhrmann's first masterpiece. Frantically edited, paced, and photographed, the film is not an easy undertaking; it forces the viewer to accept it on its terms. The sets, costumes, and sound are stylish in the extreme. The greatest risk the film takes is having the characters speak predominantly in song lyrics. The young writer Christian (Ewan McGregor) and the doomed performer Satine (Nicole Kidman) argue about whether they will fall in love while telling each other, "Love lifts us up where we belong" and "I will always love you." When they aren't speaking in song lyrics, they sing to each other, with McGregor doing a better than credible job with Elton John's "Your Song".” McGregor was nominated for a Golden Globe Award for Best Actor for his part and a Screen Actors Guild Award for Outstanding Performance by a Cast. Later that same year, the war film Black Hawk Down (Ridley Scott, 2001) was released with McGregor among an ensemble cast. He continued his role as Obi-Wan Kenobi in the second film of the trilogy, Star Wars: Episode II–Attack of the Clone (George Lucas, 2002), which was another commercial success. McGregor was able to parlay his popularity into many more films. When Tim Burton was looking for someone in McGregor's age range to play Albert Finney as a young man in the fantasy film Big Fish (2003), he was given the part. The film was a critical and commercial success as well. McGregor also starred in the drama Young Adam, (David Mackenzie, 2003). He played Joe Taylor, one of two barge workers who pull up the corpse of a young woman from a river. Also that year, McGregor and Renée Zellweger starred in Down With Love (Peyton Reed, 2003), a homage to 1960s romantic comedies. During 2004, McGregor and his best friend Charley Boorman created a documentary about riding their motorcycles from London to New York. The pair travelled east through Europe and Asia, and then flew to Alaska to finish the journey to New York. The entire journey, entitled Long Way Round, covered over 19,000 miles and 12 countries. The project was conceived partly to raise awareness of the worldwide efforts of UNICEF. McGregor reprised his role as Obi-Wan Kenobi for the final time for Star Wars: Episode III–Revenge of the Sith (George Lucas, 2005). He also lent his voice to the animated family film Robots (Chris Wedge, Carlos Saldanha, 2005), starred with Scarlett Johansson in the big-budget Sci-Fi actioner The Island (Michael Bay, 2005), and filmed the psychological thriller Stay (Marc Forster, 2005).
After multiple commercial and critical successes, Ewan McGregor tried his hand at two arthouse films in 2006. His first was Scenes of a Sexual Nature, Ed Blum's directorial debut about a day in the life of seven British couples. The second was Miss Potter (Chris Noonan, 2007), a biopic on the life of popular author Beatrix Potter (Renée Zellweger). McGregor portrays Norman, her editor and paramour. He also tried his hand at stage acting. From 2005 till 2007 he played Sky Masterson in the revival of Guys & Dolls at London's Piccadilly Theatre, and for this part, he was nominated for a Laurence Olivier Award for Best Actor in a Musical in 2007. He also appeared on stage as Iago in Othello (2007–2008). In between, McGregor and Boorman created a follow-up documentary to their 2004 trip. For Long Way Down (2007), they rode their motorcycles from John o' Groats in northern Scotland to Cape Town, South Africa. Next he appeared in the films Cassandra's Dream (Woody Allen, 2007) with Colin Farrell, Incendiary (Sharon Maguire, 2008) and Deception (Marcel Langenegger, 2008) with Hugh Jackman. McGregor starred with Jim Carrey as a gay couple in I Love You Phillip Morris (Glenn Ficarra, John Requa, 2009), and appeared in the blockbuster Angels & Demons (Ron Howard, 2009), the sequel to the popular Dan Brown novel and film, The DaVinci Code. For the title role in Roman Polanski's The Ghost Writer (2010), he won the Best Actor award at the 23rd European Film Awards. Bruce Eder at AllMovie: “McGregor is amazingly good in a role that gives him relatively little to work with -- his is a character that not only has no name, but no past to speak of and no family entanglements, so his experience shouldn't resonate much with the audience. But what should become a cipher that few can penetrate instead becomes a kind of big-screen everyman for audience members to relate to -- up to a point. This is a very cold movie at its center, very distant, despite McGregor's success at fleshing out a character that is hardly more than a skeleton, in terms of what he brings to us. He's just vulnerable enough, and surprised and skeptical enough -- about what he's been asked to do, and the world of politics to which he's been asked to enter -- to give us something to grab on to.” His later films include Beginners (Mike Mills, 2010), Perfect Sense (David Mackenzie, 2011) opposite Eva Green, the British romantic comedy-drama Salmon Fishing in the Yemen (Lasse Hallström, 2011), Lo imposible (J.A. Bayona, 2012), and August: Osage County (John Wells, 2013). He was awarded the OBE (Officer of the Order of the British Empire) in the 2013 Queen's New Years Honours List for his services to drama and charity. Ewan McGregor and his wife have three daughters: Clara Mathilde (1996), Esther Rose (2001), and 4-year-old Jamiyan adopted from Mongolia in 2006. His recent films include the Miles Davis biopic Miles Ahead (Don Cheadle, 2015) and the British thriller Our Kind of Traitor (Susanna White, 2016). For 2017 is scheduled T2: Trainspotting, in which he will return as Mark Renton, again under the direction of Danny Boyle. On TV he will star in the third season of the hit series Fargo, now set in 2010.
Sources: Samuli Launonen (IMDb), Perry Seibert (AllMovie), Bruce Eder (AllMovie), Biography.com, AllMovie, Wikipedia and IMDb.
And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.
On March 31, 2018 at least three male osprey was chasing Esperanza relentlessly, not letting her rest and after two hours of chasing, they disappeared and didn't return.
Zorro began to defend his nest, and later in the evening a new female osprey showed up. Behaving submissively, Zorro courted her and finally sealed the deal.
The next two days the situation is still tenuous with Zorro and his new love. She's uncertain about moving in and Zorro seems a bit uncommitted. Only time will tell as to what will occur at the Manor for the 2018 Osprey season.
Upon review of the first images taken of this season, the female markings is different than the Esperanza we know. So Zorro is living up to his name and being an Osprey paramour.
More pics in blog <3
Skin: [MUDSKIN] - Minju Skin [Icy]
Head: LeLUTKA - Avalon Head
Body: eBODY - Reborn
Boobs: eBODY REBORN - Waifu Boobs
Rolls: eBODY REBORN - Juicy Rolls
Hair: [monso] Lucy Hair [@ Fameshed] NEW!!!
Eyeshadow: YINN. Paramour Eyeshadow [@ Sabbath Event] NEW!!!
Outfit: Normandy - Ripley [@ Sabbath Event] NEW!!!
Leg Tattoo: DAPPA - Lucipurr Tattoo [@ Sabbath Event] NEW!!!
Heels: ~Lavu - Shereka heels [@ Sabbath Event] NEW!!!
Poses: dovely - Yandere [@ Hentai Fair] NEW!!!
More pics in blog <3
Skin: [MUDSKIN] - Minju Skin [Icy]
Head: LeLUTKA - Avalon Head
Body: eBODY - Reborn
Boobs: eBODY REBORN - Waifu Boobs
Rolls: eBODY REBORN - Juicy Rolls
Hair: [monso] Lucy Hair [@ Fameshed] NEW!!!
Eyeshadow: YINN. Paramour Eyeshadow [@ Sabbath Event] NEW!!!
Outfit: Normandy - Ripley [@ Sabbath Event] NEW!!!
Leg Tattoo: DAPPA - Lucipurr Tattoo [@ Sabbath Event] NEW!!!
Heels: ~Lavu - Shereka heels [@ Sabbath Event] NEW!!!
Poses: dovely - Yandere [@ Hentai Fair] NEW!!!
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Vasilissa/197/178/1116
A l'occasion de la semaine 18ieme, le domaine d'UTOPIA organise un concours de photographies ouvert a tous les photographes, amateurs comme confirmés. La participation est gratuite et entraine l'acceptation de ce reglement.
Thématique :
Les photos auront pour theme "Les liaisons dangereuses"
Il est laissé libre cours a l'imagination pour illustrer ce théme.
Durée :
Le concours dure du 7 au 12 juin 2021.
Les resultats seront donnés le 13 juin dans la soirée, dans la mesure du possible les participants au concours sont priés d'y assister.
Modalités de participation :
Chaque participant peut proposer trois photos au maximum.
Elles devront etre postées sur le groupe Flick'r de la sim UTOPIA : www.flickr.com/groups/14790703@N23/
Avec comme titre "Libertine Utopia+votre nom sur SL.
Elles devront egalement être envoyées à Buffy Paramour sur SL.
En participant, vous garantissez être l'auteur des photographies et accepter qu elles puissent être exposées ou servir de support de communication. La responsabilité de la sim UTOPIA ne pourra en aucun cas être engagée du fait de l'utilisation des dites photos.
Les photos devront IMPERATIVEMENT être prise sur le Domaine d' UTOPIA.
Criteres de selection :
Un jury composé d'un des membres du Conseil d'UTOPIA ou désigné par celui-ci, ainsi que de VIP du Domaine d' UTOPIA sera composé pour évaluer de la qualité des oeuvres. Leur décision sera irrévocable.
Les photos seront jugées sur:
* Leur originalité
* Pertinence par rapport au sujet "Les Liaisons Dangereuses"
* Les gouts de chacun des membres du jury
Récompenses :
Le premier prix du concours recevra une recompense de 1000 Lindens.
Le deuxieme prix du concours aura l'honneur de pouvoir user du corps superbe et de l'esprit d'Ozwald Brucato pendant une heure.
A vos idées et faites nous rêver...
On March 31, 2018 at least three male osprey was chasing Esperanza relentlessly, not letting her rest and after two hours of chasing, they disappeared and didn't return.
Zorro began to defend his nest, and later in the evening a new female osprey showed up. Behaving submissively, Zorro courted her and finally sealed the deal.
The next two days the situation is still tenuous with Zorro and his new love. She's uncertain about moving in and Zorro seems a bit uncommitted. Only time will tell as to what will occur at the Manor for the 2018 Osprey season.
Upon review of the first images taken of this season, the female markings is different than the Esperanza we know. So Zorro is living up to his name and being an Osprey paramour.
The Hill of the Citadel (Jabal al-Qal'a) in the middle of Amman was occupied as early as the Neolithic period, and fortified during the Bronze Age (1800 BC). The ruins on the hill today are Roman through early Islamic. The name "Amman" comes from "Rabbath Ammon," or "Great City of the Ammonites," who settled in the region some time after 1200 BC. The Bible records that King David captured the city in the early 10th century BC; Uriah the Hittite, husband of King David's paramour Bathsheba, was killed here after the king ordered him to the front line of battle.
Location : The Citadel hill of Amman, Amman, Jordan.
Device : Panasonic DMC-FX520
Note :Best viewed in the large format better view
More about The Citadel hill of Amman : en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jabal_al-Qal'a
© 2010 Saad Al-Enezi