View allAll Photos Tagged precise
With serrated mandibles, a female worker Leafcutter Ant slices a precise arc through a leaf (see following photo for more leafcutter activity).
Almost every single component of the Flavel mansion seen here came from a carpenter's shop.
It would be a colossal job to build a precise replica of this building today even with our power tools.
In 1885 carpenters did have access to a variety of treadle tools, particularly saws and scroll saws. One wonders how much effort it would have taken to cut the many scrollwork designs seen here. The operators of treadle saws must have developed powerful muscles in one leg and, quite possibly, repetitive motion injuries.
However, a power tool was of little use unless the carpenter knew how to apply it to achieve the desired result. The crisp, repeating, and symmetrical designs have little or no margin for error.
I wish I knew how many carpenters were employed in creating the fancy wooden trim for the Flavel mansion, and how the carpentry shop was organized and managed. I hope for their sake that the carpenters had a fair amount of variety in their work. Imagine being the person responsible for every turned ornamental ball finial on the entire mansion!
Now that I think of it, I wonder where the carpentry shop was located. There was ample room for one on the ample lot. If that is where it was, I wonder whether any archaeological remains still exist that would be worth investigating.
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Flavel House History
The Flavel House Museum was the home of Captain George Flavel (1823-1893), one of Astoria’s most influential citizens in the late 1800s. Captain Flavel was a noted bar pilot on the Columbia River and a prominent businessman.
His Queen Anne style house was designed by German-born architect Carl W. Leick and was completed in the spring of 1886 as his retirement home.
The Captain lived here for seven years with his wife Mary Christina Boelling (1839-1928) and his two grown daughters, Nellie and Katie. The couple’s son, George Conrad Flavel, never lived in his parent’s new residence as he was already married and living in a house of his own.
The house remained in the family until 1934 when George and Mary’s great-granddaughter, Patricia Jean Flavel, gave the property to the city as a memorial to her family.
In 1936 there was talk of tearing the house down and establishing an outdoor community park on the property. However, the city had financial difficulties and decided to return the property to Patricia Flavel. That same year the residence and grounds were deeded to Clatsop County with the understanding that both would be kept in good repair and used for public purposes.
From 1937 through World War II, the Public Health Department, the Red Cross, and the local Welfare Commission all had offices in the house.
In 1951, there was once again the talk of tearing the house down, this time to make way for a parking lot for the County Courthouse.
Concerned citizens organized to save the home, and the Flavel House was made into a local history museum managed by the Clatsop County Historical Society while still under the ownership of the County.
Eventually, the County transferred full ownership of the property to the Historical Society.
About the Interior
The Flavel House is approximately 11,600 square feet and consists of two and a half stories, a single story rear kitchen, a four-story tower, and a full basement.
The interior woodwork around the doors, windows, and stair-cases are Eastlake-influenced in design. The Douglas Fir doors, moldings, and wainscoting were faux wood-grained by a master craftsman to look like exotic hardwoods such as mahogany and burl rosewood. The wood likely came from a mill in Portland or San Francisco and was shipped to Astoria by steamer.
Six fireplaces grace the home and feature different imported tiles from around the world, elaborate hand-carved mantels, and a patterned metal firebox designed to burn coal.
The fourteen-foot high ceilings on the first floor and the twelve-foot high ceilings on the second floor are embellished with plaster medallions and plaster crown moldings.
The house was very modern with wall-to-wall carpet-ing, gaslighting, indoor plumbing, and a central heating system.
The First Floor is comprised of the public rooms such as the grand entrance hall, the formal parlor, the music room (the scene of musical recitals by the Flavel daughters), the library (the heart of the house), the dining room, and the conservatory. The butler’s pantry, the kitchen, and the mudroom make up the housekeeping area.
The Second Floor features the main bathroom, five bedchambers, and a small room used as a sewing room or storage room.
The Attic Floor is a large, unfinished area with two small plain bedrooms used by the Flavel’s domestic help.
The tower gave the Captain a broad view of Astoria and the Columbia River to keep an eye on the local ship traffic.
The Basement of the house originally had a dirt floor and contained a large wood-burning furnace.
About the Exterior
The Flavel House rests on park-like grounds covering an entire city block. It has been listed on the National Register of Historic Places since 1951.
The Queen Anne architectural style, popular from 1880 to 1910, can be seen in the house’s steeply pitched roof, patterned shingles, and cut-away bay windows.
Other characteristics of the Queen Anne style are the octagonal-shaped tower, the one-story wrap-around porch, and its asymmetrical facade.
Decorative elements of the Stick and Italianate styles are also apparent in the vertical stickwork, the bracketed eaves, and the hooded moldings above the windows and doors.
Outlining the roof and verandas of the house is the original wrought-iron cresting.
About the Carriage House
The Carriage House was built on the south-west corner of the property in 1887. It served as the place where the family kept their carriage, sleigh, and small buggies.
It also had three temporary holding stalls for their horses, a tack room, and a hayloft upstairs.
In the mid-1890s, the Carriage House was home to the family’s hired caretaker, Alex Murray.
In time, automobiles, including the Flavel’s Studebaker sedan, found a home in the Carriage House, and the family’s driver kept a room upstairs.
Today the Carriage House functions as the Visitor Center, museum store, and exhibit hall for the Flavel House Museum and the administrative offices of the Clatsop County Historical Society.
Unusual to find such a precise date on one of these little publicity or advertising recipe booklets but this has a date of 1929 and also has a gummed in slip showing the full range of Bird's 'Household Specialities' and a retail price list for 1930. Such booklets were commonplace marketing material for companies such as Bird's who were amongst the pioneers of 'ready made' or branded food products that were sold on the national market and that advertised heavily - a product of Victorian food technology, transport and newspapers.
Alfred Bird's origins were in invention of their still famous 'custard' powder that replaced the real thing with a dissolvable powder based on cornflour starch, colourings and vanilla flavours. They also made a wide range of similar baking and pudding 'specialities' as can be seen from the list. An old established Birmingham company now simply a brand of an international concern, their home city heritage is still to be found thanks to a re-use of the 'Custard Factory' and the survival of the railings that use the famous trilling bird motif seen here. This was first introduced in the 1920s by the company.
Skilled operator at work in Leander Texas. With Facebook, Tesla and SamSung creating thousands of jobs nearby, new housing construction projects are all around the area.
I was once a sheep, #iSheep to be precise...
...blindfolded by #Apple Inc. for almost seven years, but now, I know better. :)
How else do you describe what these incredibly skilled pilots do for a living?
Just awesome to have your eyes track their precise path and form across the sky!
Superb!
#BlueAngels
#FleetWeek
#AlwaysSF
— in San Francisco, California.
Note on reverse : see Rückseite.
Another view from an album of the Lauenburgisches Jäger-Bataillon Nr. 9. The exact place, certainly in the 3rd line, is not specified.
Note au verso : voir scan.
Une autre vue d'un album du Lauenburgisches Jäger-Bataillon Nr. 9. L'endroit exact, certainement dans la 3ème ligne, n'est pas précisé.
atelier ying, nyc
This is a wonderful accessory for this famed conductor known for his precise yet lyric and exciting interpretations. Here the metaphor seems to be that he works the orchestra as a race car, recalled in the 35ti's ultra-cool dashboard atop the camera, and it's high quality optics. It is very difficult to modify such a tiny camera as the machinery is packed so densely inside. However, this design proposes twin hydroponic gardens reminiscent of Sir Georg's countryside hut in Roccamere where he studied orchestral scores and prepared for his seasons as music director of the Chicago Symphony. The gardens are a living memento of his favorite retreat, containing moss from the site. The "Swarovski" styling mimics piano keys as Solti was a concert pianist and spent much of his early career as a repetiteur for the ballet. Solti as a street photographer is an interesting proposition. His conducting style is visually unforgettable; you were either addicted to it or nauseated by it. i have a photo of him horsing around with a singer both of them carrying water guns during a picnic. The idea of Solti on a busy corner shooting street might be a tad intimidating. I've been making plans for more Solti-inspired cameras, his legendary Ring cycle recording, etc. It's easier for me to say things across a few designs rather than clump it all together in one creation. And I'd really like one of these Nikons too. The Rollei 35 is also on my mind.
Those that follow my drawings might ask themselves, why the combination of these unsuitable ideas for a camera? Actually, cameras with fantasies allow me to work and think at a detached aesthetic distance; it frees my mind, like the element of chance did in the work of John Cage or Marcel Duchamp.
Note that this plan is only for the all-black Nikon 35TI. Also, the "oxidized copper" moss cladding will need a breathable plastic cover for short term storage to protect the optics of the camera.
This design drawing is copyright 2013 by David Lo,
Kryžių kalnas, or the Hill of Crosses, (Lithuanian: Kryžių kalnas) is a site of pilgrimage about 12 km north of the city of Šiauliai in northern Lithuania. The precise origin of the practice of leaving crosses on the hill is uncertain, but it is believed that the first crosses were placed on the former hill fort after the 1831 Uprising in Poland, Lithuania, and other western regions of the Tsarist Empire. Over the generations, not only crosses and crucifixes, but statues of the Virgin Mary, carvings of Lithuanian patriots and thousands of tiny effigies and rosaries have been brought here by pilgrims. The exact number of crosses is unknown, but estimates put it at about 100,000 at present.
Over the generations, the place has come to signify the peaceful endurance of Lithuanian Catholicism despite the threats it faced throughout history. After the Third Partition of Poland in 1795, Lithuania became part of the Russian Empire. Poles and Lithuanians unsuccessfully rebelled against Russian authorities in 1831 and 1863. These two uprisings are connected with the beginnings of the hill: as families could not locate bodies of perished rebels, they started putting up symbolic crosses in their memory.
When the old political structure of Eastern Europe fell apart in 1918, Lithuania once again declared its independence. Throughout this time, the Hill of Crosses was used as a place for Lithuanians to pray for peace, for their country, and for the loved ones they had lost during the Wars of Independence.
The site took on a special significance during the years 1944–1990, when Lithuania was occupied by the Soviet Union. Continuing to travel to the hill and leave their tributes, Lithuanians used it to demonstrate their allegiance to their original identity, religion and heritage. It was a venue of peaceful resistance, although the Soviets worked hard to remove new crosses, and bulldozed the site at least three times (including attempts in 1963 and 1973). There were even rumors that the authorities planned to build a dam on the nearby Kulvė River, a tributary to Mūša, so that the hill would end up underwater.
On September 7, 1993, Pope John Paul II visited the Hill of Crosses, declaring it a place for hope, peace, love and sacrifice. In 2000 a Franciscan hermitage was opened nearby. The interior decoration draws links with La Verna, the mountain where St. Francis is said to have received his stigmata. The hill remains under nobody’s jurisdiction; therefore people are free to build crosses as they see fit.
Occasionally, significant parts of the site burn down in accidental fires. The site attracts pilgrims from across Europe, but especially Lithuania and Poland.
This description incorporates text from the English Wikipedia.
"L’Arche divine" repose dans la cathédrale de Lille, plus précisément dans la Chapelle Sainte-Anne, mère de la Vierge Marie selon la tradition. Elle est faite en grès de Saint-Amand et en terre cuite émaillée. Tirés de l’argile, un homme et une femme se regardent, s’enlacent, s’aiment. La main de l’homme s’approche du ventre de la femme sans encore le toucher. La main de la femme est grande ouverte. Ils attendent, ils espèrent accueillir un petit être… mais cela ne semble pas possible… Tout à leur amour et à leur désir, perçoivent-ils qu’ils sont dans une main plus grande qu’eux ? C’est celle du dieu qui les a créés, qui les a désirés de tout temps. Elle est comme une barque qui les berce, comme l’arche qui sauve du déluge et protège la vie. La main de Dieu, c’est l’Arche Divine : elle donne vie, conduit et sauve quiconque se confie à elle.
The "Divine Ark" rests in Lille Cathedral, more precisely in the Chapel of Saint Anne, mother of the Virgin Mary according to tradition. It is made of Saint-Amand sandstone and glazed terracotta. Drawn from the clay, a man and a woman gaze at each other, embrace, and love each other. The man's hand approaches the woman's womb without yet touching it. The woman's hand is wide open. They wait, they hope to welcome a tiny being... but it doesn't seem possible... Engrossed in their love and desire, do they perceive that they are in a hand greater than themselves? It is that of the god who created them, who has desired them from time immemorial. It is like a boat that rocks them, like the ark that saves from the flood and protects life. The hand of God is the Divine Ark: it gives life, guides, and saves anyone who entrusts themselves to it.
I recently decided to start using one of my old cameras, a Rank Aldis range finder to be precise, to document a some wanderings around London and Bristol. Using film makes a nice change and makes me slow down having a limited number of shots.
The 5th photo, is taken while walking around Camden stables market. The place can get a bit touristy but still worth a visit.
Singapore's Poh Swee Kiat Johnson in action during the 28th SEA Games Men's Individual Round 4 at the Sentosa Serapong Golf Course on 12 June 2015
Kryžių kalnas, or the Hill of Crosses, (Lithuanian: Kryžių kalnas) is a site of pilgrimage about 12 km north of the city of Šiauliai in northern Lithuania. The precise origin of the practice of leaving crosses on the hill is uncertain, but it is believed that the first crosses were placed on the former hill fort after the 1831 Uprising in Poland, Lithuania, and other western regions of the Tsarist Empire. Over the generations, not only crosses and crucifixes, but statues of the Virgin Mary, carvings of Lithuanian patriots and thousands of tiny effigies and rosaries have been brought here by pilgrims. The exact number of crosses is unknown, but estimates put it at about 100,000 at present.
Over the generations, the place has come to signify the peaceful endurance of Lithuanian Catholicism despite the threats it faced throughout history. After the Third Partition of Poland in 1795, Lithuania became part of the Russian Empire. Poles and Lithuanians unsuccessfully rebelled against Russian authorities in 1831 and 1863. These two uprisings are connected with the beginnings of the hill: as families could not locate bodies of perished rebels, they started putting up symbolic crosses in their memory.
When the old political structure of Eastern Europe fell apart in 1918, Lithuania once again declared its independence. Throughout this time, the Hill of Crosses was used as a place for Lithuanians to pray for peace, for their country, and for the loved ones they had lost during the Wars of Independence.
The site took on a special significance during the years 1944–1990, when Lithuania was occupied by the Soviet Union. Continuing to travel to the hill and leave their tributes, Lithuanians used it to demonstrate their allegiance to their original identity, religion and heritage. It was a venue of peaceful resistance, although the Soviets worked hard to remove new crosses, and bulldozed the site at least three times (including attempts in 1963 and 1973). There were even rumors that the authorities planned to build a dam on the nearby Kulvė River, a tributary to Mūša, so that the hill would end up underwater.
On September 7, 1993, Pope John Paul II visited the Hill of Crosses, declaring it a place for hope, peace, love and sacrifice. In 2000 a Franciscan hermitage was opened nearby. The interior decoration draws links with La Verna, the mountain where St. Francis is said to have received his stigmata. The hill remains under nobody’s jurisdiction; therefore people are free to build crosses as they see fit.
Occasionally, significant parts of the site burn down in accidental fires. The site attracts pilgrims from across Europe, but especially Lithuania and Poland.
This description incorporates text from the English Wikipedia.
Une photo n'est pas toujours capable de montrer aussi précisément les détails que ce que nos yeux voient, encore moins de faire vivre les sensations percues dans un endroit ou á un moment donné, comme la chaleur, l'ambiance, la lumière, les odeurs etc. Les émotions ressenties rendent magiques ces instants, il est probable que personne ne puisse les apprécier á notre manière. Les photos qui nous font vibrer suite á ce vécu ne recoivent parfois pas l'attention que l'on croirait, ce n'est pas grave, elle font partie de notre jardin secret...
No siempre puede una foto mostrar precisamente los detalles que nuestros ojos ven, aún menos hacer vivir las sensaciones percibidas en un lugar o en un momento dado, como el calor, el ambiente, la luz, las fragancias, etc. Las emociones experimentadas hacen que estén mágicos estos instantes, es probable que nadie pueda apreciarlas a nuestra manera. A veces las fotos que nos hacen vibrar por lo vivido no reciben la atención que se pensaría, no esta grave, hacen parte de nuestro jardín secreto...
November 13th, to be precise...almost twenty years ago. 😲
This was taken at the county jail, believe it or not. I wasn't interested in having a fancy wedding, so we did the deed before a magistrate. And she just happened to be at the jail processing facility....so there you go. Our neighbors across the street were witnesses. Oh, if hubby only knew what was in store for him. 😜
Terrible photo, I know. It was one of those disposable cameras. 😫
Diffused light illuminating a pile of wood next to yellow posts which, in turn, frame metallic pipes is the kind of scene which makes me stop in my tracks to make a photo. As luck would have it, that precise thing happened to me today.
Kryžių kalnas, or the Hill of Crosses, (Lithuanian: Kryžių kalnas) is a site of pilgrimage about 12 km north of the city of Šiauliai in northern Lithuania. The precise origin of the practice of leaving crosses on the hill is uncertain, but it is believed that the first crosses were placed on the former hill fort after the 1831 Uprising in Poland, Lithuania, and other western regions of the Tsarist Empire. Over the generations, not only crosses and crucifixes, but statues of the Virgin Mary, carvings of Lithuanian patriots and thousands of tiny effigies and rosaries have been brought here by pilgrims. The exact number of crosses is unknown, but estimates put it at about 100,000 at present.
Over the generations, the place has come to signify the peaceful endurance of Lithuanian Catholicism despite the threats it faced throughout history. After the Third Partition of Poland in 1795, Lithuania became part of the Russian Empire. Poles and Lithuanians unsuccessfully rebelled against Russian authorities in 1831 and 1863. These two uprisings are connected with the beginnings of the hill: as families could not locate bodies of perished rebels, they started putting up symbolic crosses in their memory.
When the old political structure of Eastern Europe fell apart in 1918, Lithuania once again declared its independence. Throughout this time, the Hill of Crosses was used as a place for Lithuanians to pray for peace, for their country, and for the loved ones they had lost during the Wars of Independence.
The site took on a special significance during the years 1944–1990, when Lithuania was occupied by the Soviet Union. Continuing to travel to the hill and leave their tributes, Lithuanians used it to demonstrate their allegiance to their original identity, religion and heritage. It was a venue of peaceful resistance, although the Soviets worked hard to remove new crosses, and bulldozed the site at least three times (including attempts in 1963 and 1973). There were even rumors that the authorities planned to build a dam on the nearby Kulvė River, a tributary to Mūša, so that the hill would end up underwater.
On September 7, 1993, Pope John Paul II visited the Hill of Crosses, declaring it a place for hope, peace, love and sacrifice. In 2000 a Franciscan hermitage was opened nearby. The interior decoration draws links with La Verna, the mountain where St. Francis is said to have received his stigmata. The hill remains under nobody’s jurisdiction; therefore people are free to build crosses as they see fit.
Occasionally, significant parts of the site burn down in accidental fires. The site attracts pilgrims from across Europe, but especially Lithuania and Poland.
This description incorporates text from the English Wikipedia.
This was taken on Greenwich Ave & W 12th.
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This set of photos is based on a very simple concept: walk every block of Manhattan with a camera, and see what happens. To avoid missing anything, walk both sides of the street.
That's all there is to it …
Of course, if you wanted to be more ambitious, you could also walk the streets of Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island, and the Bronx. But that's more than I'm willing to commit to at this point, and I'll leave the remaining boroughs of New York City to other, more adventurous photographers.
Oh, actually, there's one more small detail: leave the photos alone for a month -- unedited, untouched, and unviewed. By the time I actually focus on the first of these "every-block" photos, I will have taken more than 8,000 images on the nearby streets of the Upper West Side -- plus another several thousand in Rome, Coney Island, and the various spots in NYC where I traditionally take photos. So I don't expect to be emotionally attached to any of the "every-block" photos, and hope that I'll be able to make an objective selection of the ones worth looking at.
As for the criteria that I've used to select the small subset of every-block photos that get uploaded to Flickr: there are three. First, I'll upload any photo that I think is "great," and where I hope the reaction of my Flickr-friends will be, "I have no idea when or where that photo was taken, but it's really a terrific picture!"
A second criterion has to do with place, and the third involves time. I'm hoping that I'll take some photos that clearly say, "This is New York!" to anyone who looks at it. Obviously, certain landscape icons like the Empire State Building or the Statue of Liberty would satisfy that criterion; but I'm hoping that I'll find other, more unexpected examples. I hope that I'll be able to take some shots that will make a "local" viewer say, "Well, even if that's not recognizable to someone from another part of the country, or another part of the world, I know that that's New York!" And there might be some photos where a "non-local" viewer might say, "I had no idea that there was anyplace in New York City that was so interesting/beautiful/ugly/spectacular."
As for the sense of time: I remember wandering around my neighborhood in 2005, photographing various shops, stores, restaurants, and business establishments -- and then casually looking at the photos about five years later, and being stunned by how much had changed. Little by little, store by store, day by day, things change … and when you've been around as long as I have, it's even more amazing to go back and look at the photos you took thirty or forty years ago, and ask yourself, "Was it really like that back then? Seriously, did people really wear bell-bottom jeans?"
So, with the expectation that I'll be looking at these every-block photos five or ten years from now (and maybe you will be, too), I'm going to be doing my best to capture scenes that convey the sense that they were taken in the year 2013 … or at least sometime in the decade of the 2010's (I have no idea what we're calling this decade yet). Or maybe they'll just say to us, "This is what it was like a dozen years after 9-11".
Movie posters are a trivial example of such a time-specific image; I've already taken a bunch, and I don't know if I'll ultimately decide that they're worth uploading. Women's fashion/styles are another obvious example of a time-specific phenomenon; and even though I'm definitely not a fashion expert, I suspected that I'll be able to look at some images ten years from now and mutter to myself, "Did we really wear shirts like that? Did women really wear those weird skirts that are short in the front, and long in the back? Did everyone in New York have a tattoo?"
Another example: I'm fascinated by the interactions that people have with their cellphones out on the street. It seems that everyone has one, which certainly wasn't true a decade ago; and it seems that everyone walks down the street with their eyes and their entire conscious attention riveted on this little box-like gadget, utterly oblivious about anything else that might be going on (among other things, that makes it very easy for me to photograph them without their even noticing, particularly if they've also got earphones so they can listen to music or carry on a phone conversation). But I can't help wondering whether this kind of social behavior will seem bizarre a decade from now … especially if our cellphones have become so miniaturized that they're incorporated into the glasses we wear, or implanted directly into our eyeballs.
Oh, one last thing: I've created a customized Google Map to show the precise details of each day's photo-walk. I'll be updating it each day, and the most recent part of my every-block journey will be marked in red, to differentiate it from all of the older segments of the journey, which will be shown in blue. You can see the map, and peek at it each day to see where I've been, by clicking on this link
URL link to Ed's every-block progress through Manhattan
If you have any suggestions about places that I should definitely visit to get some good photos, or if you'd like me to photograph you in your little corner of New York City, please let me know. You can send me a Flickr-mail message, or you can email me directly at ed-at-yourdon-dot-com
Stay tuned as the photo-walk continues, block by block ...
1910, a cold winter morning at Bahnhof Lörrach in Baden. Hans is on his way home after a 12 hours shift. Finally he has time to light up his cigar. Whilst doing so he notices a peculiar smell. It was at that precise moment in time Hans knew he f’d up..
Vierachsige Gaswagen mit Presspumpenanlage Gr. 89
Whilst doing research last year for my four axled coal self-unloader coal cars I stumbled on to this beauty. A four axled Gas transport car with pumphouse. In 1909 the company Van der Zypen & Charlier delivered two of these gas transport cars to the Baden State Railways (Bad StB). They were used to provide railway stations with gas for lanterns and lights. They came in service with the numbers 887 and 888.
The under carriage is based on a SSml flatcar with diamond type boogies. On top of this are four 13m3 gas cannisters and between the top two also a 1,7m3 cannister for cooling water. The cannisters were secured with wooden blocks made from oak and steel bands. At one side was an operating house located with a 5hp Deutz motor for pumping purposes.
More info about these cars: www.diehugs.de/Wagen/Guterwagen/Bahndienstwagen/Gaswagen/...
I've struggled with rigid hose and bars to make the bands around the cannisters. Everything I tried ended up looking too big. I had a real ‘Eureka!’ moment finding out that flex hose (part 27965) fits perfectly!
I’m having a bit of a backlog creating decals for some of my models so I’ve decided to post ‘un-finished’ constructions.
PS check out that shiny new HA Bricks magnetic coupler! Twice the clutching power of the old LEGO magnet and available in the online store.
"Dive bombing requires precise maneuverability and accuracy to fly at steep trajectory and hit a moving target. The Douglas SBD Dauntless was sturdy enough for pilots to dive at a near-vertical 80 degrees. The US Navyâs primary dive-bomber at the warâs start, the bomber earned its reputationâand helped earn victoryâat the 1942 Battle of Midway, sinking four Japanese carriers. By some accounts, the Dauntless sank more Japanese ships than any other plane.
SBD-3 Dauntless Dive Bomber
SBD-3, Bureau Number (BuNo) 06508 was built by Douglas Aircraft Company at El Segundo, California, and is a combat veteran of the Guadalcanal Campaign operating from Henderson Field by Marine Scout Bombing Squadrons (VMSB) 141 and 132. In the spring of 1943, BuNo 06508 was assigned to Navy Bombing Squadron 10 aboard the aircraft carrier Enterprise for a short time before being returned to the States to serve as a trainer at Naval Air Station Glenview, Illinois. In November 1944, this aircraft was lost on a training flight in Lake Michigan where it remained until 1990 when it was recovered by the US Navy and restored to its present condition." - www.nationalww2museum.org
Ahi weaves precise slashes and pyroclastic strikes to form his unique eruptive fighting style, leaving only ash and obsidian in his wake.
Made some changes to Ahi. The shins have been replaced to be more sleek, and some of the torso colors have been changed to be less messy. Also, the sword blade is the correct color. The leg articulation is a lot better in this version, so he can actually pull off some neat poses.
Windsor (/ˈwɪnzər/) is a town and unparished area in the Royal Borough of Windsor and Maidenhead in Berkshire, England. It is widely known as the site of Windsor Castle, one of the official residences of the British Royal Family.
The town is situated 23 miles (37 km) west of Charing Cross, London. It is immediately south of the River Thames, which forms its boundary with Eton. The village of Old Windsor, just over 2 miles (3 km) to the south, predates what is now called Windsor by around 300 years; in the past Windsor was formally referred to as New Windsor to distinguish the two.
The early history of the site is unknown, although it was almost certainly settled some years before 1070 when William the Conquerorhad a timber motte and bailey castle constructed.[2] The focus of royal interest at that time was not the castle, however, but a small riverside settlement about 3 miles (5 km) downstream, possibly established from the 7th century.
Windsor, or Windlesora as it was called in the 11th century, is first mentioned in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. The name originates from old English Windles-ore, or 'winch by the riverside'. The settlement had used an earlier name, but this is unknown. From about the 8th century, high status people started to visit the site occasionally, and possibly this included royalty. From the 11th century the site's link with king Edward the Confessor is documented, but again, information about his use of the place is scant. After the Conquest of 1066 royal use of the site increased, probably because it offered good access to woodlands and opportunities for hunting – a sport which also practised military skills. By the late 12th century, and the relocation of the royal household to an enlarged castle in 1110, the site was renamed Old Windsor.
Windsor Castle is noted in the Domesday Bookunder the entry for Clewer, the neighbouring manor to Windsor. Although this might seem strange, it occurred because plans for the castle had changed since 1070, and more land had been acquired in Clewer on which to site a castle town. This plan was not actioned until the early 12th century. By 1110, meetings of the Great Council, which had previously taken place at Windlesora, were noted as taking place at the Castle – referred to as New Windsor, probably to indicate that it was a two ward castle/borough complex, similar to other early castle designs, such as Denbigh. Henry I – according to one chronicle – had rebuilt it, and this followed the Norman kings' actions at other royal sites, such as Westminster, where larger and more magnificent accommodation was thought necessary for the new dynasty. King Henry married his second wife at Windsor Castle in 1121, after the White Ship disaster. The settlement at Old Windsor largely transferred to New Windsor during the 12th century, although substantial planning and setting out of the new town (including the parish church, marketplace, bridge, hermitage and leper hospital) did not take place until c. 1170, under Henry II, following the civil war of Stephen's reign. At about the same time, the present upper ward of the castle was rebuilt in stone. Windsor Bridge is the earliest bridge on the Thames between Staines and Reading, built at a time when bridge building was rare; it was first documented in 1191, but had probably been built, according to the Pipe rolls, in 1173. It played an important part in the national road system, linking London with Reading and Winchester, but also, by diverting traffic into the new town, it underpinned the success of its fledgling economy.
The town of New Windsor, as an ancient demesne of the Crown, was a privileged settlement from the start, apparently having the rights of a 'free borough', for which other towns had to pay substantial fees to the king. It had a merchant guild (known by the 14th century as the Fraternity or brotherhood of the Holy Trinity) from the early 13th century and, under royal patronage, was made the chief town of the county in 1277, as part of its grant of royal borough status by Edward I's charter. Somewhat unusually, this charter gave no new rights or privileges to Windsor but probably codified the rights which it had enjoyed for many years. Windsor's position as chief town of Berkshire was short-lived, however, as people found it difficult to reach. Wallingford took over this position in the early 14th century. As a self-governing town Windsor enjoyed a number of freedoms unavailable to other towns, including the right to hold its own borough court, the right of membership (or 'freedom') and some financial independence. The town accounts of the 16th century survive in part, although most of the once substantial borough archive dating back to the 12th century was destroyed, probably in the late 17th century.
The early history of the site is unknown, although it was almost certainly settled some years before 1070 when William the Conquerorhad a timber motte and bailey castle constructed.[2] The focus of royal interest at that time was not the castle, however, but a small riverside settlement about 3 miles (5 km) downstream, possibly established from the 7th century.
Windsor, or Windlesora as it was called in the 11th century, is first mentioned in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. The name originates from old English Windles-ore, or 'winch by the riverside'. The settlement had used an earlier name, but this is unknown. From about the 8th century, high status people started to visit the site occasionally, and possibly this included royalty. From the 11th century the site's link with king Edward the Confessor is documented, but again, information about his use of the place is scant. After the Conquest of 1066 royal use of the site increased, probably because it offered good access to woodlands and opportunities for hunting – a sport which also practised military skills. By the late 12th century, and the relocation of the royal household to an enlarged castle in 1110, the site was renamed Old Windsor.
Windsor Castle is noted in the Domesday Bookunder the entry for Clewer, the neighbouring manor to Windsor. Although this might seem strange, it occurred because plans for the castle had changed since 1070, and more land had been acquired in Clewer on which to site a castle town. This plan was not actioned until the early 12th century. By 1110, meetings of the Great Council, which had previously taken place at Windlesora, were noted as taking place at the Castle – referred to as New Windsor, probably to indicate that it was a two ward castle/borough complex, similar to other early castle designs, such as Denbigh. Henry I – according to one chronicle – had rebuilt it, and this followed the Norman kings' actions at other royal sites, such as Westminster, where larger and more magnificent accommodation was thought necessary for the new dynasty. King Henry married his second wife at Windsor Castle in 1121, after the White Ship disaster. The settlement at Old Windsor largely transferred to New Windsor during the 12th century, although substantial planning and setting out of the new town (including the parish church, marketplace, bridge, hermitage and leper hospital) did not take place until c. 1170, under Henry II, following the civil war of Stephen's reign. At about the same time, the present upper ward of the castle was rebuilt in stone. Windsor Bridge is the earliest bridge on the Thames between Staines and Reading, built at a time when bridge building was rare; it was first documented in 1191, but had probably been built, according to the Pipe rolls, in 1173. It played an important part in the national road system, linking London with Reading and Winchester, but also, by diverting traffic into the new town, it underpinned the success of its fledgling economy.
The town of New Windsor, as an ancient demesne of the Crown, was a privileged settlement from the start, apparently having the rights of a 'free borough', for which other towns had to pay substantial fees to the king. It had a merchant guild (known by the 14th century as the Fraternity or brotherhood of the Holy Trinity) from the early 13th century and, under royal patronage, was made the chief town of the county in 1277, as part of its grant of royal borough status by Edward I's charter. Somewhat unusually, this charter gave no new rights or privileges to Windsor but probably codified the rights which it had enjoyed for many years. Windsor's position as chief town of Berkshire was short-lived, however, as people found it difficult to reach. Wallingford took over this position in the early 14th century. As a self-governing town Windsor enjoyed a number of freedoms unavailable to other towns, including the right to hold its own borough court, the right of membership (or 'freedom') and some financial independence. The town accounts of the 16th century survive in part, although most of the once substantial borough archive dating back to the 12th century was destroyed, probably in the late 17th century.
The Last Supper by Franz de Cleyn in the West Gallery of Windsor parish church of St John The Baptist.[3]
New Windsor was a nationally significant town in the Middle Ages, certainly one of the fifty wealthiest towns in the country by 1332. Its prosperity came from its close association with the royal household. The repeated investment in the castle brought London merchants (goldsmiths, vintners, spicers and mercers) to the town in the late 13th century and provided much employment for townsmen. The development of the castle under Edward III, between 1350–68, was the largest secular building project in England of the Middle Ages, and many Windsor people worked on this project, again bringing great wealth to the town. Although the Black Death in 1348 had reduced some towns' populations by up to 50%, in Windsor the building projects of Edward III brought money to the town, and possibly its population doubled: this was a 'boom' time for the local economy. People came to the town from every part of the country, and from continental Europe. The poet Geoffrey Chaucerheld the honorific post of 'Clerk of the Works' at Windsor Castle in 1391.
The development of the castle continued in the late 15th century with the rebuilding of St George's Chapel. With this Windsor became a major pilgrimage destination, particularly for Londoners. Pilgrims came to touch the royal shrine of the murdered Henry VI, the fragment of the True Cross and other important relics. Visits to the chapel were probably combined with a visit to the important nearby Marian shrine and college at Eton, founded by Henry VI in 1440, and dedicated to the Assumption; which is now better known as Eton College. Pilgrims came with substantial sums to spend. From perhaps two or three named inns in the late 15th century, some 30 can be identified a century later. The town again grew in wealth. For London pilgrims, Windsor was probably – but briefly – of greater importance than Canterbury and the shrine of the City's patron Saint Thomas Becket. With the closures of the Reformation, however, Windsor's pilgrim traffic died out. Henry VIII was buried in St George's Chapel in 1547, next to Jane Seymour, the mother of his only legitimate son, Edward (Edward VI). Henry, the founder of the Church of England, may have wanted to benefit from the stream of Catholic pilgrims coming to the town. His will gives that impression.
The town began to stagnate about ten years after the Reformation. The castle was considered old-fashioned and shrines to the dead were thought to be superstitious. The early modern period formed a stark contrast to the medieval history of the town. Most accounts of Windsor in the 16th and 17th centuries talk of its poverty, badly made streets and poor housing. Shakespeare's play The Merry Wives of Windsor is set in Windsor and contains many references to parts of the town and the surrounding countryside. Shakespeare must have walked the town's streets, near the castle and river, much as people still do. The play may have been written in the Garter Inn, opposite the Castle, but this was destroyed by fire in the late 17th century. The long-standing – and famous – courtesan of king Charles II, Nell Gwyn, was given a house on St Albans Street: Burford House (now part of the Royal Mews). Her residence in this house, as far as it is possible to tell, was brief. Only one of her letters addressed from Burford House survives: it was probably intended as a legacy for her illegitimate son, the Earl of Burford, later the Duke of St Albans.
Windsor was garrisoned by Colonel Venn during the English Civil War. Later it became the home of the New Model Army when Venn had left the castle in 1645. Despite its royal dependence, like many commercial centres, Windsor was a Parliamentarian town. Charles Iwas buried without ceremony in St George's Chapel after his execution at Whitehall in 1649. The present Guildhall, built in 1680–91, replaced an earlier market house that had been built on the same site around 1580, as well as the old guildhall, which faced the castle and had been built around 1350. The contraction in the number of old public buildings speaks of a town 'clearing the decks', ready for a renewed period of prosperity with Charles II's return to the Castle. But his successors did not use the place, and as the town was short of money, the planned new civic buildings did not appear. The town continued in poverty until the mid 19th century.
In 1652 the largest house in Windsor Great Park was built on land which Oliver Cromwell had appropriated from the Crown. Now known as Cumberland Lodge after the Duke of Cumberland's residence there in the mid 18th century, the house was variously known as Byfield House, New Lodge, Ranger's Lodge, Windsor Lodge and Great Lodge.
In 1778, there was a resumption of the royal presence, with George III at the Queen's Lodge and, from 1804, at the castle. This started a period of new development in Windsor, with the building of two army barracks. However the associated large numbers of soldiers led to a major prostitution problem by 1830, in a town where the number of streets had little changed since 1530. In the 18th c. the town traded with London selling the Windsor Chair which was actually made in Buckinghamshire.
A number of fine houses were built in this period, including Hadleigh House on Sheet Street, which was built in 1793 by the then Mayor of Windsor, William Thomas. In 1811 it was the home of John O'Reilly, the apothecary-surgeon to George III.
Windsor Castle was the westernmost sighting-point for the Anglo-French Survey (1784–1790), which measured the precise distance between the Royal Greenwich Observatory and the Paris Observatory by trigonometry. Windsor was used because of its relative proximity to the base-line of the survey at Hounslow Heath.
The substantial redevelopment of the castle in the subsequent decade and Queen Victoria's residence from 1840, as well as the coming of two railways in 1849, signalled the most dramatic changes in the town's history. These events catapulted the town from a sleepy medieval has-been to the centre of empire – many European crowned heads of state came to Windsor to visit the Queen throughout the rest of the 19th century. Unfortunately, excessive redevelopment and 'refurbishment' of Windsor's medieval fabric at this time resulted in widespread destruction of the old town, including the demolition of the old parish church of St John the Baptist in 1820. The original had been built around 1135.
Most of the current town's streets date from the mid to late 19th century.[5] However the main street, Peascod Street (pronunciation: /ˈpɛskɒd/) is very ancient, predating the castle by many years, and probably of Saxon origin. It formed part of the 10th-century parish structure in east Berkshire[citation needed] and is first referred to as Peascroftstret in c. 1170. The 1000-year-old royal Castle, although the largest and longest-occupied in Europe, is a recent development in comparison. "New Windsor" was officially renamed "Windsor" in 1974.
is accessible from Junction 6 of the M4 and from Slough via a 3 mile long dual carriageway. Bus services in the town are mostly provided by First Berkshire & The Thames Valley, although a park-and-rideservice and one local route are operated by Courtney Coaches.
Windsor has two railway stations. Windsor & Eton Central railway station has a shuttle service to Slough. Windsor & Eton Riverside station provides a service to London Waterloo. Both stations were time in the 19th century, as the two train companies which owned the lines both wanted to carry Queen Victoria to Windsor, with the first line opened gaining the privilege.[8] From 1883 to 1885, the London Underground's District line's westbound service ran as far as Windsor.
Windsor has frequent bus services to/from London Heathrow Airport, Victoria Coach Station in central London and Legoland Windsor Resort.
Renamed the Burlington Bay James N. Allan Skyway Bridge to be precise(I use the locals' original name "Skyway").
This bridge is a rare surviving example in Canada of a suspended deck truss bridge. The suspended deck variety of truss has the appearance of a though arch bridge, but functions as a arch-shaped continuous through truss. The arch shape of the truss takes the truss far above the height of the deck at the center of the span, and thus the deck must be connected to this section of the truss by hangers, which is the suspended deck portion of the bridge. A high level bridge that allows freighters to pass under the fixed bridge, this bridge has a very long approach system of deck truss and deck girder spans.
The bridge has a number of unusual details. The approach spans are unusual because they include a series of spans that are supported by two alternating types of supports: traditional concrete piers and unusual riveted steel piers. It is unclear why two different supports were used. The bridge also has unusual trussed floor beams. Floor beams are more commonly solid rolled or built-up i-beams. The trussed floor beams give the underside of the bridge a unique geometric complexity.
The bridge's channel span is 495 feet (150.9 meters) while the anchor spans on either side are 275 feet (83.8 meters).
John Turner Bell was a noted Hamilton architect who assisted in the design of this bridge. The famous Philip Louis Pratley was the consulting engineer for the bridge, although he died in 1958, the year this bridge was completed.
For such a major bridge, very little online information about the history of this bridge is available. HistoricBridges.org hopes to expand this article with additional information in the future.
In 1985, this bridge was turned into part of a one way couplet of bridges with the construction of a second high level bridge at this location. Now, the heritage bridge carries traffic toward Toronto while the new bridge carries traffic toward the Niagara Region. The construction of this second bridge is sometimes described as the "twinning" of the bridge. Such a statement is highly inaccurate and misleading however. The replacement bridge is one of the ugliest bridges ever encountered, with the appearance of little more than a slab of concrete. Visually, the second bridge only serves to obstruct the view of the heritage bridge. Absolutely no attempt appears to have been made to make the second bridge compliment the heritage bridge. The second bridge is useful however as a "teaching tool" to describe how most post 1970 bridges lack aesthetics or beauty of any kind, while unaltered pre-1970 bridges usually include at least some level of aesthetic quality.
At 417 feet high (127m), the Glasgow Tower is the highest tower in the world that can rotate 360 degrees - it moves round like a weathervane.
This can be found at the Glasgow Science Centre - it's pretty difficult to miss! More info.
It is still uncertain the precise function of this large building, also known as Domitian's stadium (Stadio di Domiziano) or "Circus Agonalis". The stadium was part of the imperial palace and was surrounded by a two-story portico. Maybe it was not just an hippodrome, but more in general, it was the “viridarium” (the garden), private place where the emperor he could walk on sunny days and watch the races.
Precise work with my glasses off, not only to get the thread through the needle, but to have and keep the focus on the needle and my eye behind it as well.
Manual focus appeared the best option here, and I measured the distance between lens and needle for each shot. Many shots were still out of focus but some succeeded.
ODC - Theme (13-10-2012): Eyes
Created in the 1930s and redeveloped in more recent years to include artist-designed ornamental gardens, events area, play area with splash pad, Café and toilets. Grassed areas and riverside walks for quiet relaxation, picnics and kite flying or more vigorous pursuits such as running and cycling.
Chester-le-Street is a market town in the County Durham district, in the ceremonial county of Durham, England. It is located around 6 miles (10 kilometres) north of Durham and is also close to Newcastle upon Tyne. The town holds markets on Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays. In 2011, it had a population of 24,227.
The town's history is ancient; records date to a Roman-built fort called Concangis. The Roman fort is the Chester (from the Latin castra) of the town's name; the Street refers to the paved Roman road that ran north–south through the town, now the route called Front Street. The parish church of St Mary and St Cuthbert is where the body of Anglo-Saxon St Cuthbert remained for 112 years before being transferred to Durham Cathedral and site of the first Gospels translation into English, Aldred writing the Old English gloss between the lines of the Lindisfarne Gospels there.
The Romans founded a fort named Concangis or Concagium, which was a Latinisation of the original Celtic name for the area, which also gave name to the waterway through the town, Cong Burn. The precise name is uncertain as it does not appear in Roman records, but Concangis is the name most cited today. Although a meaning "Place of the horse people" has been given, scholarly authorities consider the meaning of the name obscure.
Old English forms of the name include Cuneceastra and Conceastre, which takes its first two syllables from the Roman name, with the addition of the Old English word ceaster 'Roman fortification' The Universal etymological English dictionary of 1749 gives the town as Chester upon Street (and describes it as "a Village in the Bishoprick of Durham"). At some point this was shortened to the modern form.
There is evidence of Iron Age use of the River Wear near the town, but the history of Chester-le-Street starts with the Roman fort of Concangis. This was built alongside the Roman road Cade's Road (now Front Street) and close to the River Wear, around 100 A.D., and was occupied until the Romans left Britain in 410 A.D. At the time, the Wear was navigable to at least Concangis and may also have provided food for the garrisons stationed there.
After the Romans left, there is no record of who lived there (apart from some wounded soldiers from wars who had to live there), until 883 when a group of monks, driven out of Lindisfarne seven years earlier, stopped there to build a wooden shrine and church to St Cuthbert, whose body they had borne with them. While they were there, the town was the centre of Christianity for much of the north-east because it was the seat of the Bishop of Lindisfarne, making the church a cathedral. There the monks translated into English the Lindisfarne Gospels, which they had brought with them. They stayed for 112 years, leaving in 995 for the safer and more permanent home at Durham. The title has been revived as the Roman Catholic titular see of Cuncacestre.
The church was rebuilt in stone in 1054 and, despite the loss of its bishopric, seems to have retained a degree of wealth and influence. In 1080, most of the huts in the town were burned and many people killed in retaliation for the death of William Walcher, the first prince-bishop, at the hands of an English mob. After this devastation wrought by the Normans the region was left out of the Domesday Book of 1086; there was little left to record and the region was by then being run from Durham by the prince-bishops, so held little interest for London.
Cade's Road did not fall out of use but was hidden beneath later roads which became the Great North Road, the main route from London and the south to Newcastle and Edinburgh. The town's location on the road played a significant role in its development, as well as its name, as inns sprang up to cater for the travelling trade: both riders and horses needed to rest on journeys usually taking days to complete. This trade reached a peak in the early 19th century as more and more people and new mail services were carried by stagecoach, before falling off with the coming of the railways. The town was bypassed when the A167 was routed around the town and this was later supplanted by the faster A1(M).
The coal industry also left its mark on the town. From the late 17th century onwards, coal was dug in increasing quantities in the region. Mining was centred around the rivers, for transportation by sea to other parts of the country, and Chester-le-Street was at the centre of the coal being dug and shipped away down the Wear, so a centre of coal related communication and commerce. At the same time, the growth of the mines and the influx of miners supported local businesses, not just the many inns but new shops and services, themselves bringing in more people to work in them. These people would later work in new industries established in the town to take advantage of its good communications and access to raw materials.
One of the most tragic episodes in the town's history and that of the coal industry in NE England occurred during a miners' strike during the winter of 1811/12. Collieries owned by the Dean and Chapter of Durham Cathedral were brought to a standstill by the strike, causing much hardship amongst the people of the town. The strike was broken on New Year's Day, 1 January 1812, when the Bishop of Durham, Shute Barrington, sent a detachment of troops from Durham Castle to force a return to work. It is thought that this uncharacteristic act by Barrington was due to pressure from the national government in Westminster who were concerned that the strike was affecting industrial output of essential armaments for the Napoleonic Wars.
On the evening of 5 October 1936, the Jarrow Marchers stopped at the town centre after their first day's walk. The church hall was used to house them before they continued onward the following day.
From 1894 until 2009, local government districts were governed from the town. From 1894 to 1974, it had a rural district, which covered the town and outlying villages. In 1909, the inner rural district formed an urban district, which covered the town as it was at that time.
By 1974, the town expanded out of the urban district, during that year's reforms the urban and rural districts, as well as other areas formed a non-metropolitan district. It was abolished in 2009 reforms when the non-metropolitan county became a unitary authority.
The town has a mild climate and gets well below average rainfall relative to the UK. It does though experience occasional floods. To the east of the town lies the Riverside cricket ground and Riverside Park. They were built on the flood plains of the River Wear, and are often flooded when the river bursts its banks. The town centre is subject to occasional flash flooding, usually after very heavy rain over the town and surrounding areas, if the rain falls too quickly for it to be drained away by Cong Burn. The flooding occurs at the bottom of Front Street where the Cong Burn passes under the street, after it was enclosed in concrete in 1932.
Chester-le-Street's landmarks
A brick-red, elliptically curved arch, twice as wide as it is high, over an open area with a brick-red surface
Front of a three-storey building, six windows across, with a large-framed wood door at ground level and a painted sign with the words "THE QUEENS HEAD"
Square castle with square tower
A large railway viaduct made from red bricks, topped by railings and electric pylons
The general Post Office, the marketplace with the former Civic Heart sculpture (now demolished), the Queens Head Hotel on Front Street, Lumley Castle and Chester Burn viaduct
John Leland described Chester-le-Street in the 1530s as "Chiefly one main street of very mean building in height.", a sentiment echoed by Daniel Defoe.
The viaduct to the northwest of the town centre was completed in 1868 for the North Eastern Railway, to enable trains to travel at high speed on a more direct route between Newcastle and Durham. It is over 230m long with 11 arches, now spanning a road and supermarket car-park, and is a Grade II listed structure.
Lumley Castle was built in 1389. It is on the eastern bank of the River Wear and overlooks the town and the Riverside Park.
The Queens Head Hotel is located in the central area of the Front Street. It was built over 250 years ago when Front Street formed part of the main route from Edinburgh and Newcastle to London and the south of England. A Grade II listed building, it is set back from the street and is still one of the largest buildings in the town centre.
Chester-le-Street Post Office at 137 Front Street is in Art Deco style and replaced a smaller building located on the corner of Relton Terrace and Ivanhoe Terrace. It opened in 1936 and is unusual in that it is one of a handful[30] of post offices that display the royal cypher from the brief reign of Edward VIII.
Main article: St Mary and St Cuthbert, Chester-le-Street
St Mary and St Cuthbert church possesses a rare surviving anchorage, one of the best-preserved in the country. It was built for an anchorite, an extreme form of hermit. His or her walled-up cell had only a slit to observe the altar and an opening for food, while outside was an open grave for when the occupant died. It was occupied by six anchorites from 1383 to c. 1538, and is now a museum known as the Anker's House. The north aisle is occupied by a line of Lumley family effigies, only five genuine, assembled circa 1590. Some have been chopped off to fit and resemble a casualty station at Agincourt, according to Sir Simon Jenkins in his England's Thousand Best Churches. This and Lumley Castle are Chester-le-Street's only Grade I listed buildings.
The Bethel United Reformed church on Low Chare
The small United Reformed Church on Low Chare, just off the main Front Street, was built in 1814 as the Bethel Congregational Chapel and remodelled in 1860. It is still in use and is a Grade II listed building.
The Riverside Ground, known for sponsorship reasons as the Seat Unique Riverside, is home to Durham County Cricket Club which became a first class county in 1992. Since 1999, the ground has hosted many international fixtures, usually involving the England cricket team. The ground was also host to two fixtures at the 1999 Cricket World Cup, and three fixtures at the 2019 Cricket World Cup. The town also has its own cricket club, Chester-le-Street Cricket Club based at the Ropery Lane ground. They are the current Champions of the North East Premier League, won the national ECB 45 over tournament in 2009 and reached the quarter-final of the national 20/20 club championship in 2009.
Chester-le-Street Amateur Rowing Club is based on the River Wear near the Riverside cricket ground and has been there for over 100 years. During the summer months the club operate mainly on the river, but in the winter move to indoor sessions during the evenings and use the river at weekends.
The club has over 160 members of which 90 are junior members, with numbers increasing annually. The club are well thought of by British Rowing as a lead club for junior development with many juniors now competing at GB level, and some competing for GB at international events.
Medieval football was once played in the town. The game was played annually on Shrove Tuesday between the "Upstreeters" and "Downstreeters". Play started at 1 pm and finished at 6 pm. To start the game, the ball was thrown from a window in the centre of the town and in one game more than 400 players took part. The centre of the street was the dividing line and the winner was the side where the ball was (Up or Down) at 6 pm. It was played from the Middle Ages until 1932, when it was outlawed by the police and people trying to carry on the tradition were arrested. Chester-le-Street United F.C. were founded in 2020 and compete in the Northern Football League Division Two. In the 2022/23 season they finished above their local rivals Chester-le-Street Town F.C. who were founded in 1972 and compete in the Northern Football League Division Two and based just outside Chester-le-street in Chester Moor.
Chester-le-Street railway station is a stop on the East Coast Main Line of the National Rail network between Newcastle and Durham; it opened in 1868. The station is served by two train operating companies:
TransPennine Express provides services between Liverpool Lime Street, Manchester Piccadilly, Leeds, York, Durham and Newcastle;
Northern Trains runs a limited service in early mornings and evenings; destinations include Newcastle, Carlisle and Darlington.
The station is managed by Northern Trains.
The town is mentioned in the 1963 song "Slow Train" by Flanders and Swann:
No churns, no porter, no cat on a seat,
At Chorlton-cum-Hardy or Chester-le-Street.
Chester-le-Street's bus services are operated primarily by Go North East and Arriva North East; routes connect the town with Newcastle, Durham, Middlesbrough and Seaham.
The town is the original home of The Northern General Transport Company, which has since grown into Go North East; it operated from the Picktree Lane Depot until 2023 when it was demolished. It also pioneered the use of Minilink bus services in the North East in 1985.
Front Street first carried the A1 road, between London and Edinburgh, through the town. A bypass was built in the 1950s, which still exists today as the A167. The bypass road itself was partly bypassed by, and partly incorporated in, the A1(M) motorway in the 1970s.
The northern end of Front Street was once the start of the A6127, which is the road that would continue through Birtley, Gateshead and eventually over the Tyne Bridge; it become the A6127(M) central motorway in Newcastle upon Tyne. However, when the Gateshead-Newcastle Western Bypass of the A1(M) was opened, many roads in this area were renumbered; they followed the convention that roads originating between single digit A roads take their first digit from the single digit A road in an anticlockwise direction from their point of origin. Newcastle Road, which was formerly designated A1, is now unclassified. The A6127 was renamed the A167. Car traffic is now banned from the northern part of Front Street and it is restricted to buses, cyclists and delivery vehicles.
Education
Primary schools
Cestria Primary School
Bullion Lane Primary School
Woodlea Primary School
Lumley Junior and Infant School
Newker Primary School
Red Rose Primary School
Chester-le-Street CE Primary School
St Cuthbert's RCVA Primary School
Secondary schools
Park View School
Hermitage Academy
Notable people
Michael Barron, footballer
Aidan Chambers, children's author, Carnegie Medal and Hans Christian Andersen Award winner
William Browell Charlton, trade union leader, Durham County Colliery Enginemen's Association, National Federation of Colliery Enginemen and Boiler Firemen
Ellie Crisell, journalist and television presenter
Ronnie Dodd, footballer
Danny Graham, footballer
Andrew Hayden-Smith, actor and presenter
Grant Leadbitter, footballer
Sheila Mackie, artist
Jock Purdon, folk singer and poet
Adam Reach, footballer
Bryan Robson, former England football captain, and his brothers Justin and Gary, also footballers
Gavin Sutherland, conductor and pianist
Colin Todd, football manager and former England international player
Olga and Betty Turnbull, child entertainers of the 1930s who performed for royalty
Kevin "Geordie" Walker, guitarist of post-punk group Killing Joke
Peter Ward, footballer
Bruce Welch of pop group The Shadows
It is twinned with:
Germany Kamp-Lintfort in Germany.
County Durham, officially simply Durham is a ceremonial county in North East England. The county borders Northumberland and Tyne and Wear to the north, the North Sea to the east, North Yorkshire to the south, and Cumbria to the west. The largest settlement is Darlington, and the county town is the city of Durham.
The county has an area of 2,721 km2 (1,051 sq mi) and a population of 866,846. The latter is concentrated in the east; the south-east is part of the Teesside built-up area, which extends into North Yorkshire. After Darlington (92,363), the largest settlements are Hartlepool (88,855), Stockton-on-Tees (82,729), and Durham (48,069). For local government purposes the county comprises three unitary authority areas—County Durham, Darlington, and Hartlepool—and part of a fourth, Stockton-on-Tees. The county historically included the part of Tyne and Wear south of the River Tyne, and excluded the part of County Durham south of the River Tees.
The west of the county contains part of the North Pennines uplands, a national landscape. The hills are the source of the rivers Tees and Wear, which flow east and form the valleys of Teesdale and Weardale respectively. The east of the county is flatter, and contains by rolling hills through which the two rivers meander; the Tees forms the boundary with North Yorkshire in its lower reaches, and the Wear exits the county near Chester-le-Street in the north-east. The county's coast is a site of special scientific interest characterised by tall limestone and dolomite cliffs.
What is now County Durham was on the border of Roman Britain, and contains survivals of this era at sites such as Binchester Roman Fort. In the Anglo-Saxon period the region was part of the Kingdom of Northumbria. In 995 the city of Durham was founded by monks seeking a place safe from Viking raids to house the relics of St Cuthbert. Durham Cathedral was rebuilt after the Norman Conquest, and together with Durham Castle is now a World Heritage Site. By the late Middle Ages the county was governed semi-independently by the bishops of Durham and was also a buffer zone between England and Scotland. County Durham became heavily industrialised in the nineteenth century, when many collieries opened on the Durham coalfield. The Stockton and Darlington Railway, the world's first public railway to use steam locomotives, opened in 1825. Most collieries closed during the last quarter of the twentieth century, but the county's coal mining heritage is remembered in the annual Durham Miners' Gala.
Remains of Prehistoric Durham include a number of Neolithic earthworks.
The Crawley Edge Cairns and Heathery Burn Cave are Bronze Age sites. Maiden Castle, Durham is an Iron Age site.
Brigantia, the land of the Brigantes, is said to have included what is now County Durham.
There are archaeological remains of Roman Durham. Dere Street and Cade's Road run through what is now County Durham. There were Roman forts at Concangis (Chester-le-Street), Lavatrae (Bowes), Longovicium (Lanchester), Piercebridge (Morbium), Vindomora (Ebchester) and Vinovium (Binchester). (The Roman fort at Arbeia (South Shields) is within the former boundaries of County Durham.) A Romanised farmstead has been excavated at Old Durham.
Remains of the Anglo-Saxon period include a number of sculpted stones and sundials, the Legs Cross, the Rey Cross and St Cuthbert's coffin.
Around AD 547, an Angle named Ida founded the kingdom of Bernicia after spotting the defensive potential of a large rock at Bamburgh, upon which many a fortification was thenceforth built. Ida was able to forge, hold and consolidate the kingdom; although the native British tried to take back their land, the Angles triumphed and the kingdom endured.
In AD 604, Ida's grandson Æthelfrith forcibly merged Bernicia (ruled from Bamburgh) and Deira (ruled from York, which was known as Eforwic at the time) to create the Kingdom of Northumbria. In time, the realm was expanded, primarily through warfare and conquest; at its height, the kingdom stretched from the River Humber (from which the kingdom drew its name) to the Forth. Eventually, factional fighting and the rejuvenated strength of neighbouring kingdoms, most notably Mercia, led to Northumbria's decline. The arrival of the Vikings hastened this decline, and the Scandinavian raiders eventually claimed the Deiran part of the kingdom in AD 867 (which became Jórvík). The land that would become County Durham now sat on the border with the Great Heathen Army, a border which today still (albeit with some adjustments over the years) forms the boundaries between Yorkshire and County Durham.
Despite their success south of the river Tees, the Vikings never fully conquered the Bernician part of Northumbria, despite the many raids they had carried out on the kingdom. However, Viking control over the Danelaw, the central belt of Anglo-Saxon territory, resulted in Northumbria becoming isolated from the rest of Anglo-Saxon Britain. Scots invasions in the north pushed the kingdom's northern boundary back to the River Tweed, and the kingdom found itself reduced to a dependent earldom, its boundaries very close to those of modern-day Northumberland and County Durham. The kingdom was annexed into England in AD 954.
In AD 995, St Cuthbert's community, who had been transporting Cuthbert's remains around, partly in an attempt to avoid them falling into the hands of Viking raiders, settled at Dunholm (Durham) on a site that was defensively favourable due to the horseshoe-like path of the River Wear. St Cuthbert's remains were placed in a shrine in the White Church, which was originally a wooden structure but was eventually fortified into a stone building.
Once the City of Durham had been founded, the Bishops of Durham gradually acquired the lands that would become County Durham. Bishop Aldhun began this process by procuring land in the Tees and Wear valleys, including Norton, Stockton, Escomb and Aucklandshire in 1018. In 1031, King Canute gave Staindrop to the Bishops. This territory continued to expand, and was eventually given the status of a liberty. Under the control of the Bishops of Durham, the land had various names: the "Liberty of Durham", "Liberty of St Cuthbert's Land" "the lands of St Cuthbert between Tyne and Tees" or "the Liberty of Haliwerfolc" (holy Wear folk).
The bishops' special jurisdiction rested on claims that King Ecgfrith of Northumbria had granted a substantial territory to St Cuthbert on his election to the see of Lindisfarne in 684. In about 883 a cathedral housing the saint's remains was established at Chester-le-Street and Guthfrith, King of York granted the community of St Cuthbert the area between the Tyne and the Wear, before the community reached its final destination in 995, in Durham.
Following the Norman invasion, the administrative machinery of government extended only slowly into northern England. Northumberland's first recorded Sheriff was Gilebert from 1076 until 1080 and a 12th-century record records Durham regarded as within the shire. However the bishops disputed the authority of the sheriff of Northumberland and his officials, despite the second sheriff for example being the reputed slayer of Malcolm Canmore, King of Scots. The crown regarded Durham as falling within Northumberland until the late thirteenth century.
Following the Battle of Hastings, William the Conqueror appointed Copsig as Earl of Northumbria, thereby bringing what would become County Durham under Copsig's control. Copsig was, just a few weeks later, killed in Newburn. Having already being previously offended by the appointment of a non-Northumbrian as Bishop of Durham in 1042, the people of the region became increasingly rebellious. In response, in January 1069, William despatched a large Norman army, under the command of Robert de Comines, to Durham City. The army, believed to consist of 700 cavalry (about one-third of the number of Norman knights who had participated in the Battle of Hastings), entered the city, whereupon they were attacked, and defeated, by a Northumbrian assault force. The Northumbrians wiped out the entire Norman army, including Comines, all except for one survivor, who was allowed to take the news of this defeat back.
Following the Norman slaughter at the hands of the Northumbrians, resistance to Norman rule spread throughout Northern England, including a similar uprising in York. William The Conqueror subsequently (and successfully) attempted to halt the northern rebellions by unleashing the notorious Harrying of the North (1069–1070). Because William's main focus during the harrying was on Yorkshire, County Durham was largely spared the Harrying.
Anglo-Norman Durham refers to the Anglo-Norman period, during which Durham Cathedral was built.
Matters regarding the bishopric of Durham came to a head in 1293 when the bishop and his steward failed to attend proceedings of quo warranto held by the justices of Northumberland. The bishop's case went before parliament, where he stated that Durham lay outside the bounds of any English shire and that "from time immemorial it had been widely known that the sheriff of Northumberland was not sheriff of Durham nor entered within that liberty as sheriff. . . nor made there proclamations or attachments". The arguments appear to have prevailed, as by the fourteenth century Durham was accepted as a liberty which received royal mandates direct. In effect it was a private shire, with the bishop appointing his own sheriff. The area eventually became known as the "County Palatine of Durham".
Sadberge was a liberty, sometimes referred to as a county, within Northumberland. In 1189 it was purchased for the see but continued with a separate sheriff, coroner and court of pleas. In the 14th century Sadberge was included in Stockton ward and was itself divided into two wards. The division into the four wards of Chester-le-Street, Darlington, Easington and Stockton existed in the 13th century, each ward having its own coroner and a three-weekly court corresponding to the hundred court. The diocese was divided into the archdeaconries of Durham and Northumberland. The former is mentioned in 1072, and in 1291 included the deaneries of Chester-le-Street, Auckland, Lanchester and Darlington.
The term palatinus is applied to the bishop in 1293, and from the 13th century onwards the bishops frequently claimed the same rights in their lands as the king enjoyed in his kingdom.
The historic boundaries of County Durham included a main body covering the catchment of the Pennines in the west, the River Tees in the south, the North Sea in the east and the Rivers Tyne and Derwent in the north. The county palatinate also had a number of liberties: the Bedlingtonshire, Islandshire and Norhamshire exclaves within Northumberland, and the Craikshire exclave within the North Riding of Yorkshire. In 1831 the county covered an area of 679,530 acres (2,750.0 km2) and had a population of 253,910. These exclaves were included as part of the county for parliamentary electoral purposes until 1832, and for judicial and local-government purposes until the coming into force of the Counties (Detached Parts) Act 1844, which merged most remaining exclaves with their surrounding county. The boundaries of the county proper remained in use for administrative and ceremonial purposes until the Local Government Act 1972.
Boldon Book (1183 or 1184) is a polyptichum for the Bishopric of Durham.
Until the 15th century, the most important administrative officer in the Palatinate was the steward. Other officers included the sheriff, the coroners, the Chamberlain and the chancellor. The palatine exchequer originated in the 12th century. The palatine assembly represented the whole county, and dealt chiefly with fiscal questions. The bishop's council, consisting of the clergy, the sheriff and the barons, regulated judicial affairs, and later produced the Chancery and the courts of Admiralty and Marshalsea.
The prior of Durham ranked first among the bishop's barons. He had his own court, and almost exclusive jurisdiction over his men. A UNESCO site describes the role of the Prince-Bishops in Durham, the "buffer state between England and Scotland":
From 1075, the Bishop of Durham became a Prince-Bishop, with the right to raise an army, mint his own coins, and levy taxes. As long as he remained loyal to the king of England, he could govern as a virtually autonomous ruler, reaping the revenue from his territory, but also remaining mindful of his role of protecting England’s northern frontier.
A report states that the Bishops also had the authority to appoint judges and barons and to offer pardons.
There were ten palatinate barons in the 12th century, most importantly the Hyltons of Hylton Castle, the Bulmers of Brancepeth, the Conyers of Sockburne, the Hansards of Evenwood, and the Lumleys of Lumley Castle. The Nevilles owned large estates in the county. John Neville, 3rd Baron Neville de Raby rebuilt Raby Castle, their principal seat, in 1377.
Edward I's quo warranto proceedings of 1293 showed twelve lords enjoying more or less extensive franchises under the bishop. The repeated efforts of the Crown to check the powers of the palatinate bishops culminated in 1536 in the Act of Resumption, which deprived the bishop of the power to pardon offences against the law or to appoint judicial officers. Moreover, indictments and legal processes were in future to run in the name of the king, and offences to be described as against the peace of the king, rather than that of the bishop. In 1596 restrictions were imposed on the powers of the chancery, and in 1646 the palatinate was formally abolished. It was revived, however, after the Restoration, and continued with much the same power until 5 July 1836, when the Durham (County Palatine) Act 1836 provided that the palatine jurisdiction should in future be vested in the Crown.
During the 15th-century Wars of the Roses, Henry VI passed through Durham. On the outbreak of the Great Rebellion in 1642 Durham inclined to support the cause of Parliament, and in 1640 the high sheriff of the palatinate guaranteed to supply the Scottish army with provisions during their stay in the county. In 1642 the Earl of Newcastle formed the western counties into an association for the King's service, but in 1644 the palatinate was again overrun by a Scottish army, and after the Battle of Marston Moor (2 July 1644) fell entirely into the hands of Parliament.
In 1614, a Bill was introduced in Parliament for securing representation to the county and city of Durham and the borough of Barnard Castle. The bishop strongly opposed the proposal as an infringement of his palatinate rights, and the county was first summoned to return members to Parliament in 1654. After the Restoration of 1660 the county and city returned two members each. In the wake of the Reform Act of 1832 the county returned two members for two divisions, and the boroughs of Gateshead, South Shields and Sunderland acquired representation. The bishops lost their secular powers in 1836. The boroughs of Darlington, Stockton and Hartlepool returned one member each from 1868 until the Redistribution of Seats Act 1885.
The Municipal Corporations Act 1835 reformed the municipal boroughs of Durham, Stockton on Tees and Sunderland. In 1875, Jarrow was incorporated as a municipal borough, as was West Hartlepool in 1887. At a county level, the Local Government Act 1888 reorganised local government throughout England and Wales. Most of the county came under control of the newly formed Durham County Council in an area known as an administrative county. Not included were the county boroughs of Gateshead, South Shields and Sunderland. However, for purposes other than local government, the administrative county of Durham and the county boroughs continued to form a single county to which the Crown appointed a Lord Lieutenant of Durham.
Over its existence, the administrative county lost territory, both to the existing county boroughs, and because two municipal boroughs became county boroughs: West Hartlepool in 1902 and Darlington in 1915. The county boundary with the North Riding of Yorkshire was adjusted in 1967: that part of the town of Barnard Castle historically in Yorkshire was added to County Durham, while the administrative county ceded the portion of the Borough of Stockton-on-Tees in Durham to the North Riding. In 1968, following the recommendation of the Local Government Commission, Billingham was transferred to the County Borough of Teesside, in the North Riding. In 1971, the population of the county—including all associated county boroughs (an area of 2,570 km2 (990 sq mi))—was 1,409,633, with a population outside the county boroughs of 814,396.
In 1974, the Local Government Act 1972 abolished the administrative county and the county boroughs, reconstituting County Durham as a non-metropolitan county. The reconstituted County Durham lost territory to the north-east (around Gateshead, South Shields and Sunderland) to Tyne and Wear and to the south-east (around Hartlepool) to Cleveland. At the same time it gained the former area of Startforth Rural District from the North Riding of Yorkshire. The area of the Lord Lieutenancy of Durham was also adjusted by the Act to coincide with the non-metropolitan county (which occupied 3,019 km2 (1,166 sq mi) in 1981).
In 1996, as part of 1990s UK local government reform by Lieutenancies Act 1997, Cleveland was abolished. Its districts were reconstituted as unitary authorities. Hartlepool and Stockton-on-Tees (north Tees) were returned to the county for the purposes of Lord Lieutenancy. Darlington also became a third unitary authority of the county. The Royal Mail abandoned the use of postal counties altogether, permitted but not mandatory being at a writer wishes.
As part of the 2009 structural changes to local government in England initiated by the Department for Communities and Local Government, the seven district councils within the County Council area were abolished. The County Council assumed their functions and became the fourth unitary authority. Changes came into effect on 1 April 2009.
On 15 April 2014, North East Combined Authority was established under the Local Democracy, Economic Development and Construction Act 2009 with powers over economic development and regeneration. In November 2018, Newcastle City Council, North Tyneside Borough Council, and Northumberland County Council left the authority. These later formed the North of Tyne Combined Authority.
In May 2021, four parish councils of the villages of Elwick, Hart, Dalton Piercy and Greatham all issued individual votes of no confidence in Hartlepool Borough Council, and expressed their desire to join the County Durham district.
In October 2021, County Durham was shortlisted for the UK City of Culture 2025. In May 2022, it lost to Bradford.
Eighteenth century Durham saw the appearance of dissent in the county and the Durham Ox. The county did not assist the Jacobite Rebellion of 1715. The Statue of Neptune in the City of Durham was erected in 1729.
A number of disasters happened in Nineteenth century Durham. The Felling mine disasters happened in 1812, 1813, 1821 and 1847. The Philadelphia train accident happened in 1815. In 1854, there was a great fire in Gateshead. One of the West Stanley Pit disasters happened in 1882. The Victoria Hall disaster happened in 1883.
One of the West Stanley Pit disasters happened in 1909. The Darlington rail crash happened in 1928. The Battle of Stockton happened in 1933. The Browney rail crash happened in 1946.
The First Treaty of Durham was made at Durham in 1136. The Second Treaty of Durham was made at Durham in 1139.
The county regiment was the Durham Light Infantry, which replaced, in particular, the 68th (Durham) Regiment of Foot (Light Infantry) and the Militia and Volunteers of County Durham.
RAF Greatham, RAF Middleton St George and RAF Usworth were located in County Durham.
David I, the King of Scotland, invaded the county in 1136, and ravaged much of the county 1138. In 17 October 1346, the Battle of Neville's Cross was fought at Neville's Cross, near the city of Durham. On 16 December 1914, during the First World War, there was a raid on Hartlepool by the Imperial German Navy.
Chroniclers connected with Durham include the Bede, Symeon of Durham, Geoffrey of Coldingham and Robert de Graystanes.
County Durham has long been associated with coal mining, from medieval times up to the late 20th century. The Durham Coalfield covered a large area of the county, from Bishop Auckland, to Consett, to the River Tyne and below the North Sea, thereby providing a significant expanse of territory from which this rich mineral resource could be extracted.
King Stephen possessed a mine in Durham, which he granted to Bishop Pudsey, and in the same century colliers are mentioned at Coundon, Bishopwearmouth and Sedgefield. Cockfield Fell was one of the earliest Landsale collieries in Durham. Edward III issued an order allowing coal dug at Newcastle to be taken across the Tyne, and Richard II granted to the inhabitants of Durham licence to export the produce of the mines, without paying dues to the corporation of Newcastle. The majority was transported from the Port of Sunderland complex, which was constructed in the 1850s.
Among other early industries, lead-mining was carried on in the western part of the county, and mustard was extensively cultivated. Gateshead had a considerable tanning trade and shipbuilding was undertaken at Jarrow, and at Sunderland, which became the largest shipbuilding town in the world – constructing a third of Britain's tonnage.[citation needed]
The county's modern-era economic history was facilitated significantly by the growth of the mining industry during the nineteenth century. At the industry's height, in the early 20th century, over 170,000 coal miners were employed, and they mined 58,700,000 tons of coal in 1913 alone. As a result, a large number of colliery villages were built throughout the county as the industrial revolution gathered pace.
The railway industry was also a major employer during the industrial revolution, with railways being built throughout the county, such as The Tanfield Railway, The Clarence Railway and The Stockton and Darlington Railway. The growth of this industry occurred alongside the coal industry, as the railways provided a fast, efficient means to move coal from the mines to the ports and provided the fuel for the locomotives. The great railway pioneers Timothy Hackworth, Edward Pease, George Stephenson and Robert Stephenson were all actively involved with developing the railways in tandem with County Durham's coal mining industry. Shildon and Darlington became thriving 'railway towns' and experienced significant growths in population and prosperity; before the railways, just over 100 people lived in Shildon but, by the 1890s, the town was home to around 8,000 people, with Shildon Shops employing almost 3000 people at its height.
However, by the 1930s, the coal mining industry began to diminish and, by the mid-twentieth century, the pits were closing at an increasing rate. In 1951, the Durham County Development Plan highlighted a number of colliery villages, such as Blackhouse, as 'Category D' settlements, in which future development would be prohibited, property would be acquired and demolished, and the population moved to new housing, such as that being built in Newton Aycliffe. Likewise, the railway industry also began to decline, and was significantly brought to a fraction of its former self by the Beeching cuts in the 1960s. Darlington Works closed in 1966 and Shildon Shops followed suit in 1984. The county's last deep mines, at Easington, Vane Tempest, Wearmouth and Westoe, closed in 1993.
Postal Rates from 1801 were charged depending on the distance from London. Durham was allocated the code 263 the approximate mileage from London. From about 1811, a datestamp appeared on letters showing the date the letter was posted. In 1844 a new system was introduced and Durham was allocated the code 267. This system was replaced in 1840 when the first postage stamps were introduced.
According to the Encyclopædia Britannica Eleventh Edition (1911): "To the Anglo-Saxon period are to be referred portions of the churches of Monk Wearmouth (Sunderland), Jarrow, Escomb near Bishop Auckland, and numerous sculptured crosses, two of which are in situ at Aycliffe. . . . The Decorated and Perpendicular periods are very scantily represented, on account, as is supposed, of the incessant wars between England and Scotland in the 14th and 15th centuries. The principal monastic remains, besides those surrounding Durham cathedral, are those of its subordinate house or "cell," Finchale Priory, beautifully situated by the Wear. The most interesting castles are those of Durham, Raby, Brancepeth and Barnard. There are ruins of castelets or peel-towers at Dalden, Ludworth and Langley Dale. The hospitals of Sherburn, Greatham and Kepyer, founded by early bishops of Durham, retain but few ancient features."
The best remains of the Norman period include Durham Cathedral and Durham Castle, and several parish churches, such as St Laurence Church in Pittington. The Early English period has left the eastern portion of the cathedral, the churches of Darlington, Hartlepool, and St Andrew, Auckland, Sedgefield, and portions of a few other churches.
'Durham Castle and Cathedral' is a designated UNESCO World Heritage Site. Elsewhere in the County there is Auckland Castle.
No precise date on this one, Crosville Bristol RE TFM268K which has ECW C47F is seen with a little boy climbing or descending the mountainous steps at Victoria Coach Station.
The coach was new in July 1972 and was I think one of the first two Crosville coaches delivered in National livery, give the coaches behind it and next to it are in company livery I would guess this is late 1972 or 1973.
Image from a slide in my collection by an unknown photographer.
At the precise time,
something extraordinary
may sprout
out of something dull dark.
At the exact place
something different
may reborn
out of something pitch black.
At the right person
something new
may resurface
out of something pure simple.
Bass Harbor Head Lighthouse
Mount desert island
Trenton, Maine
lighting after sunset on foggy summer night
A rather unusual thing this - a tube map (or Railway Diagram to be precise) in a small multi-lingual "welcome/Bienvenue/Welkom" cover slip, issued "with the compliments of the London Transport Executive".
It smacks of the 1948 Olympic Games or the 1951 Festival of Britain and it could have been a hangover from 1948 even if this has a 1950 map in it. The map cover has the "Railways" version of the roundel as at the time there was a bit of a post-nationalisation tussle as to what to "brand" the Underground within the new Executive.
Made for SWFactions on Eurobricks.
www.eurobricks.com/forum/index.php?/forums/topic/180827-j...
Captured by pirates! While searching for the natives of Imynusoph, our trio are beset upon by the cavalier Colonel Corbett's callous rogues! The murderous pirates and their flamboyant leader drag our heroes to their camp, where intrigue abounds!
Clod blinked against the harsh light streaming in from above. His hands were shackled. It wasn’t the worst situation he’d been in, he thought. Then, to his surprise, his next thoughts were about his two companions. He hoped they were alright. It would be a million years before he’d admit it.
The sergeant called “Slyfoot” stood in the darkness a few feet away. He could feel the man watching him, disturbingly calm. Precise.
“Look at you,” he sneered. “A treasure hunter. Ha! I believed Klatoonians to be nothing but pirates and scum.”
It was a struggle to form words, but Clod couldn’t give up the opportunity for a zinger. “Look how the…tables have turned.”
He almost immediately regretted it. The droid administered a searing shock to his ribs that sent his limbs convulsing. His skin burned. He shouted, and for a moment, he panicked.
“Such wit. No more of that, I think,” he heard Slyfoot say. “You should put your words to better use, like securing a release for you and your companions. All you must do is tell me what it was you were searching for.”
“Fat chance—Augh!” Another shock. More horrible pain.
Slyfoot stepped into the light. He slowly shook his head.
“’Fat chance’, you say? On the contrary, Mr. Clod,” he said, and a smile crept onto his face. “I quite like my odds.”
“Tea or Caf, Professor?” offered Colonel Corbett, busying himself with a gleaming pot and an ion heater.
“O-Oh, tea, I suppose.”
The Colonel looked up at him, a pleasant expression on his face. “I see you appreciate my décor!”
Floon had been staring at some of the trophies scattered about; horns, hides, huge eggs, droid parts, scraps of clothing. Some from beasts, others from treasure hunters who’d come before.
“Why…yes! It’s very…eclectic. Er, thank you again for having me, Colonel.”
“Of course, of course! I must say, I’ve positively chuffed about you being here. An academy man! On Imynusoph! Chandrila, you say?”
“Er, yes. I had, er, tenure at the Chandrila Academy.”
“Ha! Chandrila! A professor from Chandrila makes my acquaintance here, of all places. Who would have thought it would happen? Certainly not me! I admit it! Please, make yourself comfortable, my questions are bound to be numerous.”
The Neimodian professor looked nervously around the tent. One of the pirates loitered at the door. Floon felt that he should do some great act of bravery, try to free Mr. Clod and Ms. Rigo, but he didn’t know where he would even start.
“Professor?”
The question shook Floon from his thoughts. “Oh, y-yes?”
Colonel Corbett smiled. “You don’t look very comfortable. Come, you’re in good company. I am a man of learning and intelligence myself.”
“Why, o-of course!” said Floon. Unable to muster a relaxed smile, he summoned a polite grimace.
The Colonel frowned. “Professor, I brought you here that we might engage in riveting conversation! Without conversation, I have no reason to bring you here rather than lock you up in our brig. Do you understand?”
Floon did, but he was not very good at staying calm when faced with threats. He knew all too well what the murderous pirates might do if the Colonel permitted. With a great amount of sweating and stuttering, he apologized. “I’m…m-most…s-sorry, Colonel. Most s-sorry. Let us…er…converse, s-shall we?”
“Very good, very good!” said the Colonel, settling in and looking at the professor expectantly. “Well then, let us get down to, as they say, brass tacks. I want to hear everything you know about the giant birds of Imynusoph! I expect I’ll be quite fascinated!”
“Er, yes…” mumbled Floon. “Quite.”
“Let go of me, you idiots!” Kitsa did her best to break her restraints through sheer will, but no dice. She settled for whacking one of her captors instead, sending him reeling with a broken nose. She couldn’t believe how lucky her aim was. And finally, something for her story!
“Let the Stud take care of her! I don’t want to get kicked again,” whined one of the pirates. The others parted, allowing the largest one, the one with the bandolier and the AT-AT driver helmet, to step towards her. He was enormous, at least 6’8”, and not what you’d call ‘lanky’. There was no chance she’d make a dent against this guy. He settled one giant hand on her shoulder, and he steered her away.
She muttered threats as they walked through the Imperial camp, shooting glances around to take in everything she was seeing. They had left the treeline onto an open savannah. The camp had clearly been an Imperial outpost, but now was all ramshackle and bolted together to keep out the wildlife. There was a junkyard of impounded vehicles that caught her attention. Most of them were scrap, but one airspeeder, red-and-white, looked intact. She took note of this for later.
She eyed the pirate. He was a muscular guy, that was for sure. Where was he taking her? A pit of gundarks, or an interrogation chamber?
Neither, it turned out. She was escorted to a quiet corner of the pirate camp, a breeze-blown tent with foliage breaking in overhead and enshrouding the space.
“You can stay here,” said the big pirate.
She scoffed. “What are you, good cop? And what’s this place, the torture waiting room?”
“It’s, well,” the pirate hesitated. “No, it’s just a tent. I had a wife when we came here. This used to be hers. Thought you’d like it more than a cage, but if I’m wrong…”
That was unexpected. She turned and sized him up suspiciously, but there wasn’t much to observe in the blank stare of the helmet’s facemask. “A wife, huh? What happened to her? Your pirate buddies shoot her?”
“You think they’d get past me? Nah, not in a million years,” he chuckled, but his tone turned somber. “No, one day she went out to get clean water, our purifier was broken, and one of the jungle beasts came out of the trees. She couldn’t get away fast enough. Her blaster misfired. That’s all it took.”
In a rare moment, Kitsa didn’t know what to say.
The pirate took a deep breath, then said, “So if you were thinking of running, I wouldn’t.”
“Sure,” she nodded, collecting herself. “Sorry about your wife. Thanks for the tent.”
“No problem,” said the pirate. He then stood there awkwardly for a moment, before asking, “So, uh, you, uh, some kind of reporter?”
Kitsa lit up. “I sure am, Galactic Gazette.”
The man swayed on his feet, coughing uncomfortably. “What’s, uh, what’s going on out there? In the galaxy? Rebels gone, yet? We heard we had another Death Star.”
Kitsa stared at the emotionless facemask for a moment. Of course, it made sense. When was the last time they would’ve heard any news?
Her story was really heating up.
She smiled and deflected the question. “What’s your name?”
“Deksen. They call me ‘the Stud’. What’s your name, uh, miss?”
“Kitsa Rigo,” she answered smartly. “What do you say about sitting for an interview with me, Deksen? In return, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
The pirate said nothing for a moment. He looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching. “I guess that’d be alright. We don’t exactly get much press on Imynusoph. I suppose you can tell the galaxy about our bravery.”
Kitsa sat on the medical bed, her pen poised. “So, Deksen, what’s it been like for you, out here?”
The pirate set his gun to the side and took a deep breath.
“Well…” he began.
Another shock, another burn, another stab. Harnaby Clod struggled in the interrogation gurney, his mouth full of spit. He couldn’t take much more of this. He felt like his mind was slipping through his fingers, jolted free by every prod from the droid. Karfing droid. He’d smash that droid to bits if he ever got out of this.
Another stab of a needle. His vision swam. He’d get out of this, right? Could he?
“Tell me why you’re here. Tell me what you know,” Slyfoot said, walking around him. “I’d love to see you dead, believe me. Who will remember you if you’re gone? Some dog-faced lunatic on the edge of the galaxy, no one important. No accomplishments, no fealty, nothing of note. Another dead alien.”
“You…don’t…know…mersh.”
“Hm, perhaps. But tell me…am I wrong, Mr. Clod?”
The dark room blinked in and out of existence before Clod’s eyes. He felt his tongue go limp. His heart felt like it was drying up.
The sergeant watched him, smiling cruelly. “Alright, I’ll get it out of the Neimodian, then. Good bye, Mr.-“
“Waitsh, waitsh!” Clod gasped. “Ah’ll tell yoush…”
Slyfoot brightened. “Indeed, Mr. Clod? If you tell me, as I’ve said, this can all end.”
He couldn’t do this anymore. What was he thinking?
He wasn’t. Anything to stop this. Karf this place.
“Ah’ll…ah’ll…tell yoush anything…” he wheezed.
Slyfoot straightened his cap. “Very good, Mr. Clod. Go on then.” He leaned in, until his face dominated Clod’s view. Slyfoot tried to manage his own expectations, but he couldn’t suppress his excitement. He looked down at the drooling Klatoonian.
“Mr. Clod,” he said. “Is the treasure…real?”
“Wow!” muttered Kitsa, scribbling in her notebook.
“That’s just how it is out here. It’s made the other pirates what they are. It’s made me…” he shrugged. “Changed.”
“That’s really…tough! I’m so sorry you’ve had to suffer through this place.”
“Hm, I’ve been lucky…I think. But what about you, Ms. Rigo?” asked the pirate called Deksen.
“M-Me?”
He leaned in attentively. “How does a woman such as you find yourself in a place like this?”
Even with the facemask in the way, Rigo felt his gaze on her face. She frowned.
“Well, I work for the Gazette.”
He tilted his head. “Because you wish to tell stories?”
“Because I want to…” she paused before answering. “I want to make others see the truth.”
Deksen nodded slowly. He was impressed by the honesty of her answer. “Will you tell me more?”
In a strange moment, the both of them felt the softening in their spirits take its full course, and they entirely let down their guards. Kitsa avoided his gaze, but launched into a treatise on how it was she ended up here, the absurdity of the situation, and how she hoped she might get something out of it anyway because while she was here there was no one investigating the Ubrikkian corporation and something had to be done soon because those poor Duros in the factories had no one standing up for them, and if no one else was going to take Ubrikkian to task, she sure as shaft would.
Deksen listened quietly, occasionally asking questions or affirming how Kitsa felt. Eventually she had completed her story. She took a deep breath, which she had expended whilst going on about her passions.
Deksen folded his hands. “Your spirit…moves me.”
“Oh!” said Kitsa, not sure how to respond. She felt her cheeks burn, and said quietly, “Thanks for listening.”
“And thank you for talking.”
She laughed. “You’d be a much better editor than the one I’ve got. Getting him to listen is a full time job.”
A breeze blew through the tent, carrying the sounds of harsh laughter from where the other pirates were getting into the brew. Far off, Kitsa heard a howl of pain that made her skin crawl and her mind turn towards her lost companions.
After a moment of silence, she looked into Deksen’s facemask. It was a risk, could she trust an ex-stormtrooper-turned-pirate? Strangely, she felt that she could trust him more than almost anyone she’d met. This disturbed her in a profound way, but she didn’t have time to dwell on her emotions. She had to take action.
“Deksen, I need to get out of here.”
“Yes, you do.” His shoulders slumped as he prepared himself for the choice he was making. His life would never be the same after this. “And yes, before you ask; I will help you.”
Kitsa sighed with relief, but there was no time to waste. They had to get down to business. “Alright, here’s what I was thinking. Tell me if it makes sense…”
“Spiritual creatures, you say?”
Colonel Corbett stroked his moustache, listening to what Professor Floon had to say with a most attentive mind.
“Well, y-yes. Regarded as spiritual creatures by…” Floon kept himself from revealing the natives at only the last moment. “…by all who visit this planet, I’ve heard.”
It was all Floon could do to keep the existence of the native tribes a secret. Apparently these pirates had no clue they might still be around.
“Fascinating! And you say the wingspan…”
The words tumbled out of Floon like a brook. His trepidation could not dampen his excitement. “No one has seen it in millennia, but I do not lie when I say,” he leaned in, saying conspiratorially, “it is said to be three men across!”
Corbett rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Incredible! Simply incredible. Say, Professor, I know you count yourself among the squeamish, but do you suppose that shooting down a bird of spiritual importance grants a hunter more, how do you say, ‘bragging rights’?”
Floon raised an eyeridge and stared. “Are…are you…joking, sir?”
“I assure you, I am not!” said Corbett, jabbing the desk with his finger. “A hunter such as myself has precious little time for jokes, what with so much glory left unobtained. You’re the closest thing in the galaxy to an expert, Professor. Do you believe killing such a creature would grant me more glory?”
Floon watched the officer nervously. His eyes were eager, his face covered in sweat. The heat was dull and damp in the shade of the tent, the kind of environment Floon had been born into. Very much a comfort zone.
The professor summoned up all his courage, swelling up his chest in rather an alarming way. Corbett’s eyes widened.
“No!” squeaked Floon.
Corbett was puzzled. “…’No’?”
“No!” Floon stood his ground. “How can you talk of killing a creature such as this? For all your talk about appreciating great beasts, you end their magnificent lives with such…relish!” He licked his lipless mouth, his words sputtering and cracking as adrenaline shot through him. He’d never confronted anyone in his life. Certainly not anyone who was willing to kill him. “I don’t mind saying that it is…despicable! Yes, despicable!”
Colonel Corbett, who had initially been very surprised, now furrowed his brow. When he spoke, his tone was dark. “Professor…I’m not used to being talked to in such a-”
“Indeed, indeed!” squawked Floon, suddenly desperate to turn his situation around. “But nor are you used to talking to your intellectual equal, as you have said! This is true, yes?”
Corbett considered it. “Yes, it is true,” he admitted.
“Then please, hear my words, as another man of learning! These creatures are not for killing, they are for studying! For conserving! For…loving! Please, take my offer of friendship and understand I mean you no ill will. I only wish to see a force such as yourself used for…better things!”
Colonel Corbett looked bothered. He had never thought of it in such terms before. Professor Floon breathed heavily, waiting in silence, heart hammering, hoping for a reaction that spared his life.
Finally, the Colonel’s expression softened, and he began to speak. “Professor, I—“
“Colonel Corbett!” came a voice from the tent’s opening. Floon, uncharacteristically, cursed in his head. His heart sank.
“How dare you interrupt me? I said, very clearly I thought, that no one was to interrupt!”
The pirate at the opening was the huge, shirtless one, with the AT-AT driver’s helmet. “But it’s the others, sir, they’ve broken out!”
The moment had passed, Corbett’s mind was on other things. He grabbed his cap and marched towards the entrance. “Well then! Wait here with the Professor, we must hunt them down!”
Corbett marched toward the tent flap, where he was promptly whacked in the head with a blaster handle, and fell flat on his back. He lay there, hair mussed, tongue out, and unconscious.
“Oh my goodness!” cried Floon.
“Quiet, Professor! It’s just me, Kitsa. Ms. Rigo.”
Indeed it was. The reporter came ducking in, blaster in hand. The large pirate stood guard while she knelt down to rummage in Corbett’s holster.
“What-what is going on? Who is this abnormally large man at the door?” asked Floon, who’s voice dropped to an anxious whisper as he added, “Is he not one of the pirates?”
Kitsa pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Huh? Oh, that’s Deksen,” she explained simply. “He’s gonna help us escape.”
The pirate named Deksen raised a hand in casual greeting.
“O-Oh, how do you do?” Floon replied weakly, and he tipped his hat on instinct. “You are…very big!”
“I get that a lot,” came Deksen’s reply, filtered through his helmet.
“He is, isn’t he?” Kitsa grinned.
“Y-Yes—hold on; escape, you said?” squeaked Floon, who’s brain was beginning to catch up at last.
“Yes, escape,” she repeated firmly, looking him in the eye. “But we have to go now, understand? Otherwise we’ll die?”
Floon withdrew a handkerchief and dabbed at his face. “O-Oh, my. This is all rather a lot. And so sudden…”
“Yes, it is. We still have to save Clod, against my better judgement.”
“S-Save…Clod, you say?” said Floon, wilting with every word, and very close to fainting.
Kitsa smiled wryly and patted him on the shoulder. “Come on, Professor,” she said, and she handed him the Colonel’s blaster before turning to leave. Deksen made to follow her.
Floon went after them, but before reaching the tent’s exit he spun around awkwardly to address his host.
“I’m…very sorry for all this,” he said to Corbett’s unconscious body. “It really w-was lovely meeting you.”
Floon felt it was polite for one to wait to be excused, but Corbett did not reply.
Thus, with a great deal of stumbling and nervous mumbling, the professor hurried to catch up with the others.
“And the natives,” said Slyfoot with relish. “You said you’ve met them before, is that true?”
“Yesh,” spat Clod. He eyed the interrogation droid floating a foot away, its red receptor blinking, prod extended towards him.
“Then you could lead us to them. You will lead me to them.”
“Didn’t you hear a word I said? They found me the first time. I don’t know how to find them now!”
Slyfoot waved a hand dismissively. “Well, no matter. They asked you to return, I’m sure they’ll show up to you soon.”
Clod wished he could wipe his mouth where he’d drooled after one of the many electroshocks. It was starting to chape. “…Thought you…were gonna let us go?” he groaned.
Slyfoot laughed. “Really? You did? I didn’t take you for a fool. No, Mr. Clod. You’ll stay in this luxury for many days to com--I said I wanted no interruptions!”
Light had flooded the room from the now-open door. He heard a blaster go off, and a red bolt smashed into the interrogation droid, knocking it to the ground.
“Pardon me!” said Professor Floon, turning the gun on Slyfoot. The pirate sergeant raised his hands in surrender. “I nearly forgot something on my way out!”
“P-professor?” slurred Clod, craning his neck to see. “I can’t believe it.”
“That’s right, it’s me! I’ve come to rescue you, Mr. Clod.”
Clod groaned with relief. He hadn’t expected this in a million years. “You gotta get me out of here, doc.”
“Indeed!” said the Professor, who prodded Slyfoot with his pistol until he gave up the key to the bindings.
“Nice entry."
Floon seemed pleased. “Thank you! I am honored by the compliment, especially from someone as…daring-do as yourself! I practiced on the way here.”
“It paid off. Now…” he stretched and groaned his weary, burnt muscles. Then he turned towards Slyfoot, who held to his dignity even while fear seeped in the cracks. Weakened though he was, the Klatoonian was dangerous. He proved this to Slyfoot by knocking him to the floor with a right hook.
“Jerk. Wish I had more time.”
“We really must go, Rigo is waiting! She found a way out!”
Clod looked at the Professor and raised an eyebrow. “You already saved her?”
“Saved her?” replied the professor, leading him into the daylight. “Why, it was her who saved me!”
“You’re kidding!”
“I am not kidding, Mr. Clod! I assure you, I am entirely serious!”
They caught up with Kitsa and Deksen at the camp’s boneyard, where ship and vehicle carcasses formed a monument to the pirates’ past conquests.
“He’s fine,” said Kitsa, in response to the alarmed look on Clod’s face. “His name is Deksen, he’s helping us.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Deksen, voice filtered through his helmet.
“Sure, sure. A pleasure,” muttered Clod. “Listen, I told that creepy imp about the natives.”
Kitsa and Floon looked at him with dismay.
“It wasn’t exactly by choice,” grumbled Clod, but he avoided their gaze. “I’m betting they didn’t torture either of you.”
They answered by way of silence.
“Of course not,” he grunted. “Who else here has a face like a Corellian hound?”
“Ahem...I cannot imagine what you went through in that little room, so I cannot blame you for anything you’ve done,” said Floon seriously. “Besides…I let slip quite a lot about the wildlife to the Colonel, and I was under no compulsion besides a foolish enthusiasm for my subject! Oh, how moronic of me. I’m far worse than you, Mr. Clod. Fear no condemnation from us.”
Clod looked at him with something approaching humility and gratitude.
“I didn’t tell anyone anything,” said Kitsa. “Except about myself.”
“Their knowledge simply means we must make greater haste to find the natives first. And with the skills and talents of us three, I find our chances encouraging!”
Kitsa gestured to their soon-to-be-stolen ride. “Especially with this thing.”
Clod hurried forward to look at what she’d found. Underneath a tarp sat a small, aged red-and-white craft. Barely enough space for two people. “What is this, an Incom? Tiny, isn’t it?”
“Who cares who built it?” she replied shortly. “It’s an Airspeeder. Deksen says it’ll still fly.”
Deksen shrugged. “We use it for scout missions.
“Wait," Clod frowned. "We can’t leave yet.”
Kitsa threw up her hands. “Why not?”
“Hat."
“Oh, for karf’s sake--I got your hat, here. Can’t believe you’d get us killed over your hat.”
“My hat! You’re alright, Rigo.”
Deksen cleared his throat. “You three should climb in, you don’t have a lot of time.”
They threw their things in the speeder. Clod clambered into the pilot’s seat and brushed some crumbs off the controls. He checked various switches and toggles with an air of familiarity. Floon crammed himself into the back.
Kitsa was last to get in. She turned and threw herself at Deksen, hugging him awkwardly. She didn’t hug many people. Were you supposed to do it so forcefully? Fortunately, Deksen didn't seem to mind. He folded her gently in his massive arms.
“Thank you. I wish you could come with us.”
His tone carried a smile she couldn’t see through his facemask.
“It was good to meet you. I’ll see you again.”
“And you’ll be okay? The other pirates won’t…”
He put a calming hand on her shoulder. “You think they could?”
“Miss Rigo!” called the professor from the speeder. “I’m quite nervous waiting in here! I wouldn’t say anything, except that my muttering has made Mr. Clod angry.”
The two shared a chuckle. Kitsa smiled sadly and let go of him. She clambered into the airspeeder with the others, where she discovered it was a much tighter fit than she’d expected. Once she’d negotiated space with Floon, she leaned against the window and gave Deksen a final wave.
The pirate waved back.
“Whoof. He’s ripped, huh?” she said wistfully.
“Ripped?” Floon squeaked. “I’d say his shirt is beyond ripped, madam! There’s hardly a shirt there at all!”
The speeder was humming to life, the way any vehicle does that’s taken some battering. A warm, clanky kind of hum.
“Alright,” said Clod from the front. “Off to find the natives?”
“Before the pirates do!” said Kitsa.
“Oh my! A race against pirates, for the good of knowledge and sentient life!” flushed Floon. “It’s all rather exciting, isn’t it?”
Lézard vert de Manapany
Ce petit gecko merveilleusement coloré est endémique de la Réunion et plus précisément d'une bande côtière de 10km seulement autour du village de Manapany. C'est de ce fait une espèce en grand danger de disparition, d'autant plus qu'une nouvelle espèce invasive (P. laticauda) introduite de Madagascar est en train de se propager rapidement et menace de le faire disparaître si rien n'est fait. Contrairement aux autres geckos, il n'est pas exclusivement insectivore et préfère les fruits (mangue, banane, papaye...) ou le nectar des fleurs. Il n'hésite d'ailleurs pas à voler les sacs à pollen des abeilles pour s'en délecter.
This colourful gecko is endemic from Reunion and it is found in a very small area around the village of Manapany, which makes it one of the most endangered species in the world. It is now threatened by the introduction of another beautiful gecko introduced from Madagascar (P. laticauda) which is spreading fast across the island and will probably cause the extinction of this wonderful creature. Unlike other geckos, it does not feed exclusively on insects but prefers fruit like mango, banana or papaya and the nectar of flowers. It doesn't hesitate to steal the pollen sacs from honey bees to feast on them .
Made for SWFactions on Eurobricks.
www.eurobricks.com/forum/index.php?/forums/topic/180827-j...
Captured by pirates! While searching for the natives of Imynusoph, our trio are beset upon by the cavalier Colonel Corbett's callous rogues! The murderous pirates and their flamboyant leader drag our heroes to their camp, where intrigue abounds!
Clod blinked against the harsh light streaming in from above. His hands were shackled. It wasn’t the worst situation he’d been in, he thought. Then, to his surprise, his next thoughts were about his two companions. He hoped they were alright. It would be a million years before he’d admit it.
The sergeant called “Slyfoot” stood in the darkness a few feet away. He could feel the man watching him, disturbingly calm. Precise.
“Look at you,” he sneered. “A treasure hunter. Ha! I believed Klatoonians to be nothing but pirates and scum.”
It was a struggle to form words, but Clod couldn’t give up the opportunity for a zinger. “Look how the…tables have turned.”
He almost immediately regretted it. The droid administered a searing shock to his ribs that sent his limbs convulsing. His skin burned. He shouted, and for a moment, he panicked.
“Such wit. No more of that, I think,” he heard Slyfoot say. “You should put your words to better use, like securing a release for you and your companions. All you must do is tell me what it was you were searching for.”
“Fat chance—Augh!” Another shock. More horrible pain.
Slyfoot stepped into the light. He slowly shook his head.
“’Fat chance’, you say? On the contrary, Mr. Clod,” he said, and a smile crept onto his face. “I quite like my odds.”
“Tea or Caf, Professor?” offered Colonel Corbett, busying himself with a gleaming pot and an ion heater.
“O-Oh, tea, I suppose.”
The Colonel looked up at him, a pleasant expression on his face. “I see you appreciate my décor!”
Floon had been staring at some of the trophies scattered about; horns, hides, huge eggs, droid parts, scraps of clothing. Some from beasts, others from treasure hunters who’d come before.
“Why…yes! It’s very…eclectic. Er, thank you again for having me, Colonel.”
“Of course, of course! I must say, I’ve positively chuffed about you being here. An academy man! On Imynusoph! Chandrila, you say?”
“Er, yes. I had, er, tenure at the Chandrila Academy.”
“Ha! Chandrila! A professor from Chandrila makes my acquaintance here, of all places. Who would have thought it would happen? Certainly not me! I admit it! Please, make yourself comfortable, my questions are bound to be numerous.”
The Neimodian professor looked nervously around the tent. One of the pirates loitered at the door. Floon felt that he should do some great act of bravery, try to free Mr. Clod and Ms. Rigo, but he didn’t know where he would even start.
“Professor?”
The question shook Floon from his thoughts. “Oh, y-yes?”
Colonel Corbett smiled. “You don’t look very comfortable. Come, you’re in good company. I am a man of learning and intelligence myself.”
“Why, o-of course!” said Floon. Unable to muster a relaxed smile, he summoned a polite grimace.
The Colonel frowned. “Professor, I brought you here that we might engage in riveting conversation! Without conversation, I have no reason to bring you here rather than lock you up in our brig. Do you understand?”
Floon did, but he was not very good at staying calm when faced with threats. He knew all too well what the murderous pirates might do if the Colonel permitted. With a great amount of sweating and stuttering, he apologized. “I’m…m-most…s-sorry, Colonel. Most s-sorry. Let us…er…converse, s-shall we?”
“Very good, very good!” said the Colonel, settling in and looking at the professor expectantly. “Well then, let us get down to, as they say, brass tacks. I want to hear everything you know about the giant birds of Imynusoph! I expect I’ll be quite fascinated!”
“Er, yes…” mumbled Floon. “Quite.”
“Let go of me, you idiots!” Kitsa did her best to break her restraints through sheer will, but no dice. She settled for whacking one of her captors instead, sending him reeling with a broken nose. She couldn’t believe how lucky her aim was. And finally, something for her story!
“Let the Stud take care of her! I don’t want to get kicked again,” whined one of the pirates. The others parted, allowing the largest one, the one with the bandolier and the AT-AT driver helmet, to step towards her. He was enormous, at least 6’8”, and not what you’d call ‘lanky’. There was no chance she’d make a dent against this guy. He settled one giant hand on her shoulder, and he steered her away.
She muttered threats as they walked through the Imperial camp, shooting glances around to take in everything she was seeing. They had left the treeline onto an open savannah. The camp had clearly been an Imperial outpost, but now was all ramshackle and bolted together to keep out the wildlife. There was a junkyard of impounded vehicles that caught her attention. Most of them were scrap, but one airspeeder, red-and-white, looked intact. She took note of this for later.
She eyed the pirate. He was a muscular guy, that was for sure. Where was he taking her? A pit of gundarks, or an interrogation chamber?
Neither, it turned out. She was escorted to a quiet corner of the pirate camp, a breeze-blown tent with foliage breaking in overhead and enshrouding the space.
“You can stay here,” said the big pirate.
She scoffed. “What are you, good cop? And what’s this place, the torture waiting room?”
“It’s, well,” the pirate hesitated. “No, it’s just a tent. I had a wife when we came here. This used to be hers. Thought you’d like it more than a cage, but if I’m wrong…”
That was unexpected. She turned and sized him up suspiciously, but there wasn’t much to observe in the blank stare of the helmet’s facemask. “A wife, huh? What happened to her? Your pirate buddies shoot her?”
“You think they’d get past me? Nah, not in a million years,” he chuckled, but his tone turned somber. “No, one day she went out to get clean water, our purifier was broken, and one of the jungle beasts came out of the trees. She couldn’t get away fast enough. Her blaster misfired. That’s all it took.”
In a rare moment, Kitsa didn’t know what to say.
The pirate took a deep breath, then said, “So if you were thinking of running, I wouldn’t.”
“Sure,” she nodded, collecting herself. “Sorry about your wife. Thanks for the tent.”
“No problem,” said the pirate. He then stood there awkwardly for a moment, before asking, “So, uh, you, uh, some kind of reporter?”
Kitsa lit up. “I sure am, Galactic Gazette.”
The man swayed on his feet, coughing uncomfortably. “What’s, uh, what’s going on out there? In the galaxy? Rebels gone, yet? We heard we had another Death Star.”
Kitsa stared at the emotionless facemask for a moment. Of course, it made sense. When was the last time they would’ve heard any news?
Her story was really heating up.
She smiled and deflected the question. “What’s your name?”
“Deksen. They call me ‘the Stud’. What’s your name, uh, miss?”
“Kitsa Rigo,” she answered smartly. “What do you say about sitting for an interview with me, Deksen? In return, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
The pirate said nothing for a moment. He looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching. “I guess that’d be alright. We don’t exactly get much press on Imynusoph. I suppose you can tell the galaxy about our bravery.”
Kitsa sat on the medical bed, her pen poised. “So, Deksen, what’s it been like for you, out here?”
The pirate set his gun to the side and took a deep breath.
“Well…” he began.
Another shock, another burn, another stab. Harnaby Clod struggled in the interrogation gurney, his mouth full of spit. He couldn’t take much more of this. He felt like his mind was slipping through his fingers, jolted free by every prod from the droid. Karfing droid. He’d smash that droid to bits if he ever got out of this.
Another stab of a needle. His vision swam. He’d get out of this, right? Could he?
“Tell me why you’re here. Tell me what you know,” Slyfoot said, walking around him. “I’d love to see you dead, believe me. Who will remember you if you’re gone? Some dog-faced lunatic on the edge of the galaxy, no one important. No accomplishments, no fealty, nothing of note. Another dead alien.”
“You…don’t…know…mersh.”
“Hm, perhaps. But tell me…am I wrong, Mr. Clod?”
The dark room blinked in and out of existence before Clod’s eyes. He felt his tongue go limp. His heart felt like it was drying up.
The sergeant watched him, smiling cruelly. “Alright, I’ll get it out of the Neimodian, then. Good bye, Mr.-“
“Waitsh, waitsh!” Clod gasped. “Ah’ll tell yoush…”
Slyfoot brightened. “Indeed, Mr. Clod? If you tell me, as I’ve said, this can all end.”
He couldn’t do this anymore. What was he thinking?
He wasn’t. Anything to stop this. Karf this place.
“Ah’ll…ah’ll…tell yoush anything…” he wheezed.
Slyfoot straightened his cap. “Very good, Mr. Clod. Go on then.” He leaned in, until his face dominated Clod’s view. Slyfoot tried to manage his own expectations, but he couldn’t suppress his excitement. He looked down at the drooling Klatoonian.
“Mr. Clod,” he said. “Is the treasure…real?”
“Wow!” muttered Kitsa, scribbling in her notebook.
“That’s just how it is out here. It’s made the other pirates what they are. It’s made me…” he shrugged. “Changed.”
“That’s really…tough! I’m so sorry you’ve had to suffer through this place.”
“Hm, I’ve been lucky…I think. But what about you, Ms. Rigo?” asked the pirate called Deksen.
“M-Me?”
He leaned in attentively. “How does a woman such as you find yourself in a place like this?”
Even with the facemask in the way, Rigo felt his gaze on her face. She frowned.
“Well, I work for the Gazette.”
He tilted his head. “Because you wish to tell stories?”
“Because I want to…” she paused before answering. “I want to make others see the truth.”
Deksen nodded slowly. He was impressed by the honesty of her answer. “Will you tell me more?”
In a strange moment, the both of them felt the softening in their spirits take its full course, and they entirely let down their guards. Kitsa avoided his gaze, but launched into a treatise on how it was she ended up here, the absurdity of the situation, and how she hoped she might get something out of it anyway because while she was here there was no one investigating the Ubrikkian corporation and something had to be done soon because those poor Duros in the factories had no one standing up for them, and if no one else was going to take Ubrikkian to task, she sure as shaft would.
Deksen listened quietly, occasionally asking questions or affirming how Kitsa felt. Eventually she had completed her story. She took a deep breath, which she had expended whilst going on about her passions.
Deksen folded his hands. “Your spirit…moves me.”
“Oh!” said Kitsa, not sure how to respond. She felt her cheeks burn, and said quietly, “Thanks for listening.”
“And thank you for talking.”
She laughed. “You’d be a much better editor than the one I’ve got. Getting him to listen is a full time job.”
A breeze blew through the tent, carrying the sounds of harsh laughter from where the other pirates were getting into the brew. Far off, Kitsa heard a howl of pain that made her skin crawl and her mind turn towards her lost companions.
After a moment of silence, she looked into Deksen’s facemask. It was a risk, could she trust an ex-stormtrooper-turned-pirate? Strangely, she felt that she could trust him more than almost anyone she’d met. This disturbed her in a profound way, but she didn’t have time to dwell on her emotions. She had to take action.
“Deksen, I need to get out of here.”
“Yes, you do.” His shoulders slumped as he prepared himself for the choice he was making. His life would never be the same after this. “And yes, before you ask; I will help you.”
Kitsa sighed with relief, but there was no time to waste. They had to get down to business. “Alright, here’s what I was thinking. Tell me if it makes sense…”
“Spiritual creatures, you say?”
Colonel Corbett stroked his moustache, listening to what Professor Floon had to say with a most attentive mind.
“Well, y-yes. Regarded as spiritual creatures by…” Floon kept himself from revealing the natives at only the last moment. “…by all who visit this planet, I’ve heard.”
It was all Floon could do to keep the existence of the native tribes a secret. Apparently these pirates had no clue they might still be around.
“Fascinating! And you say the wingspan…”
The words tumbled out of Floon like a brook. His trepidation could not dampen his excitement. “No one has seen it in millennia, but I do not lie when I say,” he leaned in, saying conspiratorially, “it is said to be three men across!”
Corbett rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Incredible! Simply incredible. Say, Professor, I know you count yourself among the squeamish, but do you suppose that shooting down a bird of spiritual importance grants a hunter more, how do you say, ‘bragging rights’?”
Floon raised an eyeridge and stared. “Are…are you…joking, sir?”
“I assure you, I am not!” said Corbett, jabbing the desk with his finger. “A hunter such as myself has precious little time for jokes, what with so much glory left unobtained. You’re the closest thing in the galaxy to an expert, Professor. Do you believe killing such a creature would grant me more glory?”
Floon watched the officer nervously. His eyes were eager, his face covered in sweat. The heat was dull and damp in the shade of the tent, the kind of environment Floon had been born into. Very much a comfort zone.
The professor summoned up all his courage, swelling up his chest in rather an alarming way. Corbett’s eyes widened.
“No!” squeaked Floon.
Corbett was puzzled. “…’No’?”
“No!” Floon stood his ground. “How can you talk of killing a creature such as this? For all your talk about appreciating great beasts, you end their magnificent lives with such…relish!” He licked his lipless mouth, his words sputtering and cracking as adrenaline shot through him. He’d never confronted anyone in his life. Certainly not anyone who was willing to kill him. “I don’t mind saying that it is…despicable! Yes, despicable!”
Colonel Corbett, who had initially been very surprised, now furrowed his brow. When he spoke, his tone was dark. “Professor…I’m not used to being talked to in such a-”
“Indeed, indeed!” squawked Floon, suddenly desperate to turn his situation around. “But nor are you used to talking to your intellectual equal, as you have said! This is true, yes?”
Corbett considered it. “Yes, it is true,” he admitted.
“Then please, hear my words, as another man of learning! These creatures are not for killing, they are for studying! For conserving! For…loving! Please, take my offer of friendship and understand I mean you no ill will. I only wish to see a force such as yourself used for…better things!”
Colonel Corbett looked bothered. He had never thought of it in such terms before. Professor Floon breathed heavily, waiting in silence, heart hammering, hoping for a reaction that spared his life.
Finally, the Colonel’s expression softened, and he began to speak. “Professor, I—“
“Colonel Corbett!” came a voice from the tent’s opening. Floon, uncharacteristically, cursed in his head. His heart sank.
“How dare you interrupt me? I said, very clearly I thought, that no one was to interrupt!”
The pirate at the opening was the huge, shirtless one, with the AT-AT driver’s helmet. “But it’s the others, sir, they’ve broken out!”
The moment had passed, Corbett’s mind was on other things. He grabbed his cap and marched towards the entrance. “Well then! Wait here with the Professor, we must hunt them down!”
Corbett marched toward the tent flap, where he was promptly whacked in the head with a blaster handle, and fell flat on his back. He lay there, hair mussed, tongue out, and unconscious.
“Oh my goodness!” cried Floon.
“Quiet, Professor! It’s just me, Kitsa. Ms. Rigo.”
Indeed it was. The reporter came ducking in, blaster in hand. The large pirate stood guard while she knelt down to rummage in Corbett’s holster.
“What-what is going on? Who is this abnormally large man at the door?” asked Floon, who’s voice dropped to an anxious whisper as he added, “Is he not one of the pirates?”
Kitsa pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Huh? Oh, that’s Deksen,” she explained simply. “He’s gonna help us escape.”
The pirate named Deksen raised a hand in casual greeting.
“O-Oh, how do you do?” Floon replied weakly, and he tipped his hat on instinct. “You are…very big!”
“I get that a lot,” came Deksen’s reply, filtered through his helmet.
“He is, isn’t he?” Kitsa grinned.
“Y-Yes—hold on; escape, you said?” squeaked Floon, who’s brain was beginning to catch up at last.
“Yes, escape,” she repeated firmly, looking him in the eye. “But we have to go now, understand? Otherwise we’ll die?”
Floon withdrew a handkerchief and dabbed at his face. “O-Oh, my. This is all rather a lot. And so sudden…”
“Yes, it is. We still have to save Clod, against my better judgement.”
“S-Save…Clod, you say?” said Floon, wilting with every word, and very close to fainting.
Kitsa smiled wryly and patted him on the shoulder. “Come on, Professor,” she said, and she handed him the Colonel’s blaster before turning to leave. Deksen made to follow her.
Floon went after them, but before reaching the tent’s exit he spun around awkwardly to address his host.
“I’m…very sorry for all this,” he said to Corbett’s unconscious body. “It really w-was lovely meeting you.”
Floon felt it was polite for one to wait to be excused, but Corbett did not reply.
Thus, with a great deal of stumbling and nervous mumbling, the professor hurried to catch up with the others.
“And the natives,” said Slyfoot with relish. “You said you’ve met them before, is that true?”
“Yesh,” spat Clod. He eyed the interrogation droid floating a foot away, its red receptor blinking, prod extended towards him.
“Then you could lead us to them. You will lead me to them.”
“Didn’t you hear a word I said? They found me the first time. I don’t know how to find them now!”
Slyfoot waved a hand dismissively. “Well, no matter. They asked you to return, I’m sure they’ll show up to you soon.”
Clod wished he could wipe his mouth where he’d drooled after one of the many electroshocks. It was starting to chape. “…Thought you…were gonna let us go?” he groaned.
Slyfoot laughed. “Really? You did? I didn’t take you for a fool. No, Mr. Clod. You’ll stay in this luxury for many days to com--I said I wanted no interruptions!”
Light had flooded the room from the now-open door. He heard a blaster go off, and a red bolt smashed into the interrogation droid, knocking it to the ground.
“Pardon me!” said Professor Floon, turning the gun on Slyfoot. The pirate sergeant raised his hands in surrender. “I nearly forgot something on my way out!”
“P-professor?” slurred Clod, craning his neck to see. “I can’t believe it.”
“That’s right, it’s me! I’ve come to rescue you, Mr. Clod.”
Clod groaned with relief. He hadn’t expected this in a million years. “You gotta get me out of here, doc.”
“Indeed!” said the Professor, who prodded Slyfoot with his pistol until he gave up the key to the bindings.
“Nice entry."
Floon seemed pleased. “Thank you! I am honored by the compliment, especially from someone as…daring-do as yourself! I practiced on the way here.”
“It paid off. Now…” he stretched and groaned his weary, burnt muscles. Then he turned towards Slyfoot, who held to his dignity even while fear seeped in the cracks. Weakened though he was, the Klatoonian was dangerous. He proved this to Slyfoot by knocking him to the floor with a right hook.
“Jerk. Wish I had more time.”
“We really must go, Rigo is waiting! She found a way out!”
Clod looked at the Professor and raised an eyebrow. “You already saved her?”
“Saved her?” replied the professor, leading him into the daylight. “Why, it was her who saved me!”
“You’re kidding!”
“I am not kidding, Mr. Clod! I assure you, I am entirely serious!”
They caught up with Kitsa and Deksen at the camp’s boneyard, where ship and vehicle carcasses formed a monument to the pirates’ past conquests.
“He’s fine,” said Kitsa, in response to the alarmed look on Clod’s face. “His name is Deksen, he’s helping us.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Deksen, voice filtered through his helmet.
“Sure, sure. A pleasure,” muttered Clod. “Listen, I told that creepy imp about the natives.”
Kitsa and Floon looked at him with dismay.
“It wasn’t exactly by choice,” grumbled Clod, but he avoided their gaze. “I’m betting they didn’t torture either of you.”
They answered by way of silence.
“Of course not,” he grunted. “Who else here has a face like a Corellian hound?”
“Ahem...I cannot imagine what you went through in that little room, so I cannot blame you for anything you’ve done,” said Floon seriously. “Besides…I let slip quite a lot about the wildlife to the Colonel, and I was under no compulsion besides a foolish enthusiasm for my subject! Oh, how moronic of me. I’m far worse than you, Mr. Clod. Fear no condemnation from us.”
Clod looked at him with something approaching humility and gratitude.
“I didn’t tell anyone anything,” said Kitsa. “Except about myself.”
“Their knowledge simply means we must make greater haste to find the natives first. And with the skills and talents of us three, I find our chances encouraging!”
Kitsa gestured to their soon-to-be-stolen ride. “Especially with this thing.”
Clod hurried forward to look at what she’d found. Underneath a tarp sat a small, aged red-and-white craft. Barely enough space for two people. “What is this, an Incom? Tiny, isn’t it?”
“Who cares who built it?” she replied shortly. “It’s an Airspeeder. Deksen says it’ll still fly.”
Deksen shrugged. “We use it for scout missions.
“Wait," Clod frowned. "We can’t leave yet.”
Kitsa threw up her hands. “Why not?”
“Hat."
“Oh, for karf’s sake--I got your hat, here. Can’t believe you’d get us killed over your hat.”
“My hat! You’re alright, Rigo.”
Deksen cleared his throat. “You three should climb in, you don’t have a lot of time.”
They threw their things in the speeder. Clod clambered into the pilot’s seat and brushed some crumbs off the controls. He checked various switches and toggles with an air of familiarity. Floon crammed himself into the back.
Kitsa was last to get in. She turned and threw herself at Deksen, hugging him awkwardly. She didn’t hug many people. Were you supposed to do it so forcefully? Fortunately, Deksen didn't seem to mind. He folded her gently in his massive arms.
“Thank you. I wish you could come with us.”
His tone carried a smile she couldn’t see through his facemask.
“It was good to meet you. I’ll see you again.”
“And you’ll be okay? The other pirates won’t…”
He put a calming hand on her shoulder. “You think they could?”
“Miss Rigo!” called the professor from the speeder. “I’m quite nervous waiting in here! I wouldn’t say anything, except that my muttering has made Mr. Clod angry.”
The two shared a chuckle. Kitsa smiled sadly and let go of him. She clambered into the airspeeder with the others, where she discovered it was a much tighter fit than she’d expected. Once she’d negotiated space with Floon, she leaned against the window and gave Deksen a final wave.
The pirate waved back.
“Whoof. He’s ripped, huh?” she said wistfully.
“Ripped?” Floon squeaked. “I’d say his shirt is beyond ripped, madam! There’s hardly a shirt there at all!”
The speeder was humming to life, the way any vehicle does that’s taken some battering. A warm, clanky kind of hum.
“Alright,” said Clod from the front. “Off to find the natives?”
“Before the pirates do!” said Kitsa.
“Oh my! A race against pirates, for the good of knowledge and sentient life!” flushed Floon. “It’s all rather exciting, isn’t it?”
A very precise and literal title for a weird abstract.
Playing around with CD refraction, light, water and reflections.
Didn't get anything near what I though I wanted, got this instead.
Kryžių kalnas, or the Hill of Crosses, (Lithuanian: Kryžių kalnas) is a site of pilgrimage about 12 km north of the city of Šiauliai in northern Lithuania. The precise origin of the practice of leaving crosses on the hill is uncertain, but it is believed that the first crosses were placed on the former hill fort after the 1831 Uprising in Poland, Lithuania, and other western regions of the Tsarist Empire. Over the generations, not only crosses and crucifixes, but statues of the Virgin Mary, carvings of Lithuanian patriots and thousands of tiny effigies and rosaries have been brought here by pilgrims. The exact number of crosses is unknown, but estimates put it at about 100,000 at present.
Over the generations, the place has come to signify the peaceful endurance of Lithuanian Catholicism despite the threats it faced throughout history. After the Third Partition of Poland in 1795, Lithuania became part of the Russian Empire. Poles and Lithuanians unsuccessfully rebelled against Russian authorities in 1831 and 1863. These two uprisings are connected with the beginnings of the hill: as families could not locate bodies of perished rebels, they started putting up symbolic crosses in their memory.
When the old political structure of Eastern Europe fell apart in 1918, Lithuania once again declared its independence. Throughout this time, the Hill of Crosses was used as a place for Lithuanians to pray for peace, for their country, and for the loved ones they had lost during the Wars of Independence.
The site took on a special significance during the years 1944–1990, when Lithuania was occupied by the Soviet Union. Continuing to travel to the hill and leave their tributes, Lithuanians used it to demonstrate their allegiance to their original identity, religion and heritage. It was a venue of peaceful resistance, although the Soviets worked hard to remove new crosses, and bulldozed the site at least three times (including attempts in 1963 and 1973). There were even rumors that the authorities planned to build a dam on the nearby Kulvė River, a tributary to Mūša, so that the hill would end up underwater.
On September 7, 1993, Pope John Paul II visited the Hill of Crosses, declaring it a place for hope, peace, love and sacrifice. In 2000 a Franciscan hermitage was opened nearby. The interior decoration draws links with La Verna, the mountain where St. Francis is said to have received his stigmata. The hill remains under nobody’s jurisdiction; therefore people are free to build crosses as they see fit.
Occasionally, significant parts of the site burn down in accidental fires. The site attracts pilgrims from across Europe, but especially Lithuania and Poland.
This description incorporates text from the English Wikipedia.
№ 18 is higly precise hunting rifle, combining advantages of american underbarrel magazine tube and elegancy of classic european bolt. With its excellent accuracy and .300 WHH caliber, this rifle is ideal for hunting large animals such as deers, bears, reindeers or wild boars.
Westinghouse also offers optional optics mounts, sling mounts of various sizes and 3 barrel lenghts (the one on picture is medium length).
So, yeah, for my 2nd Westinghouse weapon, I remade my first one. It´s been some time since I wanted to recreate combo underbarrel tube and classic bolt.
Now after I have this rifle, I can move onto another thing I wanted to recreate...... hunting rifle with underbarrel single shot shotgun barrel (if it causes chaos, you will see when I am finished).
Credits:
Westinghouse, Westinghouse logo and Westinghouse style goes to Xenol.
Engravings go to Worlock.
As ussualy, this weapon is fictional but is based on real weapons.
Chassis n° 2353GT
Zoute Sale - Bonhams
Estimated : € 400.000 - 500.000
Sold for € 592.250
Zoute Grand Prix 2021
Knokke - Zoute
België - Belgium
October 2021
This superb Ferrari 250 GTE was ordered by Garage Francorchamps in Brussels for a Belgian citizen, Mr Desoer, whose family hailed from the Liège area. This car's accompanying original Ferrari build sheet states that chassis '2353' was built as a 2+2 Coupé, body colour Bianco 12435 MM and with interior upholstery in Pelle Nera VM 8500.
The car was invoiced by Ferrari Sefac to Garage Francorchamps on 23rd March 1961 priced at 4,690,000 lire, and the owner registered it on 7th June 1961. The unusual white and black colour combination gives it an appearance of both elegance and sobriety. Although not widely used, white is one of the most flattering colours for a GTE, and Ferrari chose this colour for its catalogue illustration and for all its press photographs.
Having used his Ferrari 250 GTE but sparingly, Mr Desoer sold it to a Mercedes-Benz dealer in 1975. Shortly thereafter, it was acquired by a well-known Ferrari collector, Mr Ennio Gianaroli, another resident of the Liège area, who had amassed an impressive collection of racing and road-going Ferraris. He had '2353' repainted in grey metallic, and kept the car in his prestigious private collection for some 30 years.
In February 2005, a Belgian Ferrari collector and historic racing competitor acquired the car and decided to undertake a complete restoration, which he entrusted to the internationally renowned coachbuilders Nova Rinascente di Dino Cognolato & Figlie in Italy. Before sending the car to Italy, the perfectionist owner photographed it in great detail, recording its authenticity and excellent state of preservation.
'2353' was then treated to a complete restoration to perfect specifications ; the project took two years to complete, with no expenses spared to achieve excellence in all areas. Two other specialists, both internationally renowned, were entrusted with the restoration: Autofficina Omega di Corrado Patella & Figlio (mechanicals) and Tappezzeria Luppi (upholstery). During the two-year work, the passionately involved Ferraristi owner travelled several times to Italy to keep track of the restoration's progress.
The work is compiled in a detailed photographic report recording each step of the restoration process. It confirms the car's 'all matching numbers' authenticity; the fact that it has never been damaged; and that the bodywork is corrosion free.
The result of the restoration is quite exceptional and demonstrates an exemplary attention to details,extending to the original accessories such as the Marchal horn, etc. The paint and body are finished to perfect standards and the upholstery is magnificent, likewise the mechanicals.
Its restoration completed, '2353' received Ferrari Classiche certification in June 2009 and since then has covered only some 1,500 kilometres.
Completing the documentation of this remarkable car is its original 1961 Registration book (a very rare item); its original Ferrari Sefac-stamped build sheet; the original Garage Francorchamps invoice; a Massini Report; and Belgian Carte Grise.
On the road the car delivers pure driving pleasure, with light steering, a smooth clutch, a direct and precise gearchange, supple suspension and, most of all, a fabulous engine that responds without the slightest hesitation.
'2353' represents a unique opportunity to own a supremely elegant Ferrari 250 GTE, restored by the best in the business, and with a completely known history. There can be few, if any, better examples of this most desirable model currently available.
What craziness is this, a day in that London on a weekday? Well, working one day last weekend, and another next weekend, meant I took a day in Lieu.
So there.
And top of my list of places to visit was St Magnus. This would be the fifth time I have tried to get inside, and the first since I wrote to the church asking whether they would be open a particular Saturday, and then any Saturday. Letters which were ignored
So, I walked out of Monument Station, down the hill there was St Magnus: would it be open?
It was, and inside it was a box, nay a treasure chest of delights.
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St Magnus the Martyr, London Bridge is a Church of England church and parish within the City of London. The church, which is located in Lower Thames Street near The Monument to the Great Fire of London,[1] is part of the Diocese of London and under the pastoral care of the Bishop of London and the Bishop of Fulham.[2] It is a Grade I listed building.[3] The rector uses the title "Cardinal Rector". [4]
St Magnus lies on the original alignment of London Bridge between the City and Southwark. The ancient parish was united with that of St Margaret, New Fish Street, in 1670 and with that of St Michael, Crooked Lane, in 1831.[5] The three united parishes retained separate vestries and churchwardens.[6] Parish clerks continue to be appointed for each of the three parishes.[7]
St Magnus is the guild church of the Worshipful Company of Fishmongers and the Worshipful Company of Plumbers, and the ward church of the Ward of Bridge and Bridge Without. It is also twinned with the Church of the Resurrection in New York City.[8]
Its prominent location and beauty has prompted many mentions in literature.[9] In Oliver Twist Charles Dickens notes how, as Nancy heads for her secret meeting with Mr. Brownlow and Rose Maylie on London Bridge, "the tower of old Saint Saviour's Church, and the spire of Saint Magnus, so long the giant-warders of the ancient bridge, were visible in the gloom". The church's spiritual and architectural importance is celebrated in the poem The Waste Land by T. S. Eliot, who adds in a footnote that "the interior of St. Magnus Martyr is to my mind one of the finest among Wren's interiors".[10] One biographer of Eliot notes that at first he enjoyed St Magnus aesthetically for its "splendour"; later he appreciated its "utility" when he came there as a sinner.
The church is dedicated to St Magnus the Martyr, earl of Orkney, who died on 16 April in or around 1116 (the precise year is unknown).[12] He was executed on the island of Egilsay having been captured during a power struggle with his cousin, a political rival.[13] Magnus had a reputation for piety and gentleness and was canonised in 1135. St. Ronald, the son of Magnus's sister Gunhild Erlendsdotter, became Earl of Orkney in 1136 and in 1137 initiated the construction of St. Magnus Cathedral in Kirkwall.[14] The story of St. Magnus has been retold in the 20th century in the chamber opera The Martyrdom of St Magnus (1976)[15] by Sir Peter Maxwell Davies, based on George Mackay Brown's novel Magnus (1973).
he identity of the St Magnus referred to in the church's dedication was only confirmed by the Bishop of London in 1926.[16] Following this decision a patronal festival service was held on 16 April 1926.[17] In the 13th century the patronage was attributed to one of the several saints by the name of Magnus who share a feast day on 19 August, probably St Magnus of Anagni (bishop and martyr, who was slain in the persecution of the Emperor Decius in the middle of the 3rd century).[18] However, by the early 18th century it was suggested that the church was either "dedicated to the memory of St Magnus or Magnes, who suffer'd under the Emperor Aurelian in 276 [see St Mammes of Caesarea, feast day 17 August], or else to a person of that name, who was the famous Apostle or Bishop of the Orcades."[19] For the next century historians followed the suggestion that the church was dedicated to the Roman saint of Cæsarea.[20] The famous Danish archaeologist Professor Jens Jacob Asmussen Worsaae (1821–85) promoted the attribution to St Magnus of Orkney during his visit to the British Isles in 1846-7, when he was formulating the concept of the 'Viking Age',[21] and a history of London written in 1901 concluded that "the Danes, on their second invasion ... added at least two churches with Danish names, Olaf and Magnus".[22] A guide to the City Churches published in 1917 reverted to the view that St Magnus was dedicated to a martyr of the third century,[23] but the discovery of St Magnus of Orkney's relics in 1919 renewed interest in a Scandinavian patron and this connection was encouraged by the Rector who arrived in 1921
A metropolitan bishop of London attended the Council of Arles in 314, which indicates that there must have been a Christian community in Londinium by this date, and it has been suggested that a large aisled building excavated in 1993 near Tower Hill can be compared with the 4th-century Cathedral of St Tecla in Milan.[25] However, there is no archaeological evidence to suggest that any of the mediaeval churches in the City of London had a Roman foundation.[26] A grant from William I in 1067 to Westminster Abbey, which refers to the stone church of St Magnus near the bridge ("lapidee eccle sci magni prope pontem"), is generally accepted to be 12th century forgery,[27] and it is possible that a charter of confirmation in 1108-16 might also be a later fabrication.[28] Nonetheless, these manuscripts may preserve valid evidence of a date of foundation in the 11th century.
Archaeological evidence suggests that the area of the bridgehead was not occupied from the early 5th century until the early 10th century. Environmental evidence indicates that the area was waste ground during this period, colonised by elder and nettles. Following Alfred's decision to reoccupy the walled area of London in 886, new harbours were established at Queenhithe and Billingsgate. A bridge was in place by the early 11th century, a factor which would have encouraged the occupation of the bridgehead by craftsmen and traders.[30] A lane connecting Botolph's Wharf and Billingsgate to the rebuilt bridge may have developed by the mid-11th century. The waterfront at this time was a hive of activity, with the construction of embankments sloping down from the riverside wall to the river. Thames Street appeared in the second half of the 11th century immediately behind (north of) the old Roman riverside wall and in 1931 a piling from this was discovered during the excavation of the foundations of a nearby building. It now stands at the base of the church tower.[31] St Magnus was built to the south of Thames Street to serve the growing population of the bridgehead area[32] and was certainly in existence by 1128-33.[33]
The small ancient parish[34] extended about 110 yards along the waterfront either side of the old bridge, from 'Stepheneslane' (later Churchehawlane or Church Yard Alley) and 'Oystergate' (later called Water Lane or Gully Hole) on the West side to 'Retheresgate' (a southern extension of Pudding Lane) on the East side, and was centred on the crossroads formed by Fish Street Hill (originally Bridge Street, then New Fish Street) and Thames Street.[35] The mediaeval parish also included Drinkwater's Wharf (named after the owner, Thomas Drinkwater), which was located immediately West of the bridge, and Fish Wharf, which was to the South of the church. The latter was of considerable importance as the fishmongers had their shops on the wharf. The tenement was devised by Andrew Hunte to the Rector and Churchwardens in 1446.[36] The ancient parish was situated in the South East part of Bridge Ward, which had evolved in the 11th century between the embankments to either side of the bridge.[37]
In 1182 the Abbot of Westminster and the Prior of Bermondsey agreed that the advowson of St Magnus should be divided equally between them. Later in the 1180s, on their presentation, the Archdeacon of London inducted his nephew as parson.
Between the late Saxon period and 1209 there was a series of wooden bridges across the Thames, but in that year a stone bridge was completed.[39] The work was overseen by Peter de Colechurch, a priest and head of the Fraternity of the Brethren of London Bridge. The Church had from early times encouraged the building of bridges and this activity was so important it was perceived to be an act of piety - a commitment to God which should be supported by the giving of alms. London’s citizens made gifts of land and money "to God and the Bridge".[40] The Bridge House Estates became part of the City's jurisdiction in 1282.
Until 1831 the bridge was aligned with Fish Street Hill, so the main entrance into the City from the south passed the West door of St Magnus on the north bank of the river.[41] The bridge included a chapel dedicated to St Thomas Becket[42] for the use of pilgrims journeying to Canterbury Cathedral to visit his tomb.[43] The chapel and about two thirds of the bridge were in the parish of St Magnus. After some years of rivalry a dispute arose between the church and the chapel over the offerings given to the chapel by the pilgrims. The matter was resolved by the brethren of the chapel making an annual contribution to St Magnus.[44] At the Reformation the chapel was turned into a house and later a warehouse, the latter being demolished in 1757-58.
The church grew in importance. On 21 November 1234 a grant of land was made to the parson of St Magnus for the enlargement of the church.[45] The London eyre of 1244 recorded that in 1238 "A thief named William of Ewelme of the county of Buckingham fled to the church of St. Magnus the Martyr, London, and there acknowledged the theft and abjured the realm. He had no chattels."[46] Another entry recorded that "The City answers saying that the church of ... St. Magnus the Martyr ... which [is] situated on the king's highway ... ought to belong to the king and be in his gift".[47] The church presumably jutted into the road running to the bridge, as it did in later times.[48] In 1276 it was recorded that "the church of St. Magnus the Martyr is worth £15 yearly and Master Geoffrey de la Wade now holds it by the grant of the prior of Bermundeseie and the abbot of Westminster to whom King Henry conferred the advowson by his charter.
In 1274 "came King Edward and his wife [Eleanor] from the Holy Land and were crowned at Westminster on the Sunday next after the Feast of the Assumption of Our Lady [15 August], being the Feast of Saint Magnus [19 August]; and the Conduit in Chepe ran all the day with red wine and white wine to drink, for all such as wished."[50] Stow records that "in the year 1293, for victory obtained by Edward I against the Scots, every citizen, according to their several trade, made their several show, but especially the fishmongers" whose solemn procession including a knight "representing St Magnus, because it was upon St Magnus' day".
An important religious guild, the Confraternity de Salve Regina, was in existence by 1343, having been founded by the "better sort of the Parish of St Magnus" to sing the anthem 'Salve Regina' every evening.[51] The Guild certificates of 1389 record that the Confraternity of Salve Regina and the guild of St Thomas the Martyr in the chapel on the bridge, whose members belonged to St Magnus parish, had determined to become one, to have the anthem of St Thomas after the Salve Regina and to devote their united resources to restoring and enlarging the church of St Magnus.[52] An Act of Parliament of 1437[53] provided that all incorporated fraternities and companies should register their charters and have their ordinances approved by the civic authorities.[54] Fear of enquiry into their privileges may have led established fraternities to seek a firm foundation for their rights. The letters patent of the fraternity of St Mary and St Thomas the Martyr of Salve Regina in St Magnus dated 26 May 1448 mention that the fraternity had petitioned for a charter on the grounds that the society was not duly founded.
In the mid-14th century the Pope was the Patron of the living and appointed five rectors to the benefice.[56]
Henry Yevele, the master mason whose work included the rebuilding of Westminster Hall and the naves of Westminster Abbey and Canterbury Cathedral, was a parishioner and rebuilt the chapel on London Bridge between 1384 and 1397. He served as a warden of London Bridge and was buried at St Magnus on his death in 1400. His monument was extant in John Stow's time, but was probably destroyed by the fire of 1666.[57]
Yevele, as the King’s Mason, was overseen by Geoffrey Chaucer in his capacity as the Clerk of the King's Works. In The General Prologue of Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales the five guildsmen "were clothed alle in o lyveree Of a solempne and a greet fraternitee"[58] and may be thought of as belonging to the guild in the parish of St Magnus, or one like it.[59] Chaucer's family home was near to the bridge in Thames Street.
n 1417 a dispute arose concerning who should take the place of honour amongst the rectors in the City churches at the Whit Monday procession, a place that had been claimed from time to time by the rectors of St Peter Cornhill, St Magnus the Martyr and St Nicholas Cole Abbey. The Mayor and Aldermen decided that the Rector of St Peter Cornhill should take precedence.[61]
St Magnus Corner at the north end of London Bridge was an important meeting place in mediaeval London, where notices were exhibited, proclamations read out and wrongdoers punished.[62] As it was conveniently close to the River Thames, the church was chosen by the Bishop between the 15th and 17th centuries as a convenient venue for general meetings of the clergy in his diocese.[63] Dr John Young, Bishop of Callipolis (rector of St Magnus 1514-15) pronounced judgement on 16 December 1514 (with the Bishop of London and in the presence of Thomas More, then under-sheriff of London) in the heresy case concerning Richard Hunne.[64]
In pictures from the mid-16th century the old church looks very similar to the present-day St Giles without Cripplegate in the Barbican.[65] According to the martyrologist John Foxe, a woman was imprisoned in the 'cage' on London Bridge in April 1555 and told to "cool herself there" for refusing to pray at St Magnus for the recently deceased Pope Julius III.[66]
Simon Lowe, a Member of Parliament and Master of the Merchant Taylors' Company during the reign of Queen Mary and one of the jurors who acquitted Sir Nicholas Throckmorton in 1554, was a parishioner.[67] He was a mourner at the funeral of Maurice Griffith, Bishop of Rochester from 1554 to 1558 and Rector of St Magnus from 1537 to 1558, who was interred in the church on 30 November 1558 with much solemnity. In accordance with the Catholic church's desire to restore ecclesiastical pageantry in England, the funeral was a splendid affair, ending in a magnificent dinner.
Lowe was included in a return of recusants in the Diocese of Rochester in 1577,[69] but was buried at St Magnus on 6 February 1578.[70] Stow refers to his monument in the church. His eldest son, Timothy (died 1617), was knighted in 1603. His second son, Alderman Sir Thomas Lowe (1550–1623), was Master of the Haberdashers' Company on several occasions, Sheriff of London in 1595/96, Lord Mayor in 1604/05 and a Member of Parliament for London.[71] His youngest son, Blessed John Lowe (1553–1586), having originally been a Protestant minister, converted to Roman Catholicism, studied for the priesthood at Douay and Rome and returned to London as a missionary priest.[72] His absence had already been noted; a list of 1581 of "such persons of the Diocese of London as have any children ... beyond the seas" records "John Low son to Margaret Low of the Bridge, absent without licence four years". Having gained 500 converts to Catholicism between 1583 and 1586, he was arrested whilst walking with his mother near London Bridge, committed to The Clink and executed at Tyburn on 8 October 1586.[73] He was beatified in 1987 as one of the eighty-five martyrs of England and Wales.
Sir William Garrard, Master of the Haberdashers' Company, Alderman, Sheriff of London in 1553/53, Lord Mayor in 1555/56 and a Member of Parliament was born in the parish and buried at St Magnus in 1571.[74] Sir William Romney, merchant, philanthropist, Master of the Haberdashers' Company, Alderman for Bridge Within and Sheriff of London in 1603/04[75] was married at St Magnus in 1582. Ben Jonson is believed to have been married at St Magnus in 1594.[76]
The patronage of St Magnus, having previously been in the Abbots and Convents of Westminster and Bermondsey (who presented alternatively), fell to the Crown on the suppression of the monasteries. In 1553, Queen Mary, by letters patent, granted it to the Bishop of London and his successors.[77]
The church had a series of distinguished rectors in the second half of the 16th and first half of the 17th century, including Myles Coverdale (Rector 1564-66), John Young (Rector 1566-92), Theophilus Aylmer (Rector 1592-1625), (Archdeacon of London and son of John Aylmer), and Cornelius Burges (Rector 1626-41). Coverdale was buried in the chancel of St Bartholomew-by-the-Exchange, but when that church was pulled down in 1840 his remains were removed to St Magnus.[78]
On 5 November 1562 the churchwardens were ordered to break, or cause to be broken, in two parts all the altar stones in the church.[79] Coverdale, an anti-vestiarian, was Rector at the peak of the vestments controversy. In March 1566 Archbishop Parker caused great consternation among many clergy by his edicts prescribing what was to be worn and by his summoning the London clergy to Lambeth to require their compliance. Coverdale excused himself from attending.[80] Stow records that a non-conforming Scot who normally preached at St Magnus twice a day precipitated a fight on Palm Sunday 1566 at Little All Hallows in Thames Street with his preaching against vestments.[81] Coverdale's resignation from St Magnus in summer 1566 may have been associated with these events. Separatist congregations started to emerge after 1566 and the first such, who called themselves 'Puritans' or 'Unspottyd Lambs of the Lord', was discovered close to St Magnus at Plumbers' Hall in Thames Street on 19 June 1567.
St Magnus narrowly escaped destruction in 1633. A later edition of Stow's Survey records that "On the 13th day of February, between eleven and twelve at night, there happened in the house of one Briggs, a Needle-maker near St Magnus Church, at the North end of the Bridge, by the carelessness of a Maid-Servant setting a tub of hot sea-coal ashes under a pair of stairs, a sad and lamentable fire, which consumed all the buildings before eight of the clock the next morning, from the North end of the Bridge to the first vacancy on both sides, containing forty-two houses; water then being very scarce, the Thames being almost frozen over."[83] Susannah Chambers "by her last will & testament bearing date 28th December 1640 gave the sum of Twenty-two shillings and Sixpence Yearly for a Sermon to be preached on the 12th day of February in every Year within the Church of Saint Magnus in commemoration of God's merciful preservation of the said Church of Saint Magnus from Ruin, by the late and terrible Fire on London Bridge. Likewise Annually to the Poor the sum of 17/6."[84] The tradition of a "Fire Sermon" was revived on 12 February 2004, when the first preacher was the Rt Revd and Rt Hon Richard Chartres, Bishop of London.
Parliamentarian rule and the more Protestant ethos of the 1640s led to the removal or destruction of "superstitious" and "idolatrous" images and fittings. Glass painters such as Baptista Sutton, who had previously installed "Laudian innovations", found new employment by repairing and replacing these to meet increasingly strict Protestant standards. In January 1642 Sutton replaced 93 feet of glass at St Magnus and in June 1644 he was called back to take down the "painted imagery glass" and replace it.[86] In June 1641 "rail riots" broke out at a number of churches. This was a time of high tension following the trial and execution of the Earl of Strafford and rumours of army and popish plots were rife. The Protestation Oath, with its pledge to defend the true religion "against all Popery and popish innovation", triggered demands from parishioners for the removal of the rails as popish innovations which the Protestation had bound them to reform. The minister arranged a meeting between those for and against the pulling down of the rails, but was unsuccessful in reaching a compromise and it was feared that they would be demolished by force.[87] However, in 1663 the parish resumed Laudian practice and re-erected rails around its communion table.[88]
Joseph Caryl was incumbent from 1645 until his ejection in 1662. In 1663 he was reportedly living near London Bridge and preaching to an Independent congregation that met at various places in the City.[89]
During the Great Plague of 1665, the City authorities ordered fires to be kept burning night and day, in the hope that the air would be cleansed. Daniel Defoe's semi-fictictional, but highly realistic, work A Journal of the Plague Year records that one of these was "just by St Magnus Church"
Despite its escape in 1633, the church was one of the first buildings to be destroyed in the Great Fire of London in 1666.[91] St Magnus stood less than 300 yards from the bakehouse of Thomas Farriner in Pudding Lane where the fire started. Farriner, a former churchwarden of St Magnus, was buried in the middle aisle of the church on 11 December 1670, perhaps within a temporary structure erected for holding services.[92]
The parish engaged the master mason George Dowdeswell to start the work of rebuilding in 1668. The work was carried forward between 1671 and 1687 under the direction of Sir Christopher Wren, the body of the church being substantially complete by 1676.[93] At a cost of £9,579 19s 10d St Magnus was one of Wren's most expensive churches.[94] The church of St Margaret New Fish Street was not rebuilt after the fire and its parish was united to that of St Magnus.
The chancels of many of Wren’s city churches had chequered marble floors and the chancel of St Magnus is an example,[95] the parish agreeing after some debate to place the communion table on a marble ascent with steps[96] and to commission altar rails of Sussex wrought iron. The nave and aisles are paved with freestone flags. A steeple, closely modelled on one built between 1614 and 1624 by François d'Aguilon and Pieter Huyssens for the church of St Carolus Borromeus in Antwerp, was added between 1703 and 1706.[97] London's skyline was transformed by Wren's tall steeples and that of St Magnus is considered to be one his finest.[98]
The large clock projecting from the tower was a well-known landmark in the city as it hung over the roadway of Old London Bridge.[99] It was presented to the church in 1709 by Sir Charles Duncombe[100] (Alderman for the Ward of Bridge Within and, in 1708/09, Lord Mayor of London). Tradition says "that it was erected in consequence of a vow made by the donor, who, in the earlier part of his life, had once to wait a considerable time in a cart upon London Bridge, without being able to learn the hour, when he made a promise, that if he ever became successful in the world, he would give to that Church a public clock ... that all passengers might see the time of day."[101] The maker was Langley Bradley, a clockmaker in Fenchurch Street, who had worked for Wren on many other projects, including the clock for the new St Paul's Cathedral. The sword rest in the church, designed to hold the Lord Mayor's sword and mace when he attended divine service "in state", dates from 1708.
Duncombe and his benefactions to St Magnus feature prominently in Daniel Defoe's The True-Born Englishman, a biting satire on critics of William III that went through several editions from 1700 (the year in which Duncombe was elected Sheriff).
Shortly before his death in 1711, Duncombe commissioned an organ for the church, the first to have a swell-box, by Abraham Jordan (father and son).[103] The Spectator announced that "Whereas Mr Abraham Jordan, senior and junior, have, with their own hands, joinery excepted, made and erected a very large organ in St Magnus' Church, at the foot of London Bridge, consisting of four sets of keys, one of which is adapted to the art of emitting sounds by swelling notes, which never was in any organ before; this instrument will be publicly opened on Sunday next [14 February 1712], the performance by Mr John Robinson. The above-said Abraham Jordan gives notice to all masters and performers, that he will attend every day next week at the said Church, to accommodate all those gentlemen who shall have a curiosity to hear it".[104]
The organ case, which remains in its original state, is looked upon as one of the finest existing examples of the Grinling Gibbons's school of wood carving.[105] The first organist of St Magnus was John Robinson (1682–1762), who served in that role for fifty years and in addition as organist of Westminster Abbey from 1727. Other organists have included the blind organist George Warne (1792–1868, organist 1820-26 until his appointment to the Temple Church), James Coward (1824–80, organist 1868-80 who was also organist to the Crystal Palace and renowned for his powers of improvisation) and George Frederick Smith FRCO (1856–1918, organist 1880-1918 and Professor of Music at the Guildhall School of Music).[106] The organ has been restored several times - in 1760, 1782, 1804, 1855, 1861, 1879, 1891, 1924, 1949 after wartime damage and 1997 - since it was first built.[107] Sir Peter Maxwell Davies was one of several patrons of the organ appeal in the mid-1990s[108] and John Scott gave an inaugural recital on 20 May 1998 following the completion of that restoration.[109] The instrument has an Historic Organ Certificate and full details are recorded in the National Pipe Organ Register.[110]
The hymn tune "St Magnus", usually sung at Ascensiontide to the text "The head that once was crowned with thorns", was written by Jeremiah Clarke in 1701 and named for the church.
Canaletto drew St Magnus and old London Bridge as they appeared in the late 1740s.[112] Between 1756 and 1762, under the London Bridge Improvement Act of 1756 (c. 40), the Corporation of London demolished the buildings on London Bridge to widen the roadway, ease traffic congestion and improve safety for pedestrians.[113] The churchwardens’ accounts of St Magnus list many payments to those injured on the Bridge and record that in 1752 a man was crushed to death between two carts.[114] After the House of Commons had resolved upon the alteration of London Bridge, the Rev Robert Gibson, Rector of St Magnus, applied to the House for relief; stating that 48l. 6s. 2d. per annum, part of his salary of 170l. per annum, was assessed upon houses on London Bridge; which he should utterly lose by their removal unless a clause in the bill about to be passed should provide a remedy.[115] Accordingly, Sections 18 and 19 of 1756 Act provided that the relevant amounts of tithe and poor rate should be a charge on the Bridge House Estates.[116]
A serious fire broke out on 18 April 1760 in an oil shop at the south east corner of the church, which consumed most of the church roof and did considerable damage to the fabric. The fire burnt warehouses to the south of the church and a number of houses on the northern end of London Bridge.
As part of the bridge improvements, overseen by the architect Sir Robert Taylor, a new pedestrian walkway was built along the eastern side of the bridge. With the other buildings gone St Magnus blocked the new walkway.[117] As a consequence it was necessary in 1762 to 1763 to remove the vestry rooms at the West end of the church and open up the side arches of the tower so that people could pass underneath the tower.[118] The tower’s lower storey thus became an external porch. Internally a lobby was created at the West end under the organ gallery and a screen with fine octagonal glazing inserted. A new Vestry was built to the South of the church.[119] The Act also provided that the land taken from the church for the widening was "to be considered ... as part of the cemetery of the said church ... but if the pavement thereof be broken up on account of the burying of any persons, the same shall be ... made good ... by the churchwardens"
Soldiers were stationed in the Vestry House of St Magnus during the Gordon Riots in June 1780.[121]
By 1782 the noise level from the activities of Billingsgate Fish Market had become unbearable and the large windows on the north side of the church were blocked up leaving only circular windows high up in the wall.[122] At some point between the 1760s and 1814 the present clerestory was constructed with its oval windows and fluted and coffered plasterwork.[123] J. M. W. Turner painted the church in the mid-1790s.[124]
The rector of St Magnus between 1792 and 1808, following the death of Robert Gibson on 28 July 1791,[125] was Thomas Rennell FRS. Rennell was President of Sion College in 1806/07. There is a monument to Thomas Leigh (Rector 1808-48 and President of Sion College 1829/30,[126] at St Peter's Church, Goldhanger in Essex.[127] Richard Hazard (1761–1837) was connected with the church as sexton, parish clerk and ward beadle for nearly 50 years[128] and served as Master of the Parish Clerks' Company in 1831/32.[129]
In 1825 the church was "repaired and beautified at a very considerable expense. During the reparation the east window, which had been closed, was restored, and the interior of the fabric conformed to the state in which it was left by its great architect, Sir Christopher Wren. The magnificent organ ... was taken down and rebuilt by Mr Parsons, and re-opened, with the church, on the 12th February, 1826".[130] Unfortunately, as a contemporary writer records, "On the night of the 31st of July, 1827, [the church's] safety was threatened by the great fire which consumed the adjacent warehouses, and it is perhaps owing to the strenuous and praiseworthy exertions of the firemen, that the structure exists at present. ... divine service was suspended and not resumed until the 20th January 1828. In the interval the church received such tasteful and elegant decorations, that it may now compete with any church in the metropolis.
In 1823 royal assent was given to ‘An Act for the Rebuilding of London Bridge’ and in 1825 John Garratt, Lord Mayor and Alderman of the Ward of Bridge Within, laid the first stone of the new London Bridge.[132] In 1831 Sir John Rennie’s new bridge was opened further upstream and the old bridge demolished. St Magnus ceased to be the gateway to London as it had been for over 600 years. Peter de Colechurch[133] had been buried in the crypt of the chapel on the bridge and his bones were unceremoniously dumped in the River Thames.[134] In 1921 two stones from Old London Bridge were discovered across the road from the church. They now stand in the churchyard.
Wren's church of St Michael Crooked Lane was demolished, the final service on Sunday 20 March 1831 having to be abandoned due to the effects of the building work. The Rector of St Michael preached a sermon the following Sunday at St Magnus lamenting the demolition of his church with its monuments and "the disturbance of the worship of his parishioners on the preceeding Sabbath".[135] The parish of St Michael Crooked Lane was united to that of St Magnus, which itself lost a burial ground in Church Yard Alley to the approach road for the new bridge.[136] However, in substitution it had restored to it the land taken for the widening of the old bridge in 1762 and was also given part of the approach lands to the east of the old bridge.[137] In 1838 the Committee for the London Bridge Approaches reported to Common Council that new burial grounds had been provided for the parishes of St Michael, Crooked Lane and St Magnus, London Bridge.
Depictions of St Magnus after the building of the new bridge, seen behind Fresh Wharf and the new London Bridge Wharf, include paintings by W. Fenoulhet in 1841 and by Charles Ginner in 1913.[139] This prospect was affected in 1924 by the building of Adelaide House to a design by John James Burnet,[140] The Times commenting that "the new ‘architectural Matterhorn’ ... conceals all but the tip of the church spire".[141] There was, however, an excellent view of the church for a few years between the demolition of Adelaide Buildings and the erection of its replacement.[142] Adelaide House is now listed.[143] Regis House, on the site of the abandoned King William Street terminus of the City & South London Railway (subsequently the Northern Line),[144] and the Steam Packet Inn, on the corner of Lower Thames Street and Fish Street Hill,[145] were developed in 1931.
By the early 1960s traffic congestion had become a problem[147] and Lower Thames Street was widened over the next decade[148] to form part of a significant new east-west transport artery (the A3211).[149] The setting of the church was further affected by the construction of a new London Bridge between 1967 and 1973.[150] The New Fresh Wharf warehouse to the east of the church, built in 1939, was demolished in 1973-4 following the collapse of commercial traffic in the Pool of London[151] and, after an archaeological excavation,[152] St Magnus House was constructed on the site in 1978 to a design by R. Seifert & Partners.[153] This development now allows a clear view of the church from the east side.[154] The site to the south east of The Monument (between Fish Street Hill and Pudding Lane), formerly predominantly occupied by fish merchants,[155] was redeveloped as Centurion House and Gartmore (now Providian) House at the time of the closure of old Billingsgate Market in January 1982.[156] A comprehensive redevelopment of Centurion House began in October 2011 with completion planned in 2013.[157] Regis House, to the south west of The Monument, was redeveloped by Land Securities PLC in 1998.[158]
The vista from The Monument south to the River Thames, over the roof of St Magnus, is protected under the City of London Unitary Development Plan,[159] although the South bank of the river is now dominated by The Shard. Since 2004 the City of London Corporation has been exploring ways of enhancing the Riverside Walk to the south of St Magnus.[160] Work on a new staircase to connect London Bridge to the Riverside Walk is due to commence in March 2013.[161] The story of St Magnus's relationship with London Bridge and an interview with the rector featured in the television programme The Bridges That Built London with Dan Cruickshank, first broadcast on BBC Four on 14 June 2012.[162] The City Corporation's 'Fenchurch and Monument Area Enhancement Strategy' of August 2012 recommended ways of reconnecting St Magnus and the riverside to the area north of Lower Thames Street.
A lectureship at St Michael Crooked Lane, which was transferred to St Magnus in 1831, was endowed by the wills of Thomas and Susannah Townsend in 1789 and 1812 respectively.[164] The Revd Henry Robert Huckin, Headmaster of Repton School from 1874 to 1882, was appointed Townsend Lecturer at St Magnus in 1871.[165]
St Magnus narrowly escaped damage from a major fire in Lower Thames Street in October 1849.
During the second half of the 19th century the rectors were Alexander McCaul, DD (1799–1863, Rector 1850-63), who coined the term 'Judaeo Christian' in a letter dated 17 October 1821,[167] and his son Alexander Israel McCaul (1835–1899, curate 1859-63, rector 1863-99). The Revd Alexander McCaul Sr[168] was a Christian missionary to the Polish Jews, who (having declined an offer to become the first Anglican Bishop in Jerusalem)[169] was appointed professor of Hebrew and rabbinical literature at King's College, London in 1841. His daughter, Elizabeth Finn (1825–1921), a noted linguist, founded the Distressed Gentlefolk Aid Association (now known as Elizabeth Finn Care).[170]
In 1890 it was reported that the Bishop of London was to hold an inquiry as to the desirability of uniting the benefices of St George Botolph Lane and St Magnus. The expectation was a fusion of the two livings, the demolition of St George’s and the pensioning of "William Gladstone’s favourite Canon", Malcolm MacColl. Although services ceased there, St George’s was not demolished until 1904. The parish was then merged with St Mary at Hill rather than St Magnus.[171]
The patronage of the living was acquired in the late 19th century by Sir Henry Peek Bt. DL MP, Senior Partner of Peek Brothers & Co of 20 Eastcheap, the country's largest firm of wholesale tea brokers and dealers, and Chairman of the Commercial Union Assurance Co. Peek was a generous philanthropist who was instrumental in saving both Wimbledon Common and Burnham Beeches from development. His grandson, Sir Wilfred Peek Bt. DSO JP, presented a cousin, Richard Peek, as rector in 1904. Peek, an ardent Freemason, held the office of Grand Chaplain of England. The Times recorded that his memorial service in July 1920 "was of a semi-Masonic character, Mr Peek having been a prominent Freemason".[172] In June 1895 Peek had saved the life of a young French girl who jumped overboard from a ferry midway between Dinard and St Malo in Brittany and was awarded the bronze medal of the Royal Humane Society and the Gold Medal 1st Class of the Sociâetâe Nationale de Sauvetage de France.[173]
In November 1898 a memorial service was held at St Magnus for Sir Stuart Knill Bt. (1824–1898), head of the firm of John Knill and Co, wharfingers, and formerly Lord Mayor and Master of the Plumbers' Company.[174] This was the first such service for a Roman Catholic taken in an Anglican church.[175] Sir Stuart's son, Sir John Knill Bt. (1856-1934), also served as Alderman for the Ward of Bridge Within, Lord Mayor and Master of the Plumbers' Company.
Until 1922 the annual Fish Harvest Festival was celebrated at St Magnus.[176] The service moved in 1923 to St Dunstan in the East[177] and then to St Mary at Hill, but St Magnus retained close links with the local fish merchants until the closure of old Billingsgate Market. St Magnus, in the 1950s, was "buried in the stink of Billingsgate fish-market, against which incense was a welcome antidote".
A report in 1920 proposed the demolition of nineteen City churches, including St Magnus.[179] A general outcry from members of the public and parishioners alike prevented the execution of this plan.[180] The members of the City Livery Club passed a resolution that they regarded "with horror and indignation the proposed demolition of 19 City churches" and pledged the Club to do everything in its power to prevent such a catastrophe.[181] T. S. Eliot wrote that the threatened churches gave "to the business quarter of London a beauty which its hideous banks and commercial houses have not quite defaced. ... the least precious redeems some vulgar street ... The loss of these towers, to meet the eye down a grimy lane, and of these empty naves, to receive the solitary visitor at noon from the dust and tumult of Lombard Street, will be irreparable and unforgotten."[182] The London County Council published a report concluding that St Magnus was "one of the most beautiful of all Wren's works" and "certainly one of the churches which should not be demolished without specially good reasons and after very full consideration."[183] Due to the uncertainty about the church's future, the patron decided to defer action to fill the vacancy in the benefice and a curate-in-charge temporarily took responsibility for the parish.[184] However, on 23 April 1921 it was announced that the Revd Henry Joy Fynes-Clinton would be the new Rector. The Times concluded that the appointment, with the Bishop’s approval, meant that the proposed demolition would not be carried out.[185] Fr Fynes-Clinton was inducted on 31 May 1921.[186]
The rectory, built by Robert Smirke in 1833-5, was at 39 King William Street.[187] A decision was taken in 1909 to sell the property, the intention being to purchase a new rectory in the suburbs, but the sale fell through and at the time of the 1910 Land Tax Valuations the building was being let out to a number of tenants. The rectory was sold by the diocese on 30 May 1921 for £8,000 to Ridgways Limited, which owned the adjoining premises.[188] The Vestry House adjoining the south west of the church, replacing the one built in the 1760s, may also have been by Smirke. Part of the burial ground of St Michael Crooked Lane, located between Fish Street Hill and King William Street, survived as an open space until 1987 when it was compulsorily purchased to facilitate the extension of the Docklands Light Railway into the City.[189] The bodies were reburied at Brookwood Cemetery.
The interior of the church was restored by Martin Travers in 1924, in a neo-baroque style,[191] reflecting the Anglo-Catholic character of the congregation[192] following the appointment of Henry Joy Fynes-Clinton as Rector.[193] Fr Fynes, as he was often known, served as Rector of St Magnus from 31 May 1921 until his death on 4 December 1959 and substantially beautified the interior of the church.[194]
Fynes-Clinton held very strong Anglo-Catholic views, and proceeded to make St Magnus as much like a baroque Roman Catholic church as possible. However, "he was such a loveable character with an old-world courtesy which was irresistible, that it was difficult for anyone to be unpleasant to him, however much they might disapprove of his views".[195] He generally said the Roman Mass in Latin; and in personality was "grave, grand, well-connected and holy, with a laconic sense of humour".[196] To a Protestant who had come to see Coverdale's monument he is reported to have said "We have just had a service in the language out of which he translated the Bible".[197] The use of Latin in services was not, however, without grammatical danger. A response from his parishioners of "Ora pro nobis" after "Omnes sancti Angeli et Archangeli" in the Litany of the Saints would elicit a pause and the correction "No, Orate pro nobis."
In 1922 Fynes-Clinton refounded the Fraternity of Our Lady de Salve Regina.[198] The Fraternity's badge[199] is shown in the stained glass window at the east end of the north wall of the church above the reredos of the Lady Chapel altar. He also erected a statue of Our Lady of Walsingham and arranged pilgrimages to the Norfolk shrine, where he was one of the founding Guardians.[200] In 1928 the journal of the Catholic League reported that St Magnus had presented a votive candle to the Shrine at Walsingham "in token of our common Devotion and the mutual sympathy and prayers that are we hope a growing bond between the peaceful country shrine and the church in the heart of the hurrying City, from the Altar of which the Pilgrimages regularly start".[201]
Fynes-Clinton was General Secretary of the Anglican and Eastern Orthodox Churches Union and its successor, the Anglican and Eastern Churches Association, from 1906 to 1920 and served as Secretary to the Archbishop of Canterbury's Eastern Churches Committee from 1920 to around 1924. A Solemn Requiem was celebrated at St Magnus in September 1921 for the late King Peter of the Serbs, Croats and Slovenes.
At the midday service on 1 March 1922, J.A. Kensit, leader of the Protestant Truth Society, got up and protested against the form of worship.[202] The proposed changes to the church in 1924 led to a hearing in the Consistory Court of the Chancellor of the Diocese of London and an appeal to the Court of Arches.[203] Judgement was given by the latter Court in October 1924. The advowson was purchased in 1931, without the knowledge of the Rector and Parochial Church Council, by the evangelical Sir Charles King-Harman.[204] A number of such cases, including the purchase of the advowsons of Clapham and Hampstead Parish Churches by Sir Charles, led to the passage of the Benefices (Purchase of Rights of Patronage) Measure 1933.[205] This allowed the parishioners of St Magnus to purchase the advowson from Sir Charles King-Harman for £1,300 in 1934 and transfer it to the Patronage Board.
St Magnus was one of the churches that held special services before the opening of the second Anglo-Catholic Congress in 1923.[207] Fynes-Clinton[208] was the first incumbent to hold lunchtime services for City workers.[209] Pathé News filmed the Palm Sunday procession at St Magnus in 1935.[210] In The Towers of Trebizond, the novel by Rose Macauley published in 1956, Fr Chantry-Pigg's church is described as being several feet higher than St Mary’s Bourne Street and some inches above even St Magnus the Martyr.[211]
In July 1937 Fr Fynes-Clinton, with two members of his congregation, travelled to Kirkwall to be present at the 800th anniversary celebrations of St Magnus Cathedral, Kirkwall. During their stay they visited Egilsay and were shown the spot where St Magnus had been slain. Later Fr Fynes-Clinton was present at a service held at the roofless church of St Magnus on Egilsay, where he suggested to his host Mr Fryer, the minister of the Cathedral, that the congregations of Kirkwall and London should unite to erect a permanent stone memorial on the traditional site where Earl Magnus had been murdered. In 1938 a cairn was built of local stone on Egilsay. It stands 12 feet high and is 6 feet broad at its base. The memorial was dedicated on 7 September 1938 and a bronze inscription on the monument reads "erected by the Rector and Congregation of St Magnus the Martyr by London Bridge and the Minister and Congregation of St Magnus Cathedral, Kirkwall to commemorate the traditional spot where Earl Magnus was slain, AD circa 1116 and to commemorate the Octocentenary of St Magnus Cathedral 1937"
A bomb which fell on London Bridge in 1940 during the Blitz of World War II blew out all the windows and damaged the plasterwork and the roof of the north aisle.[213] However, the church was designated a Grade I listed building on 4 January 1950[214] and repaired in 1951, being re-opened for worship in June of that year by the Bishop of London, William Wand.[215] The architect was Laurence King.[216] Restoration and redecoration work has subsequently been carried out several times, including after a fire in the early hours of 4 November 1995.[217] Cleaning of the exterior stonework was completed in 2010.
Some minor changes were made to the parish boundary in 1954, including the transfer to St Magnus of an area between Fish Street Hill and Pudding Lane. The site of St Leonard Eastcheap, a church that was not rebuilt after the Great Fire, is therefore now in the parish of St Magnus despite being united to St Edmund the King.
Fr Fynes-Clinton marked the 50th anniversary of his priesthood in May 1952 with High Mass at St Magnus and lunch at Fishmongers' Hall.[218] On 20 September 1956 a solemn Mass was sung in St Magnus to commence the celebration of the 25th anniversary of the restoration of the Holy House at Walsingham in 1931. In the evening of that day a reception was held in the large chamber of Caxton Hall, when between three and four hundred guests assembled.[219]
Fr Fynes-Clinton was succeeded as rector in 1960 by Fr Colin Gill,[220] who remained as incumbent until his death in 1983.[221] Fr Gill was also closely connected with Walsingham and served as a Guardian between 1953 and 1983, including nine years as Master of the College of Guardians.[222] He celebrated the Mass at the first National Pilgrimage in 1959[223] and presided over the Jubilee celebrations to mark the 50th anniversary of the Shrine in 1981, having been present at the Holy House's opening.[224] A number of the congregation of St Stephen's Lewisham moved to St Magnus around 1960, following temporary changes in the form of worship there.
In 1994 the Templeman Commission proposed a radical restructuring of the churches in the City Deanery. St Magnus was identified as one of the 12 churches that would remain as either a parish or an 'active' church.[226] However, the proposals were dropped following a public outcry and the consecration of a new Bishop of London.
The parish priest since 2003 has been Fr Philip Warner, who was previously priest-in-charge of St Mary's Church, Belgrade (Diocese in Europe) and Apokrisiarios for the Archbishop of Canterbury to the Serbian Orthodox Church. Since January 2004 there has been an annual Blessing of the Thames, with the congregations of St Magnus and Southwark Cathedral meeting in the middle of London Bridge.[227] On Sunday 3 July 2011, in anticipation of the feast of the translation of St Thomas Becket (7 July), a procession from St Magnus brought a relic of the saint to the middle of the bridge.[228]
David Pearson specially composed two new pieces, a communion anthem A Mhànais mo rùin (O Magnus of my love) and a hymn to St Magnus Nobilis, humilis, for performance at the church on the feast of St Magnus the Martyr, 16 April 2012.[229] St Magnus's organist, John Eady, has won composition competitions for new choral works at St Paul's Cathedral (a setting of Veni Sancte Spiritus first performed on 27 May 2012) and at Lincoln Cathedral (a setting of the Matin responsory for Advent first performed on 30 November 2013).[230]
In addition to liturgical music of a high standard, St Magnus is the venue for a wide range of musical events. The Clemens non Papa Consort, founded in 2005, performs in collaboration with the production team Concert Bites as the church's resident ensemble.[231] The church is used by The Esterhazy Singers for rehearsals and some concerts.[232] The band Mishaped Pearls performed at the church on 17 December 2011.[233] St Magnus featured in the television programme Jools Holland: London Calling, first broadcast on BBC2 on 9 June 2012.[234] The Platinum Consort made a promotional film at St Magnus for the release of their debut album In the Dark on 2 July 2012.[235]
The Friends of the City Churches had their office in the Vestry House of St Magnus until 2013.
Martin Travers modified the high altar reredos, adding paintings of Moses and Aaron and the Ten Commandments between the existing Corinthian columns and reconstructing the upper storey. Above the reredos Travers added a painted and gilded rood.[237] In the centre of the reredos there is a carved gilded pelican (an early Christian symbol of self-sacrifice) and a roundel with Baroque-style angels. The glazed east window, which can be seen in an early photograph of the church, appears to have been filled in at this time. A new altar with console tables was installed and the communion rails moved outwards to extend the size of the sanctuary. Two old door frames were used to construct side chapels and placed at an angle across the north-east and south-east corners of the church. One, the Lady Chapel, was dedicated to the Rector's parents in 1925 and the other was dedicated to Christ the King. Originally, a baroque aumbry was used for Reservation of the Blessed Sacrament, but later a tabernacle was installed on the Lady Chapel altar and the aumbry was used to house a relic of the True Cross.
The interior was made to look more European by the removal of the old box pews and the installation of new pews with cut-down ends. Two new columns were inserted in the nave to make the lines regular. The Wren-period pulpit by the joiner William Grey[238] was opened up and provided with a soundboard and crucifix. Travers also designed the statue of St Magnus of Orkney, which stands in the south aisle, and the statue of Our Lady of Walsingham.[239]
On the north wall there is a Russian Orthodox icon, painted in 1908. The modern stations of the cross in honey-coloured Japanese oak are the work of Robert Randall and Ashley Sands.[240] One of the windows in the north wall dates from 1671 and came from Plumbers' Hall in Chequer Yard, Bush Lane, which was demolished in 1863 to make way for Cannon Street Railway Station.[241] A fireplace from the Hall was re-erected in the Vestry House. The other windows on the north side are by Alfred Wilkinson and date from 1952 to 1960. These show the arms of the Plumbers’, Fishmongers’ and Coopers’ Companies together with those of William Wand when Bishop of London and Geoffrey Fisher when Archbishop of Canterbury and (as noted above) the badge of the Fraternity of Our Lady de Salve Regina.
The stained glass windows in the south wall, which are by Lawrence Lee and date from 1949 to 1955, represent lost churches associated with the parish: St Magnus and his ruined church of Egilsay, St Margaret of Antioch with her lost church in New Fish Street (where the Monument to the Great Fire now stands), St Michael with his lost church of Crooked Lane (demolished to make way for the present King William Street) and St Thomas Becket with his chapel on Old London Bridge.[242]
The church possesses a fine model of Old London Bridge. One of the tiny figures on the bridge appears out of place in the mediaeval setting, wearing a policeman's uniform. This is a representation of the model-maker, David T. Aggett, who is a Liveryman of the Worshipful Company of Plumbers and was formerly in the police service.[243]
The Mischiefs by Fire Act 1708 and the Fires Prevention (Metropolis) Act 1774 placed a requirement on every parish to keep equipment to fight fires. The church owns two historic fire engines that belonged to the parish of St Michael, Crooked Lane.[244] One of these is in storage at the Museum of London. The whereabouts of the other, which was misappropriated and sold at auction in 2003, is currently unknown.
In 1896 many bodies were disinterred from the crypt and reburied at the St Magnus's plot at Brookwood Cemetery, which remains the church's burial ground.
Prior to the Great Fire of 1666 the old tower had a ring of five bells, a small saints bell and a clock bell.[246] 47 cwt of bell metal was recovered[247] which suggests that the tenor was 13 or 14 cwt. The metal was used to cast three new bells, by William Eldridge of Chertsey in 1672,[248] with a further saints bell cast that year by Hodson.[249] In the absence of a tower, the tenor and saints bell were hung in a free standing timber structure, whilst the others remained unhung.[250]
A new tower was completed in 1704 and it is likely that these bells were transferred to it. However, the tenor became cracked in 1713 and it was decided to replace the bells with a new ring of eight.[251] The new bells, with a tenor of 21 cwt, were cast by Richard Phelps of the Whitechapel Bell Foundry. Between 1714 and 1718 (the exact date of which is unknown), the ring was increased to ten with the addition of two trebles given by two former ringing Societies, the Eastern Youths and the British Scholars.[252] The first peal was rung on 15 February 1724 of Grandsire Caters by the Society of College Youths. The second bell had to be recast in 1748 by Robert Catlin, and the tenor was recast in 1831 by Thomas Mears of Whitechapel,[253] just in time to ring for the opening of the new London Bridge. In 1843, the treble was said to be "worn out" and so was scrapped, together with the saints bell, while a new treble was cast by Thomas Mears.[254] A new clock bell was erected in the spire in 1846, provided by B R & J Moore, who had earlier purchased it from Thomas Mears.[255] This bell can still be seen in the tower from the street.
The 10 bells were removed for safe keeping in 1940 and stored in the churchyard. They were taken to Whitechapel Bell Foundry in 1951 whereupon it was discovered that four of them were cracked. After a long period of indecision, fuelled by lack of funds and interest, the bells were finally sold for scrap in 1976. The metal was used to cast many of the Bells of Congress that were then hung in the Old Post Office Tower in Washington, D.C.
A fund was set up on 19 September 2005, led by Dickon Love, a member of the Ancient Society of College Youths, with a view to installing a new ring of 12 bells in the tower in a new frame. This was the first of three new rings of bells he has installed in the City of London (the others being at St Dunstan-in-the-West and St James Garlickhythe). The money was raised and the bells were cast during 2008/9 by the Whitechapel Bell Foundry. The tenor weighed 26cwt 3qtr 9 lbs (1360 kg) and the new bells were designed to be in the same key as the former ring of ten. They were consecrated by the Bishop of London on 3 March 2009 in the presence of the Lord Mayor[256] and the ringing dedicated on 26 October 2009 by the Archdeacon of London.[257] The bells are named (in order smallest to largest) Michael, Margaret, Thomas of Canterbury, Mary, Cedd, Edward the Confessor, Dunstan, John the Baptist, Erkenwald, Paul, Mellitus and Magnus.[258] The bells project is recorded by an inscription in the vestibule of the church.
The first peal on the twelve was rung on 29 November 2009 of Cambridge Surprise Maximus.[260] Notable other recent peals include a peal of Stedman Cinques on 16 April 2011 to mark the 400th anniversary of the granting of a Royal Charter to the Plumbers' Company,[261] a peal of Cambridge Surprise Royal on 28 June 2011 when the Fishmongers' Company gave a dinner for Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh at their hall on the occasion of his 90th birthday[262] and a peal of Avon Delight Maximus on 24 July 2011 in solidarity with the people of Norway following the tragic massacre on Utoeya Island and in Oslo.[263] On the latter occasion the flag of the Orkney Islands was flown at half mast. In 2012 peals were rung during the Thames Diamond Jubilee Pageant on 3 June and during each of the three Olympic/Paralympic marathons, on 5 and 12 August and 9 September.
The BBC television programme, Still Ringing After All These Years: A Short History of Bells, broadcast on 14 December 2011, included an interview at St Magnus with the Tower Keeper, Dickon Love,[264] who was captain of the band that rang the "Royal Jubilee Bells" during the Thames Diamond Jubilee Pageant on 3 June 2012 to celebrate the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II.[265] Prior to this, he taught John Barrowman to handle a bell at St Magnus for the BBC coverage.
The bells are currently rung every Sunday around 12:15 (following the service) by the Guild of St Magnus.
Every other June, newly elected wardens of the Fishmongers' Company, accompanied by the Court, proceed on foot from Fishmongers' Hall[267] to St Magnus for an election service.[268] St Magnus is also the Guild Church of The Plumbers' Company. Two former rectors have served as master of the company,[269] which holds all its services at the church.[270] On 12 April 2011 a service was held to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the granting of the company's Royal Charter at which the Bishop of London, the Rt Revd and Rt Hon Richard Chartres KCVO, gave the sermon and blessed the original Royal Charter. For many years the Cloker Service was held at St Magnus, attended by the Coopers' Company and Grocers' Company, at which the clerk of the Coopers' Company read the will of Henry Cloker dated 10 March 1573.[271]
St Magnus is also the ward church for the Ward of Bridge and Bridge Without, which elects one of the city's aldermen. Between 1550 and 1978 there were separate aldermen for Bridge Within and Bridge Without, the former ward being north of the river and the latter representing the City's area of control in Southwark. The Bridge Ward Club was founded in 1930 to "promote social activities and discussion of topics of local and general interest and also to exchange Ward and parochial information" and holds its annual carol service at St Magnus.
Provincial Yelets was once considered one of the most beautiful towns in Russia. It was adorned with two monasteries, three dozen Orthodox churches, a Polish Catholic church, a German church, and a Jewish synagogue. The precise rhythm of its domes and bell towers still defines the skyline of the old town.
The great Russian writer Ivan Bunin, in exile in a distant land, recalled "...the ringing, the roar of the bells from the bell tower of St. Michael the Archangel, towering above everything in such grandeur, such splendor, such as the Roman Church of St. Peter never dreamed of, and such enormity that the Pyramid of Cheops could never again impress me." The Church of St. Michael the Archangel stands next to the administration building in the center of Yelets, the city where the future Nobel laureate spent his high school years. He often spoke warmly of the city of his youth.
On Red Square stands the colossal Ascension Cathedral. It claims to be the second largest Orthodox church in Russia after St. Isaac's Cathedral in St. Petersburg. The cathedral was designed by the renowned architect Konstantin Andreevich Ton (1794-1881), the architect of the Cathedral of Christ the Savior and the Grand Kremlin Palace. Approving the design, Tsar Nicholas I ordered the architect to be granted royal favor for the cathedral's beauty. The interior decoration was worked on by the Itinerant artists and academicians of painting, Alexei Ivanovich Korzukhin (1835-1894) and Klavdy Vasilyevich Lebedev (1852-1916).
Above the cathedral's left iconostasis is a painting of the "Mother of God of Yelets." The Virgin Mary and her heavenly host block the path of Tamerlane's invasion in 1395.
To commemorate the 500th anniversary of Rus''s miraculous deliverance from the invasion, the Church of Our Lady of Yelets was founded in Yelets. Its tented roof still dominates the modern architecture of the southern part of the city. People call it "the red church," either for the color of its brick or for the beauty of its unusual shapes.
Yelets has seen so many people within its walls over its thousand-year history. Presumably founded in 986 as the center of an appanage principality, the city was first mentioned in the Nikon Chronicle for 1146:
“Prince Svyatoslav Olgovich went to Rezan and visited Mchensk, and Tula, and Dubok on the Don, and Yelets, and Pronsk, and came to Rezan on the Oka...”
Its location on the southeastern outskirts of the Russian lands, bordering the "wild field," determined the city's fate for several centuries: "it was... the protector of the Russian lands." Polovtsian raids, Tatar-Mongol invasions, and attacks by Crimean and Golden Horde hordes repeatedly brought the city to desolation, but it was rebuilt and rose again.
"The city itself also boasted of its antiquity, and had every right to do so: it truly was one of the most ancient cities lying among the great black earth fields of the Substeppe, on that fateful line beyond which once stretched "wild, unknown lands," and in the times of the principalities of Suzdal and Ryazan, it belonged to those most important strongholds of Rus' that, according to the chroniclers, were the first to breathe in the storm, dust, and cold from under the menacing Asian clouds that continually passed over it, the first to see the glow of the terrible night and day fires ignited by them, the first to let Moscow know of the impending disaster and the first to lay down their lives for it..." (I. A. Bunin).
From the mid-17th century, Yelets developed as a city of artisans and traders. Livestock trading, tanneries, trade in grain, flour, and semolina, and the famous Yelets lace made the city prosperous and brought it fame.
Yelets's historical heritage includes approximately two hundred architectural monuments. The city itself is a monument to Russian urban planning. Narrow, straight streets running north to south and east to west, combined with low, two- and three-story buildings that are spacious enough to accommodate a person, create a uniquely cozy atmosphere. In Yelets, you don't feel lost, as you might in a larger city. Perhaps this is why the constant flow of tourists eager to see the green Russian city...
A small town, wandering its cozy streets, and visiting the church. Perhaps it's also because the Yelets region is the birthplace of writers Ivan Bunin and Mikhail Prishvin, philosopher Vasily Rozanov, composer Tikhon Khrennikov, and artists Vasily Meshkov, Nikolai Ulyanov, and Nikolai Zhukov. Yelets attracts visitors with its lacemaking industry, museums, art gallery, picturesque landscapes, and fascinating natural sites. It also draws visitors with its centuries-long, dramatic history, closely linked to the fate of Russia.
Many of Yelets' churches have suffered a tragic fate. Not all survived the destruction and hard times. Birch trees grow on the exposed domes of the Church of the Archangel Michael, which so captivated Ivan Bunin's youthful imagination. The traces of abandonment and neglect on many of the remaining churches speak to the hearts of the people. With Russia's rebirth comes a renaissance of its small and medium-sized towns, and Yelets is at the top of that list.
Will we restore its former beauty?
V. Gorlov.
I have what is probably going to be a lengthy response to an e-mail I recently received but before I get into that, a bit about this image. This was taken with an Holga of mine, a 120S to be precise. I am fortunate enough to have gotten one of these before Holgas became mainstreamed and were subsequently "improved" to be attractive to a mass audience. It used to be that no two Holgas were quite alike. Most would leak light, but often each in its own unique way. They would routinely spool the film loose, causing further light leaks. They would flare. They were much softer around the edges. They did not come with a square mask, just the rectangular one, so your frame edges were not terribly even or straight. Alas, now they rarely leak light without modification, foam has been added to make the film spool tighter. They include a square mask so that each negative is a neat square. I have a newer Holga and I still love that camera, but pulling my old 120S out and shooting it again reminded me just how much I appreciated the quirky and unpredictable nature of this camera.
My 120S took up the habit of scratching my film. Quite heavily at that. It was one of the reasons I eventually put it down and switched to my newer 120FN. But I decided to finally see if I could fix the scratching. I am willing to let a lot of the Holga's quirks go, but scratching is one that I do have trouble coping with. So I lined the interior edges of the frame mask with black electrical tape thinking that would do the trick as there are not too many places the film contacts the camera, that being about the only.
It didn't work. I am still not quite sure why. Chalk it up to the Holga being a Holga. What is more, somewhere along the shooting, my tape came unstuck and stuck out into my negative, creating those black edges you see along the borders of the image.
When I scanned this image in, one of the first things I did was crop it out and make my edges clean. As soon as I did so though, this image lost something. I don't know what, but those black edges lend this photo some extra little element. So I reversed the crop and kept it. I still do not quite understand why, other than that slight feeling that the image is more with them than without.
Now onto the e-mail. I get this e-mail quite a bit, and I try to answer it the best that I can. The basic request is generally for any helpful advice I have for photographers just getting started, who are not sure how to get better, and are generally discouraged by looking at all the great photography out there and thinking they will never get there.
I have answered this question more times that I can remember, in e-mails, over the counter at Blue Moon Camera, in high school and college classrooms, out in the field, etc. Each time that I answer it, my answer tends to evolve a little, so here is the latest evolution:
Be patient. Of all the traits a photographer should endeavor to possess, patience is the most important. Getting better at photography is like getting better at anything else; it takes time, practice and patience.
Forget talent. Talent, or the lack of it, is often used as an excuse for good and poor photography. Dedication, passion, and persistence trump talent every day of the week. I would take one passionate photographer for a dozen talented photographers any time.
Every photographer, no matter how good they are now, at one time had to start at the beginning. We all did. None of us started out making exceptional images. We all started out stumbling and feeling our way around, in varying degrees of confusion. All those mistakes you are embarrassed about making? Chances are I have made every one of them at least ten times over.
Make mistakes. And don't be afraid to. You learn more from your mistakes I think than your successes. Everything you do with a camera, should be teaching you how to do it better, regardless of the immediate results you get that day. Experiment, fail, learn, experiment some more.
The more you put in, the more you will get out. If you are going out one weekend a month to take photos, you will get better, but at a much slower rate. If you are going out everyday you will get better much more quickly. Now, not all of us have the opportunity to work with photography everyday. Some of us can only manage a weekend a month. That is fine, just try not to get too discouraged when you do not think you are growing as a photographer. It will happen, it may just take a bit longer.
Carry your camera everywhere. Never leave home without a camera. Ever. The best way to guarantee you will see a photo you really want to take is to not have a camera with you. It does not do much good sitting at home. And when I say everywhere, I mean everywhere, no matter how mundane the trip seems to be.
Shoot for yourself. Peer response is certainly important and can teach you a lot about your own photography, and you should definitely share your pictures with others every chance you get, but ultimately take photos for yourself, in your own way. You are your most important critic. If you are not happy with the images you are taking, it does not matter how popular they are. And don't make apologies for your photography. Some people will love it. Some will not. Some will think it completely pointless. That is fine, as long as you like it.
Shoot film. A lot of photographers getting into photography these days are "growing up" on strictly digital diets. Digital can do a lot, but it is a far from everything. Pick up a film camera to complement your digital camera. Film teaches different habits and styles from digital. It is like trying to build a house using only a screwdiver and not a hammer. It can be done, but you are missing out on a lot of other ways to create images. And what film has to teach, can very readily apply to digital photography too.
Shoot digital. If you are only into film photography, pick up a cheap digital camera. The quickness and readily available nature of the feedback they can give you can be a valuable learning tool. If you are limiting yourself to just film, you are missing a huge portion of the photographic spectrum.
Expose yourself to lots of other photography. Flickr is a good start, but it is a small pond in a much larger landscape. Hit up your local library and check out as many books as you can carry and go through them. Go to openings at museums and galleries. Attend artist lectures. Go to a workshop or two or attend a class at a local community college, not just for the instruction but the exposure to other photographers. Arrange photo outings with peers. The more photography you are exposed to, the wider the range of perspectives you will learn to see the world with.
A photographer is a photographer, no matter where they are. There are always pictures to be taken, everywhere. It is a photographer's task to see them. A good photographer realizes this, even if they cannot always see the pictures to be taken, they still try to.
Learn the rules to break them. There are a ton of rules in photography and they can be an excellent framework around which to improve your skills. Learn them thoroughly and how to use them. But, again, be careful for that very framework that has helped build you up can eventually become a cage that restricts you. Those that hold too tightly to the rules tend to see their creativity suffer.
Don't get too hung up on not knowing the technicals. Technical knowledge will come quickly, especially with practice. At first things like Depth of Field, aperture, resolution, aspect ratio, color temperature, exposure, shadows, highlights, zone V, reciprocity failure, visible spectrum, focal length, shutter speed can all seem confusing. Start slowly, and start simply, and put the these technical terms into practice as you learn them. But don't worry too much about knowing them because you will learn them quickly. I remember when I first picked up a camera I had no concept of what in the hell an aperture was. I just knew I had to rotate that ring on the lens until my meter needle pointed to the middle. That was how I began. Now years later this is all reflexive knowledge. You will get there too, probably within a few months. So don't stress out too much right now if you don't understand some of these technical terms. Find somebody helpful to explain them, get a good book, or go out and experiment. Or do all three.
Shoot manually. My boss often jokes that "Automatic means bad". He has a point. Turn all your auto functions on your camera to manual, especially focus and exposure. Taking photos this way will be more cumbersome and you will make more mistakes. But you will learn at a much quicker rate, and eventually you will understand how to use these features better than the automatic modes of your camera can. You are smarter than your camera, so try not to let the automatic features become a crutch, they will impair how quickly you understand what each shutter speed does, what each aperture does, how to learn to focus, etc. Keep as much control over your photography as possible.
Make scrapbooks. Routinely take your favorite photos and put them together into small scrapbooks. It is like keeping a visual journal of your progress. I did this for the first few years of photography and I noticed two big influences this had on my opinions of my own photography. First, when I got discouraged I could get out my latest albums and flip through them and see a collection of what were then my favorite photos, and I could see the cream of the crop. I could see how in fact I actually was making great images that I really liked. These scrapbooks helped remind me that I really was making progress. Second, I could go back to my earliest scrapbooks and see just how "awful" those photos that I had once thought were my best really were. I generally got a good chuckle out of this remembering how proud I was of those collections and how many people I showed them to, and then I would go back and flip through them and see, in contrast, just how much better I had become, but more importantly it kept me humble because it reminded me that there are times where we think our photos are much better than they may be, because we are so personally invested in them. This humble reminder of my beginnings was probably the biggest influence of these albums. So do not throw away or replace your old albums if you do this. If you use Flickr for this purpose, don't delete your old photos. They have a lot to teach you when you come back a few years later with a more experienced eye.
Have fun. For today, the last and most important piece of advice I have to offer. If you enjoy what you do, the rest of this will come quite naturally. This ties in with what I said about being passionate about your photography. Just go out and have fun and love what you do. In comparison very little else is nearly as important.
Now stop reading this, get your camera and go out and make some pictures, wherever you are.
MUZEU ONUFRI BERAT.
Berat Onufri Museum (great painter of Albanian icons), Albania
Durrës, Albania.
CATALÀ
Autor: Onufri
Sant Teodor Tironi i Stratilati (Segle XVI)
Tremp a la fusta.
ENGLISH
Autor: Onufri
Saints Teodor Tironi and Teodor Stratilati (16th Century)
Tempera on wood
Saints Teodor Tironi and Teodor Stratilati were soldier saints of the early Cristian period. Converted to Christianity, they immediately became martyrs. St. Teodor Tironi fell victim of the persecutions of Julian the Apostate during the 4th century, while St. Teodoro Stratilati was a general in the army of the Emperor Licinius. The two martyrs are particularly worshipped in Greece and Russia. A large number of churches are dedicated to them and the iconography always presents them as twins. In this artwork, Onofrio with an intelligent and precise composition represents them facing each other in a way that the believers can see three quarters of their profile. Their heads are turned upwards with their hands towards Jesus, who in dominant position is blessing them. Both saints have shields and short tunics, which distinguishes them as warriors, their weapons are laid on the ground and their staffs form the cross of Christ, from where underneath can be seen their cloaks. To better comprehend the depiction of the theme, the symmetrical composition that the painter has given to the scene must be taken into account. Their diagonal heads respect to the same icon, give an idea that the two saints are detached from the golden background, rendering grandeur and honour to the scene.
The beauty of the icon is given by the variety of colours used for the two saints’ clothes. The greatness of the scene presents the devotion of this characters towards the presence of a strong Ottoman domination in Albania. For this reason the icon has a symbolic role because the characters are personified at the same time as saints. The shields and staffs laid on the ground, testify a moment of prayer to God. The reflection of the details in the scene has been rendered in a way to be understood by the faithful. The icon represents an important example of the past, that has become a model for the present. At first glance, the icon appears to be symmetrical, this impression is given by the legs and the folds of the cloaks. The icon’s composition is divided in two parts, one with a vertical direction where every part is reserved to the strategist. Jesus is depicted in the centre of the top part of the icon, while the inclined bodies of the two saints form a pyramid, on which base there are still saints.
Provincial Yelets was once considered one of the most beautiful towns in Russia. It was adorned with two monasteries, three dozen Orthodox churches, a Polish Catholic church, a German church, and a Jewish synagogue. The precise rhythm of its domes and bell towers still defines the skyline of the old town.
The great Russian writer Ivan Bunin, in exile in a distant land, recalled "...the ringing, the roar of the bells from the bell tower of St. Michael the Archangel, towering above everything in such grandeur, such splendor, such as the Roman Church of St. Peter never dreamed of, and such enormity that the Pyramid of Cheops could never again impress me." The Church of St. Michael the Archangel stands next to the administration building in the center of Yelets, the city where the future Nobel laureate spent his high school years. He often spoke warmly of the city of his youth.
On Red Square stands the colossal Ascension Cathedral. It claims to be the second largest Orthodox church in Russia after St. Isaac's Cathedral in St. Petersburg. The cathedral was designed by the renowned architect Konstantin Andreevich Ton (1794-1881), the architect of the Cathedral of Christ the Savior and the Grand Kremlin Palace. Approving the design, Tsar Nicholas I ordered the architect to be granted royal favor for the cathedral's beauty. The interior decoration was worked on by the Itinerant artists and academicians of painting, Alexei Ivanovich Korzukhin (1835-1894) and Klavdy Vasilyevich Lebedev (1852-1916).
Above the cathedral's left iconostasis is a painting of the "Mother of God of Yelets." The Virgin Mary and her heavenly host block the path of Tamerlane's invasion in 1395.
To commemorate the 500th anniversary of Rus''s miraculous deliverance from the invasion, the Church of Our Lady of Yelets was founded in Yelets. Its tented roof still dominates the modern architecture of the southern part of the city. People call it "the red church," either for the color of its brick or for the beauty of its unusual shapes.
Yelets has seen so many people within its walls over its thousand-year history. Presumably founded in 986 as the center of an appanage principality, the city was first mentioned in the Nikon Chronicle for 1146:
“Prince Svyatoslav Olgovich went to Rezan and visited Mchensk, and Tula, and Dubok on the Don, and Yelets, and Pronsk, and came to Rezan on the Oka...”
Its location on the southeastern outskirts of the Russian lands, bordering the "wild field," determined the city's fate for several centuries: "it was... the protector of the Russian lands." Polovtsian raids, Tatar-Mongol invasions, and attacks by Crimean and Golden Horde hordes repeatedly brought the city to desolation, but it was rebuilt and rose again.
"The city itself also boasted of its antiquity, and had every right to do so: it truly was one of the most ancient cities lying among the great black earth fields of the Substeppe, on that fateful line beyond which once stretched "wild, unknown lands," and in the times of the principalities of Suzdal and Ryazan, it belonged to those most important strongholds of Rus' that, according to the chroniclers, were the first to breathe in the storm, dust, and cold from under the menacing Asian clouds that continually passed over it, the first to see the glow of the terrible night and day fires ignited by them, the first to let Moscow know of the impending disaster and the first to lay down their lives for it..." (I. A. Bunin).
From the mid-17th century, Yelets developed as a city of artisans and traders. Livestock trading, tanneries, trade in grain, flour, and semolina, and the famous Yelets lace made the city prosperous and brought it fame.
Yelets's historical heritage includes approximately two hundred architectural monuments. The city itself is a monument to Russian urban planning. Narrow, straight streets running north to south and east to west, combined with low, two- and three-story buildings that are spacious enough to accommodate a person, create a uniquely cozy atmosphere. In Yelets, you don't feel lost, as you might in a larger city. Perhaps this is why the constant flow of tourists eager to see the green Russian city...
A small town, wandering its cozy streets, and visiting the church. Perhaps it's also because the Yelets region is the birthplace of writers Ivan Bunin and Mikhail Prishvin, philosopher Vasily Rozanov, composer Tikhon Khrennikov, and artists Vasily Meshkov, Nikolai Ulyanov, and Nikolai Zhukov. Yelets attracts visitors with its lacemaking industry, museums, art gallery, picturesque landscapes, and fascinating natural sites. It also draws visitors with its centuries-long, dramatic history, closely linked to the fate of Russia.
Many of Yelets' churches have suffered a tragic fate. Not all survived the destruction and hard times. Birch trees grow on the exposed domes of the Church of the Archangel Michael, which so captivated Ivan Bunin's youthful imagination. The traces of abandonment and neglect on many of the remaining churches speak to the hearts of the people. With Russia's rebirth comes a renaissance of its small and medium-sized towns, and Yelets is at the top of that list.
Will we restore its former beauty?
V. Gorlov.