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A stairway —seemingly ascending to Heaven— at sunset. It is located on Mt. Olympus, the gods’ residence, close to the place where Helicōn river (aka Ourlias) sinks itself below ground.
Legend has it that the maenads had first murdered Orpheus, then attempted to wash his blood off their hands in Helicon river’s waters. The river disappeared into a cleft in order to avoid getting tainted with the spilt blood and cleansing manslaughter.
Maenads were raving women who worshipped the god of wine, Dionysus, by roaming the mountains in a state of religious frenzy or ecstasy, as if possessed by the god.
Santa's reindeer were just about to tow him on his sleigh through the streets of Kirkwall. Maybe Santa and his sleigh & reindeers etc arrived secretly last night on board that boat - "Scapa Protector".
Space science image of the week:
This colourful, seemingly abstract artwork is actually a map of our Galaxy, depicting all the celestial objects that were detected in the XMM-Newton slew survey between August 2001 and December 2014.
Orbiting Earth since 1999, XMM-Newton is studying high-energy phenomena in the Universe, such as black holes, neutron stars, pulsars and stellar winds. But even when moving between specific targets, the space telescope collects scientific data.
The map shows the 30 000 sources captured during 2114 of these slews. Because of overlapping slew paths, some sources have been observed up to 15 times, and 4924 sources have been observed twice or more. After correcting for overlaps between slews, 84% of the sky has been covered.
The plot is colour-coded such that sources of a lower energy are red and those with a higher energy are blue. In addition, the brighter the source, the larger it appears on the map.
The plot is in galactic coordinates such that the centre of the plot corresponds to the centre of the Milky Way. High-energy sources along the centre of the Milky Way include the famous black hole Cygnus X-1, and Vela X-1, a binary system comprising a neutron star consuming matter from a supergiant companion.
Several star-and-black hole binary systems are also captured, including objects identified as GRS 1915+105, 4U 1630-47 and V 4641 Sgr.
Two clusters of sources, one to the top left and one to the bottom right, correspond to the ecliptic poles.
Objects above and below the plane of our Galaxy are predominantly external galaxies that are emitting X-rays from their massive black holes.
Technical information about the source catalogue is available here.
Credit: ESA/XMM-Newton/ R. Saxton / A.M. Read, CC BY-SA 3.0 IGO
seemingly out of nowhere they come...their intentions unknown...unsure if they are friend or foe....
but you can easy out run them...so no worries...
"So what'd I miss?" Black Cat asks, seemingly excited to get into the fight.
"Oh you know, the usual. Bad guys put together a team to kill yours truly, with them failing miserably. How'd you even find me anyway? Not that I'm not grateful for the assist and all, but it would be nice to know." I reply, trying to sound as casual as I can about a group of supervillains trying to kill me.
"Right. That.. Well, I kind of put a tracer inside your mask when you know, you almost died and everything.. Figured you might need help next time. Turns out it was the right call too! Don't be mad!" She genuinely looks worried for me.
"That is a total breach of privacy! Not that I really have the time to get mad about it right now though.."
"And you know this cat girl how?" Lana crosses her arms as she's asking me this, as if she doesn't trust Felicia.
"It's kind of a long story, and I promise I'll tell you everything later. Right now, we kind of have bigger things to worry about." The remaining six members of the Femme Fatales comes at us head on. Princess Python stays in the back, with her python slithering towards us. I web its mouth shut, and provide a barrage of web balls to act as a distraction, with Black Cat closing the distance between her and Princess. The Bombshells clash, with explosions going off left right and centre. Black Cat knocks Princess out with relative ease, with her not putting up much of a fight. Raptor swoops down at me, trying to scratch me multiple times. I grab her wing with my webbing, and toss her into Scorpia. They get back up quickly enough, with them both charging at me. Skein is mostly playing the crowd control role at this point, keeping me and Lana immobilized, while the others rush in.
As Raptor's flying at me, I notice her get hit with an energy beam. It's at that point that I realize the beam came from one of their own, Beetle. Ok, gonna be honest here, I didn't see that one coming.
"What the #@%& Beetle?!" Bomb-shell yells out at her teammate, as Raptor crashes into the wall on the right side of the room.
"This façade was getting boring. I can't believe you actually thought I'd align myself with scum like you." Scorpia is able to nick me in the shoulder, after which she whips her tail into my stomach, sending me crashing through the front door that leads into the warehouse. Oww. Just when I was getting over my earlier battle wounds too.
"So why didn't you get Shocker or Electro to join your merry band of misfits? I mean sure, it kind of clashes with your girl power theme and all, but they were both more effective on their own than you all are as a group! It's so bad that one of your own teammates decides to turn against you. " I yell upon entering the warehouse once again after getting up, and running back. At least what qualifies as running after getting tossed through a door.
"More like I was playing the long game." I hear Beetle reply in her heavily modulated voice.
Bomb-Shell responds to me with more expletives than I can count, and I'm pretty sure everyone gets the picture. She's really pissed off. Black Cat is on top of some debris.
"Friendly Bombshell, light it up!" Black Cat smirks as she gestures to the debris below her. Lana creates an explosion below the debris, which sends a sheet of metal, and Black Cat, into the air. Felicia pulls out her claw grappling hook, and shoots with it hooking onto part of the catwalk. Using the momentum, she swings into Skein, kicking her into the shelving unit. Beetle and Raptor are now duking it out in the air, exchanging blows. It doesn't take long before Beetle overpowers Raptor, and sends her spiralling downwards, in which I create a web for her to land in. Another one down for the count. Bomb-Shell sends some debris at Lana with an explosion. I create a web barrier in front of Lana, as I narrowly avoid Scorpia's tail. Skein blinds me by using my costume against me, covering my eyes.
My spider sense keeps flaring up, as I try to predict where she's coming from. Sometimes, I'm successful, other times, I get hit by her massive tail. I wonder what excuse I'm gonna think of this time for Aunt May. Took a tumble on the dance floor maybe? Eh that would be a little hard to believe. Ooh, maybe she won't notice if I wear a big enough turtleneck. Guess I should worry about that after the fight. Skein tries to throw up a shield to block Black Cat and Beetle's attacks, but the cloth just droops down. Black Cat's bad luck strikes again. Wow, try saying that one ten times fast. Beetle and Black Cat take the opportunity to knock out Skein. With Skein unconscious, her powers don't effect me anymore. Bomb-Shell, realizing the fight is a lost cause, runs for the exit, but I block her path with webbing. She blows it apart rather quickly, but Lana explodes part of the wall above the exit, making sure it's blocked. I hear sirens blaring in the distance. This is pretty much over.
"This fight is pretty much over.. Until next time Spider-Man." Scorpia says bluntly, as she pulls out a device from her pocket, and presses a button. With one blink, she's gone.
"Die, die, die you $&*^%$#!!" Bomb Shell keeps on going until the bitter end.. With more and more explosions, until she just falls unconscious from overexertion. Lana doesn't look in the best of shape, as it feels like she'll faint at any moment. Beetle lands in front of me, and Felicia looks like she barely broke a sweat. I make sure the Femme Fatales are all webbed up.
"Thanks for the help Beetle." I say, thankful that we actually pulled it off.
"Anytime P-Spider-Man. I was undercover in the Femme Fatales, trying to figure out their endgame. Turns out there wasn't really much of an endgame besides killing you.. Anyways, I'm sure I'll see you around sometime. Peace!" With that, Beetle flies off, as the police enter the warehouse.
"Guess that's our cue to leave." I whisper to Felicia
"Cya later Spider." Felicia whispers back, with a sly wink before she gets out of the building.
I climb up the wall and out the window. I pull out my phone, and notice Harry texted me.
"Hey man, where are you?"
"Pete?"
"You better not be doing something stupid."
"Gah, I hate it when you do this."
"Oh yeah by the way, the dance got postponed, no surprise there."
"You better have a good explanation tomorrow."
Yikes.. First Lana, now Harry. Soon enough, I'll be all booked up on conversations I need to have tomorrow. I quickly call Aunt May to let her know I'm coming home, and I start web swinging my way home. I make sure to change out of my costume, before entering the neighbourhood. Upon arriving at the house, I open the door, and take off my shoes, before tiptoeing up the steps towards my room. It looks like Aunt May went to sleep, thank goodness. I take off my tux and dress pants, and change into something a little more comfortable. I lay on my bed, trying to get to sleep. Unfortunately for me, sleep doesn't come that easy after a brawl with supervillains. It's about 10 minutes later, before I hear the doorbell ring. Who could it be at this late hour? Lana? Nah, couldn't be. It would take her longer to get here than the time that's passed. Ah, whatever, guess I'll find out soon enough. I get up off my bed, and walk down the stairs. I see Aunt May coming from her room, but I gesture for her to go back into her room. She nods, and goes back to her room.
I open the door, and it's someone I don't recognize. She's dressed in a t-shirt that has smashed up pumpkins on it, and has sweatpants on. Also she has brown hair that's up in a ponytail. She has a curious look on her face as she looks at me.
"Peter Parker?" She finally says after a long pause.
"Yeah, that's me. And you are?"
"Oh right.. Sorry! My name's Teresa Elizabeth Parker.. I'm your sister."
End of Volume 1
An interesting survivor, and seemingly in excellent shape, was this early DAF MB200, which had come up from Cross Gates Coaches in mid Wales, who had run it for the past 6 years. It had been new to a keen early buyer of the DAF make, Golden Miller Coaches of Feltham.
It did not sell on the day, and later went to a south Wales operator, but only lasted another year on the road.
The shadowy figure in the yellow shirt is none other than Houston Ramm, who was very much the man of the moment at this time, with his prolific dealing activities, and also an expanding bus operation, although that would pass over to First Manchester at the end of the year.
With seemingly every possible option selected, this 2020 C2 310TS is a new demo unit for Matthews Buses in Dansville, NY.
VIN: 4UZABRFB2LCMC2146
Body ID: 165346-1967094-310TS
Plate: 15997BB (NY)
Although of course the building on the the right, The Leadenhall Building (The Cheesegrater), is not connected to the one on the left, 125 Old Broad Street, which is several streets further east.
Leadenhall Building:
Architects: Rogers Stirk Harbour + Partners
Structural Engineer: Arup
125 Old Broad Street (formerly the Stock Exchange Tower):
Constructed in 1970 by: Trollope & Colls
Until 2004 the building was home to the London Stock Exchange, hence it was known as the Stock Exchange Tower. Since 2004 the building has been renovated and reclad, and now serves as office space.
Renovation: GMW Architects, with revisions to plans originally by Grimshaw.
iss061e040844 (Nov. 15, 2019) --- NASA astronaut Andrew Morgan waves as he is photographed seemingly camouflaged among the Alpha Magnetic Spectrometer (lower left) and other International Space Station hardware during the first spacewalk to repair the cosmic particle detector.
Seemingly well out of its zone is Transdev Academy Rosso trainer B10BLE T19TDV (previously Lancashire United PN02HVY). However, it's not the first time it's been spotted here so presumably a run to Skipton isn't that unusual.
One of those seemingly nameless and perhaps purposeless monuments that we pass daily - and due to traffic or location never get to identify! I have passed this many times over 50 years and could not tell you for whom or what it was erected. Can you?
And indeed today's contributors could and did offer some insights! While describing it as "nameless" was perhaps somewhat fair (the Archiseek entry linked by derangedlemur describing it simply as "Fountain, James St"), the "purposeless" label was perhaps less so. Unlike many similar structures we see in this stream, it seems that this piece of street furniture had more point (sorry) than most. It turns out that, far from being a grand obelisk with the sole purpose of marking some well-to-do family's estate or ego, this fountain was built in 1790 to offer water (and time of day via its sun dials) to the people of this part of Dublin....
Photographer: Elinor Wiltshire
Collection: Wiltshire Photographic Collection
Date: 1966
NLI Ref: WIL 20[5]
You can also view this image, and many thousands of others, on the NLI’s catalogue at catalogue.nli.ie
Seemingly rubbing its hands in anticipation of the blackberries that will follow the blossoms it's hanging out on.
©2022 Gary L. Quay
Despite the seemingly endless photographic possibilities at the Oregon Coast, it can be a challenge when traveling with a disabled spouce. The challenge lies in finding new things to photograph near the car. I'm too old to push a wheelchair on the beach, and carry large format camera equipment. I travel light instead, and look for out of the way places. This is one of them.
I like the sea, and ships.
Camera: Nikon D810
Lens: 24-85mm Nikon
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This Black-capped Donacobius (Donacobius atricapilla) seemingly ready to pounce on its prey, seen among the leaves and flower stalks of water lilies (Nelumbo nucifera) in the Botanical Gardens, Georgetown, Guyana, South America
Seemingly ready to launch, McDonnell-Douglas F-4 Phantom II BuAerNo. 153077 preserved aboard the Carrier the USS Yorktown moored in Charleston's Harbour, South Carolina
On her starboard side she carries the code 'AC101' from VF-31 'Tomcatters' aboard the USS Saratoga
Over on her port side she's marked as AJ201 of the US Marine Corps VMFA-333 'Fighting Shamrocks' when deployed aboard the USS America
IMG_9372
A lovely beach as we headed for a post lunch café stop at Sagres - the waves were unpredictable and most of us achieved wet socks in boots :-)
St Andrew and St Patrick, Elveden, Suffolk
As you approach Elveden, there is Suffolk’s biggest war memorial, to those killed from the three parishes that meet at this point. It is over 30 metres high, and you used to be able to climb up the inside. Someone in the village told me that more people have been killed on the road in Elveden since the end of the War than there are names on the war memorial. I could well believe it. Until about five years ago, the busy traffic of the A11 Norwich to London road hurtled through the village past the church, slowed only to a ridiculously high 50 MPH. If something hits you at that speed, then no way on God's Earth are you going to survive. Now there's a bypass, thank goodness.
Many people will know St Andrew and St Patrick as another familiar landmark on the road, but as you are swept along in the stream of traffic you are unlikely to appreciate quite how extraordinary a building it is. For a start, it has two towers. And a cloister. And two naves, effectively. It has undergone three major building programmes in the space of thirty years, any one of which would have sufficed to transform it utterly.
If you had seen this church before the 1860s, you would have thought it nothing remarkable. A simple aisle-less, clerestory-less building, typical of, and indistinguishable from, hundreds of other East Anglian flint churches. A journey to nearby Barnham will show you what I mean.
The story of the transformation of Elveden church begins in the early 19th century, on the other side of the world. The leader of the Sikhs, Ranjit Singh, controlled a united Punjab that stretched from the Khyber Pass to the borders of Tibet. His capital was at Lahore, but more importantly it included the Sikh holy city of Amritsar. The wealth of this vast Kingdom made him a major power-player in early 19th century politics, and he was a particular thorn in the flesh of the British Imperial war machine. At this time, the Punjab had a great artistic and cultural flowering that was hardly matched anywhere in the world.
It was not to last. The British forced Ranjit Singh to the negotiating table over the disputed border with Afghanistan, and a year later, in 1839, he was dead. A power vacuum ensued, and his six year old son Duleep Singh became a pawn between rival factions. It was exactly the opportunity that the British had been waiting for, and in February 1846 they poured across the borders in their thousands. Within a month, almost half the child-Prince's Kingdom was in foreign hands. The British installed a governor, and started to harvest the fruits of their new territory's wealth.
Over the next three years, the British gradually extended their rule, putting down uprisings and turning local warlords. Given that the Sikh political structures were in disarray, this was achieved at considerable loss to the invaders - thousands of British soldiers were killed. They are hardly remembered today. British losses at the Crimea ten years later were much slighter, but perhaps the invention of photography in the meantime had given people at home a clearer picture of what was happening, and so the Crimea still remains in the British folk memory.
For much of the period of the war, Prince Duleep Singh had remained in the seclusion of his fabulous palace in Lahore. However, once the Punjab was secure, he was sent into remote internal exile.
The missionaries poured in. Bearing in mind the value that Sikh culture places upon education, perhaps it is no surprise that their influence came to bear on the young Prince, and he became a Christian. The extent to which this was forced upon him is lost to us today.
A year later, the Prince sailed for England with his mother. He was admitted to the royal court by Queen Victoria, spending time both at Windsor and, particularly, in Scotland, where he grew up. In the 1860s, the Prince and his mother were significant members of London society, but she died suddenly in 1863. He returned with her ashes to the Punjab, and there he married. His wife, Bamba Muller, was part German, part Ethiopian. As part of the British pacification of India programme, the young couple were granted the lease on a vast, derelict stately home in the depths of the Suffolk countryside. This was Elveden Hall. He would never see India again.
With some considerable energy, Duleep Singh set about transforming the fortunes of the moribund estate. Being particularly fond of hunting (as a six year old, he'd had two tutors - one for learning the court language, Persian, and the other for hunting to hawk) he developed the estate for game. The house was rebuilt in 1870.
The year before, the Prince had begun to glorify the church so that it was more in keeping with the splendour of his court. This church, dedicated to St Andrew, was what now forms the north aisle of the present church. There are many little details, but the restoration includes two major features; firstly, the remarkable roof, with its extraordinary sprung sprung wallposts set on arches suspended in the window embrasures, and, secondly, the font, which Mortlock tells us is in the Sicilian-Norman style. Supported by eight elegant columns, it is very beautiful, and the angel in particular is one of Suffolk's loveliest. You can see him in an image on the left.
Duleep Singh seems to have settled comfortably into the role of an English country gentleman. And then, something extraordinary happened. The Prince, steeped in the proud tradition of his homeland, decided to return to the Punjab to fulfill his destiny as the leader of the Sikh people. He got as far as Aden before the British arrested him, and sent him home. He then set about trying to recruit Russian support for a Sikh uprising, travelling secretly across Europe in the guise of an Irishman, Patrick Casey. In between these times of cloak and dagger espionage, he would return to Elveden to shoot grouse with the Prince of Wales, the future King Edward VII. It is a remarkable story.
Ultimately, his attempts to save his people from colonial oppression were doomed to failure. He died in Paris in 1893, the British seemingly unshakeable in their control of India. He was buried at Elveden churchyard in a simple grave.
The chancel of the 1869 church is now screened off as a chapel, accessible from the chancel of the new church, but set in it is the 1894 memorial window to Maharaja Prince Duleep Singh, the Adoration of the Magi by Kempe & Co.
And so, the Lion of the North had come to a humble end. His five children, several named after British royal princes, had left Elveden behind; they all died childless, one of them as recently as 1957. The estate reverted to the Crown, being bought by the brewing family, the Guinnesses.
Edward Cecil Guinness, first Earl Iveagh, commemorated bountifully in James Joyce's 1916 Ulysses, took the estate firmly in hand. The English agricultural depression had begun in the 1880s, and it would not be ended until the Second World War drew the greater part of English agriculture back under cultivation. It had hit the Estate hard. But Elveden was transformed, and so was the church.
Iveagh appointed William Caroe to build an entirely new church beside the old. It would be of such a scale that the old church of St Andrew would form the south aisle of the new church. The size may have reflected Iveagh's visions of grandeur, but it was also a practical arrangement, to accommodate the greatly enlarged staff of the estate. Attendance at church was compulsory; non-conformists were also expected to go, and the Guinnesses did not employ Catholics.
Between 1904 and 1906, the new structure went up. Mortlock recalls that Pevsner thought it 'Art Nouveau Gothic', which sums it up well. Lancet windows in the north side of the old church were moved across to the south side, and a wide open nave built beside it. Curiously, although this is much higher than the old and incorporates a Suffolk-style roof, Caroe resisted the temptation of a clerestory. The new church was rebenched throughout, and the woodwork is of a very high quality. The dates of the restoration can be found on bench ends up in the new chancel, and exploring all the symbolism will detain you for hours. Emblems of the nations of the British Isles also feature in the floor tiles.
The new church was dedicated to St Patrick, patron Saint of the Guinnesses' homeland. At this time, of course, Ireland was still a part of the United Kingdom, and despite the tensions and troubles of the previous century the Union was probably stronger at the opening of the 20th century than it had ever been. This was to change very rapidly. From the first shots fired at the General Post Office in April 1916, to complete independence in 1922, was just six years. Dublin, a firmly protestant city, in which the Iveaghs commemorated their dead at the Anglican cathedral of St Patrick, became the capital city of a staunchly Catholic nation. The Anglicans, the so-called Protestant Ascendancy, left in their thousands during the 1920s, depopulating the great houses, and leaving hundreds of Anglican parish churches completely bereft of congregations. Apart from a concentration in the wealthy suburbs of south Dublin, there are hardly any Anglicans left in the Republic today. But St Patrick's cathedral maintains its lonely witness to long years of British rule; the Iveagh transept includes the vast war memorial to WWI dead, and all the colours of the Irish regiments - it is said that 99% of the Union flags in the Republic are in the Guinness chapel of St Patrick's cathedral. Dublin, of course, is famous as the biggest city in Europe without a Catholic cathedral. It still has two Anglican ones.
Against this background then, we arrived at Elveden. The church is uncomfortably close to the busy road, but the sparkle of flint in the recent rain made it a thing of great beauty. The main entrance is now at the west end of the new church. The surviving 14th century tower now forms the west end of the south aisle, and we will come back to the other tower beyond it in a moment.
You step into a wide open space under a high, heavy roof laden with angels. There is a wide aisle off to the south; this is the former nave, and still has something of that quality. The whole space is suffused with gorgeously coloured light from excellent 19th and 20th century windows. These include one by Frank Brangwyn, at the west end of the new nave. Andrew and Patrick look down from a heavenly host on a mother and father entertaining their children and a host of woodland animals by reading them stories. It is quite the loveliest thing in the building.
Other windows, mostly in the south aisle, are also lovely. Hugh Easton's commemorative window for the former USAAF base at Elveden is magnificent. Either side are windows to Iveaghs - a gorgeous George killing a dragon, also by Hugh Easton, and a curious 1971 assemblage depicting images from the lives of Edward Guinness's heir and his wife, which also works rather well. The effect of all three windows together is particularly fine when seen from the new nave.
Turning ahead of you to the new chancel, there is the mighty alabaster reredos. It cost £1,200 in 1906, about a quarter of a million in today’s money. It reflects the woodwork, in depicting patron Saints and East Anglian monarchs, around a surprisingly simple Supper at Emmaus. This reredos, and the Brangwyn window, reminded me of the work at the Guinness’s other spiritual home, St Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin, which also includes a window by Frank Brangwyn commisioned by them. Everything is of the highest quality. Rarely has the cliché ‘no expense spared’ been as accurate as it is here.
Up at the front, a little brass plate reminds us that Edward VII slept through a sermon here in 1908. How different it must have seemed to him from the carefree days with his old friend the Maharajah! Still, it must have been a great occasion, full of Edwardian pomp, and the glitz that only the fabulously rich can provide. Today, the church is still splendid, but the Guinesses are no longer fabulously rich, and attendance at church is no longer compulsory for estate workers; there are far fewer of them anyway. The Church of England is in decline everywhere; and, let us be honest, particularly so in this part of Suffolk, where it seems to have retreated to a state of siege. Today, the congregation of this mighty citadel is as low as half a dozen. The revolutionary disappearance of Anglican congregations in the Iveagh's homeland is now being repeated in a slow, inexorable English way.
You wander outside, and there are more curiosities. Set in the wall are two linked hands, presumably a relic from a broken 18th century memorial. They must have been set here when the wall was moved back in the 1950s. In the south chancel wall, the bottom of an egg-cup protrudes from among the flints. This is the trademark of the architect WD Caroe. To the east of the new chancel, Duleep Singh’s gravestone is a very simple one. It is quite different in character to the church behind it. A plaque on the east end of the church remembers the centenary of his death.
Continuing around the church, you come to the surprise of a long cloister, connecting the remodelled chancel door of the old church to the new bell tower. It was built in 1922 as a memorial to the wife of the first Earl Iveagh. Caroe was the architect again, and he installed eight bells, dedicated to Mary, Gabriel, Edmund, Andrew, Patrick, Christ, God the Father, and the King. The excellent guidebook recalls that his intention was for the bells to be cast to maintain the hum and tap tones of the renowned ancient Suffolk bells of Lavenham... thus the true bell music of the old type is maintained.
This church is magnificent, obviously enough. It has everything going for it, and is a national treasure. And yet, it has hardly any congregation. So, what is to be done?
If we continue to think of rural historic churches as nothing more than outstations of the Church of England, it is hard to see how some of them will survive. This church in particular has no future in its present form as a village parish church. New roles must be found, new ways to involve local people and encourage their use. One would have thought that this would be easier here than elsewhere.
The other provoking thought was that this building summed up almost two centuries of British imperial adventure, and that we lived in a world that still suffered from the consequences. It is worth remembering where the wealth that rebuilt St Andrew and St Patrick came from.
As so often in British imperial history, interference in other peoples’ problems and the imposition of short-term solutions has left massive scars and long-cast shadows. For the Punjab, as in Ireland, there are no simple solutions. Sheer proximity has, after several centuries of cruel and exploitative involvement, finally encouraged the British government to pursue a solution in Ireland that is not entirely based on self-interest. I fear that the Punjab is too far away for the British to care very much now about what they did there then.
With DB seemingly speeding up the repaint of there Class 66's the sight of a EWS liveried loco may not be the norm from now on . Dodging the shadows is 66161 working the 6H79 Immingham - Drax approaching Hatfield and Stainforth near sunset .
26 7 23
Having seemingly dumped the contents of its fuel tank all over the road, Reading Titan 76 stands forlornly in the entrance to Victoria Bus Station awaiting rescue. This vehicle was one of several to carry "Goldline" branding for the X1 service between Reading and London. Although only 2 years old at the time, the paintwork was in an extremely shabby condition. (20th March 1985: Neg 386)
After seemingly indulging in a large breakfast (before I arrived) the little owlet decided to soak up the warmth of the sunshine and the barn roof. What a character!
Seemingly a very long journey ahead for some people, DMU 101874, displaying Looe as the destination, at Edinburgh Waverley Station on 16.10.92.
Here's another of Australia's seemingly endless variety of beautiful parrots, the Yellow Rosella. This bird is a common inhabitant of the areas around the Murray and Murrumbidgee river systems. In my experience it starts to get noticeable from around Yarrawonga, and by Hay it is quite a common sight.
The first time I saw one of these, I was scratching my head thinking that a Tasmanian Green Rosella had somehow made it to the mainland. While very close in colouring, they are definiitely two separate species. Believe it or not, this bird is actually a race of the Crimson Rosella. Strange but true, apparently.
This fellow was one of a group on the banks of the dry Lake Benanee midway between Balranald and Mildura. The country around here is terribly ravaged by drought, and I really don't know how these guys are surviving.
The museum is designed as a "seemingly floating dome structure"; its web-patterned dome allowing the sun to filter through. The overall effect is meant to represent "rays of sunlight passing through date palm fronds in an oasis." The total area of the museum will be approximately 24,000 square metres (260,000 sq ft). The permanent collection will occupy 6,000 square metres (65,000 sq ft), and the temporary exhibitions will take place over 2,000 square metres (22,000 sq ft)
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Seemingly an ambulance, presumably for a private hospital but I'm not sure which one.
There's something quite dodgy with this one, the plate very closely resembles a PHILPA classic car club plate, but those are only for cars made before 1985, which this definitely wasn't. Of course it could be some other Greek plate that I've never heard of.
For this year's photo, I chose dolls that were at one point in my collecting history seemingly unattainable to me. Most of my dolls have an acquisition story that involves a fair amount of effort and patience on my part, but I narrowed it down to these five.
Also including shout-outs to the artists who labored to put the finishing touches on my dolls.
My Dollstown Elysia: A two artist operation and and exemplary partnership. The Elysia head is scupted by Torre and the 15yr body by Jonghak An. I had wanted a Unoss or HyperManiac Ksy body for Pauline since she is a sturdy, big-boned girl, but even back then they were scarce and out of my price range. In the meantime I saw the new body Jonghak An had started to sculpt I decided to buy it for another character. More than a year later she was ready, and I bought the body only to find that it didn't work for my plans. What I discovered, however, was that the 15yr body measurements were nearly the same as those of the Unoss and Ksy bodies I had wanted so long ago. So I sold the NS Elysia head I'd been hanging on to for so long and ordered a white one to match the body. It was all random and accidental, but now she is my favorite female doll.
Pauline is wearing a wig made by Amadiz Studio, eyes made by Mystic, and hair combs made by The Night Market.
My Volks Amakusa: Given that Volks is still a family-owned business with artists and sculptors who make themselves available at many events, I don't understand how anyone can characterize them as a faceless corporation immune to the financial drain of counterfeits. I had longed for an Amakusa when he was first released but it just didn't happen. Years later a friend sold me his head and my partner gave me the SD16 body. I modified the two to fit together and painted him myself.
Freddy is wearing a wig by eclipse21 and eyes by Doll Bakery.
My Soom Bix: Another relatively large BJD maker, but you can find the individual sculptors on social media working hard to make new dolls. Head design was by Magosoyang with with faceup by Yeon's. This was another doll I thought I'd never own, but years later a friend was selling him at a convention for his original retail price. I didn't have the funds but he let me take him home and pay later.
Pierce is wearing clothing by Angel Hunt and custom eyes by Enchanted Doll.
My CustomHouse Choa: Custom House is gone but their sculpts have now been licensed for re-release by Luts. I bought her nYID body from Iplehouse using their custom doll system, which cost more but got me exactly what I wanted. Back when CH was around, the only way to get a white doll was by buying a Unique one-off fullset. I didn't want to wipe off a custom face-up so I waited for the right one to come up for sale. When she finally did, I was a few weeks away from being able to pay for her using money I was about to inherit. I wrote to CH and they kindly allowed me to put down a deposit to hold her until I could pay in full. I later found a blank secondhand Choa head from the Haute Doll edition and was able to pass the still intact Unique Ai to a new owner so I could pursue my original vision for Audrey. This was another hybrid that required some heavy modifications by me.
Audrey was painted by Nocturnal Dolls and wears eyes by Mystic.
My Volks Hewitt: I loved the first version of Hewitt, but when the second version was released I waffled on whether or not I could allow myself to buy an MSD until it was too late to enter the lottery. My WTB was answered by someone who had won one and decided she didn't need a second Hewitt as much as she'd like to see someone get a first Hewitt.
Sewek was painted by Sairin and wears custom eyes by Enchanted Doll and custom clothing by LavenderKiss.
All doll jewelry made by me (the horned moon, with one bright star) or my former business partner (orangebabydolly jewels).
a seemingly abandoned building in the western mojave desert is actually a movie set, frequently used for filming commercials and feature films.
mamiya 6MF 50mm f/4 + kodak portra 160NC. lab: the icon, los angeles, ca. scan: epson V750. exif tags: filmtagger.
Seemingly up close and personal (thanks to a wonderful zoom lens) with one of four nestlings in a Junco nest in our upper meadow.
Having seemingly spent an age hammering and sawing at the new home I decided it was well past time to get out with the camera again. Quite a bit has changed since I was out and about including a slew of new Ivecos; might be Crossways, might be Evadys. Also this one hove into view. In case anyone had doubts about which fleet it belonged to, it couldn't be written much larger. 8394MCL is one of a batch of Castrosua bodied Volvos (B9Rs?) and was heading for the depths of San Telmo bus station.(d23-0302f)
Seemingly to the delight of the three youngsters on the platform 156413 rattles through the charming Sankey for Penketh station with a Liverpool bound service. The waiting room on platform 2 along with the main building, that the hi-vis clad booking office clerk is striding purposefully from, are both CLC originals and survive today.
A really nice example and seemingly well kept, considering it parks on a main road in and out of town. 46000 miles on the clock and certainly looks like it too. Somerset registration and supplied by Taunton Motor Company, who would have been based on Priory Bridge Road, Taunton, at the time. They have just recently (beginning of July) moved to new premises on the Toneway, the main dual carriageway in and out of Taunton.
Seemingly on the wrong side of the Monongahela River, CSXT 7710 leads Norfolk Southern train N39 south through Charleroi, Pa. The skies were threatening to open their wreath onto the Mon Valley.
Heading into the mall and starting off in a seemingly random space, here we can see both the upper level and lower level entrances of the former Dillard's space at the mall.
(I struggled with how to present the rest of the photos I have of the mall...my interior photos seem to jump around a lot and I've taken photos of a lot of different things on different dates, so my first inclination was to organize by area of the mall. But then, I'm still taking new photos to this day, so we're doing this chronologically just to make my life easier)
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Tri-County Center opened on September 26, 1960. When it opened, the open-air center contained such stores as Shillito's, Pogue's, Kroger, a Kresge 5 and 10, and over 45 other stores. The center was enclosed by 1968 and renamed Tri-County Mall. Sears came to the mall around that same time. Between 1989 and 1992, the mall saw the addition of a second floor, along with the construction of MacAlpin's as a fourth anchor.
Today, Sears is the only mall anchor that has not had a name change. Shillito's became Shillito Rikes in 1982 when the two stores combined. In 1986, the store became a Lazarus; it was known as Lazarus-Macy's in 2003, then simply Macy's in 2005. Pogue's was renamed L.S. Ayres in 1983 and was closed in 1988. J.C.Penney took over that space, closing in July 2005. Today, the former J.C.Penney store is the site of an additional mall entrance, B.J.'s Restaurant & Brewhouse, Ethan Allan Furniture, and several smaller stores. The upper level of the former J.C.Penney became an indoor theme park, which is no longer open. McAlpin's became Dillard's in 1998. The Dillard's store was quot;downgraded" to a clearance center in 2013 and closed in 2015. As of today, that space is still vacant.
This road, seemingly appearing out of the morning mist, is Rt 64. It runs east and west across the state of Arkansas. At Russellville it separates two bodies of water. On the right as you view this, is Lake Dardanelle, on the left The Illinois Bayou. The highway itself roughly follows the tragic 'Trail of Tears' along which Cherokee, Chickasaw, Choctaw, Creek, and Seminole were forced to travel to Oklahoma during the Indian Removal Period of the 1830s.
Always seemingly busy. Adelie penguins have that wide-eyed look that comes from their mood-revealing scelera; the white tissue surrounding the darker aspects of their eyes. When the scelera grows larger on an Adelie, you can bet the penguin is getting interested, busy or even riled-up!
One interesting stop on my itinerary in Iceland was this seemingly abandoned farm, which I won't name. I had seen a couple of pictures of it before my trip and after extensive research, I found out where it was. I wasn't positive if it was abandoned or not but others had thought it was and from the looks of it, so did I! You can't see it from the road and this picture was taken about half way up the driveway on the way out. When driving down the driveway and seeing this for the first time, I was excited to get out and explore the area. As I do at most abandoned houses, I turn the car around to face the "exit" in case I need to get out of there in a hurry. Once in position, I turn the car off and we get out to take a look around. As soon as we reach the back of the vehicle, we hear a door open. Here's this man in coveralls and rubber boots with a massive beard. He didn't look too friendly but I said hi to try and break the ice. Well that didn't work... he glared at us, turned around and grabbed a big 4ft metal bar, held it in front of him and continued to stare at us without saying a word. Needles to say, we didn't get to explore the area and we quickly got back in the van and peeled off. I stopped here to at least get one picture of the place and when reviewing the picture later, I found that he was still standing at the door staring at the car with the metal bar in his hands! Check out the close up in the comments!!
a seemingly abandoned building in the western mojave desert is actually a movie set, frequently used for filming commercials and feature films.
mamiya 6MF 50mm f/4 + kodak portra 160NC. lab: the icon, los angeles, ca. scan: epson V750. exif tags: filmtagger.
On this Dec. 2018 weekend I, like seemingly every other railfan in the northeast, made the trip to the Southern Tier of New York to chase and photograph the annual Toys For Tots special train that ran from Binghamton to Delanson, NY on NS. In conjunction with that, were opportunities to shoot the returning deadhead equipment heading south on the old Erie Mainline.
Many fans lamented the fact that Norfolk Southern chose (for entirely rational public relations reasons) to put two of their modern locomotives on top of what were the stars of the show (to railfans at least).
But, I didn't care. Just a chance to see them, even coupled at both ends was worth it to me. So I headed out on Fri taking my time on the long 5 hr drive to Binghamton. I railfanned my way west and south...quite unsuccessfully I might add, but then had a fun night in Bingo catching up with an old railroader buddy.
Fri was a long fun day in pretty poor weather. It was good to be on the old Delaware and Hudson again after more than two decades and great to see so many familiar faces in the hobby. While the owner has changed, the "Bridge Line" is still as gorgeous as ever.
On Saturday was even worse weather, but an even rarer opportunity. Not only is this train exceedingly special, but seeing ANY train on the old Southern Tier east of Binghamton is a treat these days, account it normally only hosts 6 nocturnal freights a week operated by the NYSW railroad.
Here is a favorite shot of the stars of the show without those pesky SD60Es blocking the view! And for the uninitiated who read my ramblings these stars are original Pennsylvania Railroad EMD E8s 5711 and 5809 built in Oct 1952 and Jan 1951 respectively by EMD.
I'd seen these stunningly restored classics that are owned by Bennett Levin's Juniata Terminal only once prior, when they went to Streamliners at Spencer in 2014. Well, correct that. I'd only seen them that one time in their restored glory. I did shoot these locomotives in the 1990s when they wore Pullman green and led Conrail's OCS into New England many times and in fact the first photo I had published in Trains magazine was of the these Es running on the Northeast Corridor in Rhode Island!
Discarded by NS and CSXT after the 1999 unmerger, they have enjoyed a remarkable second coming in their as delivered glory, often running on home rails leading excursions and special trains around the east. But the rumors are those days are coming to an end and there might not be another chance to see these stunners on the high iron so weather and miles be damned!
Here the NS units are running by the Es at the end of their run up the old D&H getting ready to rearrange the power and head back south to Binghamton. The warm red glow at left is from NYC Observation Car Babbling Brook owned by WebbRail.
Delanson, New York
Saturday December 1, 2018
Seemingly getting more popular is the Wright Streetlite DF and seen here is 63008 : SM13NDX of First South Yorkshire on delivery from Wrightbus at Heysham Docks on 11th August 2013.
Suddenly, the seemingly impossible seemed possible when I discovered that Ian, a fellow member of our photography group, had self-published his own books online and was willing to take on my dad's wartime diary.
We worked together for 6 months to realise the publication of the story of Gunner Bert Martin, written from 1941 to 1945, mostly in camps for prisoners of war.
My father himself had tried unsuccessfully to have his diary published. Impossible, of course, to let him know this has been achieved more than 70 years after he wrote it.
Difficult to explain what this means to me.
Named for the Portuguese explorer Ferdinand Magellan, the two glowing clouds seemingly suspended in the sky over this field north of Goulburn, Australia, are known as the “Magellanic Clouds”. Magellan’s expeditionary fleet set out from Spain in September of 1519 and completed the first circumnavigation of the Earth in 1522. The man by whose name the voyage is now remembered didn’t finish the trip, though, meeting his end on the end of a spear during a battle on the island of Mactan, the Philippines, in 1521.
Although known of by indigenous people of South America and Africa for millennia, and within the first millennium CE by middle-eastern astronomers, it seems that European records of these two dwarf galaxies only date to around the 16th century CE. The Italian scholar Antonio Pigafetta, Magellan’s assistant and scribe, reported the sighting of the clouds during their voyage. Visible primarily in the Southern Hemisphere, the Large and Small Magellanic Clouds only began to be associated with Magellan’s name sometime late in the 18th century.
From my location in Australia, the clouds are visible at night year-round, provided there’s a clear view to the south. Although I’ve been envious of the view that northerners have of the Andromeda Galaxy, aka M31, I can at least go outside on a clear night–moonlit or not–and see these fellow-travellers through the “local group” of galaxies.
For this image, I shot seven single-frame photos in quick succession, then used the software “Starry Landscape Stacker” to composite them into a final picture that had less digital noise and better definition than any of the contributing images. The equipment and settings that I used for each photo were a Canon EOS 6D camera, a Yongnuo 50mm f/1.4 lens @ f/1.8, using an exposure time of 6.0 seconds @ ISO 6400. I set the camera on a fixed tripod, i.e. I didn’t use a star-tracker.
It's moments later that an alarm starts sounding off. But it sounds different.. Also, it's seemingly coming from everywhere at once. The expression on Tara's face changes instantaneously, recognizing the sound.
"No no no. That can't be right." She mutters as she runs towards a guard, that's heading towards the city center of Markovburg.
"What's going on?!" She barks at the guard. He's clearly worried, as he's sweating profusely through his uniform.
"Princess Tara?? You- You're alive!" He says, in his thick Markovian accent.
"News about my death has been greatly exaggerated. Now spit it out. Why is that alarm going off? It's not supposed to unless-" She says, her expression quickly changing to being quite frantic, and worried.
"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this.. Your father-- I mean King Viktor, has been murdered.. Somehow, someone was able to sneak into the palace." He says, interrupting Tara mid sentence, only to pause in between sentences. I honestly wasn't expecting him to be civil. Especially with what she's told me about how everyone views her now. Pretty much the black sheep of the family. Guess he has slightly bigger things to worry about though.
"I have to go." She replies
"You just said you weren't going back. Once they learned what's happ-"
"Yeah, well, things change Gar. My family --- Brion needs me. I need to make sure he's okay. If that means risking my own safety, so be it. " She says, interrupting me, with the earth beneath her forming into a rock platform. Within a matter of seconds, she flies away, rightfully upset with the news. As much as she was trying to stay strong, you could start to see her tearing up. Anyway, the guard goes back to his business, running towards the city center, presumably towards the huge castle that looks like something straight out of a fantasy movie. The place where Tara's probably going to now as well. I know it's not really my place, as I'm an outsider to this country, and everyone in it, but I should be there for her. Especially since I know how she feels. But at the same time, there's this throbbing pain that may come back at any moment. Then there's the voices, telling me to go to San Diego.
It doesn't feel right leaving Tara on her own right now, but I can't just ignore it. There has to be a reason I heard it. Someone else could be in danger. I'm sorry Tara.. I'll be back, once I figure out what's going on with me. This is going to take me a while.. Only so fast a peregrine falcon can go..
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Many Days Later, San Diego
So I'm finally here, after taking many stops along the way. San Diego, the birthplace of California! At least, that's what it says on the sign, as I fly by. Lucky for me, being formerly famous has its perks. Lots of fans, eager to help me out, even though I told them they really didn't have to. Of course that also meant a whole lot of pictures and signings, which can be quite exhausting. Felt like I never stopped being an actor for those moments.. I won't lie, it's great to have that support, but at the same time, I want people to see me for me. I'm not just Beast Boy of the Doom Patrol, or the loveable Tork from Space-Trek: 2022. There's more to me than that. I'm Garfield Logan too. A human being, that is far from being perfect. I don't deserve to be put up on a pedestal, as I've made my fair share of mistakes, some of which still haunt me to this day. But I'm doing the best I can to move forward, and be the best version of myself each day.
As I'm flying through the city, I notice two people fighting, which is enough to make me stop flying. One of them is dressed in orange and blue costume, and the other in a white suit. I dive down, to get a closer look at the ongoing brawl, watching from a nearby alleyway. Without knowing anything, I for some reason find myself cheering for the costumed guy to win. The man in the white suit is trying to stab the other guy, with surgical tongs of all things... It doesn't look good for him, as the other guy is able to dodge him rather easily. The man in orange is able to disarm him quickly, and within seconds, the fight is over, with the man in white knocked unconscious against the street lamp. There's something about this guy in orange that is quite calming.. Though, I'm not sure what exactly it is.
Looking up, I notice someone on the rooftop across the street, with a bag beside them. Pulling what I'm assuming are parts out of said bag, they start assembling their weapon, aiming at the man that just won the fight. Can't quite tell what the weapon exactly is, but it's safe to assume it's nothing good. It's at this point that I start running out into the street where the guy is.
"Watch out!!" I yell, trying to warn him. Unfortunately, it's too late, as the first shot goes off.
I was lost.
Then someone gave me a new map. I followed it and it took me back to where I started.
Seemingly back home.
I'm crying while write this, I really didn't expect that. But I think finally the splinters are working their way out. Each new sentence I write that resonates with that buried and deep emotional pain has a soundtrack of heavy sobs.
If you've been reading my witterings over the last couple of months you probably noticed that there's been some stuff going on.
I've always enjoyed writing stories to go with my pictures and back when I started doing this they used to be funny. Nowadays they seem heavily weighed down with something.
Yesterday I went to the beach and made my very first proper rock balances. I'd made plenty of rock stacks before and mini pebble balances but nothing where a pointed heavy rock is needed to hold everything together with gravity. I'd not tried it even once.
Midway through making the first one I had a massive AHA moment, everything that the expert rock balancers at LEAF had been telling me suddenly made sense and I was filled with joy and inspiration. "I get it!" I shouted to myself and I was transported back to a time many years ago when I suddenly got what land art is all about.
Back then I was trying to recreate a Goldsworthy sycamore leaf box and while I did so I realised that land art is not about the end result it is about the process. By trying to find leaves with right angled veins I discovered all about those trees and how some had obtuse angles some acute and you had to get to know quite a number of trees to find the right-angled ones you need to make a box. It was that day that put me on the path I am on now.
From an early age I'd find my peace in nature and suddenly now land art became another way for me to connect and find more of that quietitude. And I loved it, dreamt about it and went out and made things whenever I could.
After a while I started to get some interest online and it grew and grew. It was very nice to share what I was doing with people and of course I enjoyed the attention. But soon after the whole atmosphere changed around what I was doing and it felt like the very activity that gave me peace had been taken away from me and now it became a burden as I felt owned by it.
Bear in mind that this all in retrospect and it's only today I have come to realise this.
My art became another cause of stress when it used to be the reliever. I became more and more resistant to making anything and I had no idea why.
I felt like it had been stolen from me and I somehow felt bereft. It became all about what was expected of me and because I could no longer give it to you I felt like I had failed. Failed all of you at everything. Not worth a bean and that was how most of my life was up to then.
Land art and my love Julia helped a casualty of life find connection. A painful life of crippling shyness, unrequited love, a broken heart and no one ever knowing how I felt inside and with it the belief that no one cared. In land art I found something that helped me down the path of repair. But then it became part of the problem.
Yesterday at the beach I felt the same solace balancing rocks as when I found land art. When I got home I searched out photos from the experts such as Michael Grab, Tim Anderson and Patrick Catalde and I was inspired so much I wanted to dash out the door and make something there and then.
That map had taken me home again and whatever it was that set me off in the first place was back.
I went down to the river at Middlewood, the place I go when I really need to connect and set about looking for rocks to balance.
At first the searching starts to move you into a flow alpha state then the first assembly takes you in still deeper until that moment when you are trying to glue the whole thing down with a pointed rock. Right then your world is filled with only what is in front of your eyes and you reach a deep and mindful state. The only other activity where I have experienced this same state is climbing when your whole world becomes the two square feet in front of you. My land art though connecting and mindful renders a different flow state from this.
As your awareness expands, time seems to stop and gradually you bring that rock into balance. And then it stands and you get a big dump of happy chemicals.
It stood for just thirty seconds.
When the dopamine started to drop I started to feel a little emotional. The process had opened me up and sentences by way of explanation ran through my mind.
I sat on a log to write some of it down and then like a tidal wave crashing over me I began to cry.
While not trying to sound like an over-wrought actor pouring out their Oscar acceptance speech, there are too many people to mention who have helped and guided me on this journey back home.
You know who you are.
Thank you.
But this is not simply a tale of some old duffer finding his way back to what he loves about his art. This is a yarn about a much more profound journey where many of the wounds I have had since childhood are finally being healed. At that I am astonished and grateful.
I had no idea when this day begun that here is where I would be.
To all of you who said that chaos is often the beginning of a journey to somewhere more profound. You. Were. Dead. Right.
Thank you to you as well. ;-)