#Black Whitsun

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in Irish History | 13 May:

#OTD in Irish History | 13 May:

1842 – Arthur Sullivan, the son of an Irish musician, is born. Along with William Gilbert he invented the English operetta. Sullivan’s last work is entitled “The Emerald Isle”. 1848 – The Irish Confederation splits; John Mitchel starts the militant United Irishman; he is arrested on this date and is sentenced to 14 years transportation under the new Treason-Felony Act. 1851 – Wexford physician…

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#irelandinspires #irishhistory ireland #OTD #13 May #Éamon De Valera #Black Whitsun #Clonmel #Co. Tipperary #Dan Breen #History #History of Ireland #IRA #Ireland #Irish History #Pope John Paul II #Sean Treacy #Seán Hogan #Sinn Fein #St Patrick&039;s Well #Today in Irish History #Winston Churchill

[enqmind]

I'm kinda losing steam, so have the first part of this. (Also, I've been working on this for over a month. I need some encouragement T-T)

The Once and Future Queen

Pre-Raphaelite!Konig/female model(?)!reader, 2.9k words

Warnings: (Likely) Historical innaccuracies, pretension, Dante Gabriel Rosetti slander (aka: accurately describing what he did), TF141 are here with bells on.

Reader notes: Light enough to be easily lifted by Soap, has a family, lives somewhere in England, working class, Victorian.

Part I: Walpurgia's Night

 König was not a poet.

 Neither in his native German, nor this bizarre tongue that felt like speaking three at once.

 He was a man of few words, it only made sense to him that those words be simple and straight to the point. This attitude only made his fellows in the Brotherhood look upon him with rather some disdain.

 With this he was fine, he wasn’t there to mince pretty words and use them to entice young women to fulfil his whims and stroke his ego.

 The whole concept of poetry was a rather strange one to him to begin with. It seemed too prone to misrepresentations to his mind.

 After all, one could not scream a painting of a lover’s embrace, or softly whisper a woodcut of a bloody battle. A bold statue of a conquering hero could not be turned dreadful by a tone of voice or a stuttering delivery.

 No matter how honest the poet, the reader could turn their words to lie in another voice. Be that spoken aloud or just within their own mind.

 It was a folly, he would say if asked. In a particularly thunderous mood he would claim it made men mad. Drove their confidence into levels that tipped straight over the precipice of insanity. That otherwise merely passionate men were made Narcissus with the products of their souls. Or worse, made monsters.

 He had stood there, at the side of a young, lost, woman’s grave. The earth there turned fresh despite her being buried there years ago.

 Simple folly then seemed like madness, and his work thus changed.

 The word of the Bard became ash in his mouth.

 Smitten Juliets, sweet Cordelias and even poor Ophelias losing their glitter and shine. Becoming naught but shadows flickering at the limbus of his sight.

 Never honest. Never real.

 Thusly, he became a Nazarene.

 Vicious Judiths, loyal Ruths and penitent Marys Magdalene became his bread and butter.

 Until he recalled that these too were written in verse, and so the word of the Lord became as cinders.

 An unguided man, he wandered this foreign land as lost and adrift as the island itself.

 Perhaps it was a misunderstanding that brought him to this festival, but he was loathe to confess that he had wished to become drunk upon this Ale as he considered matters French, Roman and British for his work.

 It was here he saw them, on the day of Pentecost that these English did call Whitsun.

 In this place to the North, far from capitals both ancient and modern.

 This dying breed, these men of Morris. Dancing with their bells and handkerchiefs and swords never meant for battle.

 It captivated König.

 Here was legend, myth and mimesis.

 Representation of ancient truths without the lies of verse, except only —perhaps— to gild the lily.

 He took his sketches of the five.

 The leader with his distinctive hat and fashionable beard.

 The man dressed in rich colours and shine, like a jewelled beetle.

 The one with the swarthy skin and bearing of a grand thespian.

 The fellow with the piercing eyes and head shaved like warriors from the far side of the ocean.

 The largest of them, covered in darkness with a skull blacked upon his face.

 The One Four One, the side was called.

 The crowd laughed and clapped and cheered along to each of the dances, enraptured by this tradition that was petering out to its end.

 How it was worth the scorn that König had heard his cosmopolitan brothers heap upon it, he did not know. To him, these men were like warriors without a battle to fight.

 König was a draughtsman and a painter, so he drew and he painted.

 Captured the likeness of these men and their dance. Portraits of them in their mismatched gear titled with their odd nicknames, no sillier than his own.

 It kept him busy, back in his studio engulfed in smog and soot. Now become home as well, for Morris men were far from fashionable amongst his former patrons.

 The Earth had nearly completed her circuit ‘round the blazing Sun when he received a letter from the man that the side called captain.

 They were planning to travel to a new village for the next Whitsun, and König was welcome to meet them there. Price would arrive first, then Soap and Ghost, and trailing along would be Gaz and Roach

 He was rather confused that the invitation requested he join them in late April, as Whitsun would not be for weeks to come.

 He said as much when he accepted their kind invitation, expressing that he would be honoured to join them.

 A simple note was the only response he received as he packed up his meagre home .

 ‘The crowning of the May Queen must be honoured.’

 Another of these strange island customs.

 He pictured an austere woman in the fullness of life, tall for her sex and as imposing as Demeter while she ruled the growing season.

 König sketched such things as he travelled by train and then coach and then buggy to a new village.

 Was this queen special? he wondered. The ur-queen of life and growth, perhaps. So important that the near last of the Morris must attend her coronation.

 He near vibrated with intrigue at the thought.

 Here would be true magic and mystery, unsullied by the madness of verse.

 Price met him at the village’s inn, on the day of his arrival, buying him a drink and then a plate of food after passing his gaze up and down the near starving artist.

 He muttered something under his breath about brotherhood, it dripped with such disdain that König did fear it might land in his ale.

 After, Price perked up.

 “You’ll enjoy this,” he promised.

 Any wondering König might have done about how they would fill the time until May Day was quashed by the villagers. After all, surely a large man like him was there to help.

 He had no heart to say no, and was press ganged into helping them.

 On the third day, his job was to help erect a pole festooned with ribbons.

 This was where Soap and Ghost found him. One large man became two, their third securing the pole so well that naught but the mightiest gale could bring it down.

 After each day of hard work the villagers fed and watered them well. Women presenting them with stews and puddings, men with bread and ale, the children with wild berries and juices.

 The three men of the side ate well, reminding König to as well when he became too absorbed in his sketching of the day’s events.

 On one occasion, Ghost and Price caught him by the arms, Soap taking his papers and charcoal, refusing to return them until he cleared his plate.

 He almost snarled, but the gnawing pain that had settled into his gut asserted itself and cut him off.

 Soap laughed and he and his comrades watched, quietly pleased as König ate.

 He was not a Morris man, but he felt like one in the waning days of the month. Working, feasting and resting together.

 He wondered if this would last, if he was merely an understudy for their absent members. Standing in their spot, keeping their mark ready until they could arrive.

 This uncertainty lasted until the twilight of Walpurgia’s night, the last sunset before the queen was crowned, when the quintuplet once again became whole.

 Pulled along like the sea, König followed the moon of the three to the place where buggies made their stop.

 He sat on the bench and kept watch for them as they passed the time with practice. It was difficult for him to maintain his vigil, fascinated by how they danced as though nothing were missing at all. The glint of their blades and shadows of Roach and Gaz danced as much as they did in the golden hour.

 Only the distant sound of horses kept him from putting the image to paper.

 Hoofbeats blended with the stomp of the rappers into one melodious tune.

 König watched as two figures leapt from the buggy, running at full pelt down the road. The sound of their steps and laughter joined the steady rhythm until they slipped into the dance, replacing shadows like they were always there.

 It was as the buggy drew to a halt that he realised that there was no absence for him to fill.

 A woman’s laugh rose from the buggy, drawing five wide smiles and a curious look.

 Gilded by the setting sun, she stood above them all —even Ghost and König — glorious like a queen.

 This must be her, the monarch of May. Surely she was who the One Four One came to honour, bringing with them a foreign pretence of a king to make record of the ceremony.

 She was not Demeter, far too soft and kind as Soap lifted her by the waist from the buggy, dancing them into a spin before setting her to the ground.

 Immediately she was surrounded and towered over, the side as her court and her court at her side.

 “And so the summer queen arrives,” Price greeted, laughter in his voice as he doffed his hat into a deep bow.

 It was a wry grin she shot back, curtseying low.

 “Of course Captain, this is not an occasion that one could afford to miss.”

 She turned her eyes to König, lit ablaze as the stars crept out to shine.

 “And who might this be?” she asked, looking him up and down as one might a castle.

 “A sixth for a five man band? Why, was including Ghost not challenge enough?”

 The man himself huffed.

 “Her majesty jests,” Soap declared with a conspiratorial grin. “T’was no issue with Ghost at all. Excepting, of course, his demeanour.”

 That earned the Scot a cuff around the head that hurt not at all, if his wide smile bore fair witness.

 Price beckoned König over.

 “To honour the occasion, we invited a titled man to oversee proceedings. A majesty in his own right.”

 A hand fell on his shoulder.

 “A delight, my queen, to present to you a king; König.”

 Those eyes flew wide, and pretty lips parted in a gasp, before she curtseyed low again..

 “Nothing but a pleasure, I’m sure,” she smiled, so beautiful that it made his hands twitch. “To meet you is like a gift from above.”

 She wore admiration on her face like another lady might wear powder and rouge.

 “You know my work,” he realised.

 “Yes. I had the pleasure of seeing it as I attended my lady during a trip to the city.”

 The smile she wore was enchanting, almost enough that he didn’t parse what she said. Almost.

 “Your lady?”

 “Away from here I’m a mere lady’s maid.”

 “A poet,” Gaz corrected, “one who pays for room and board by masquerading as a maid.”

 She gave him a look that seemed to sigh ‘not you too’.

 König’s heart fell to his feet.

 “Not much of one,” she murmured, looking up at him, embarrassed.

 “Tosh.”

 Ghost’s simple comment brought a smile back to the queen’s face. She tugged his shirt to draw him down for a kiss on the cheek.

 König watched them. He wondered how much of the platonic nature of her affection was pure falsehood. How deep could the lies of verse go?

 Price’s hand fell again onto his shoulder, the look in the man’s eyes somehow both concerned and warning in the same expression.

 “We’ll get your bags to your Mam’s and then circle back to the pub, hmm?” he said to her, hand tightening on the painter’s shoulder.

 König found himself almost frogmarched into helping as the others, including their queen, unloaded the buggy of bags and cases.

 “Later,” was the captain’s quiet warning.

 The Morris men and their queen conversed with bright smiles and open laughter.

 Even the taciturn spectre was light. He shared a story with the newcomers of how one girl (soft and kind with a sweet, dark, face) commandeered he and König to help her pick some upstart elderflowers. She’d sat on Ghost’s shoulders to reach blooms to pluck alongside König. A little princess who crowned them both in flowers and thanks.

 Gaz puffed up in pride when König called her a braves Mädchen.

 “Just wait until tomorrow. You’ll see her be really brave.”

 To a man, the One Four One nodded in agreement.

 “I just hope I can do her justice,” the queen sighed.

 Roach patted her on the back with a reassuring grin. The silent conversation between them enough to draw her shoulders back.

 “You’re right. Just… one more pass?”

 He laughed, it running through the group like a plague. Affecting even König through his veil of misery.

 He didn’t speak much, even as they made their efforts to include him in the conversation as though nothing were amiss. To them, he supposed, there was not.

 He was no fool. He was aware that to educated and uneducated men alike, his aversion to poetry was bizarre.

 The expression colouring Price’s countenance told him as much when the queen went into her family home to put away her bag and be smothered in love.

 König told him that he could not stand that which would disturb the grave of a young woman as she slept eternal.

 He had expected confusion, perhaps more scorn, but instead he was given sympathy.

 Soap put his hand on König’s arm.

 A frisson of disgust ran through the side.

 “We heard about that,” Price rumbled, “foul business.”

 “Were you friends?” A question asked by all, but spoken by Gaz.

 He threw his thoughts back to her gentle face and broken soul. They spoke as infrequently as they met. Even as she sat for him, but those silences were amicable. Amicable.

 “Ja.”

 Delusion as it may be, she and he were kindred spirits. This he knew in his heart.

 “I get how you feel,” Soap commiserated, “that guy’s a cunt.”

 It began slowly and then came out of his like a torrent. Chuckle into raucous laughter.

 How direct. How clear. How unpoetic.

 It was like a veil had been lifted.

 The defiler wasn’t a tortured poet, a grieving husband, Alighieri descending into hell.

 “He is a cunt,” König stated. “Ja. Only a cunt would do that.”

 The hand on his arm turned into an encouraging clap.

 “There you go. He’s a cunt. You gonna let a cunt like that ruin something for you?”

 That was wha he’d been allowing, wasn’t it?”

 “No. Not anymore.”

 “Good man.”

 They were swiftly joined by the queen and her family, familiar from about the village.

 The queen mother made shooing motions at them.

 “Get a shift on lads,. They won’t light the bonfire without the guest of honour!”

 The side gave their greetings and the group headed onward.

 The queen’s family was a curious bunch, asking questions about what everyone had been up to on their travels and an inordinate amount about König.

 “So… I hear you’re a painter,” her father had begun.

 “Ja. We’ve already had this conversation.”

 “... Right. I just didn’t know you were that painter…”

 The man awkwardly moved into interrogating Gaz with his wife.

 Odd fellow, but not unlikable.

 It was not an unpleasant walk, König found himself rather enjoying it. Somehow folded into another band without meaning to.

 He stole glances at the queen as they went, the dark shadow washed away. His heart was for from repaired, but now he no longer needed to second guess her quite so much.

 She fidgeted while he looked at her. Dutifully, he averted his gaze as he noticed each time.

 No wonder she was the guest of honour; even in dusty travelling clothes she was wonderful.

 He wondered if she would be willing to sit for him.

 Soon enough they reached the inn.

 The bonfire was small and rather hastily made. He didn’t doubt that they built much more impressive ones to burn traitors in effigy.

 Gaz and Roach were hurried off to place their bags in the side’s room as the innkeeper strode up to the party.

 “Ah, good. You’re here!”

 König could have sworn his heart stopped when the man put a hand on his back.

 “Light the bonfire so we can ward off the witches, then.”

 He looked at the innkeeper, nonplussed.

 The hand patted.

 “Happy wall purge is knack, König,” the man grinned up at him. He looked so proud.

 König nodded, a small smile playing on his own lips.

 “Frohe Walpurgisnacht.”

 He was handed a flaming torch and the gathered village folk cheered as the pile caught flame.

 “From now on, we’ll know our May Queens will be safe from witches!” the innkeeper called to further cheers.

 It was a strange feeling being the centre of attention like this, but it didn’t feel so unnatural as it should. Explaining the traditions of Walpurgisnacht to the queen and other curious souls wasn’t as harrowing as he’d have expected if told he’d be required to do so when he had arrived.

 He expressed as much to Price as the bonfire died down and the side bade the queen and her family good night.

 The captain shrugged and slapped him on the back.

 “Sleep, it’s a big day tomorrow.”

#call of duty #call of duty x reader #konig x reader #cod fic

[sorchamidnite]

|| The Vow ||

"Hello, Sorcha."

These conversations are not like they used to be.

Before she left, it was her and him, Father of the Year and Daddy's Little Monster, in an anonymous, cosy, very masculine flat that nobody outside the family knew was his. Now it's this cold, cavernous space two floors up on the east wing, all high windows and echoes, with the desk and the sofas and the rug all clustered around a central pillar and feeling small and out of place and overwhelmed.

"Hey, da," she sing-songs, and plops herself onto the edge of his desk. "What's occurrin'?"

"I've had a letter. From your young man in Los Angeles. This the one who came up Whitsun time, last year?" Alistair taps his fingers on the paper on the desk - cream paper, red leather, deep glossy teak, thud thud thud. Under that hatchet gaze Sorcha's lower lip finds itself under her teeth - it's a bite she'd play up in public, eroticise for the greater good (and it's funny), but in here there's no audience to play to and it's all nerves, honest as she ever gets.

"Awright," she says, filling for time. "Cute that he's written tae you. What's he - "

"He says you've learned how tae break the bond," says Alistair, without fuss. "That somethin' in that new-school hoodoo you do can shake someone free, if they want it. That you did it for some bird I've never met."

Lip bite. Lip bite. Nod. Nod. It's tugging at her heart - the cast-iron cinder-black grave-cold links of it locking Sorcha to this old man she loves so much and can't survive without and owes everything to and just wants to be good for, so badly - and her heart tugs back, her head weighing in, remembering blue eyes and a wide smile and hungry, hungry kisses and calloused hands softly stroking her back until the dawn came -

"He wants you tae do it tae yourself. Says you can stand on your own two feet now. You don't need this from me. You just... want it."

"It's easier," Sorcha blurts. "You know what I'm like. Anyone who's anyone could say drink and I'd be gone again. If it's you I know you won't make me do anythin' I wouldnae do of my own free will anyways. If it's you I'm safe."

"Sorcha," says her father, softer now, softer than he's accustomed to speaking to anyone. "You know I never wanted this for you, ah? I never wanted you tae be anyone's..." he waves a hand, nondescript, the silence filling in with doll or floozy or slave or any one of a dozen things. "Not even mine. It was fine when it was helpin' you. You had tae look like one of us, an' they all expected you tae be like that if I'd made you... but if you don't need it, I don't want tae - I won't be that tae you, Sorcha. I won't control you. I want loyalty given, an exchange of value, not this..."

"I am loyal!" It spills out of her in a whine. "Don't you think I love you? Don't you know I would never go agin you again, not after all that happened last time? I've learned! I've come back! This is where I belong, and you should never hae sent me away in the first place, not ever - "

"Prove it," says Alistair. There it is. Steel under velvet. Locked tight around the chain. "Prove it. Show me you love me without being made tae. Show me where your loyalties lie by choice. Show me this backslide is worth it. Break the chain."

The chain that twists around her heart. Ties it up in a bow. Tugs the same way - says without him you can have him - no, he never would. Says you can be yours. You don't have to belong to either of them. You can love them because you love them. He wants you to. Don't you want to do what he wants? Don't you want to be a good girl for your da?

Lip bite. Blood wells. Nod. Nod.

Sorcha swallows. She's going to need every drop.

"All right," she says. "I'll try it. But I'm gonnae need some stuff from you."

#cw: father #ooc #thanks for asking!

[blowcondor4]

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Work from the highest down so something that falls may be cleaned later, and remember to treat both sides. Check in the folds and hems the place hidden debris accumulates and wipe down dusty home windows and windowsills. Jobs And Careers The documents posted on this website are XML renditions of revealed Federal Register paperwork. Each document posted on the site features a hyperlink to the corresponding official PDF file on govinfo.gov. This prototype edition of the daily Federal Register on FederalRegister.gov will stay an unofficial informational useful resource until the Administrative Committee of the Federal Register points a regulation granting it official authorized standing. For full details about, and access to, our official publications and companies, go to About the Federal Register on NARA's archives.gov. Encourage sufferers and visitors to put on cloth masks when visiting to prevent transmission from non-symptomatic individuals. At present, no drug has been proven to be safe and efficient for treating COVID-19. One CAP acquired a ultimate rating of 37% as a result of its emergency room restrooms weren't separated or signaled by gender, lacked accessibility for those with mobility issues, and weren't clear. 清潔公司 closing of gaps in scores between the primary and third assessments was most pronounced within the 5 CAPs. On common, the CAPs’ compliance increased 54%, with the very best enhancing by 65%. The 2 CAIMIs noticed a median improvement of 37%, and hospitals improved by 36% . Examining the assessment results via the JMP requirements for WASH in HCFs, no services met basic service ranges for sanitation or waste administration at baseline .18 At finish line, all facilities had reached fundamental levels of service for water and hygiene, and hygiene improved essentially the most. The 11 HCFs improved their average emergency/general ward scores from 41 factors at baseline to 87 points at finish line, based on a 100-point scale. For all 357 PRTFs, the burden can be 2,856 hours (8 hours × 357) at an estimated cost of $211,344 (592 × 357). The ICRs for this section would require every PRTF to develop the policies and procedures wanted to fulfill all the requirements in this part. Current regulations for PRTFs don't handle infection prevention and management or vaccinations. Hence, though we imagine that a minimum of some PRTFs have already addressed COVID-19 vaccination of their workers, we'll assess the burden for all 357 PRTFs. Cleansing, Disinfecting, And Sanitizing If water is not out there, then a very good various is alcoholic disinfectants, and the alcoholic content must be almost about 60% within the disinfectant. Benzalkonium chloride hand cleaner, manufactured in an FDA-registered facility to cGMP requirements is readily available. Products containing benzalkonium chloride that comply with the current FDA OTC monograph might offer an different choice for hand disinfection. The quaternaries commonly are utilized in ordinary environmental sanitation of noncritical surfaces, such as flooring, furniture, and walls. EPA-registered quaternary ammonium compounds are acceptable to make use of for disinfecting medical equipment that contacts intact pores and skin (e.g., blood pressure cuffs). Aldehydes, such as formaldehyde and glutaraldehyde, have a large microbicidal activity and are sporicidal and fungicidal. They are partly inactivated by natural matter and have slight residual activity. There are arguments for creating or maintaining conditions that are not conducive to bacterial survival and multiplication, somewhat than attempting to kill them with chemical compounds. Bacteria can improve in quantity very quickly, which enables them to evolve rapidly. Equally irrational are GUV wands as a outcome of delivering an effective germicidal dose is unpredictable when waving a wand over a surface, and they have to be low power to keep away from accidental direct over-exposure of eyes or pores and skin. At a good bigger scale, GUV portals have been marketed and used in constructing entrances or exits to “disinfect” folks walking through them. This is unnecessary not only as a result of no vital decontamination of pores and skin or clothing is possible, however respiratory virus resides in the human respiratory tract, and can't be eliminated from the outside. Finally, the Urban Sun project for disinfecting large out of doors spaces likewise is senseless since dilution and upward convection air currents already render the skin far safer than indoors. However, chemical disinfection by itself is probably not as efficient as boiling for pathogen control as some protozoans, similar to Cryptosporidium in the cyst form, are resistant to both chlorine and iodine based mostly disinfectants. There has been an increase in using electrostatic disinfectants in recent years. Electrostatic disinfection is a process achieved by use of electrostatic sprayers notable examples of which embrace the Vycel -Vycel 4 or the Techtronics Ryobi.

#清潔公司

[edwardmonday8]

Skilled Chimney Sweep Cleansing

From soot-covered faces in black and white pictures, to the fashionable sweep…professionals have been sharpening skills for hundreds of years. Staying better protected ought to be a priority for any house owner, so hiring somebody who's absolutely insured is a should. Also, when a company goes by way of the trouble of acquiring insurance coverage and liability, you realize they are here to place your needs first and keep good standing within the communities they serve. Don’t be afraid to do your research and to ask them about any concerns you’re experiencing. The boy could be washed by the mistress in a tub in the yard; this would possibly happen as typically as as quickly as every week, however hardly ever. Another Nottingham sweep insisted they washed three times a 12 months, for Christmas, Whitsun and the Goose Fair. Sometimes, a boy would need to be persuaded to climb sooner or greater up the chimney, and the master sweep would gentle either a small fireplace of straw or a brimstone candle, to encourage him to try tougher. Another technique to stop him from "going off" was to ship another boy up behind him to prick pins into his buttocks or the soles of his toes. From lowering the chance of dangerous chemical exposure to saving your property from smoke injury, there isn't any scarcity of wonderful benefits you will get from hiring a chimney sweep. ” or are you looking the web for ‘chimney cleansing near me’? This guide will tell you extra about the method to put together to hire local chimney cleaners, the prices concerned, how to know if your chimney wants a cleansing, and customary questions about chimney cleaning. In today’s world, it's easier than ever to see how others really feel concerning the company you may be contemplating – just look online! The CSIA units the usual when it comes to training and educating both sweeps and public, so hiring a company that always puts a CSIA Certified Sweep on their jobs is always going to be your finest wager. Creosote construct up in a chimney will ignite, creating heat beyond the requirements of the chimney flue. Cleaning the chimney will take away the construct up of creosote and keep your chimney secure and wholesome. When it comes tochimney inspectionand sweeping, the #1 company in Chicago and Suburbs is Vertical Chimney Care. We have helped hundreds of house owners with cleaning out the flue of the chimney and removing the creosote. In return, many householders have really helpful our companies to their family and friends.Contact usto speak to a specialist today. If you get pleasure from enjoyable by the fireplace, you also understand how important it's to keep the unit clean. 10 Advantages Of A Professional, Commercial Cleaning Service & Why Each Business Wants One Basic cleaning tasks are standardised, with little variation among totally different enterprises. Most commercial development tasks are continuing as ordinary in the course of the COVID-19 pandemic, with construction thought-about an “essential business” in all however a few states and cities hardest hit by virus. He returned to the workplace and located it on his desk with a notice from Trina stating she had found it. I am grateful for her honesty and her helpfulness of letting me know when issues are operating low. Sorry, I am normally so busy, I don’t actually get to say how much I appreciate Trina and her crew. Please go to our other sections to be taught extra about each of the precise service sorts that we offer. At AK Building Services we now have all kinds of cleaning services and janitorial services to help you within the day-to-day task of managing and operating your services, regardless of the business you might be in. This custom-made cleansing solution is designed to work round your wants as a lot as attainable, with our janitorial companies available at any time of the day or night, daily of the week. Our goal is to give you outstanding janitorial service and a healthy working surroundings. Our strategy is based on offering our customers with a proactive and improved degree of service geared towards steady enhancements. We goal to supply a clear and structured program to all our clients guaranteeing consistency and upkeep in the requirements of cleansing and hygiene in compliance with specifications and all particular person website necessities. The 33 Greatest Bathroom Cleaning Hacks Of All Time Our rest room cleaning process is carefully designed to deliver a completely radiant bathroom as quickly as our professional cleansing team is completed. Cleaning Glass Shower Doors Dirty bathe door glass and shower glass walls can make an otherwise clear bathroom look soiled. Take your cleansing to the next level with the Scrubtastic Spin Scrubber, electric shower scrubber. After you’ve cleaned the sink, you can wipe down the mirror with separate cleaner. This up to date white toilet includes a freestanding tub that is positioned close to two large home windows partially covered by a white and tan valance and shade window treatment. A frosted glass-paneled door lets additional gentle in, and an upholstered fauteuil sits next to the tub. Wipe window blinds, cabinets and different dust-prone surfaces with an orphan sock about as quickly as a week. If you discover they want somewhat extra attention, merely soak the sock in a vinegar + water resolution first. Never use an abrasive materials corresponding to a brush or scouring pad to clean surfaces. Using a disinfecting spray or answer on this surface can additionally be essential for an intensive restroom cleansing. 清潔公司 can be wiped away right after you apply them, like all-purpose sprays or glass cleaner. Disinfecting products or devoted rest room or tub cleaners typically require "dwell time," which implies you should depart the product on the floor for the cleaner to work. If you don’t have the energy, or know exactly where to focus, you must rent a company that can help. Though you are in a position to do many of the work yourself, typically it’s just an extreme quantity of to consider coping with after packing, carrying, and loading packing containers. We will do greater than take away cobwebs, mud blinds, or clear home windows. We will clean baseboards and wash partitions with the right kind of cleaner to protect the paint. We will also wipe down and clear your pantry and cupboard shelves, deep clean your fridge, sanitize kitchen countertops, clear the oven, and clear the sink. Additionally, we'll present a deep clean in your bathrooms. Suggestions For Cleaning Different Sorts Of Blinds For mini-blinds with very narrow slats, a sock-covered hand may work nicely, too. A deep clean for venetian blinds takes a bit extra work than wooden or faux-wood blinds. Venetian blinds may be most effectively cleaned by eradicating them from the window and let them soak in a shower with warm soapy water. When you are able to do a radical cleaning, all the time begin by dusting first to remove as a lot grime as possible. Remember to make use of that sturdy step ladder to achieve higher edges. Flip the blinds so the opposite aspect is facing you and repeat the method along with your microfiber fabric or vacuum. Ever since I moved into this home I actually have been trying to do little remodeling tasks, and my subsequent one is the blinds. In my opinion, my home would look lovely with accordion storm shutters, so I will look more into that. The simplest way I discovered was to take away them from the wall and take outdoors on a pleasant day. The Reality About 'green' Cleansing Merchandise From this baseline facility assessment, clear and measurable objectives and objectives for bettering current circumstances may be established to help determine the effectiveness of the Green Cleaning Program. The Office of the State Comptroller audits faculties to find out their compliance with implementing the provisions of the legislation. Therefore, to satisfy this mandate and future reporting requirements, faculties should doc the cleansing merchandise bought and the products replaced. It is the college's accountability to document its adherence/compliance to the laws. Train on the right use of disinfectants, different cleansing merchandise, and gear. Look for cleansing product producers that present care for his or her employees, customers, and communities. It also wants to scale back the use of chemical and/or water-based shampoo extraction merchandise. IPM relies on pest monitoring and essentially the most economical and least hazardous mixture of cultural, bodily, organic, and/or chemical controls to stop unacceptable ranges of pest activity and harm. The full range of administration choices, together with no action in any respect, shall be thought-about. The alternative of using a pesticide is predicated on a review of all different out there choices and a willpower that these options aren't acceptable or aren't possible. Direct action shall be used only when specific pest thresholds are reached. When it is determined that a pesticide have to be used, the least hazardous material and methodology of software will be chosen. Even more so than adults, kids could be vulnerable to, and may be severely affected by, publicity to chemicals, hazardous wastes, and other environmental hazards. Choose hand soaps that meet EPA Safer Choice, Green Seal, or UL Ecologo; or soaps with no antimicrobial brokers besides the place required by health codes and other laws (e.g., meals service and well being care requirements). If you’re unsure where to start, think about cross-referencing the EWG Guide to Healthy Cleaning to see if a particular model meets the rules. The EPA additionally keeps a list of merchandise which may be a half of the Safer Choice commonplace. To choose the proper natural cleaner on your needs, you’ll need to think about elements similar to ingredients, value, how the merchandise are examined, and shopper evaluations. Wear rubber-soled closed toe footwear or boots (i.e., not sandals), to stop accidental harm (e.g., slips and falls) and publicity to cleaning chemical substances, dirt, or bacteria. Use chemical-resistant gloves (e.g., nitrile, latex) for preparation of cleansing chemical substances. The cart should have enough cleaning cloths to finish the required cleansing session, with a clean cloth for each patient zone to prevent cross-contamination. Providers So it's time to get your curtains and blinds cleaned - and might do the job better than us? We are a professional cleansing service that has been within the field for years, gaining plenty of expertise on the means in which. We have become experts on cleaning each type of curtain or blinds you possibly can consider. Stray cotton and polyester fibers from clothes, bedding, and pillows can be a major supply of mud. The resolution to each closet clutter and drifting mud particles is to put things in luggage. It could seem counterintuitive, but opening the windows to get some fresh air really will increase the amount of mud in your home. Keeping the home windows closed—especially on windy days—will reduce the problem. With professional support and expertise, they'll simply let you bring again your curtains to their unique feel and appear. When all your makes an attempt fail and you aren't capable of clean them properly then take them to a specialty dry cleaner. But all this while making sure to inform them of the true problem of moulds and mildew in order that they'll make use of the merchandise accordingly. They make use of cleansing fluid to guard the fabric, fibers. Facilities For Disease Control And Prevention Guideline For The Prevention Of Surgical Web Site An Infection, 2017 Therefore, any person who performs their duties at any website of care, or has the potential to have contact with anyone on the site of care, together with workers or patients, have to be absolutely vaccinated to scale back the risks of transmission of SARS-CoV-2 and unfold of COVID-19. FDA is carefully monitoring the security of the COVID-19 vaccines each licensed for emergency use and licensed use. Vaccination providers are liable for mandatory reporting to VAERS of sure opposed events as listed on the Health Care Provider Fact Sheets for the licensed COVID-19 vaccines and for Comirnaty. When sufferers get upset that it took me 20 minutes to come back again to their room, I often want I may inform them that I wasn’t sitting out there doing nothing. I was comforting somebody who just misplaced a member of the family.”—An ER nurse in Texas.Try your hand at guessing what these weird ER phrases imply. One study found that older patients who get out of bed and stroll around scale back their keep by a mean of forty hours.”—Roy Benaroch, MD. We acknowledge that, in some circumstances, employers could additionally be required by regulation to supply accommodations for some individual workers members. Accommodations may be addressed in the supplier or provider's insurance policies and procedures. PPE stays difficult to acquire as health care services and physician practices return to business as traditional through the ongoing COVID-19 crisis. Having sufferers opt for telehealth visits offers a possibility to preserve PPE, however non-urgent procedures and different in-person visits cannot be delayed indefinitely. With the exception of inpatients who are of their hospital rooms, everyone seems to be required to put on a masks whereas in our services. Outpatients must maintain their masks on at all times until requested to remove it, even when a supplier is not current in the examination room. // Intel is dedicated to respecting human rights and avoiding complicity in human rights abuses. Intel’s merchandise and software program are supposed only for use in purposes that don't cause or contribute to a violation of an internationally acknowledged human right. Intel delivers compute and AI applied sciences for medical imaging to help improve patient experiences, cut back clinician workloads, and enhance operational effectivity. Germs And Bacteria In excessive concentrations, phenol acts as a gross protoplasmic poison, penetrating and disrupting the cell wall and precipitating the cell proteins. Low concentrations of phenol and higher molecular-weight phenol derivatives trigger bacterial dying by inactivation of important enzyme techniques and leakage of essential metabolites from the cell wall 732. The influence of laboratory adaptation of check strains, similar to P. aeruginosa, to zero.55% OPA has been evaluated. Further, many QAC formulations may cause foaming issues in CIP functions. Its highly concentrated gases may be explosive and publicity dangers to staff are larger than that for chlorine. Its fast decomposition in the presence of light or at temperatures higher than 50°C (122°F) makes on-site generation a recommended practice. In the food trade, proteins are by far the most difficult soils to take away. In fact, casein is used for its adhesive properties in plenty of glues and paints. Food proteins range from extra simple proteins, which are easy to take away, to extra complicated proteins, which are very troublesome to take away. Fat normally is present as an emulsion and may generally be rinsed away with sizzling water above the melting point.

#清潔公司

[bookaddict24-7]

New Young Adult Releases Coming Out Today! (August 25th, 2020)

___

Note: Since so many release dates have been changed for various Young Adult novels, keep in mind that there might be some titles missing in this post.

Have I missed any new Young Adult releases? Have you added any of these books to your TBR? Let me know! ___

New Standalones/First in a Series:

Where Dreams Descend by Janella Angeles

Now That I’ve Found You by Kristina Forest

The Companion by Katie Alender

Kind of A Big Deal by Shannon Hale

The Whitsun Daughters by Carrie Mesrobian

Twin Daggers by Marcykate Connolly

The Assignment by Liza Wiemer

Clown in a Cornfield by Adam Cesare

Elatsoe by Darcie Little Badger & Rovina Cai

Harrow Lake by Kat Ellis

A Cloud of Outrageous Blue by Vesper Stamper

Traitor by Amanda McCrina

Ironspark by C.M. McGuire

The Con Code by Shana Silver

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New Sequels: 

Lost Roads (Broken Lands #2) by Jonathan Maberry

The Nemesis (Diabolic #3) by S.J. Kincaid

Darius the Great Deserves Better (Darius the Great #2) by Adib Khorram

The Burning Kingdoms (The Smoke Thieves #3) by Sally Green

Bright Raven Skies (Sweet Black Waves #3) by Kristina Pérez

Emmie & The Tudor Queen (Hearts and Crowns #2) by Natalie Murray 

___

Happy reading!

#books #bookish #booklr #bookworm #bookaholic #bibliophile #book blog #book blogger #Features #on books #on reading #tbr #to-read #new releases #new books #yalit #yareads #young adult #natalie murray #kristina perez #sally green #adib khorram #s.j. kincaid #jonathan maberry #shana silver #c.m. mcguire #amanda mccrina #vesper stamper #kat ellis #darcie little badger

[mrepstein]

‘THE STARMAKER WHO BURNED TOO HOT’ (The Sunday Mirror - June 14, 1970) The above piece is an extract from journalist Godfrey Winn’s 1970 autobiography ‘The Positive Hour’

Brian Epstein built an empire around the Beatles - but he carried the seeds of his own doom

By GODFREY WINN

BRIAN EPSTEIN was the business brain behind the pop revolution of the sixties. He discovered the Beatles and made them millionaires. As a star-maker, Epstein's career was spectacular but brief. He was thirty-two when he died in August, 1967 - poisoned by an overdose of a sleeping drug. With his love of show-business, GODFREY WINN - Britain's best-known journalist - was a long standing friend of Brian Epstein and watched the pop impresario build a world wide entertainment empire. And he was close enough to Epstein to see the tragic consequences that instant fame and untold fortune had on the young genius.

I found myself one Saturday evening in 1963 climbing the stairs of an anonymous building close to Cambridge Circus, in London’s theatre-land.

In a barren, unfurnished room the walls, with their peeling paint, were decorated with posters of such plays as A Taste of Honey and The Miracle Worker.

i looked at the posters, and decided that there was a certain symbolism, a link here with the intriguing encounter that lay ahead of me.

I thought, too, of all the players who had rehearsed in this room for a multitude of productions: so full of hope that success was this time almost in their grasp, and so often to be reminded that half the members of the actors’ union, Equity, are permanently out of work.

Acclaim

Would it be different for the latest Merseyside group who, already acclaimed in the provinces, were about to have their most important challenge to date, the star spot on the Sunday Night at the Palladium television show?

The Beatles, with the hair-style that they made their own, were still not much more than a name to me.

A few days before I had talked with their manager and discoverer Brian Epstein in the lounge of the Grosvenor Hotel next to Victoria Station.

He was dressed in the kind of silk suit that pop groups wore like a uniform. But there, all comparison ceased.

For at that time he had not yet discarded the solid air of the middle-class Jewish back-ground from which he was sprung.

Unreal

Epstein’s tragedy was that, in surrendering one background, he became so overwhelmed by the trappings of the world into which the fantastic success of his proteges catapulted him that he was never able to put down roots into reality again.

This son of a prosperous Liverpool store-owner was the classic example of the actor manque.

He was nearly thirty when we first met, but as soon as he started talking of the time when he had enlisted as a student at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, his voice had the eager lilt of a stage-struck youth.

A moment later his expression had changed. He was earth-bound once more as he described his return to Liverpool and entry into his father’s business.

And how, one day, while he was serving behind the record counter of one of his father's stores, a customer asked about a record made in Germany by an unknown Merseyside group.

And how he tracked down the record, later saw the group performing “for peanuts” at the Cavern in Liverpool, and sensed "something dynamic”; then peddled their tapes around London recording companies.

“And do you know, that tape, that very first record, Love Me Do, sold a hundred thousand. We were IN."

Just as I was in, now - the only spectator at the Beatles' private rehearsal for the Palladium.

Screams

Or rather, myself plus the tailor who had brought with him the four new suits, black like a matador’s, that Epstein had ordered for them to wear, replicas of his own. They put them on and pranced round the rehearsal room, bowing to an imaginary audience of fourteen million viewers.

“Ladies and Gentlemen: We are very pleased to be here at the Palladium.

Suddenly, uncontrollable excitement possessed them. The Palladium. The Palladium, they shouted out, screaming like their own fans, as other pilgrims have cried across the centuries. Jerusalem on high.

It was the youngest who spoke the introduction. He wasn't satisfied till he had taken them through it a dozen times.

"It's the moment before the curtain opens," Paul commented with the air of a veteran. “You finger your guitar and hope they won't start throwing things."

The moment they started to tune their guitars they seemed to fill the shadows of the lonely rehearsal room, darkening into twilight, and at the same time to grow in stature themselves.

The Beatles will always be held in high regard for what they have achieved by the unique sound of their music.

Having been among the first to recognise their talent, I feel I am in a position to suggest now that what has gone wrong somewhere along the line has been their inability, especially in the case of George Harrison and John Lennon, to pour back sufficient of the bounty that has fallen into their lap.

Perhaps it has been part of their appeal for the adolescents, that they themselves have not grown up in the full meaning of the phrase, any more than Brian Epstein was able to do.

Right up till his unnecessary, wanton death Epstein went on referring to his discoveries as his “boys,” seeing himself as the fifth member of the hierarchy, the eldest Beatle.

Then, when the group ceased performing together except for recording sessions, he could not help feeling to some extent excluded, even though he was still their manager - “the boss,” as they called him.

Dire

So in order to try to prove that he was someone big, in the theatrical firmament, in his own right, he started producing and putting on plays, with dire results.

He had all the money in the world to squander, but too little productive talent of his own.

Disappointed, and depressed, though he would not admit it, he finally turned to pep pills by day, and sleeping pills by night, a diet that was ultimately to destroy him.

Once he proclaimed to me, standing outside the Palladium: “All that matters is to have your name in lights.”

I could not persuade him otherwise, though I had persuaded him to spend the Sunday before the Whitsun holiday, making the journey all the way to Bolton in Lancashire, to hear an unknown singer in a pub, who had been recommended to me with such persistence and such enthusiasm by one of my readers, that in the end I felt it churlish of me not to do something about it.

Kinder?

The singer’s name was Michael Haslam. He was married and worked by day in a local tannery, and he specialised in singing ballads.

As it happened, Epstein was looking at that moment for a ballad singer, as a contrast on his touring bills to such of his properties as Billy J. Kramer and Gerry and the Pacemakers.

Otherwise, I doubt whether he would have ever listened to my suggestion, and in a way now I wish I hadn’t been persuaded myself to make the effort.

To have done nothing might have been kinder in the long run to the dark, tall young man, with the sort of looks which Elvis Presley first made fashionable, and the physique of a miner, who packed them in at weekends at The White Hart.

Except that if the Beatles’ impresario had not turned up that Sunday evening in Bolton, yet another pub singer might still be imagining he was there only because the luck of being discovered had just never happened to come his way.

Certainly the audience reaction that evening in Bolton was tremendous and entirely spontaneous. I can hear it, smell it how. Even so, I was not entirely convinced myself.

Undoubtedly there was a voice of some lyrical power, but did he also possess sufficient personality?

And how would he stand up to another environment, bereft of his regular admirers, alone on a stage, or in front of a TV camera?

Epstein brushed aside my doubts. On the spot he decided to sigh Haslam up, with the arrogant impetuosity of a Tsar.

Anxious

Two or three evenings later, Epstein and I met again, this time in my London home. We had arranged that he should pick me up and have a drink, en route for the Palladium.

He was eager for me to see another of his proteges, This time the girl, also from Liverpool, who through his astute judgment had with surprising sped reached what used to be the Mecca of all music hall artists.

Cilla Black.

In the fervent hope that one day Mike Haslam, equally skilfully projected, would reach the same goal, I accepted, though Miss Black’s nasal voice with its Liverpudlian vowels screaming at me over the radio at breakfast time had not created in my mind the most enticing of images.

Doubts

However, none of that was my affair. I could switch off the knob.

Whereas the other artist, uprooted and disorientated, was to some extent my responsibility.

In the forty-eight hours which had intervened, my initial doubts had only grown.

“After all, Brian, if I hadn’t dragged you to Bolton, you would never have heard of him.” Even to myself, it sounded like a self-accusation, but my guest again brushed aside my fears.

“Don’t worry,” he replied, with a rajah-like wave of his hand.

“But I do worry,” I protested anxiously.

“You shouldn’t. Don’t you realise, it’s nothing to do with you anymore. Mike Haslam belongs to me now.

“From this moment he is my discovery, and I shall look after him completely, change him, mould him, fit him into my set-up.

“All the credit, all his future success will be entirely my doing. You merely introduced him to me. Anyone might have done that.”

I was flabbergasted rather than relieved by this lofty declaration.

Rebuff

In an instant he had assumed the air of the great, international impresario slapping down a small-time sleazy agent who had dared to suggest that he should have a slice in the property value of the unknown name about to be groomed for stardom.

Of course, I wanted no financial stake in the young man’s future. I was not in show business in any shape or form.

At the same time, I surely had an ethical stake. A moral stake, if you like. Anyway, something quite different and rather more binding.

But I was meeting the real Brian Epstein for the first time.

Gone was the mask of mock humility, worn by the apparently modest young man fresh from the provinces, who in his original talk with me had praised and congratulated everyone except himself.

For the first time I glimpsed the strong streak of paranoia, which was swiftly to grow into a kind of sickness.

Welcome

Not surprisingly, I was dismayed and we had an uncomfortable evening, saved, as far as I was concerned, by the affectionate welcome I received in the dressing room of Frankie Vaughan, who was the real star of the show.

He and the boys in the band were deep in a poker session, but the occupant of the coveted No. 1 room broke off without a trace of annoyance and jumped up from his seat to offer us drinks.

How different had been my reception in the No. 2 dressing room.

Miss Black was seated in an ungainly position, her legs sprawled out in front of a portable television set, and did not trouble to get out of her chair, or to make any attempt at conversation.

After a few embarrassed moments, I backed out into the passage again, and it was then, at my suggesting that surely his new girl needed a matronly, experienced woman in attendance to help and advise her back-stage, that Epstein made the comment that having your name in lights was the only thing which mattered.

I expect he thought my suggestion was an impertinent one, though it was only intended to be constructive.

Unfortunately, I had already promised to have supper with him afterwards, and then to see his new house, and Miss Black, dressed in a black leather coat, more suitable for the back of a motor-cycle, came along, too.

Surprise

Not wishing to lie openly about my reactions to her performance, and searching for some topic of conversation which would be of mutual interest, I asked my host if he was contemplating adding any other female singers to the troupe of artists under his banner.

I am still surprised when I recall the reply I received, uttered with absolute and final conviction.

“No, I do not need any other women artists. Cilla is the Edith Piaf of England.”

Whatever she was or has become - and Miss Black has undoubtedly achieved a large and loyal following among her contemporaries - she is not another Edith Piaf, that great Parisian singer. How could she be?

Despite all Epstein’s confident assertions, Mike Haslam failed to float for long in the larger pool.

Symbols

Even while he was still alive I never talked with Brian Epstein alone again, after that evening at the Palladium, when in the small hours I found myself standing in a room in his house dominated by a row of telephones of different colours on a long desk.

Nothing else about the house, the modernistic innovations of which suited his temperament, left any mark upon my memory.

Only the telephones, those inanimate props of a tycoon existence, stare at me like a blown-up photograph on my desk. The symbols and instruments of a certain kind of power.

“I lift one receiver,” he told me exultantly, “and say to the operator ‘Get me a Hollywood number.’ I book in that call, and five minutes later I am talking to New York.

“Hardly have I rung off, when it is Australia on the line. Everyone wants me, everyone wants the Beatles. Everyone wants all my boys.”

“What about the time factor?” I asked. “For instance, when it is mid-day here, and perhaps three o’clock in the morning there, or vice-versa?”

“I don’t mind about that. I am ready to take calls all round the clock. I like it best sitting here by myself through the night, doing business. Big business.”

His usually deceptive, quiet voice rose to a crescendo: he was playing the big scene in the third act from all the stage and screen dramas of which he had been cheated by his inability to make the grade as an actor in the legitimate theatre.

But I had no desire to play in turn the part of the stage stooge, and fled from that house in Kinnerton Street to walk home through Belgrave Square, where at the corner of Chapel Street and Groom Place the nocturnal life of the fifth Beatle was finally to snuff out in the last of his London homes, whose larger rooms he had furnished in even more grandiose style.

Some months before that happened, he had a breakdown, which was hushed up, and then they put him in a private nursing home at Roehampton, in Surrey, which caters particularly for patients whose minds have been temporarily disturbed.

Guarded

After that he was never without a friendly and considerate bodyguard, who became his shadow.

Except on that final weekend when, in a sudden change of mood, he decided to drive himself from his country home at Heathfield, Sussex, back to London, though it was a bank holiday.

The Chapel Street house was only a stone’s throw from where my elder brother lives, and sometimes, when I was dining with my family, my sister-in-law, more in bewilderment than disapproval, would comment:

“Such strange people hang about Mr. Epstein's house.

“I suppose they are waiting, hoping that one of the Beatles will come out.”

That Sunday afternoon, when the news of his death broke, and the police cars drove up, the flower boys and girls in their peacock clothes left the Kings Road parade and crowded into Chapel Street, as though they were queueing up for a pop concert.

As far as I was concerned the epitaph was spoken by David Jacobs - not the disc jockey but the lawyer, with the looks himself of a film star - who acted for so many other names in show business beside the Beatles.

Freedom

Now that it was all over, the final battle lost, Epstein's adviser from the start spoke to me with a freedom he could not have done before:

“The trouble with Brian was that he had everything, and yet nothing.

“He had a strong family feeling, right till the end, and his loyalty towards the Beatles and his other properties, like Cilla Black, was fantastic.

“I suppose you could describe it as a kind of love affair on his side, but nothing stands still in life, and he was conscious that they were inevitably growing away from him, as they matured both as artists and people.

“This made him more and more restless and unhappy, though he wouldn’t admit it except in one of his increasing moods of depression, when all I could do was to remind him how much he was worth, in money and properties.

“But even that knowledge began to lose its flavour. It was then that he started taking pills to try to recapture the sense of euphoria he had had at the beginning.

“It was imperative for him to feel that he was still in the swim himself, not just taking a percentage of their earnings.

“I hoped so much that the house at Heathfield would make a difference.

“He had gone down that weekend for the Bank Holiday. But after dinner on that Friday evening, he suddenly changed his mind and drove himself back to London, alone.

“What would I have done had I known? It’s always so easy to be wise after the event.

“Sometimes one has a kind of instinct, and can act swiftly, but even then it can be too late, or impossible to protect the person indefinitely against himself, if the seeds of self-destruction are strongly developed in him or her.

“In this case we shall never know for certain exactly what happened. Except that he went to sleep again that night, and never woke up.

Loner

“In a way, I was closer to him than anyone. He really unburdened himself to me.

“He was not so much a loner, as a oncer.

“What do I mean by that? I mean that he was incapable of any lasting physical relationship with anyone. He was incapable of love.”

All too soon David Jacobs himself was to discover his own torments.

#Brian Epstein #Godfrey Winn #The Positive Hour #Cilla Black #Michael Haslam #David Jacobs #Sunday Mirror #newspaper #1970 #70s

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

The Murderess of the Grunewald (21): Secret Whitsun Holidays on Rügen (10): Sharing Joy and Suffering (6c) - Jamie’s story (I)

Hunting Lodge Granitz / Island of Rügen / North Germany by Klugschnacker  [CC BY SA 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)] ______________________________________________________________

Previously                                                Note: This is a very detailed chapter.

Monday, Pentecost Weekend 2020, three days after Claire's release from prison

         When they left Berlin two days ago, neither Jamie nor Claire had imagined that this weekend would have had the potential to change their lives.          That morning Jamie had awakened her again in his rude but friendly way. While Claire showered and prepared for the day, he had already set the table and prepared the breakfast. When she came into the kitchen, he was standing at the sink with his back to her. Out of nowhere, she felt the urge to feel his closeness and his warmth. Moments later, she embraced his body and leaned her head against his back. To her delight, he did not turn around immediately but stood there for some quiet moments.          "Good morning, mo ghraid," he said softly and in his voice, she could hear the smile. that must have been visible over all his face. After a moment, he cautiously turned to her and hugged her as she rested her head against his chest.

         "Well?" He asked softly. "Are you ready to face the adventures of this day?"          She looked at him, then yawned at length. He smiled with his nose curling in that unique way Claire had never seen it with anyone else.

         "If the first adventure is a strong coffee and a good breakfast, then Dr. Fraser, my answer is: Aye, sir!"          Jamie grinned again and his nose rippled again. He kissed her on her forehead and said:          "Then let us have breakfast!"                  Ninety minutes later, Claire packed the sandwiches she'd prepared after breakfast into a cooler. She also added two apples and a bag of nuts. The little black-haired dachshund, who always speculated that something was falling from the table for him, looked up at her expectantly. But this time his hopes were not fulfilled.          "Bismarck," Claire said, looking at him, "you just got a whole bowl of food. That's enough for now."          Just as she spoke the last words, she realized how nonsensical this had to sound in the ears of the dog. When was one portion of food ever sufficient for a dachshund? The little guy's stomach seemed to have the ability to expand to unimaginable sizes. She had to think of a verse from the well-known poem “Die Zufriedenheit” ("Contentedness") by the German poet Johann Martin Miller:          "The more he has, the more he wants, his complaints never remain silent."

        But before she could turn back to Bismarck, Jamie approached her:          "Are you ready, Claire? The animals are fed, the kitchen and dining room cleaned up ... "

         "Yes, our food is packed too. Do you have water bottles ... "           "Already in the car."           "Good, I'm ready too!"           Jamie had bent down and leashed Bismarck. Claire took it and handed him the cooler. She looked again into the living area, where Adso, as usual, had made himself comfortable on a sunny window sill. Then she went with Bismarck to the car and waited for Jamie, who locked the front door. Only a few moments later Bismarck was stowed in his transport box. Slowly Jamie steered the car from the parking lot in front of the house in the direction of the road.           During breakfast, they had roughly discussed the plans for the day. A tour to the hunting lodge of Granitz was the first destination on their list. But before they could visit the castle, they had to park Bismarck in a dog boardinghouse for a few hours. Dogs were not allowed to enter the castle and they did not want to leave the animal alone in the car for several hours. To Claire's delight, Jamie had chosen the route along the national park and the coast for their tour to Granitz. As the day before, they first went to Lohme and then in the direction of the Jasmund national park, then turned off in the direction of Sassnitz. After they went through Lancken and Dübnitz, they came closer to the coast every minute. They drove along Prora and turned off towards Bergen halfway along the building complex. Via Thesenvitz and Patzig they reached the town of Kartzitz and shortly thereafter the dog boardinghouse, which was very close to a small forest.           Jamie parked the car and got out. He felt a little queasy when he took the transport box with Bismarck. It was the first time he had to give away the animal for a few hours to a dog boarding house and thus to the care of people who were complete strangers. Bismarck was used to Tessa Lüttgenjohann, Ned Gowan or the Schaller couple as his ‘babysitters’. But how would he react, if he had to remain not only in a completely foreign environment but also with people who were not known to him? In Jamie, the thought rose that this experience probably resembled those of parents who left their children in kindergarten or at school for the first time. Suddenly, Jamie felt Claire's hand gently stroking his back. He had not noticed that he was still standing at the car.           "He'll be fine, Jamie. Bismarck is strong and it's only for a few hours," she said in a calm voice as she put an arm around him and gently squeezed him.           "Yes, he will."           He breathed deeply again, then he walked with the transport box in the direction of the entrance. Claire followed him.           Bismarck's accommodation turned out to be a lot simpler than Jamie had thought. At the reception, they were greeted by a staff member and completed the formalities. Then they went to a large fenced grass pitch, where already several small dogs romped around. Jamie noticed how excited Bismarck was when he heard all the other dogs yapping. After the front door of the grass field closed behind them, he put the box on the ground and took the dog out. At first, he stroked Bismarck extensively, then introduced him to the staff person, a young man named Frederick. Jamie was relieved to see that Bismarck obviously had no fear of contact. Together with Fred, he then brought Bismarck to the other little dogs and watched his dachshund begin to observe them carefully. After a light-brown dachshund came running to Bismarck and sniffed around him, the ice was broken. Now, the other dogs approached the newcomer and shortly thereafter, the animals spread all over the lawn again. Bismarck had followed them, encouraged by Jamie with a few pats. He seemed to enjoy having a little race with a black and white spiked mongrel dog, slightly taller than him. Jamie, Claire, and Frederick took the opportunity to leave the grass field.

“Dackel” by Pipsimv            After handing over Bismarck's food and discussing when they would pick up the dog, Jamie and Claire headed for Bergen and from there via Zirkow to the "Granitz Parking Lot". There they parked the car in the shade of a tree and then took the so-called "Jagdschlossexpress". For a quarter of an hour, the small shuttle drove them through the Granitzer beech grove and stopped in front of the castle. Together they entered the impressive entrance hall, which was completely clad in marble. Then they went to the reception, where they bought the tickets, stowed Jamie's backpack and Claire's bag in a locker, and then waited for the tour to begin.          With time, more and more people gathered in the entrance hall, and then a young woman in a blue suit came to greet the visitors and introduced herself as Christina, their guide. Christina told her listeners that                  "the Granitz, a hilly landscape with gentle hills, sparse forests and the huge cliffs belonged to the Lords von Putbus since 1472. The House von Putbus had been raised to the title of Reichsgrafen (Imperial Counts) in 1727. 'Reichsgraf' was a title awarded directly by the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation, because the territories of these counts were subordinate directly to the Emperor. Already a year earlier, in 1726, Moritz Ulrich I von Putbus had built a two-story hunting lodge with two free-standing pavilions in a forest clearing, which he called "Solitüde". In 1730, a two-story Belvedere in half-timbered construction was built nearby, on the highest point of the Granitz, so-called Temple Mount, which is 107 m above sea level. This house was demolished in 1810 and in its place, a new observation tower in the form of a medieval castellany was planned to be built. But this project was not carried out. In 1814, at first, the hunting lodge was modernized in neo-Gothic style. Only later, in the years between 1838 and 1846, after the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation had been disbanded and the Imperial Count of Putbus had been elevated by the Swedish king to the princely state, Prince Wilhelm Malte I zu und von Putbus gave the order to build the present castle. He commissioned architect Johann Gottfried Steinmeyer of Berlin with the plans and their execution. As a model for the new building, the style of those castles, which were created during the Renaissance in northern Italy, was chosen. After its completion and for a long time beyond that, the castle became a popular holiday destination for the European aristocracy and other prominent personalities. Among the visitors of the house were the Prussian King Friedrich Wilhelm IV, the Danish King Christian VIII, the German Chancellor Otto Prince von Bismarck, and the historian Johann Jacob Grümbke."

“Hunting Lodge Granitz - Entrance Hall” * Foto: Lapplaender via Wiki Media [CC BY-SA 3.0 de (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/de/deed.en)]              Christina asked the little group to follow her. While guiding the visitors through the individual rooms, she explained that                    "the hunting lodge belonged to the family von Putbus until 1944. After Malte Ludolph Franz Eugen von und zu Putbus was imprisoned by the Nazis, the estate was taken over by them too. When the Soviet Army occupied East Germany and the land reform was carried out by the new political leadership of the GDR the family had been expropriated. The descendants of the Putbus family filed a suit after the German reunification and demanded their ancestral possessions to be returned to them. But their lawsuit was dismissed and until today the castle is owned by the state. After World War II, many home furnishings were lost or stolen. A number of works of art were brought to Berlin, where they were kept in the 'Storehouse for paintings of the Department for the Administration of Soviet Property in Germany'. In 1953, the objects were then handed over to the GDR State Museums in Berlin. In the years between 1983 an1990, the castle was extensively restored and the inventory was supplemented in the old style. Between 2011 and 2014, the castle was then renovated again for 7.9 million euros. In this context, the castle also received a new permanent exhibition, which was opened in 2014."          After this introduction, Christina pointed out that visitors could now go to the exhibition or the observation tower. As the majority of visitors flocked to the "Stags of the World" exhibit on the first floor, Jamie and Claire opted to ascent the tower. Leading her to the 38-meter high central tower, Jamie whispered:          "This tower was built according to the plans of the famous Prussian architect Karl Friedrich Schinkel. Originally, this was the castle hall. The tower was retrofitted."

“Hunting Lodge Granitz - staircase” * Foto: Hajotthu via Wiki Media Commons [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)]

            When they arrived at the foot of the cast-iron spiral staircase, whose posts were shaped in the form of an eagle standing on one leg, Jamie whispered:          "The self-supporting spiral staircase has 154 cast-iron steps. You can imagine how much it weighs. But their static forces are completely absorbed by the sidewalls. It has been 'clamped' into the tower, so to speak."          Slowly, they began the ascent. Once at the top of the platform, they had a wonderful panoramic view over the island. While they stood by the parapet, Jamie explained to Claire what direction they were facing. For almost fifteen minutes, they enjoyed the view in peace and made some pictures with their phones.          "The view is wonderful! And the air!"          Claire took a deep breath.          "Do you like it?" he asked.                    "Oh yes, very much," she whispered.

Panoramic view from the tower of the Granitz Hunting Lodge to the city of Binz - Foto: Gerhard Giebener / pixelio.de

         They walked on for two more stops, and when they finished the walk, he put his arms around her, pulled her close, and kissed her passionately.           "Dr. Fraser! "She said with mock indignation, "we are in public!”           "Does it worry you? Nobody knows us here!" he whispered to her with a mischievous smile.           "I thought you brought me here for the wonderful view. And now I have to say that you just wanted to seduce me!"           Jamie met her eyes. Then he whispered:                     "Do you really know me so little, Claire?"           She held his gaze and was silent for a moment. Then she said:           "I love you, Jamie."           He knew she was telling the truth.           Slowly she let her long, fine fingers slide over his cheeks. Then she kissed him gently.           "I love you too, Claire," he said as they parted.           "I know, Jamie," she replied, adding, "I just hope that ... that I do not ..."           She lowered her eyes.           "Claire, look at me," he said, gently pressing her chin up with one hand.           "Do not doubt. It will be alright. We'll make it, together."           She only nodded. Then they heard footsteps on the iron staircase and a few more visitors stepped onto the viewing platform. Slowly they went to the exit and descended to the other floors after some more visitors had arrived.

Wendeltreppe im Schloss Granitz by susanne906  

          There they visited the Marble Hall, the Knight's Hall, and various other exhibition rooms. After they had both made a detour to the toilet, they left the castle and strolled to the nearby inn, the "Old Distillery". They decided to keep their sandwiches for the afternoon. After examining the menu, they choose a wild garlic soup as an appetizer, a venison burger with goat cheese, mushrooms, and cranberries for the main course and some wine. Ninety minutes later they went to visit the Granitzhaus, which also belongs to the castle. In the former forestry, and guest house, which now houses the information center for the Biosphere Reserve Southeast Rügen, they visited an exhibition that acquaints the guests of the island with the various landscape and coastal forms of the coastal area of Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania. Standing before some pictures, Jamie pointed out how much land and sea were interlinked in this region. When they stood in front of a map, he whispered:           "Do you see how the peninsulas and coasts are connected by a narrow strip of land, but separated from each other by the salt-marsh? There are fine sandy, wide sandy beaches, and there are rugged cliffs. At the foot of the cliffs, so-called block beaches have emerged."

“The Granitzhaus” - Foto: Derzno via Wiki Media Commons [CC BY 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)]  

          Claire nodded but remained silent for most of the time. Jamie knew that her silence had nothing to do with disinterest. On the contrary. In all the time he had known her, he had observed again and again that she was especially attentive in such moments. It seemed as if she was concentrating on what was in front of her to gather as much information as possible.

          At 3:00 pm they found themselves at the shuttle bus stop and less than twenty minutes later they stopped at the parking lot where they boarded their car. After a little over an hour's drive, they reached the dog boardinghouse. Bismarck's joy knew no bounds when he saw his humans again. According to Fred, the little guy had behaved well and was always welcome again as a guest. However, when Jamie wanted to put the dachshund in the transport box, Bismarck refused to enter it. He pushed his little dachshund feet powerfully against both sides of the entrance and Jamie was unable to get him into it. Neither by persuasion nor by light nudges, treats, or gentle threats. He looked at Claire for help. She just opened her arms.

          "Come on, I'll take him on my lap during the ride and hold him."

          "You would do that?" Jamie asked, astonished.

          "Sure, why not?" Claire asked just as astonished.

          "I thought ... oh ... does not matter. Thank you!"

          He gave her the dog and Bismarck seemed to be comfortable in Claire's arms. Jamie opened the car door and let her in. As he drove the car back onto the road, he stole several glances at Claire and Bismarck. She had put a blanket on her lap so that the dog would not be troubled by the hard plastic reinforcements of the seat belt. Bismarck had pulled the blanket with his teeth and so shaped it into a round nest, as he always did when given a blanket or cloth to sleep on. After a few minutes, he had calmed down and seemed to sleep, surrounded by Claire's arms. But Jamie knew only too well that it only seemed that way. As long as they were driving, Bismarck would close his eyes and rest at the very most. Only when they would be back in their holiday home would he really start to sleep.

          They passed around the great "Jasmunder Bodden", which separates the Jasmund peninsula from the motherland of the island, and arrived half an hour later near the village of Glowe. There they parked the car and shortly thereafter they entered the dog beach, on which already a number of other dog owners were walking and playing with their protégés. After a while, Jamie and Claire found a less crowded place to sit down. They ate their sandwiches and emptied their water bottles. Bismarck was also given food and water. Then Jamie took the animal on his lap and fed him dog drops he took from his jacket pocket. While doing so, he stroked Bismarck extensively.

“Hund am Strand” by manfredrichter

          "Well, are you trying to bribe him? Do you think he will voluntarily return to the transport box after a handful of dog drops?"           "No, Claire. I'm a realist, and I've known Bismarck long enough now to know that he'll behave like a defiant kid for quite a while. He definitely enjoyed being together with the other dogs. But he wants to punish me for leaving him alone. This is his way of saying that I have to make amends. He wants to catch up with the time without me. He always did that, even if I left him with Tessa or Ned. You'll probably have to keep him on your lap for the remainder of our return journey."           And so Claire went through the same procedure again: spreading the blanket over her lap, putting the dog on it, allowing the dog to build a 'nest' out of the blanket, putting her arms around the hidden little fur monster and holding him until their destination was reached. But to Jamie's joy, she did not seem to care.           When they returned to their holiday home, they were greeted by Adso, who came to Claire, loudly meowing. Bismarck hardly paid any attention to the cat, but immediately ran to his beige dog cushion and laid down. It did not bother him that his humans scurried around him and he did not react to the cat's advances of playing with him. So Adso followed Claire, who went upstairs. When Jamie turned on the fireplace shortly afterward, he looked again at Bismarck. The animal lay on its back with all four little legs stretched out, snoring loudly.           An hour after they returned, Claire came out of the bathroom - freshly showered, in her pajamas and dressing gown. On the coffee table, she found a fresh pot of tea and a bowl of biscuits. Jamie had fed the animals and, after giving her a quick kiss on the forehead, disappeared into the bathroom. When he returned, dressed in pajamas and his dressing gown, he held a cake plate with a chocolate-colored cake on it. When he saw Claire's questioning, but enthusiastic expression, he said:           "I thought, since we already had our dinner on the beach, we could enjoy a little dessert."           "Dr. Fraser, your mind is full of good ideas!"           Apparently, not only Claire but also Adso and Bismarck were of that opinion. Both of them had smelled the cake and now moved cautiously, but determinedly, towards the coffee table. But it only took a wave of his hand and a stern look from Jamie and the dog retreated to his pillow. Claire, however, had to use a little more effort to scare Adso away. The cat grumbled to himself, then ran in the direction of the dog and began to attack it to get rid of his frustration. But Bismarck bristled Adsos attacks brusquely and finally, the cat retired to one of the chairs in the dining area.

”Tee” by Imoflow           "What's that cake?" Claire asked as Jamie put a piece of it on her plate.           "Italian almond cake. A dream."           They began to eat - silently enjoying their dessert. When Claire had finished her piece of cake, she sighed.

          "All gone  ..." she said, with heavy grief in her voice.           "Oh, you can have all the rest of the cake, if you want ..."           "Well, the whole cake would be a bit too much, but I like to take another piece."           She held out the cake plate and watched as Jamie put another piece on her plate. Although the mood was resolved, he seemed tense. She had felt that throughout the day again and again. Jamie was relaxed, humorous ... and yet there was a subliminal inner tension. She sensed that the tension was related to the conversation they wanted to have. It did not help to postpone the topic further. It would not help him. It was better to speak straight to the topic. She put her on the table and took his hand.            "Jamie, this day was beautiful. I have seen and heard so many new things. Thank you so much for making that possible."            He smiled, looking down at the floor, his head turning slightly red. He wanted to say something, but she grabbed his hand and kissed it.            "But now I want to hear more from you."            "Och, Claire, I do not know. These are not all nice things ... "            She released his hand and covered his head with both hands.                      "Says the man who had to listen to the story of my whole messed up life ..."            She kissed him gently.            "Go on, you're always brave."            She kissed her again, then released him and turned her back to her cake. Jamie took a deep breath.

“Herrenhaus” by Funki50            "You asked about my family," he began softly.                      Claire nodded.            "I already told you about the deaths of my mother and father, the deaths of my brothers, when we talked in prison. To the rest of my family, well, I ... I have no contact with them at the moment. Except for my brother-in-law, Ian. We communicate via email regularly and he comes to visit me every now and then when he has some business in Berlin. But ... I have not seen ... my sister and the children for almost four years."            Claire did not miss the grief in Jamie's eyes. She put down her plate again and put her right hand on his left.            "I think," he said, pausing for a moment, "I should tell you about that first."            She just nodded silently and squeezed his hand gently.            "After my mother’s death, my sister Janet, called Jenny by all, took on more and more tasks in our household. All of us, my father, her husband Ian and I have always been very grateful to her. It was a logical solution. Ian ran our estate, Jenny took care of the family and the big household. My dad and I worked in our law firm and lived in our townhouse. On the weekends we drove to Potsdam to spend time with the family on our estate. In this way, our family life maintained a good rhythm and stability even after the death of our mother. Ian got very involved in his work with animals and agriculture. For him, this was and is not just a job, but a kind of calling. And Jenny has been and still is a loving mother to their four children and over the years managed the big household in a truly exemplary way. Sure, she has some hired helpers. An elderly woman helps her in the kitchen and takes care of the children whenever needed. There are also two younger women who take care of the cleaning of the big house and the laundry. Otherwise, that would be impossible. Every now and then, they also have temporary help for additional work. But despite these helpers, she is the one who has to coordinate, guide and, in the end, overseeing everything. As I said, we have always been very grateful ... "            Jamie reached for his cup and took a sip of tea.                    "However, we - Ian, my father and I - eventually realized how Jenny’s behavior changed. At first, it went very slow. You could say it happened creepingly. She became ... more and more decisive. At first, we thought she just wanted to keep control of all the work .... maybe because she was afraid that she might do something wrong or not good enough. Most of the time we just took it that way ... every now and then we also joked about it. But we endured it ... We did not want to burden her with our criticism in addition to our Mother's death and the many tasks she had taken on."            Jamie reached for his cup again and took a sip of tea. Taking a deep breath, he went on:             "Perhaps …"            His eyes moved to the fireplace.            "Perhaps what?"            Claire gently stroked his hand with her thumb.            "Maybe we should not have been so considerate, maybe it was a false consideration ..."            He turned his face back to Claire, who looked at him in astonishment.            "How ... what do you mean?" she asked carefully.            "Well, her behavior became more and more determinative, more dominant, and in a way more destructive. Maybe we could have stopped that if we had mentioned it earlier. After the death of my father, that behavior even increased. It became unbearable. And above all, her behavior was not just about running the household. She also began to give Ian more and more 'good advice' for working with the animals and the staff. One could get the impression that she was convinced that without her on this estate nothing would go the right way. Well, I did not interfere because I thought that it was a problem that they had to solve as a married couple. At some point, there was a big confrontation between them. Ian later told me that he clearly put the choice before her: Either she focuses on her tasks and lets him do his job in peace or he goes back to Scotland, leaving her and the children. That has probably awakened her. Since then, she leaves him alone and spared him with her uninvited advice.            But her dominant drive then sought another way out. She also made me ‘happy’ with her unsolicited advice whenever she and Ian visited me with the children. That was mostly on my birthdays or when they went on trips to Berlin. My father had left a very clear testament: She and Ian inherited the estate with everything that went with it and a certain sum of money. I inherited the law firm and the townhouse and also a sum of money. In addition, my father's interests in a number of companies were very carefully shared between us. As for the value of the heritage, it was shared really fairly. She never complained about that either. But whenever she was in Berlin, in the house that now belonged to me alone ... she could never spare me her criticism or her advice. Once the lawn was not well enough maintained, then again she found that the winter garden was 'overburdened' with plants and urgently had to be 'emptied'. My study was too dark, but the kitchen I had renovated was too bright. And so on and so forth. I dismissed all this as one of her quirks, but I was wrong. It was not enough for her to interfere with my domestic affairs. Her addiction, wanting to manage everything and everyone, went so far that she repeatedly tried to 'make me happy with some women'. 'Coupling' would probably be the more appropriate word for this nonsense. When I forbade her to interfere with my private affairs, she said, that I ‘needed her help, because I clearly would not be able to find a wife and start a family on my own.'

           Jamie, who had become angrier with every word, shook his head. Then he buried his face in both hands. Claire, who had listened to his words with ever-increasing astonishment, wrapped his head in both hands and pulled him close.            "Jamie, you don’t have to keep talking if it is too much for you," she said softly as she gently stroked his silky locks with one hand.            He paused for a moment with his head against her chest. Then he raised his head and looked at her.            "No, Claire, I want to tell you. It is important that you know that. Since the death of our mother, Jenny teased me with the idea that I did not bring a girl home. My goodness! I was young, I did not know what I wanted to do with my life! And why should I start a relationship? Just because ‘everyone does it'? My father kept saying I should not take her words seriously, and as long as my father lived, it was only verbal taunts. But after I returned from France ... "            "You were in France?" Claire asked in surprise.            "Yes, I was able to study two semesters in Paris with the Erasmus program. I lived at my uncle Jarred’s house, who has a wine business there.            "And why did Jenny increase her taunts after your stay in Paris?"            "Well, there was this story with ... Marie-Catherine ..."

#Outlander #Outlander Fan Fiction #TheMurderessoftheGrunewald #Claire Beauchamp #Claire Randall #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Adso the cat #Bismarck the dachshund #Berlin #Grunewald #Germany #Rügen #Granitz #Crime AU #Modern AU

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in Irish History | 13 May:

#OTD in Irish History | 13 May:

1842 – Arthur Sullivan, the son of an Irish musician, is born. Along with William Gilbert he invented the English operetta. Sullivan’s last work is entitled “The Emerald Isle”. 1848 – The Irish Confederation splits; John Mitchel starts the militant United Irishman; he is arrested on this date and is sentenced to 14 years transportation under the new Treason-Felony Act. 1851 – Wexford physician…

View On WordPress

#irelandinspires #irishhistory ireland #OTD #13 May #Éamon De Valera #Black Whitsun #Clonmel #Co. Tipperary #Dan Breen #History #History of Ireland #IRA #Ireland #Irish History #Pope John Paul II #Sean Treacy #Seán Hogan #Sinn Fein #St Patrick&039;s Well #Today in Irish History #Winston Churchill

[blogdemocratesjr]

Vesuvio 3000 by Arsen Savadov

The work of the knights of the Holy Grail is characterized by the harmony resulting from a concord of wisdom and feeling acquired by each single person. ... In the first introductory chapter of Parzival, which deals with Gahmuret and Belacane, Wolfram shows how Parzival’s father, Gahmuret, ignores both racial and religious prejudices. The Christianity of the Grail is tolerant. Christ died for all mankind, black or white, Christian or heathen. The heathen Feirefiz also come to the Grail. Every religion contains an element of truth for each is a single representation of something belonging to all mankind. The Grail knights seek this all-encompassing element. They know that there is only one truth and they want to serve it. But the one truth has many aspects. There is only one Christ but he shows the comprehensive nature of his being in many ways in different religions. The one harmonizing element in the many is the ‘Holy Spirit,’ the ‘spirit of truth.’ The disciples spoke in many tongues when the Holy Spirit alighted on them at Whitsun, but they spoke of the same being. Lucifer, who caused the confusion of the tongues in Babylon, is the opponent of the Grail. The one word, the cosmic Word, the Logos, stands in contrast to the many languages. ‘Knights of the Word’ the Grail knights called themselves.

—Walter J. Steiner, The Death of Merlin

#Arsen Savadov #the holy grail #Walter Johannes Stein #Grail Knights #anthroposophy #spiritual science

[unbreakabletrust]

Mixcloud GO! 1971 (08/24): 1PM to 2PM

https://www.mixcloud.com/epicharmus/mixcloud-go-1971-1pm-to-2pm/

David Bowie "Life on Mars?" From Hunky Dory (RCA Victor) Recorded and released in 1971

Earl Hines "Love You Madly" From Earl Hines Plays Duke Ellington (Master Jazz Recordings) Recorded in 1971

Mahotella Queens "Jive Makhona" From the Marena compilation (Motella) Released in 1971

Roberto Rivas y el Conjunto Gente Morena "Al son de la tambora" From the Nicomedes Santa Cruz presenta: Los reyes del festejo compilation (Virrey) Recorded and released in 1971

Los Hermanos Lopez y Jorge Oñate "Berta Caldera" From Lo último en vallenato (CBS) Released in 1971

Los Barbaros del Ritmo de Bluefields "Reedo reedo mama juka" From Palo de Mayo (Andino) Released in 1971

Tim Maia "A Festa do Santo Reis" From Tim Maia (Polydor) Recorded and released in 1971

Bob and Marcia "Pied Piper" From Pied Piper (Trojan) Released in 1971

Aretha Franklin "Rock Steady" From Young, Gifted and Black (Atlantic) Album recorded 1970–1971; released 1971

Andrés Do Barro "Pandeirada" From ¡Pum! (RCA Victor) Released in 1971

Morogoro Jazz Band "Expo 70 No. 1" and "Expo 70 No. 2" From Morgoro Jazz (Polydor) Released in 1971

Tim Hart and Maddy Prior "Dancing at Whitsun" From Summer Solstice (B & C) Released in 1971

Lucio Dalla "4/3/1943" From Storie di casa mia (RCA) Released in 1971

Van Morrison "Friday's Child" From the Van The Man bootleg (Highway High Fi) Recorded live on September 5, 1971; bootleg released in 1975; never officially released

Chicago Symphony Orchestra (cond. by Georg Solti) Excerpt from Part I of Gustav Mahler's Symphony No. 8 in E-flat major From Mahler: Symphony No.8 (Decca) Composed in 1906; recorded in 1971; released in 1972

Photograph by Dean Conger.

The Jorge Oñate track came from here: https://youtu.be/jbCuyf3xUaY

The Los Barbaros del Ritmo track was sourced from here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Qej-AbW_zg

#1971 #mix #mixcloud

[xxsparksxx]

Thanks Sparks for another great answer. The reference to Ross as a youth I was thinking of is in The Black Moon, chapter 5, p 67 when Ross encounters Tholly again at the Whitsun fair. Ross is thinking about his past "...his youthful scrapes now seemed ridiculous, frivolous, childish, without good cause except the waywardness of a spoilt boy."

Ahhhh yes. Thank you.

However I wouldn’t say that that’s Winston Graham describing Ross as a spoilt child. That’s Ross describing himself as a spoilt child. There’s a difference between narrative voice and focalised voice. In this case, the narrative is focalised through Ross. Ross is thinking about his past and, as usual, judging himself extremely harshly. Ross habitually holds himself to an incredibly high standard:

Ross was a man of action but also a man of introspection. That part of his character which made him so constantly critical of authority also worked against himself. The same faculty which questioned the rightness of the law and the lawmakers was sharp to keep his own actions under a similar scrutiny. It was a combination of character which acted both as a saving grace and as a hair shirt.

(The Black Moon, p454).

So when he calls his childhood/boyhood activities ridiculous, frivolous, childish, he’s looking back from the perspective of now being over thirty, a responsible mine-owner and land-owner, a father of one living child and one dead, with greater concerns than assaulting a customs official over some illegally imported alcohol. I don’t think Ross actually was spoilt. In fact Ross, later on, says something about his father which suggests it was in fact quite a hard childhood, after Grace died:

‘He was always hard with me,’ said Ross reflectively. ‘It took some perception – which as a boy I lacked – to realize that he was at all fond of me. I remember when I was twelve I caught pneumonia. The surgeon – it was the one before Choake – Ellis, was it? – he said I was going to die. I remember hearing my father shouting quite hysterically at Prudie, swearing she had given me unaired sheets to lie in. I remember thinking: “Lord help us, he likes me!”’‘Poor Ross.’‘No, no. Perhaps all that gave me a stronger instinct to survive.'

#sparks talks poldark #Anonymous

[moewehamburg-blog]

SPECIAL WHITSUN OFFER FREE GLADIATOR LAVA BEADS BRACELET for any order larger than €50,- - Go to www.moeweshop.de - Add your favorite braclet to cart - go to cart and add your choise to "Notes" You can choose between silver, black and rosegold ------------------------------------------------------ Now available on www.moeweshop.de FREE 🌍 WORLDWIDE 🌎 SHIPPING Payment: Creditcard, Paypal Facebook: @moewehamburg Instagram: #moewehamburg ------------------------------------------------------- (hier: Ahrensburg, Germany)

#moewehamburg

[bopinion]

2021 / 22

Aperçu of the Week:

"Conflicts are decisions not made."

(Fritz Simon, psychiatrist and leading representative of systemic therapy)

Bad News of the Week:

Iran is the largest power in the Middle East, along with Saudi Arabia. The form of government in both countries is strongly influenced by religion, restricts human rights and is aristocratic or has aristocratic features. While the form of government in Saudi Arabia is an absolute monarchy and basically does not provide for popular participation, let alone opposition, Iran pretends to be some kind of democracy after all. Officially a "presidential republic," Iran's political system, according to Wikipedia, carries elements of theocratic, totalitarian, post-totalitarian, and authoritarian, as well as democratic systems.

Since in the eyes of Ayatollah Khomeini - in a sense the founding father of modern Iran - only God has the authority to legislate, he strictly rejected a Western-style legislative parliament. Man was not allowed to falsify God's laws, opposition to or criticism of these laws is blasphemy. The Ayatollah (religious leader) Ali Khamenei since 1989 (!), has almost unlimited power with this religious legitimacy: he defines the politics of the state as a state of God, is commander-in-chief of the armed forces, appoints the president elected by the people and can depose him under certain circumstances, and also appoints the supreme judge, the supreme public prosecutor and the commander-in-chief of the security and law enforcement forces. The religious leader is not appointed by the people, but by the Council of Experts for an indefinite period. In other words, he is an autocrat, which is quite similar to a monarch.

And then there is the president, who is theoretically elected by the people, currently Hassan Rohani, who can be classified as a moderate. The next election is scheduled for June 18. However, the office of the president is subject to two crucial criteria that weaken his position in the long term. First, the Ayatollah can limit his powers almost arbitrarily by deeming an issue religiously relevant and thus removing it from the president's purview. On the other hand, the Council of Guardians, which is naturally staffed by the clergy, decides which candidates are admitted to the presidential election. In this capacity, it has so far rejected more than 98 % (!) of the 592 candidates. There are official dictatorships that act more democratically.

It is therefore not surprising that the two moderate candidates, who are relatively popular with the people for that very reason, were not admitted to the upcoming election. Former parliamentary speaker Ali Larijani and incumbent vice president Eshagh Jahangiri were eliminated, according to official statements by the Guardian Council. The favorite is now considered to be the arch-conservative head of the judiciary, Ebrahim Raeissi, candidate of the religious hardliners and the regime's preferred candidate. So the people have no real choice. Democracy not at work.

Good News of the Week:

New York City - ah... One of the undoubtedly most concise places of longing on this planet. A city of superlatives, art and finance metropolis of world-determining format. The city that never sleeps. The Big Apple. The first world city ever. Its skyline and the Statue of Liberty were the first impressions for the hopeful emigrants from all over the world who arrived here by ship at Ellis Island for decades - "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses who desire to breathe free...". No city is as emblematic of the land of opportunity as New York City.

In the Corona pandemic, NYC was among the hardest hit areas in the world. And will - as it so often does - bounce back, and perhaps even stronger. Speaking of "New York City putting bad pasts behind it": Donald J. Trump. Already during his presidency, the community has left no doubt that it would not welcome his return to the golden suite in Trump Tower. I still have to smile that there was a petition to rename the section of 5th Avenue in front of his skyscraper "President Barack H. Obama Avenue" - just to spite him. Surely one of the main reasons why the orange despot moved his residence to Mar-a-Lago in Florida.

And now New York City, or rather its judicial authorities, is going one step further. His well-known questionable business dealings with the Trump Organization are now being investigated not only civilly but also criminally. Already, with the forced release of his tax records, the local justice system has proven that even a president is not above the law. And with the Grand Old Party apparently unable to overcome Trumpism, the hopes of upstanding U.S. citizens now rest on Letitia James, Cy Vance and their State Attorney colleagues. After all, a U.S. citizen with a criminal conviction cannot run for higher state office. All the nightmares of a possible political comeback in 2024 would thus finally be off the table. So fingers crossed. Democracy at work.

Personal happy moment of the week:

An email just arrived from the school: from the day after tomorrow, after the Whitsun vacations, there will be classes again. With students and teachers. With blackboard and books. With learning and homework. In a school, in a classroom. As we know it from the past. Now that the number of infections is low enough in our district, it means six weeks of normality for my little one (the big one is taking her school-leaving exams anyway) after a good six months, before we all join in with Alice Cooper: School is out for summer!

I couldn't care less...

...about so many things this week, it merits a post of its own (see below).

As I write this...

...I explore Afro-Beat playlists on Apple Music. It's Black Music Month after all. Go discover something new!

#thoughts #aperçu #bad news #good news #happy moments #news of the week #iran #saudi arabia #ayatollah khamenei #democracy #autocracy #monarchy #donald trump #State attorney #letitia james #cy vance #new york city #grand old party #home schooling #alice cooper #afrobeats #black music month

[olwog]

So ‘Folks’, it’s slightly overcast but there are pools of blue so spirits are high.

They’re not as high as the local gin and tonics last night! The Spanish don’t use measures, they’re dispensed in glugs and looking around there’s a fair amount of collateral damage.

I’m taking the opportunity to exercise the ‘no calories’ rule that’s clearly applicable here in Ibiza. In fact the same rule applied last year in Mallorca and Portugal so I suppose it’s really a festival thing and not, as originally assumed, country specific.

So to breakfast and I’ve looked under the fried bread, the black pudding, the fried egg and even under the sausage and sautéed potatoes and no, not a calorie in sight. I’m told to be careful with the brown sauce though as it could be loaded, so red it is, and it’s good for the prostate to boot; what’s not to like?

We round this off with some fruit to work towards the 40 different foods per day regime that’s so good for you, it’s scientific, we heard it directly from someone at the bar who’s friend had a cousin who knew a nutritionist who’d got a certificate off the internet. It’s a bit like all of the information that we got to make our decision on brexit so we know it must be right.

Now we’re sated we’re off to the first concert. The storm that had forced us indoors yesterday has left us skies that have progressively turned a little grey throughout the morning but it’s still warm. The sound crew have done an unbelievable job moving us indoors for a full 24 hours then magically moved us back out again for this afternoon’s session.

  Flossie is a great opener with tremendous humour and gloriously powerful songs. My favourite is a beautifully poignant Abba song, ‘Slipping Through My Fingers’ and Flossie’s rendition is superb. She mentions Vin Garbutt and his contribution to her patter and humour, the response to her wishes for his speedy recovery are met with a great response from the audience. Vin is well loved by all and it would be great to see him on here next year. She gets a fabulous contribution from the audience to Willy Nelson’s ‘On the Road Again’, even though I say it myself, we’re in good voice and Flossie capitalises and encourages it.

9Barrow’s first performance was indoors and I found myself in a position behind a supporting structure that was less than ideal so I’ve been looking forward to this outdoor session immensely. They are exceptional. They’re talented, harmonious and their choice of songs, whilst dark are varied and the patter between them lifts the performance. The great thing for me is the words of the songs are clear and the harmonium backing really atmospheric.

Tom Robinson is astonishingly good with both songs and patter. His little confessional piece about his breakdown as a teenager is equally fascinating. All of this helps to clarify his song lyrics and political views. He’s leaning against an open door when he asks us to join in with a song about the bankers and point accusingly during the chorus. His final song accompanied by Will Pound on harmonica is a stroke of genius. I didn’t know if I would like him before this event but he’s still got it and without doubt, he’s willing to share it.

  Half five and a quick visit to Jez Lowe’s workshop and he’s in full flow about producing songs to order for the BBC and one about the children that were transported to Australia and other countries that they wouldn’t transmit! Shame on them. He also gave us some really interesting stuff on the Bad Pennies and who he’d worked with over the years. If you attend events like this and there’s a “Chance to meet…” session please consider going to it; you get a great insight into how they tick and when it’s a popular guy like Jez it’s even better. Thanks Jez.

  Flossie (did I mention it’s her birthday) is MC-ing the Open Mic sessions. This is where anyone can put their name down to do a song, play something of even just recite a poem or monologue (although I’ve never actually heard anyone do that). I turn up just in time to see some fabulous stuff from Rosie Clegg who also doubles by doing duet backing for others, Two thirds of a Shite Shirt and a number of other very talented folks but the show stealer for me is a lady called Marie.

I think I catch the fact that she’s what we call a floor singer i.e. she’s not professional. She’s accompanied by Antony J Clarke and when Marie begins to sing there is an instantaneous and complete silence as everyone in the room stops doing whatever they are doing to listen. I experienced this once before when Jo Duffield (then called Jo Millican) asked to sing at a little place called Grinton in Swaledale and promptly stole the show with a rendition of Dancing at Whitsun). I’d love to hear you again Marie, your voice tonight is divine.

You get defining moments at all festivals and this is the one for me.

If you click on a photo you can then page through them at full size…

Onwards and, in this case literally upwards, as we vacate the dungeon bar and head upstairs for the outside concert and from there to the bar where we manage to get excellent seats for Flossie’s birthday set. There are balloons on all of the stages that Flossie performs on to celebrate her birthday, she’s loved and respected by both audience and fellow artists and gets a Happy Birthday rendition everywhere she goes.

Flossie’s set is exceptional and this is astonishing after the amount of work she’s already done both on stage and in the bars and singarounds. She’s delivering priceless renditions of songs in different genres including a wonderful Kieran Halpin number, ‘Making Up The Miles’ and towards the end of the set she’s joined by Eddie Jay for a priceless Edith Piaf song. His accordion skills add the extra franco feel and Flossie’s powerful voice has us all mesmerized. You’ve worked so hard today Flossie and each performance has been like your first, fresh and full of energy; thank you so much.

Flossie hands over to Will Pound and Eddy Jay to complete the magic.

What a great day for both the birthday girl and all of us here present.

Then there’s a bonus; we meet Frank Porter and his lovely wife Joyce  Haven’t seen him for 40 years but we catch up in seconds. He’s still doing the clubs in the North East with his partner Eddie Walker. What an excellent day.

  Thanks to all the artists and also thanks to the sound crew that made the transition from outdoors to in. Excellent.

Enjoy the snaps and feel free to share…G..x

Costa del Folk – Ibiza – Days 2 and 3 So 'Folks', it's slightly overcast but there are pools of blue so spirits are high. They're not as high as the local gin and tonics last night!

#Costa del Folk #Folk #Ibiza #Music #Photographs #Photos #Pictures