Relay for Life

Due to RL commitments, I will have to wave a fond farewell to the virtual world that we call Second Life.

Thank you for visiting.

Tulips from Amsterdam

Horse is a horse (or a camel)

If you visit Port Babbage, don't be too surprised if a horse and cart approaches you and asks if you want a ride.

I spent a lovely tour of the environs sat in the back of a buggy.















Mr Django Camel is apparently available for weddings and any other events.

Out damn spot

The Red Flag Act

Oooh.. as I was a dusting around Mr Sand's Emporium, I saw this strange horseless carriage. Looking at the picture, it is "steered" by the gentleman and not a horse.

Further investigation shows that...

Reaction to the introduction of the motor car varied from country to country. In Great Britain it was seen as a threat to the established order, as had been the steam-driven vehicles that preceded it, and restrictive legislation was enacted. The most famous such piece of legislation was that of 1865 which became known as the Red Flag Act. This superseded the Locomotive Act of 1861 and required mechanically-propelled vehicles

• ~to give priority to horses or horse-drawn traffic;
• ~be fitted with two efficient and conspicuous lights, one at each side on the front, from an hour after sunset to an hour before sunrise;
• ~have at least three people to 'drive or conduct' the vehicle, one of whom had to walk at least sixty yards in front of it carrying a red flag to warn horse riders or horse-drawn traffic of its approach.

Keep an eye out for red flags!

A Walk In The Park

It's lovely getting time off.

On a Sunday, servants are usually allowed a hour or so for a walk in the park.

Seeing as my uniform is in desperate need of a clean and a repair, I nipped into my Master's Chamber and borrowed some clothes. I'm sure he won't mind and I must admit, I think they look quite good!

Shimmy me timbers

Miss Laval has the most delightful clothes for sale at her Emporium. I urge you to visit soon.

Fashions certainly are changing too.















Ankles!!

In olden days a glimpse of stocking
Was looked on as something shocking,
But heaven knows,
Anything Goes.

inSaneLy

inSuLar

inStabiLity

What's your favourite word?

Catch Up

A lot has happened since I've been away. New lands, new people and a new captain at the helm (farewell Philip, we shall miss you greatly).

I was happy to see that the fair Loch Avie is still as beautiful as I remember. As I arrived at the station, I see that a musical is going to be staged around the fair land of Caledon and I didn't hesitate to volunteer my services to help (maybe even showing an ankle or two). All in aid of a very good cause "Relay for Life 08".

I have so much post to get through. Better make myself a cup of tea, sit down and get on with it.

It may take a while.

A Chorus Line

Coming Soon.

Windlight

A New Sunset















A New Night

















A New Dawn

Moment of Silence

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

— John McCrae

Dodge City

Knees Up Mother Brown

Skating with the snowman (and dancing the can-can) has aggravated my Housemaid's Knee.

It's a condition I have suffered with many a year due to scrubbing the floors of the Workhouse as a young lass.

I was lucky to leave there when I did. You have to be thankful for small mercies I suppose...

I sometimes look up at the bit of blue sky
High over my head, with a tear in my eye.
Surrounded by walls that are too high to climb,
Confined like a felon without any crime,
Not a field nor a house nor a hedge I can see -
Not a plant, not a flower, nor a bush nor a tree...
But I'm getting, I find, too pathetic by half,
And my object was only to cause you to laugh;
So my love to yourself, your husband and daughter,
I'll drink to your health with a tin of cold water:
Of course, we've no wine, not porter, nor beer,
So you see that we all are teetotallers here.

James Withers Reynolds

An unfortunate man who spent some time in Newmarket
workhouse later became known as ‘the workhouse poet’.
This is how he described life there in a verse letter to his sister,
‘Written from Newmarket Union’, 1846