#Brick pointing surrey

[carlakennedy]

Landscape Sussex Ideas for a sizable brick formal backyard garden that receives some sun.

[journeythroughsurrey]

Discover the Enchanting History and Scenic Views of Leith Hill Tower in Surrey, England

When you visit Leith Hill Tower in Surrey, England, you're stepping into a piece of history that dates back to 1765. Built by Richard Hull, this Gothic Revival structure not only elevates the hill to over 1,000 feet but also offers unparalleled panoramic views that stretch to the English Channel on clear days. Imagine walking up the intricate spiral staircase and emerging to see the breathtaking countryside spread out before you. But there's more to Leith Hill than just the tower and the views. Curious about what else awaits you?

History of Leith Hill Tower

Leith Hill Tower, built in 1765 by Richard Hull, stands as a testament to the area's rich historical significance. When you visit, you're stepping into a piece of history that has witnessed centuries of change. Hull, driven by a vision to elevate the hill's status, initiated the construction with a clear purpose: to ensure that the tower, combined with the hill's natural height, would exceed 1,000 feet above sea level, making it one of the highest points in Southeast England. Another historic landmark in Surrey also offers visitors a journey through time, reflecting the same grandeur and architectural ambition found at Leith Hill.

The construction timeline of Leith Hill Tower was relatively swift for the era. Hull's dedication saw the project through from conception to completion in a matter of months. This rapid construction was quite an accomplishment considering the tools and methods available in the 18th century.

The tower wasn't just a vanity project; it played a pivotal role in the region's history. It served as a lookout point and a symbol of the area's strategic importance. Over the years, its historical significance has only grown, cementing its place as a cherished landmark that attracts numerous visitors keen to connect with the past.

Architectural Features

Standing tall with its distinct Gothic Revival style, the tower's architectural features captivate visitors and history enthusiasts alike. As you approach Leith Hill Tower, you'll notice its elegant design elements that reflect the grandeur of the 18th century. The pointed arches and decorative battlements give the structure a medieval charm, making it a striking landmark in Surrey.

The tower's design isn't just about aesthetics; it's built to last. Constructed from robust structural materials like sandstone and brick, the tower has withstood the test of time and weather. These materials were carefully chosen not only for their durability but also for their ability to blend seamlessly with the natural surroundings, creating a harmonious balance between architecture and landscape.

Inside, the spiral staircase is a marvel of design elements, winding its way up to the top with an intricate iron railing that adds a touch of elegance. The small, strategically placed windows allow light to filter in, enhancing the tower's Gothic ambiance.

Each design choice and material selection contributes to the tower's unique character, making it a must-see for anyone interested in architectural history.

Panoramic Views

From the top of the tower, you'll be treated to breathtaking panoramic views that stretch across the Surrey countryside. It's a view that captivates and inspires, offering a unique perspective of the lush landscapes and rolling hills. On a clear day, you can even catch a glimpse of the distant English Channel.

Bring your camera because the photographic opportunities are endless. The tower's vantage point provides a perfect setting for capturing the natural beauty of the region. Every angle offers a new and stunning vista, making it a haven for photography enthusiasts. Don't forget to snap some shots of the diverse flora and fauna that thrive in the area.

But the experience doesn't end there. If you time your visit right, the sunset experiences from Leith Hill Tower are nothing short of magical. As the sun dips below the horizon, it paints the sky with hues of orange, pink, and purple, casting a golden glow over the landscape. The tranquil scene creates a perfect moment for reflection and awe, making the effort to reach the tower entirely worthwhile.

Hiking Trails

After soaking in the panoramic views, you'll find that the surrounding hiking trails offer an equally rewarding experience. Leith Hill boasts a variety of scenic routes catering to both novice and experienced hikers. Whether you're seeking a leisurely walk or a challenging trek, there's a trail for you.

Start with the circular trail that begins at the tower. This moderate route takes you through enchanting woodlands and past historic sites. It's perfect if you want a taste of the area's natural beauty without too much exertion.

For those seeking more of a challenge, the Leith Hill Loop offers a rigorous hike with steep inclines and rocky paths. This trail will test your stamina but rewards you with breathtaking vistas and a sense of accomplishment.

Families will appreciate the gentle paths winding through the Rhododendron Wood, a delightful option with minimal trail difficulty. These paths are ideal for a relaxed afternoon stroll and are accessible for younger hikers.

No matter which path you choose, the well-marked trails guarantee you won't lose your way. So, lace up your hiking boots, grab a map, and set off to explore the enthralling terrain around Leith Hill Tower.

Wildlife and Nature

Nestled within the diverse ecosystem of Surrey Hills, Leith Hill is a haven for wildlife enthusiasts and nature lovers alike. As you wander through its lush landscapes, you'll discover an array of birdwatching opportunities that make it a prime spot for observing avian life. From the vibrant song of the nightingale to the majestic flight of the red kite, Leith Hill's skies are teeming with activity. Another stunning location in Surrey provides equally captivating landscapes and abundant opportunities for nature enthusiasts to immerse themselves in the beauty of the great outdoors.

But it's not just the birds that make this place special. The flora diversity here is truly remarkable. You'll find ancient woodlands, open heathlands, and flower-filled meadows, each supporting its unique ecosystem. This diversity provides a home for various animal species and creates a dynamic environment that's constantly changing with the seasons.

To make the most of your visit, consider these highlights:

Birdwatching opportunities: Bring your binoculars and keep an eye out for rare species like the lesser spotted woodpecker.

Flora diversity: Explore different habitats from ancient woodlands to blooming meadows.

Seasonal changes: Visit in different seasons to experience how the landscape and wildlife transform throughout the year.

Leith Hill's natural beauty offers a revitalizing escape and a deeper connection to the environment.

Visitor Information

Planning your visit to Leith Hill Tower guarantees you'll make the most of this historic and natural landmark.

Start by noting the accessibility options available. The tower itself is set on a hill, and while the path can be steep, it's well-maintained. For those with mobility issues, there are designated parking spaces closer to the site, although the final approach may still present challenges. Unfortunately, the tower's internal stairs limit accessibility for wheelchair users.

Visitor facilities are designed to enhance your experience. You'll find a charming café at the base of the hill, perfect for a quick snack or a leisurely coffee. The café offers indoor and outdoor seating, allowing you to enjoy the stunning views. Public restrooms, including accessible toilets, are available near the car park. Make sure to grab a map from the visitor center to explore the surrounding trails.

Don't forget to check the opening times before you go; the tower and facilities operate on a seasonal schedule. Leith Hill Tower also hosts various events throughout the year, so keep an eye on their calendar to plan your visit around a special event or guided tour.

Nearby Attractions

While you're exploring Leith Hill Tower, don't miss the chance to visit the nearby attractions that add even more to your experience. The surrounding area offers a variety of activities and spots to delight visitors of all ages. Here are three must-visit attractions to enhance your trip:

The Hannah Peschar Sculpture Garden: Located just a short drive away, this garden combines art and nature beautifully. Wander through sculptures set within a lush, tranquil environment. It's a perfect outing for families and art enthusiasts alike.

The Surrey Hills Brewery: For those interested in local flavors, this brewery provides an excellent opportunity to sample some of Surrey's finest beers. The tours are both informative and enjoyable, making it a great stop for adults looking to relax after a day of exploring.

The Village of Dorking: Just a stone's throw from Leith Hill, Dorking offers charming local eateries where you can savor delicious meals. The town also has a variety of shops and historical sites, making it ideal for family activities and leisurely strolls.

Seasonal Events

Throughout the year, Leith Hill Tower hosts a variety of seasonal events that make each visit uniquely memorable.

In the spring, you can immerse yourself in vibrant spring festivities. The grounds burst into life with blooming flowers and lush greenery, creating a picturesque setting for outdoor events. You might find yourself enjoying a guided nature walk, bird-watching tours, or even a local craft fair showcasing the talents of Surrey's artisans.

As summer evolves into autumn, Leith Hill Tower transforms into a haven of stunning autumn colors. The surrounding woodland's foliage turns brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow, offering breathtaking views from the tower's summit. During this season, you can participate in events like harvest festivals, where you can taste local produce and enjoy traditional music and dance. There are also photography workshops that take advantage of the mesmerizing autumnal landscapes, perfect for capturing the essence of the season.

Winter and summer also have their own unique events, but spring and autumn truly highlight the natural beauty and community spirit of Leith Hill Tower. Each season brings its own charm, ensuring that there's always something special to experience.

Tips for Your Visit

To make the most of your visit to Leith Hill Tower, start with comfortable walking shoes and a good camera. The area's scenic beauty offers plenty of photo opportunities, so be prepared for some breathtaking shots.

Here are some quick photography tips:

Golden Hour: Visit during early morning or late afternoon for the best natural light.

Composition: Use the rule of thirds to frame the tower and surrounding landscape.

Details: Don't just focus on wide shots; capture close-ups of unique architectural details and flora.

After exploring the tower, indulge in some local cuisine. The nearby villages have charming pubs and restaurants where you can sample traditional English dishes, such as a hearty Ploughman's lunch or classic fish and chips. These spots often feature locally-sourced ingredients, giving you a taste of Surrey's finest. Another historical treasure in Surrey provides a similar blend of history and local flavors, making it an essential stop for anyone who enjoys the region's rich cultural heritage.

Additionally, check the weather forecast before heading out. The trails can get muddy after rain, making sturdy footwear essential.

Finally, don't forget to bring a map or use a reliable GPS app, as mobile signals can be spotty in some areas.

Enjoy your visit to Leith Hill Tower!

Frequently Asked Questions

Is Leith Hill Tower Accessible for People With Disabilities?

You'll find that wheelchair access and accommodations for mobility challenges are limited. The site's terrain and narrow paths make it tough for those with disabilities to navigate, so plan accordingly and consider alternative activities.

Are Pets Allowed Inside Leith Hill Tower?

When considering pet policies, you should know that while pets are generally allowed in outdoor areas to enjoy the historical significance, they aren't permitted inside the tower. Ascertain you plan accordingly for your visit.

Can I Host a Private Event at Leith Hill Tower?

You can host a private event there. When it comes to event planning, the venue facilities offer a unique and picturesque setting. Be sure to contact the management for specific details and availability before making arrangements.

What Are the Photography Restrictions at Leith Hill Tower?

You'll need to follow specific photography guidelines. Make certain your camera equipment doesn't disrupt other visitors. Commercial shoots require permission. Always check for any restricted areas to guarantee you're not violating any rules.

Is There Wi-Fi Available at Leith Hill Tower?

You're wondering if there's Wi-Fi coverage or Internet access available. Unfortunately, there isn't any public Wi-Fi at this location. You'll need to rely on your mobile data for any online activities during your visit.

Visiting Leith Hill Tower in Surrey, England, offers you a unique blend of history, stunning architecture, and natural beauty.

You'll be captivated by the panoramic views, diverse hiking trails, and rich wildlife.

With seasonal events and nearby attractions, there's always something new to explore.

Don't forget to check visitor information for tips to make the most of your trip.

So pack your bags, lace up your hiking boots, and get ready for an unforgettable adventure!

If you're planning a visit to Leith Hill Tower, combining your trip with a stop by Gutter Cleaners Surrey is a great idea. Located conveniently within the region, you can easily drive from our business to the historic Leith Hill Tower.

Whether you're finishing up with our services or planning to visit us afterward, the scenic route between these two locations will only enhance your experience. Below, you’ll find detailed driving directions to help you navigate the journey seamlessly.

Gutter Cleaners Surrey

Westfield Rd, Slyfield Industrial Estate, Guildford GU1 1SD, United Kingdom

+442039875074

7C6P+W4 Guildford, United Kingdom

[hook-line-and-anarchy]

Gonna be annoying and repost this as an original post since I spent so much time writing it up yesterday, partly for my own archival purposes and partly because I'm a little interested in getting input about city living from Twin Cities dwellers and/or the 3 people who might read this:

So caveat that I was born and raised in a suburban-ish city with a population of a little over 100,000. I’ve spent some time in Los Angeles and to a lesser extent in some other big cities but other than that my experience is limited.

In terms of the pros:

The food was consistently incredible. Probably some of the best I’ve had in my life, and there’s an incredible variety of it. Sushi, Indian, Mexican, seafood, ramen, British pub food, Italian.

I’m a big fan of brick architecture, and there’s not a lot of it where I’m from. But Minneapolis has it in spades. Lots of really cool and differentiated brick styles (I'm not super knowledgeable about architecture styles tbh). St. Anthony main has a neat brick road running all along the river bank. There are also a bunch of other cool buildings, fountains, parks, churches, etc.

I think bikeability rankings overstate the extent to which the city has a solid network of protected bike lanes, but it nevertheless does have a fair number of them, as well as multiuse paths. It also has really wide sidewalks, especially downtown. I saw a lot of people riding their bikes around the city which was reassuring (I'm sure that changes in the winter months).

I don't have any lightrail where I'm from and I'm pretty sure I've never ridden a city train up to this point, so I can't compare to other cities. I have some cons to speak about here too, but in terms of pros, I liked using the lightrail way more than using the bus. There were constant announcements about which station was next, and it was never overcrowded, unlike the buses. My friends and I bought a week-long metro pass to use for public transportation. It was a little unclear whether we activated them properly or not, but nobody ever stopped or inspected us, so I assume we did alright. We also were able to use the buses to get where we needed to, for the most part. There's a big long street that runs through downtown that's only open to buses and bikes, which I thought was cool. We did a shit ton of walking on top of using the public transit, and at least in the places I went, walking was very viable. A lot of stuff is pretty easily accessible from downtown, and by the end of the week I started to have a pretty decent mental map of the place (granted, my brain is very bad at 3d maps and my standards are probably low).

The natural environment, namely the parks and ponds and lakes, were very pleasant. There was a pretty fishing pond about a 15 minute walk from my hotel, and the little park admin building next to the pond had borrow-able fishing poles and tackle. They recognized me immediately as the guy who had emailed to ask about the borrowing program a week or two earlier, and they seemed kind of surprised that anyone knew about it, so I get the impression that it doesn't get used very often. It was very useful though, since my friends don't fish and don't own their own equipment. We even caught a few tiny catfish.

We rented some kayaks and canoes on one of the lakes, which was a lot of fun. We also rented a surrey (one of those multi-person bike karts) to ride around a park near the mississipi river. It was billed as being suitable for 6 adults, but it really didn't have the leg room to accommodate someone over like 5'6 feet tall or so. That park also had a little disc golf course but it wasn't terribly well marked and it folded back on itself in some not-terribly-safe ways.

My understanding is that the weather in Minnesota gets extreme in both directions, but during my week stay it was pretty mild and pleasant on the whole. It got a little humid and mildly hot (like 88 degrees F), but nothing unbearable for me. At one point there was a thunderstorm in 80 degree humid weather. There are thunderstorms once in a blue moon where I'm from but nothing where you can see lighting strike on the horizon once per second for an hour straight. I thought that was really cool. I bet the winter weather would kick my ass though, at least until I got acclimated. I noticed that the train stations had heating.

Mall of America is probably one of the great monuments to American capitalist resource waste, but I have to admit that my friends and I had a fun time playing mini golf and doing escape rooms and roller coasters there. Plus we were able to ride the lightrail straight to it.

A lot of strangers were nice and conversational. A girl sitting on the dock at the pond asked me what I was fishing for, a tea shop lady asked how long we were in town, and a waiter at a sushi place jokingly asked why she wasn't invited to join us on our trip. The people at the park admin building were also very friendly. Actually, a lot of people seemed to wonder why we were visiting.

Cons

There's a lot graffiti everywhere in the city, which tbf isn't really a concern to me but it is something I noticed.

I was staying in a hotel in the downtown area, which was convenient, but I don't think a day went by where someone didn't ask us for money. That by itself I wouldn't mind ofc, but a lot of them were kind of forceful and persistent in a way that made me feel uncomfortable. For example, after my friend gave a guy that walked up to us some money, he called his friend over, and his friend followed us as we walked. Another time a guy yelled at my friend as we walked past. Those people kind of crowded around on the street outside the hotel and by the lightrail and bus stations, so it wasn't really avoidable.

I'm glad the lightrail was there, but sometimes it wasn't very clean inside. Puddles in seats, trash on the floor, mysterious sticky substances.

There was also an incident on the train when we were leaving the Mall, where what I presume to be a mentally ill homeless man was being kicked out of the mall, presumably for existing while being homeless and mentally ill. He got into the car with us and, even though there were a ton of empty seats, took a seat right next to my friend, locked eyes on me, and began loudly repeating a series of nearly incoherent phrases over and over again. Place names, mostly, from what I could understand. He made a motion of shooting a gun at one point. Maybe he was telling his life story or something. I felt bad for him, but it was also admittedly uncomfortable, since my friends and I were trying to mind our own business and have a conversation of our own. It was a 40 minute train ride, and we ended up switching to a different train after 10 minutes or so.

There was one time we got on a bus that was full of older school children, maybe middle schoolers, on top of regular riders. I don't know if they were on a field trip and the city couldn't be bothered to pay for a dedicated school bus, or what, but for like 30 stops we were packed like sardines, with no room to sit, and barely room to stand. Some guy behind me was threatening another guy for staring at him or something, too. Unlike the trains, the buses didn't regularly announce the stop names, so it was a lot harder to use the bus without relying on our phones to guide us. There was a time where the bus driver shouted a bunch of times at a guy sitting at the back of the bus, and we thought there was trouble until the bus driver finally walked over to the guy just to hand him his transfer ticket that he forgot to grab.

Another time when we were walking, a guy on a bike was approaching us from the other direction. Instead of slowing as he passed, he shouted "Full speed ahead!" and nearly plowed us down. The guy walking his dog behind us was also dumbfounded.

Fishing bait is ridiculously hard to procure for a city with so many lakes and fishing ponds. We ended up having to walk 40ish minutes to a specific hardware store to get some red worms. Most places close earlier than I expected, too. The downtown skywalks closed at like 5pm, and the department store Target closed at 8pm (where I live it's open until 10pm, and my hometown isn't exactly a nightlife city).

The city in general, and downtown in particular, felt surprisingly empty. Lots of businesses were closed, and there were very few people walking around compared to what I expected for a city of 400,000. A lady at a tea shop told me it was primarily due to Covid and remote work, and I think some people also inevitably brought up the George Floyd protests. Needless to say I probably don't share my opinions on those subjects with most petty-bourgeois/small business owning types, and I wouldn't be advocating to fill the emptiness with a bunch of privately owned mom and pop shops. But nevertheless, the emptiness does lend itself to a kind of uneasiness, a sense that the city isn't very lived-in.

I mentioned that stuff closes early, but that didn't stop people from screaming their lungs out and revving their loud-ass cars at 3 in the morning.

I also mentioned that the train stations have heating, which was a cool feature, but what wasn't cool was that some of the stations had those slanted hostile architecture fake benches that fail to be benches and only serve the purpose of inflicting cruelty. There are, at least, a lot of other places to sit and lie down throughout the city.

For a city that was recently at the epicenter of nation-wide protests against police violence, the Minneapolis government sure seems to be putting a lot of resources into cops still. I swear there were police vehicles on every other corner downtown, and lots of transit cops too. My friend from Portland remarked that Portland is doing more to rebrand toward social workers, compared to what Minneapolis seems to be doing. This probably goes without saying to people who share my politics but the police presence didn't do much to make downtown feel like a safer place.

For the most part I would describe any negative experiences as uncomfortable, but the one time I felt genuinely unsafe was when my friends and I tried to go to a little asia district on the outskirts of Saint Paul. According to the internet, there's an annual festival that happens there over the summer and we were hoping to check it out (we later learned that it would have happened two weeks earlier than our trip, and in any case it was cancelled this year entirely). The district turned out to be one tiny, and sketchy, stretch of street with like 2 restaurants. We walked around for a minute trying to find the event, and when we turned onto a street directly adjacent to the train station, a group of guys standing by their cars immediately started shouting at us, asking where we're from, and making comments that we "looked suspicious". They might have only been making fun of us, but in the moment it was not clear whether they were genuinely angry that we were somewhere they thought we didn't belong. That was uncomfortable enough, but when we walked back to get on the train after giving up on finding the event, another guy sitting on a bench told us not to be there after dark. Needless to say I don't plan on returning to Saint Paul.

Finally, my experience at the Minneapolis-Saint Paul airport on the day I was leaving to go home was a complete nightmare, but I think that deserves to be evaluated separately from the cities.

Overall, I had a great time with my friends, but I definitely felt uncomfortable on some occasions. Maybe that's down to my anxiety-ridden, quivering-chihuahua personality and the fact that I was raised by conservative parents in a kind of sheltered suburban area. However, right now I don't know if I would feel comfortable and safe living in the city, but maybe I just need to suck it up and acclimate myself and unlearn my prejudices.

[wejoanbaezlove]

Need to repair bricks? We are the best provider of Brick repairs London. We only use bricks that match – our brickwork is purpose made to the requirements of our clients so that everything looks the same including any decorative bricks.

[allfiredupproject]

PETER BLAKE’S ARTICE IN DORSET LIFE EXPLORES CARTER’S TILES!

Peter Blake’s Article in Dorset Life on Carter’s Tiles! A fantastic read!

Carter’s Tile Manufactory

Peter Blake looks at the origins of the company that would become Poole Pottery

Published in August ’16

The famous ‘Welcome to Poole’ sign at Sandbanks

How many of the millions of commuters and tourists who use the London Underground every year give a thought to their surroundings, in particular the countless tiles which line the tunnels and decorate the stations? Very few, I am sure. If any do, perhaps they would be surprised to know just how many were produced in Dorset, a county not always considered to be in the forefront of manufacturing output. However, a small part of Poole was a major player in the production of tiles and other ceramics used in the building trade for nearly 100 years. This is the story of Jesse Carter and his family, and their impact on Poole from the 1870s onwards. Dorset clay has been used for pottery for thousands of years. Indeed, some of the earliest fragments of fired pottery which have been found locally go back to the Neolithic period, c. 3000 years BC. The clay was mainly used by local potters until the 18th century, when improving transport links led to an increased demand for the fine white plastic ball clay from potteries all over the country. The following century saw a massive building boom, with the associated demand for ceramics for the building trade, such as roof tiles, chimney pots, drainpipes, and floor and decorative tiles. To meet this need, a number of potteries sprang up around Poole.

Lovely detailing on this corner building at Julian Terrace in Southbourne, Bournemouth

One such was the Patent Architectural Pottery Company, founded in Hamworthy in 1854 to supply high-quality goods for the better class of builders. James Walker, an employee of this company, decided to branch out on his own, and around 1860 set up the Walker Patent Encaustic and Mosaic Ornamental Brick and Tile Manufactory on East Quay, Poole. He fairly quickly got into financial difficulties and came to the attention of Jesse Carter, an enterprising businessman who visited Poole often in the course of his work as a partner in an ironmongers’ and builders’ merchants in Weybridge, Surrey. He saw the potential for the ailing business and acquired the site, by now derelict, in 1873, renaming it Carter’s Industrial Tile Manufactory, later to become Carter & Co, with a subsidiary company called Carter Stabler and Adams being established in 1921, which eventually became the worldwide success that was renamed Poole Pottery in 1963. Born in 1830 in Abbots Worthy, the son of a bricklayer, Jesse Carter benefited from the building boom of the 19th century. A journeyman bricklayer in 1851, by 1861 he was a builder employing 49 men and five boys. There are records in Hampshire Record Office of a number of land sales involving Carter in the Winchester area during this period, and it is likely that he did well out of the growing demand for land in an area which was developing rapidly, with a big increase in the demand for housing following the opening of the railway station in 1839. In 1871 he was living in Weybridge, but moved to Poole soon after acquiring the pottery site, living first in Market Street, then later in West End House, a very imposing Georgian residence, which still stands. He began to expand the range of tiles produced at the pottery, alongside the old ‘Carter’s red’ floor tiles, producing more decorative glazed, modelled and painted wall tiles for the growing interior design market. By the middle of the 1880s, the business was thriving, and Jesse took three of his sons, Charles, Owen and Ernest into the company, Ernest sadly dying in 1887 of rheumatic fever at the age of 27. With the involvement of his sons in the business, Jesse started to take a less active part in the day-to-day running of the pottery and moved to West Cliff Road in Bournemouth, Owen taking up residence in West End House.

The Norton Free Library (now a Wetherspoons pub)

Owen was the driving force behind the introduction of decorative pieces and tableware into the repertoire of the pottery, in his capacity as Art and Technical Director. A friend and admirer of William de Morgan, who designed tiles for William Morris, Owen set up a potter’s wheel in a stable at the rear of West End House, where he started experimenting with the development of ornamental wares. In 1912, production of the more straightforward floor and wall tiles was shifted to the Hamworthy sites owned by the pottery, with the East Quay site concentrating on the more artistic end of the spectrum. Owen’s involvement with what became the world famous Poole Pottery ended with his death in 1919. Carter and Co produced their tiles over a period of nearly 100 years, from 1873 until the company was merged into Pilkington Tiles Ltd in 1964. In 1962, production was estimated to be 100,000 tiles per week, with the tunnel ovens on site using more gas than the whole of Salisbury.

The Poole coat of arms on Poole Bridge

Although the ornamental ware received more attention, the plainer output of the pottery was vital to the continuing success of the business. Carter’s supplied many of the tiles which line the London underground tunnels. They also produced relief tiles for the decoration of the stations, for example Bethnal Green, depicting London scenes. Carter’s was also responsible for the platform tiling for the Victoria line. The company produced blue plaques put up by the LCC, and later the GLC, for many years until they stopped making them in 1981. Other bread and butter work was also important, if unglamorous. The supply of glazed bricks and ceramic tiles for commercial premises such as pubs, butchers, cinemas and the like provided a lucrative business, allowing the more decorative side of the pottery to develop and flourish. Fortunately, a number of examples of these ornate frontages and signs still exist in our area, for example: the Branksome Arms, Commercial Road, Bournemouth, which is Grade II listed; the Goat and Tricycle in Westhill Road, Bournemouth (previously the Pembroke Arms); Westbourne Cinema (now Westbourne Club Grand Bingo); Jenkins and Sons, a 1920s butchers and fishmongers at Penn Hill, Parkstone (still called Jenkins and Sons, but now a café bar, with the facade preserved); the Welcome to Poole signs such as the one situated at Sandbanks; the Swan Inn and Poole Arms pub, both in Poole; and the Poole town coats of arms, displayed on Poole Bridge. Other examples can be found fairly close at hand, for example New Milton, Salisbury, Romsey and Portsmouth. Poole Museum would also be a good starting point for anyone interested in finding out more about Carter and Co’s output. For more detailed information, please look at the Facebook page of the Tile Lady, a local expert who provides illustrated talks and undertakes guided tours giving information about noteworthy buildings and tiled features in the Bournemouth and Poole area. If visiting any of these sites, try to do so on a sunny day, just after rain if possible, as the coloured tiles will be seen to their best advantage then, taking on jewel-like qualities.

The front of Jenkin and Son in Parkstone

The Carter family had a long-lasting impact on the life and times of Poole, continuing right up to the modern day. As well as employing people at Carter’s and later Poole Pottery, another of Jesse’s sons, William, took over the ailing Kinson Pottery in 1884, making it a going concern. His son, Herbert Spencer Carter, OBE JP, went on to be Mayor of Poole five times, the first time in 1912 at the age of 32. In 1946, Herbert Carter Secondary School was opened, named in his honour. Still operating, now as Carter Community School, this establishment has educated many thousands of Poole’s children. Poole Pottery has attracted well-deserved fame for the innovative design and use of colour in its ceramics, spreading the name of Poole throughout the world and attracting countless visitors to its premises. Although the bulk of the manufacturing is now carried out at Middleport pottery in Staffordshire, new designs are still created, fired and painted in the Studio Pottery on Poole Quay, continuing the tradition going back over a century.

The Swan Inn in Poole

Jesse Carter died in 1927 at the grand old age of 96. Little can he have thought when he first saw a derelict and failing pottery in 1873, that the company he founded would have such a profound effect not only on his own family, but on the town of Poole as well. www.poolepottery.co.uk

[c-is-for-circinate]

The Untitled Prequel To A Harry Potter Fic I Am (Probably) Never Writing

By popular demand, this thing that starts a story I know more of but probably don’t have the words for!

In which Minerva McGonagall tries to figure out the present, and, relatedly, the future; including a great many names readers will not recognize, because there are many, many students at Hogwarts, and several more that readers will.

.

It takes nearly three weeks after the final battle to empty the tent city struck up on the Hogwarts grounds of the last of its inhabitants.  They leave in straggling, drawn-out waves, one by one or six or seven at a time, one day after the other.  Nobody takes the train.

First to go, of course, are the Aurors, the members of the Order, with the dead carried out on pallets and Death Eaters in chains--adults.  Very well and good riddance.  Minerva isn’t concerned with them.  She barely spared them a thought in the first place.  The few that stay are useful for wards and charms to light the campfires, and that’s all the mind she has time to pay to them right now.

The first children to go, then, are those injured too badly to be cared for with the Hogwarts facilities in the state they are now.  There aren’t many.  More left with the dead.

After that and within the first day or so, there’s a small handful of sixth- and seventh-years old enough to Apparate themselves away and tired or worried about family enough to leave without a second glance.  Minerva wishes them well and turns her attention to the next wave: students with parents or guardians who are still alive, and findable, and sane and well enough to Floo or Apparate in to Hogsmeade to collect them in person.  Parents who aren’t in some sort of custody or wanted by this or the last, not-quite-dismantled Ministry for capture the moment they arrive for their children.

“I am not,” Minerva says on the second day, knuckles very white around her wand and Kingsley Shacklebolt very much in her way, “going to hold children hostage to secure their parents’ arrest.”

“Minerva,” Kingsley says, voice calm and quiet and sad enough that she doesn’t hit him for it, “does it do them any better service to send them home with parents who will be hunted as traitors and murderers the moment they leave?”

Minerva takes a sharp breath to retort and thinks, very abruptly, how much of the last year she has spent spoiling on the very edge of a fight.  Kingsley Shacklebolt is her ally.  He is her friend.  He is not even incorrect.

Minerva’s been a Gryffindor for fifty years.  She has learned in that time that a great many problems cannot be solved via force, combat, or conflict, and found a great many alternate ways to solve them besides.  A year of occupation, a pitched battle, and the bodies of too many students won’t take that from her.

“Very well,” she says, and allows the Order’s Aurors to stand present at the Hogsmeade floos, the designated Apparition points for parental pick-up, and hover generally in the background of every parent-child reunion.

Four days after the battle when the rush quiets, a little fewer than half the students who attended Hogwarts this year are left.  It’s no more than a third of the number that should have been there, but never mind that.  Never mind the groaning, crumbling wreck of Hogwarts Castle, the broken walls and fallen staircases, the gaping holes and cursed booby-traps left in every hall that they ought to be living in now.  Minerva turns away deliberately, keeps the castle to her back, and faces the problem in front of her.

The next set of students, then.  Those whose adults are, for one reason or another, difficult to locate or otherwise...unavailable.

There are ways to find witches and wizards who don’t want to be found, but no adult witch or wizard had survived any amount of time on the run from Voldemort and his Ministry by being easy to track.  Half the parents who appear at Hogwarts over the next few days, Minerva hasn’t actually managed to contact at all--they show up on their own, eager or hopeful or desperate, and she turns their children over gladly.

It took three days after the battle, with all the wizarding world in a shambles as expected, for someone from their side to finally make it out to Azkaban.  It takes days more even to process the prisoners, to treat them for disease and injury, for madness.  Days just to get a list of names, the living and the Kissed and the dead.

Some of them come for their children after that.  Some of them, Minerva scratches off her list of parents with a steady, even stroke of her quill, and adds their children’s names to her list of students whose aunts and uncles and further relatives need to be located and investigated instead.

A week after the last battle, Demelza Robins shows up at the flap of Minerva’s office tent, fists clenched and tear streaks dry on her cheeks, four younger students behind her.  “We’re going to St. Mungo’s,” she says.  “My dad’s the only family I’ve got left.  It’s the same for all of us.  You can’t keep us here.  We’re going.”

“My dear,” Minerva says, rising from her chair, one hand raised to placate.  She freezes quite suddenly when Malcom Baddock raises his wand in a shaky hand.

“You can’t stop us,” he says.  “You can’t.”

Malcom had shared a dormitory room for four years with Matthias Burke and Dominic Rosier, a bathroom with Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle and Draco Malfoy, a house with Flora and Hestia Carrow.  Decades ago, his father wore green and silver and sang in the school choir and was so fluid and graceful with his Transfigurations it was a joy to have his class of Slytherins every single year.  Nobody’s seen Sylvester Baddock in three months, for all the word Minerva’s been able to find of him, but if Betty was in Azkaban...Minerva doesn’t hold out much hope.

Malcom has one uncle to Minerva’s knowledge, besides Betty’s Muggle family, but he won’t be coming by to pick his nephew up.  He was already here last week.  He’ll be on the other Azkaban list, as far as she’s aware.  The incoming one.

“Mr. Baddock,” Minerva says gently.  “You cannot possibly stay at St. Mungo’s.  The entire hospital is packed.  I’d be surprised if there’s a spare chair that hasn’t been Transfigured into a cot in the whole place.  Where would you go?”

“Home,” says Demelza.  “Not some hospital without anything familiar or anyone who loves them to help them get better.”

“Children, your parents are in no fit state to take care of you,” Minerva says.  She’s seen the reports on Travis Robins, Betty Baddock, Paul and Angela Hurst.  Edric Fowley, whose family tree hadn’t seen a Muggle in ten generations until he married one.  Poor Emilia Dawlish.

“That’s fine,” Demelza says.  “That’s what we’re for.  We’ll take care of them.”

“We’ll take care of each other,” says Winifred Fowley, very very quietly.  “We don’t need magic for that.”

Minerva should put her foot down and stop this.  Lucas Hurst is only twelve.  What if something goes wrong?  What if their parents are even more broken in mind and spirit than in body?  What if that thrice-damned excuse for an Auror John Dawlish gets out of his own hospital bed before Emilia’s well enough to defend herself?  What if somebody gets hurt?

“We can all stay at Fowley’s place if we have to,” Demelza says.  “Even Baddock.  But we’re leaving now.”

Five fewer children to worry about here, feeling trapped and frightened and plotting ways to escape without doing her the courtesy of a farewell first.  Five more to worry about out in the great wide world without her, but what’s five more on top of that impossible pile?

“Professor Sprout will escort you to St. Mungo’s,” Minerva says, though, Merlin, she needs Pomona here so badly.  But Pomona will have the good sense to bring the children back if need be.  For one afternoon, she’ll make do.

The trickle of incoming parents has turned into a trickle of aunts and uncles and grandparents by the second week, as Minerva pours over lists and writes letters and sends owls and looks for any suitable relative capable of taking care of one or two or four or five children still shaken by the year they’ve survived.  Grace Hawthorne, just barely eighteen, shows up with her great-great-grandmother Jocosa, a hundred and eight, and together they collect Grace’s two younger sisters and every one of the Partridge and Hawthorne cousins.  Minerva lets them do it, even Edna and Toby Partridge who are cousins on the other side and not a drop of Hawthorne blood to them at all.  There are too many students left and too few parents to take them all, and Edna is responsible, and Grace is clever.  They’ll make do as well as anyone else these days.

Not a single child at Hogwarts this year is Muggleborn, but there are two dozen or more who haven’t any family left besides their Muggle relatives, and that’s another horror and a heartache all in itself.  Each child must be hand-delivered by Side-Along Apparition or Floo’ed to some nearby wizarding location and then taken by broomstick or Knight Bus or some Muggle transportation or walked.

James Tuckett’s aunt hadn’t even known her brother was dead until Xiomara Hooch showed up at her front door.  Minerva sits down at her desk and listens to Xiomara relate the story and closes her eyes, and tries not to think about a brick house with a perfectly tailored lawn in Surrey on a night in 1981, when everything had somehow felt so much clearer than this.

Somewhere around the second week, the Aurors--the new Aurors, whatever may be becoming of them under Kingsley’s leadership, after the days of arguing and politicking that Albus surely would have stuck his nose into and Minerva simply doesn’t have time to care about--release a whole flurry of suspects they’ve cleared of the Imperious curse or found reasonably innocent of most probable wrongdoing.  There are dozens of others still awaiting trials that might not be managed for weeks or even months, but in the meantime the new wave of parents is here and furious or desperate or relieved, every one of them overflowing with emotions and very few of those happy.

Minerva finds herself very nearly cursed by Isra Harper nee Shafiq, upon revealing that she’d sent Adam home with his Harper relatives several days prior.  At this point, she is tired enough to barely bat an eye.

That wave clears out a handful of students and two thirds of the Slytherins that are left.  Minerva walks past the color-coded row of House tents, shorter once again than it’s been in days as the remaining students cluster and condense some more, and doesn’t let herself think about school unity or what might even become of Slytherin in the fall.  Doesn’t let herself think about autumn at all, or the falling-down castle behind her, or Septima Vector’s still, cooling body or the tremor in Filius Flitwick’s hand these days.  There’s Fiendfyre in the school somewhere, Potter told her quietly before he left, eating its way through a pocket dimension of magical objects and who knows what other enchantments, and if it’s grown powerful enough feasting it might not stop burning for months.  There are still students here in front of her, and Minerva will see that they’re taken care of before she lets herself fall apart in terror of the future.

By the third week they’re down to just shy of forty students, and Minerva has racked her brain as thoroughly as possible to try and remember what they did at the end of the last war.  Had there been so many orphans, that time?  Hogwarts had been safe, had stayed safe, that entire war.  Surely there must have been students whose parents were murdered as they sat snug in their dormitories.  What had they done then?

It had all been case by case back then, was the trouble, never so many all at once.  But this is no place for children.  It’s no place for adults--Irma Pince is already gone, horror and nightmares behind her eyes, and she’d had to beg Poppy to stay on just until the last child was seen to and sent off.  Aurora Sinistra’s in St. Mungo’s still.  Horace Disapparated within the first day of the battle being over without a second look back.  There’s just Minerva herself, Pomona and Filius and Xiomara and Poppy, Rubeus in his hut and Sibyl holed up inside her tent too shaken to leave, a handful of house elves keeping them all fed over campfires and a handful of Aurors and Order members patrolling the perimeter every day.  It’s not enough.  She misses Severus more than she ever would have thought possible.

She thinks Albus would have done better.  She thinks Albus wouldn’t have done a thing at all, popping down to the new Ministry every single morning and only putting in an appearance here to keep his face in people’s minds, and she’d still be doing everything she is now and then some.  She thinks it would still be better, because then at least they’d have Albus to look to, to believe in, to reassure them that it would all turn out alright though of course he was much too cryptic to say how.  Albus wouldn’t ever explain his full reasoning and he might even be wrong, but at least he’d have an answer.

Well.  If the possession of any answer at all, abstruse or wrong as it might be, is the standard to which Minerva is aspiring, she can certainly provide that herself.  She can do several steps better than that.

She makes a new list from memory, and has to stop herself at the bottom, go back and cross out several names once again.  The Westinburghs are dead.  The Kaleys ran to France the moment George and Miranda left school.  Honorius Hanley was arrested last week, shocking everyone who had the time to care about it.

The Abbotts are in mourning.  The Smiths are in mourning.  The Weasleys are in mourning.  Everybody in the world is in mourning.

There’s a small fireplace in Minerva’s office tent, large enough to firecall from.  She starts at the top of her much-too-short list, and hopes.

Percy Weasley answers the fire at the Burrow, looking gaunt and tired, wrapped in a hand-knit sweater that ought to be much too warm for very nearly June.  “Professor McGonagall,” he says, polite in his surprise.  “What brings you by today?”

“I’m afraid I have a favor to ask of your parents,” Minerva says, and doesn’t miss the flash of stubbornness and rage that calms so quickly on Percy’s face.  She can’t blame him for an instant.

“Don’t you think my parents have done enough?” he asks, clipped and chilly.

“Be that as it may,” Minerva begins.

“Oh, shove over, Percy!”  A moment later he’s elbowed out of the way of the fire, his younger sister taking his place.  “Professor McGonagall.  MUM!  FIRE FOR YOU!”

Minerva controls a wince at the volume and spots Percy failing to quite do the same, though that may be related to the elbow-inflicted bruise he now appears to be rubbing on his side.  Ginny Weasley peers down into the fire with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her sharp, probing eyes.

“What’s going on, Professor?” Ginny asks.

“I’m afraid--” Minerva begins, to put her off, before Percy cuts in.

“That’s Mum and Dad’s business, Ginny,” he says, and Ginny scowls darkly.

“That’s enough from you, Percy,” she says.  “Go see if George needs help in the garden.”

Minerva doesn’t know quite what to expect from that, but it’s not for Percy Weasley to pause and then sink in on himself, becoming a small, quiet thing in the face of his sister’s ire.  He nods at her once, “Professor.”  Then he’s gone.

“Ginny, what on Earth--”  Molly Weasley bustles over with as little cheer and energy as Minerva’s ever seen, but she does smile when she sees whose head is in the fireplace, and Minerva takes it for the kindness it is.  “Minerva, how nice to see you.”

“You as well, Molly.  How is your family?”

Both Weasley women’s expressions darken a bit, though Molly’s brightens back into half-forced cheer after a moment.  “We’re getting by,” she says.  “Charlie’s been staying with Bill and Fleur, not that we don’t have the space, but they didn’t want Shell Cottage standing empty and anyway at least it’s closer than Romania.  They’ll be by for supper in a few hours.”

“I’m glad,” Minerva says with complete honesty, for reasons entirely separate from the impetus for her call.  She leaves it there--Molly wouldn’t thank her for useless platitudes, no matter how true, and she’s a whole list of firecalls to make after this one, too.

“How about Hogwarts, then?” Molly asks briskly.  “Rebuilding efforts beginning and all that?”

Minerva can’t quite contain her flinch this time.  “I’m afraid they haven’t begun.  We’re still...attempting to find appropriate homes for several of the students from last term.”

Molly’s face goes wide with understanding and grief.  Ginny’s sharpens.

“The orphans,” Ginny says, cutting straight to the point.  “How many?”

“Miss Weasley…” Minerva begins, and then finds she doesn’t quite know what to say.

“Hector and Ariadne’s parents died last November, but they’ve an aunt,” Ginny continues.  “I heard about Demelza and her father.  Kitty and Mara Westinburgh?  Who else?”

“There are approximately three dozen students with no relatives on record available to take them in,” Minerva concedes.  “We were hoping...I know this is a terrible time for your family, but Molly…”

Molly wrings her hands in her apron and blinks away a bit of wetness in her eyes.  “Is there anywhere else?” she asks, and then recoils a bit, biting into her bottom lip in shame.

“With three dozen children, and things the way they are, the options for placement…”  Minerva doesn’t think there are three dozen untouched wizarding families today in all of Britain.  And oh, there are plenty of families still standing, still pulling through, but how many can she trust to do right by a child not their own?  Who could she turn to, if not…

“Do you have a list, Professor?” Ginny asks.  “Of the students who are left.  I know most of them, maybe I can help.”

Minerva should protest, but Ginevra Weasley’s eyes are bright and very piercing.  She hasn’t yet turned seventeen.

Minerva hadn’t been able to make an ally out of her, last year.  She hadn’t been willing.  Better that Ginny, that Neville Longbottom, that their whole organization slip by unrecognized and unknown by as many adults as possible.  Minerva couldn’t reveal and didn’t have to be seen to punish what she didn’t know.  She’d set herself as a bulwark facing Severus and the Carrows and done her best never to look over her shoulder at the students behind her, placing all her hope and faith in those children’s ability to protect themselves where she couldn’t.

Perhaps she’d hoped for this, when she firecalled here first.  “Very well,” Minerva says, and reaches through the fire with the list.

Molly goes to take it, far too slow, but only makes the smallest noise of protest when Ginny snatches it away.  “Hmm,” she says.  “You should send Euan Abercrombie off with David Wu, if you can find where their family’s hidden,” she says.  “They’re all Muggles but Euan spent half the past two summers with them, they’ll take him in.  Leslie Bittern…”  She stops quite abruptly.  “Flora and Hestia are still there?”

Out of thirty-eight students on the list in Ginny’s hand, thirteen of them are Slytherins.  The only other House with nearly as many orphans left is Gryffindor.  Flora and Hestia Carrow have barely set foot outside the tent they share with five other girls of their House in weeks.

“Their family members are largely unavailable,” Minerva says, which is the word she’s been using for three weeks to mean arrested, or tortured to insanity, or dead.  In this case it means that she sent Alecto and Amycus to prison with her own wand and not a second thought, that she heard about Agamemnon's defiant last stand with grim satisfaction, that she didn’t think at all about the pair of fifteen-year-old girls in her own keeping until days after word of Calanthe Carrow nee Sauvageon’s suicide began to trickle down the grapevine in her direction.  The Sauvageons, secure in their own chateau somewhere in the wilds of France, have declined to answer her owls.

“I don’t think…” Molly begins hesitantly.

“They’re not evil,” Ginny says, surprising both of them.  “They barely spoke to anyone all year.  They only ever did Cruciatus on command.  Three quarters of the school’s done that.”  She says it bluntly, almost carelessly, like it’s nothing at all to her--like she knows exactly how dizzy, how ill that fact makes Minerva feel, and wants to punish her for it.  “Find them some Mudblood without any other children who won’t take nonsense and quite likes housekeeping and decorating charms.  They like pretty.  Maybe if they learn to bake they won’t turn out like the rest of their family.”

“Ginevra Weasley!” Molly exclaims while Minerva is still a bit boggled by the excellent suggestion.  “To think I’d see the day where I’d hear that word come out of your mouth--”

“What?  Mudblood?” Ginny asks scornfully, and Minerva realizes she hadn’t even noticed.  It hadn’t even made her flinch.  “Do you think I haven’t heard someone say Mudblood a hundred thousand times by now?  Do you think Hestia and Flora Carrow haven’t heard and said worse?  Do you think that’s the worst thing I’ve done?”

“I think your attitude has just about reached the limit of my patience, Ginevra Elaine Iseulte Anna Viviane--”

“We’ll take Samuella Grey and Mortimer Colt,” Ginny interrupts her mother.  “We have to, Mum.  They’ve nowhere else to stay.  They need someplace safe.”

Minerva hadn’t known that either child was particularly close with Ginny.  She’d chosen not to know a lot of things, last year.

“Well,” Molly says.  Then, very briskly after a pause that goes on just slightly too long, “Yes, of course we’ll take them in, and you’ll come right back if there’s more left that need homing after you’ve worked through your other options.  You, meanwhile, young lady--”

“Go to the Longbottoms next,” Ginny says to Minerva, interrupting yet again.  She hands the list back, careful through the fire.  “I know Neville’s got space for at least five or six, and they’ll all trust him, mostly, besides some of the older Slytherins.  Let him pick who to take.  He’ll have a good idea on the others, even the Slytherins, too.”

“Thank you, Miss Weasley,” Minerva says gravely, and means it.  “Molly, thank you.  Please give my regards to Arthur.  Miss Grey and Mr. Colt will be on their way within the next day or so, and I’ll be sure to send word first.”

She pulls back from the fire before the argument she can see brewing in the Weasley living room explodes.  It isn’t kind, to put this extra pressure on their family when they’re already awash with grief and all their own conflicting nightmares.  It isn’t kind to Samuella Grey or Mortimer Colt, to send them among it.  But it’s among the less wretched or cruel options Minerva has available to her.

The Ministry is every bit the shambling wreck that Hogwarts Castle is behind her.  Nobody will find homes for these children if she does not.

So.  The Longbottoms it is, then.  Minerva doesn’t bother to waste any more time, and tosses another pinch of powder into the fire.

Augusta’s in her sitting room with a cup of tea when Minerva pokes her head through the fire, perched with perfect posture on a brocade sofa and arching both eyebrows in question.  “Good afternoon, Minerva.  What brings you calling here?”

“I’ve a matter of some importance to discuss with you and your grandson,” Minerva says, dismissing with any illusion that the children who protected Hogwarts last year might be left out of this conversation at any level.  Out of any conversation, if some of the distant rumors she’s been hearing about Miss Granger and the rebuilding of the Ministry prove true.

Besides, she’ll need Neville Longbottom’s help for this one.

Neville and Augusta both listen seriously, consideringly, to Minerva’s request.  The left side of Neville’s face is nearly entirely healed, aside from the last brown smudge of remaining bruise along his jaw.  The simplest healing charm could have dealt with it weeks ago, but Augusta never could work a decent charm, and Neville knows better than to try to work healing magic on himself.  Of course they wouldn’t have bothered anyone else.

“We’ve the room,” Neville says the moment Minerva’s finished.  “We can probably take six or seven, if we double up, right Gran?  And I can pop back to Hogwarts until everybody has a place to stay and help, I shouldn’t have just left right after the battle like that--”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Longbottom,” Minerva cuts in smoothly, before she ends up with Neville and Augusta both moving into the dormitory tent city this very afternoon.  “We’re far more interested in moving people out than back in.  In fact, Miss Weasley suggested that you might be very valuable in coming up with suggestions for which students we might be able to house where.”

“Let’s see the list, then,” Augusta beckons for it.  “Hmph.  You’ve a Smith on here--”

“Half-blood on her mother’s side, I’m afraid,” Minerva sighs.  “No relation.”

“Nonsense, as though that clan’s ever met a Muggleborn Smith they haven’t adopted or married instantly to keep their monopoly on the name,” Augusta says.  “You’ll owl Aspasia tonight.”

“It’s true, Zacharias did keep a bit of an eye out for her, as much as he did for anyone,” Neville says, more derision in his tone than she would have thought, a year ago, that Neville Longbottom could possess.  “We should take Vigi Thorston.  And Valdis, too, I suppose, I think if her brother’s here she won’t likely go after the other kids.” 

It isn’t a surprise that Vigi Thorston, tiny Gryffindor that he is, caught Longbottom’s eye last year, but his older sister is rather more of unexpected.  Valdis is Slytherin through and through, and quite a bit crueler with it than the Carrow twins ever managed.  “Are you sure?”

“She loves him,” Neville says confidently.  “They should stay together, and you can’t put Vigi in a house without other Gryffindors around, or people who can’t handle her, they’ll both go mad.”

“Alice’s second cousin Joshua married a Thorston,” Augusta agrees briskly.  “That’s enough to make us family, I should think.  Who else?”

There’s a curse and a blessing to teaching at Hogwarts for so many years, and it’s the ability to see an ever-lengthening string of parents and cousins and ancestors stretching out behind every new student to cross Minerva’s eye.  She’s known for years that Neville has Frank’s gentleness and patience, Alice’s sheer grit under pressure.  She’s never looked for Augusta in him except as a somewhat sharp-edged element of his upbringing, and that, Minerva reflects, was a mistake.  Neville and his grandmother dissect her list like so much mincemeat, easily comparing and confirming Augusta’s encyclopedic knowledge of wizarding lineages and current alliances with Neville’s apparently equally encyclopedic understanding of every first through seventh year student at Hogwarts last year.

“What’s this about Boot, anyway?” Neville asks, turning back to Minerva as though she’s been at all useful to the past fifteen minutes of conversation doing anything other than jotting very quick notes.  “He was a seventh-year.  He’s of age.”

“Of age, but still entirely without a place to go,” Minerva explains.  “There was a fire no more than a month before the final battle.  The Boot ancestral home was destroyed, and all living relatives perished.”  Little wonder the Longbottoms hadn’t heard.  Terence hadn’t known it himself until two days after the battle, when his fifth attempt to Floo home failed and he risked his wobbly Apparation skills to get there.  “He is still a Hogwarts student, adult or not.”

As though any seventh-year, any eighteen-year-old, ought to be considered an adult.  Boot is hardly the only would-be graduate to find himself floundering without a place in this post-war world.  No fresh new Ministry positions awaiting this year’s crop of students.  Nobody was prepared for this.

“Merlin,” Neville curses quietly.  “Why didn’t he owl?  He can stay here too, no question, or with Michael, maybe, if they don’t ask Mrs. Corner about it first.  Michael says his nightmares’ve come back as bad as they were last winter, and his mother’s been fretting, but he reckons half of it’s just not being able to hear the others snoring to know they’re alright.  He and Terry’re close, he should go there.  I’ll let Michael know about it soon as we’re done here.”

“I don’t believe Mr. Boot would wish to be a burden,” Minerva tempers cautiously, before poor Mr. and Mrs. Corner find themselves promised into taking on an additional traumatized teenager to accompany the one they’ve already got at home without a single word of warning.  It may well be the best place for Terence Boot, but not without a welcome from those that would host him.

“It’ll be better for both of them.  As soon as Michael knows about Terry’s family, I’m sure he’ll Apparate back up to Hogwarts and drag him back himself.”  Neville nods, as though he considers the matter closed, and Minerva suspects it very likely is.  “Who’s left on the list?”

“Alexander Okafor,” Augusta reports.  “As well as Delphine and Roland St. Croix, Surendra Tamboli, and Nikias Selwyn.”

“Send Alex to Hannah,” Neville suggests.  “It’s just her and her dad, but Alex is quiet, and he thinks Hannah’s brilliant.  Delphine and Roland should be fine anywhere, just keep them apart whatever you do or they’ll rip each other to pieces.  I’d say bring Surendra here, I don’t think he’d had the chance to make more than one or two friends in the whole country before he started Hogwarts last year, but can’t have him and the Thorstons in the same house--have you tried owling his great-uncle in Maharashtra?”

“The Tambolis have been a cornerstone of the magical plant trade in Great Britain for four centuries,” Augusta scoffs.  “If the Ketteridges don’t admit they owe that family far more than a few months of childcare, I should think Douglas Ketteridge will be hearing a few of my opinions about it.”

“So long as they speak Marathi,” Neville says, relieved, and Minerva makes a note.  “If you could just drop Selwyn over a cliff somewhere we’d all be better off, but barring that, better find him somewhere without small children or pets.”

“Travers,” says Augusta.  “Not the good-for-nothing side of the family, the ones with a sense of honor.  They’ll be sharp enough with him.”

Minerva shudders to think of the sort of parenting Augusta Longbottom might consider ‘sharp enough’ for the son of two Death Eaters.  She shudders to think what Nikias Selwyn might have gotten up to this past year that she’d never known about, considering the things she had.

“Thank you,” she says instead.  “This has been more valuable than you know.”

“Of course, Minnie,” Augusta says, as easily, dismissively generous as she’d been when she was sixteen and Minerva the twelve-year-old needing guidance.  “You’re free to come to us at your leisure.”

“I really shouldn’t have left,” Neville says, expression darkening once again.  “I’m sorry, Professor, I didn’t think.  Tell Terry I’m sorry, will you?  I’ll tell him myself when I see him.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Longbottom,” Minerva assures him.  “You have gone far above and beyond in your attempts to protect the students of Hogwarts this year.  That so many are safe and sound enough to go to any homes this year at all is very much thanks to you.  I’m so grateful that you’re willing to assist yet again.”

He blushes, which Minerva is somewhat comforted to see that Neville is still capable of, even after everything.  “It’s nothing anyone wouldn’t do,” he says to her chin and a bit of the hearthstones near the fireplace.

“Nonsense,” says Augusta, clapping one hand over her grandson’s shoulder rather harder than probably necessary.  “There’ll be another Order of Merlin on the mantle before long once they get the Ministry sorted out, I should think.  Is there anything else, Minerva?”

It only makes Neville blush harder, for all Minerva suspects it’s quite true--she’ll certainly put her voice behind it, should the question come to her--and Minerva reconsiders even asking the question tickling at her curiosity.  It’s not as though she needs to know, but...they’re her students.

“Mr. Longbottom,” she says, not quite as casually as she’d hoped, though she doesn’t think the embarrassed boy on the sofa notices.  “It did catch my attention that, while you suggested several of your fellow sixth and seventh-years from Dumbledore’s Army to host younger students of their acquaintance, Miss Lovegood’s name was not among them.  Is she quite alright?”

“Oh, no--I mean yes, Professor, as far as I know she’s fine.”  Neville trips over his own words like he’s thirteen again, finally looking up from his knees with wide eyes and the look of having been caught out at something.  “She’s had a hard year, that’s all--I mean…”  He catches himself short, lost in the obviousness of the difficult year every single member of the wizarding world has had together.  “I just don’t know that it would be a good idea,” he says.  “There’s enough space elsewhere.  Luna’s fine, though.  She’s planning on heading back to Hogwarts in fall.”

It’s Minerva’s turn to try to control her facial expression, her flinch.  The more people she speaks to, the more questions there are about the coming autumn.  She’ll need to be able to answer them sooner rather than later.

“It’s good to hear that she’s well,” Minerva says.  “Good day, Augusta, Mr. Longbottom.  Thank you once again.”

She pulls back from the fireplace, sheet of notes in hand.  It’s a plan.  It’s a good one.  She ought to be able to arrange this lot in less than a week.

Less than a week left of having students on Hogwarts grounds.  She’d best get to work.

[rookfern]

now I just want to recount all the stupid scar stories I can remember:

the oldest one is my left elbow scar, which is actually the only one I can’t wholly remember. It’s pink and puckered and I think I got it in pre-k when I fell down on a cement path. looks like it might have had stitches, but again, I have no idea

the silver one across the base of my left big toe. My brother closed my toe in a door. That shit hurteded

silver scar on the bottom of my left foot, going diagonally from heel to toe. Was following my older brother and cousin across a slick bridge with my bike (they were totally leaving me behind) and my foot slipped off the bridge into the barbed-wire fence beneath it. I had to limp my bike all the way home with a bleeding foot

half-inch indention just beneath my leftmost ankle. I dropped a pair of garden clippers (the small kind) point down onto my foot. It nearly hit a main vein but somehow didn’t. I was in my back woods and ran all the way home, just gushing blood down my foot. My mom wasn’t impressed

cat scratch #1, a now-fading half-inch silver scar on my right forearm, from when my dumbass thought it was a good idea to pick up my cat who was being spooked by the neighbor’s dogs

cat scratch #2, a really wonky-looking 2 inch vertical scar going up my right shin. can only be seen in certain conditions or when my skin is tanned. My cat was hiding in some grass, I spooked her, and she tried to climb my leg like a tree

small silver scar on my toe. I got my sandal caught in a surrey wheel (please look up what a pedal surrey is; it’s a tourist deathtrap)

a collection of scars on the underside of my right knee and a single straight scar on my inside lower right leg. after my high school graduation, I couldn’t find my family so I climbed a brick wall. In a dress and my gown. I slipped halfway off and scraped the shit out of my right leg. got back up and tried again (for the record, it worked and I found them soon after)

and my most recent, a few little pink nicks on my right knuckles from accidentally punching metal toilet paper dispensers in my college dorm (those fuckers are in the worst possible position and really hard to pull the toilet paper from and so I always used a little extra force...)

[stevecanmakeanythingnerdy]

Battle #25

Reatards: Grown Up, Fucked Up ( Side B )

Vs.

The Jam: All Mod Cons ( Side 2 )

Reatards: Grown Up, Fucked Up ( Side B )

The Reatards were an American garage punk band formed in Memphis, Tennessee, in 1995. Originally a one-man project by guitarist Jay Reatard, the group's sound was marked by raw, stripped-down instrumentals and lo-fi recording quality. After distributing privately pressed cassettes and EPs, the band released their debut album Teenage Hate in 1998. It was followed by this album, Grown Up, Fucked Up a year later. By that time, the group only sporadically performed as Reatard began exploring other endeavors, but in 2005 he reformed the band for their third and final studio album. Much of the Reatards' discography remains a subject of interest, leading to reissues of their work years later. Jay unabashedly credits The Oblivians as a source of inspiration for their style of crude, distorted, lo-fi garage sound. Reatard was so enamoured with the Oblivians' music, he sent their guitarist Eric Friedl some of his home recordings hon which he did everything...guitar, vocals and drumming on a bucket. How’s THAT for DIY!?). It was impressing enough to Friedl to arrange a record deal on his independent label, Goner Records. Relatively short lived as they were, though, The Reatards put out some raw, high energy, REAL MUSIC. You can hear it in the chaos. Just as quickly as the6 formed, Jay went on to other things. Unfortunately he unexpectedly died in 2010. It seems he had died of "cocaine toxicity, and that alcohol was a contributing factor in his death. Sad because after he s time with a The Reatards, he went on to do quite a few things and become a pretty prolific musician in his own right. But this, this is his humble (?) beginnings. Keep in mind practically no song is over about 2 minutes. Every bit of it intense and from the perspective of a fresh faced teenager. First song Side B is “Tonight I’ll Come”. It’s tha5 fast nasty lo-fi you love. Born in the garage and surprisingly channeled and clear, consideration given t the aforementioned recording techniques. The next jab, “Get Outta Our Way”, is decidedly more rock ‘n’ roll than punk. “Who Are You” is another quick fix while “All the Walls Are Closing in” sees a desperation and violent undertones take hold. DT shakes level intensity. “Miss You” is pretty Stooges in nature...just raw power (#seewhatididthere). “Eat Your Heart Out” follows and you can really hear the young essence in Jay’s voice here. It’s a banger that lingers though. This kid did his homework. “I Want Sex” is of course on the mind of any teenage boy but it’s a cover not an original. Meh. I like the originals better. They don’t need to do covers and the6 certainly had the material!! “I’m Gonna Break Down” is very indicative of what this music sounds like. It could break down at any moment. Now, we’ve reached the bonus tracks and an obviously different recording session. That’s the only drawback of this style. You can almost never recapture the EXACT SOUND from any previous sessions because it’s so so happenstance. “Your So Lewd” (note, it IS misspelled ) and “She Will Always Be With Me” have a nasty, distorted vibe while the final cut “Busy Signal” has more garage slop grace and goodness. It’s quick licks with sick fits. His vocals are so young and raw. Recalling Teengenerate and The Motards or X-Ray Specs. 11 songs PER SIDE!! That’s a whole album or set list for most bands! This may be a new RRW RECORD (#seewhatididthere). R. I. P. Jay.

The Jam: All Mod Cons ( Side 2 )

The Jam have been RRW contenders before and went quite far. They were an English mod revival/punk rock band during the 1970s and early 1980s, which formed in 1972 at Sheerwater Secondary School in Woking, in the county of Surrey. They get lumped in with punk a lot but really blur the line between power pop and punk with blues riffs thrown in for good measure. They also drew off the energy of bands like The Who and The Kinks for that mod sound. At the helm was Paul Weller, the heartbeat of The Jam. He went on to form The Style Council and later had a successful solo career, of which he still enjoys. Weller wrote and sang most of the Jam's original compositions, and brought that distinct snotty, throaty, often gruff, and decidedly British sounding vocals. A great example is his pronunciation of the word flowers as flars. Though they shared an "angry young men" outlook, short hair, crushing volume and lightning-fast tempos, the Jam wore neatly tailored suits where others wore ripped clothes, played professionally where others were defiantly amateurish, and displayed clear 1960s rock influences. The Jam had political lyrics, condemning police brutality ("In the City") and expansionist development ("Bricks And Mortar"). Even condemning the monarchy, pre Sex Pistols. By only about 6 months though. All Mod Cons in specific was after the initial success and had put some pressure on the band to maintain. They released a few singles first which appear on the album but the album only came after positive reactions to the singles. “Billy Hunt” has something unique in the pronunciations. I love the way his name is said “Billy, Billy, Biiiiilll-eeeee”.

“It’s too Bad” has a lovely wandering bass line that has a warm, relaxing, inviting personality. Too bad it’s so short. “Fly” contains soft and slow acoustic introductions. It builds, like a baby bird learning to flap its wings until the point of flight. I suppose that’s the point. Some good, rockin’ guitar picking and slick riffs show up in “The Place I Love”. But this side really kicks in on the next two tunes. “ 'A' Bomb in Wardour Street" was a Weller original. And one of their hardest and most intense songs, as well as the aforementioned singles. Weller cursed the violent thugs that plagued the punk rock scene over a taut two-chord figure. It became their most successful release since ”All Around The World”. The cowbell is surprisingly catchy and is one of the more rocking tunes, and of course there is a bomb exploding at the end so literal truth in advertising. “Down in the Tube Station at Midnight” was the second single and helped The Jam really regain their former critical acclaim. The song was a dramatic account of being mugged by thugs who "smelled of pubs and Wormwood Scrubs and too many right-wing meetings". Rich and textured bass really drives the whole thing. Good harmonies with thundering drums. A train interrupts the tune so as to give it a realistic feeling. Like the Clash but cleaner and snappier dressers.

Today it was The Reatards who were grown up, but fucked up in the process. They burned 107 calories over 17 minutes and 11 songs. That is 9.73 calories per song and 6.29 calories burned per minute. The Reatards earned 26 out of 33 possible stars. The Jam put out the call for all Mod Cons. They took 20 minutes to burn 128 calories over 6 songs. They averaged 21.33 calories burned per song and 6.40 calories per minute. The Jam earned 14 out of 18 possible stars. Today it appears The Jam are RRW winners!

The Jam: “ ‘A’ Bomb in Wardour Street” (live, baby!)

https://youtu.be/9T9bqQh-gFI

#Randomrecordworkoutseasonseven

#Randomrecordworkout

[sunflowerdabbles-blog]

hi 💓 could you do one where ben is a regular at this bookshop/coffee shop and he falls in love with this shy girl working there, and he asks her out eventually?

hi, sorry for the long wait! things have been intense lately and i’m not really feeling my best. but anyways! i’m a sucker for bookshop/coffee shop aus so this was really fun and cute to write. hope u like it!! (yeah, it’s ben pining again).

taglist: @luvborhap

*

It wasn’t hard to understand why Ben kept coming back.

The first time he noticed the little coffee-come-bookshop hidden just around the corner of Surrey and Whirling’s Street it was a cloudy tuesday morning and he was driving back home after a meeting with his agent. Not even a particularly exciting one. More of a “hey, you still haven’t got a call back from your last audition but try not to fret about it” kind of meeting; the type that shouldn’t bother him by now and yet still managed to make him feel quite shit. So naturally (and because for some reason it isn’t socially acceptable to get a bit tipsy at ten am), he postponed his original plan of speeding home to maybe hide under the covers for a while and decided to get for a cup of coffee instead.

Lotus’ Coffee, he thought later, was the kind of shop that you just couldn’t miss after you got your eye on it. The smell of freshly brewed coffee, its colourful walls and a strange abundance of plants made it tempting enough to get you on your feet and through the squeaky door. It looked exactly like the place to be whenever things got rough and heavy and you needed to rest your bones a little. (But that’s not what made it special).

That morning though, it appeared to be empty. Just him waiting in line on what seemed like a terribly slow day for everyone. Should’ve stayed in bed with Frankie, Ben thought, his eyes searching around for someone to take his order and landing on a small table, almost completely occupied by a box full of books, all of them carefully wrapped in brown paper and with a note handwritten in the back.

“It’s only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye”, he read, holding a book on his left hand and looking for more with the other, every quote more enchanting than the last and moving him so that he couldn’t help but stay there for a long time.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”, a voice said quickly and out of nowhere, distracting him from his search and almost making him drop the box to the floor. “I-I really am, sorry. I’m- Mia is taking her break now and I just. Sorry. May I take your order, sir?”

Technically speaking, Ben knows that life isn’t a movie (regardless of how much he wants it to be sometimes). He knows about the logistics behind the camera, the angles and the lighting all working together in a perfectly organized harmony to make a scene between very tired people, that usually only talk to each other between takes, look like the epitome of good-selling romance. But, that being said, sometimes life comes pretty close or, like now, it’s even better.

The timid voice belonged to a woman that looked to be shaking a bit when, wrapping paper and scissors in hand, she made her way to the counter. Lovely, Ben thought, his hands rapidly getting sweaty while he looked at her try her best to hide the rosy colour that rose to her cheeks and spread until the neck of her shirt. Really really pretty, holy shit.

A cough brought his attention back to the menu, his eyes not really catching anything besides the girl standing behind the counter.

“Uhh, sorry. Yeah, what would you recommend?” Subtle. Years of acting school and a good job and that’s the best that he could come up with?

“Oh. Well, clients seem to like lattes lately? We got a new brew this week if you want- if you would like to try it?”

Ben doesn’t even like lattes. He’s more of a large black coffee with one sugar kind of guy because, in Joe’s words, he’s “bitter and soulless like that”. But there’s no way he could say no to this girl. It’s been five minutes and he feels himself stammer whenever he catches her eyes, his hands itching a little by his sides and definitely not because of the cold outside.

“We have banana bread too? With chocolate chips”

A woman after my own heart, fuck.

“Sure, that sounds perfect”, he replied, an actual full sentence this time, his chest feeling lighter when she gave him a smile before starting to work on his order; the book on his hand suddenly feeling like the most important thing in the world.

“So, was it your idea? The books and the wrapping, I mean. It’s lovely”

Her cheeks got red again and Ben felt like melting; following the movement of her hands and the tiny shine in her eyes like a sunflower would look at the sun. 

“Yeah, I guess? We’re kind of slowly turning into a bookshop as well. I mean, I’m trying to convince everyone else still but it seems to be working, I think”, she giggled, now cutting a piece of bread and placing it in a plate on the table, besides his latte (a latte, Lucy would be so proud).

“So, an English major then?”, Ben chuckled, his smile growing impossibly larger when it made her laugh, raising her hands in surrender.

“Would you like to take one? The books in the box. Some of them are quite old but they’re incredible, I promise. Can’t go wrong with a book”.

Ben would have bought the whole box, honestly, but he chose two in the end: the one that caught his eye first and another, a lot heavier, that he noticed made her eyes sparkle so brightly that he knew he was onto something (and someone) very special. He had never met someone so breath-taking and astounding (and that was saying something considering his line of work or whatever); someone that seemed to hide a bit under the shadows and yet beamed light without even realizing it.

A latte had never tasted as sweet as when [Y/N] told him her name, and offered another piece of banana bread.

*

Safe to say, Ben started spending a lot more money on coffee and books after that, and he wasn’t very subtle if the looks that Mia, [Y/N]’s co-worker, and even Lily, the cat that made the shop her very own castle, gave him had anything to say in the matter. But he just couldn’t help himself. The first three weeks, when he was still in London, he stopped by as much as he could (basically every day she told him she would be there?) while trying his best to not come off as a creep; absolutely fascinated by the way she talked, sometimes stumbling on her feet when Lily walked between them and demanded to be pet immediately. And just like that, he caught himself being jealous of a cat and started reading so many books, sometimes well into the night, that he had to start using his prescription glasses a lot more frequently; only to feel like he could burst when he stopped by the shop the next morning and [Y/N] brightened up upon seeing him, knowing that they were possibly going to spend hours talking about his latest read and basically everything and anything that crossed their minds, all while the coffee brewed and Lily made herself a bed on their laps.

But he couldn’t muster up the courage to ask her out just yet. Not even when he had to leave for filming during a couple weeks and his list of books had to wait a little. But then again, how do you tell someone that they’re pretty much the only thing you can think about?

*

“He’s so obvious about it, you know”, Mia said, putting all the dirty cups and spoons on the dishwasher, completely exhausted after having to deal with all those people, using her best costumer voice, during rush hour.

“Who are you talking about now?”, [Y/N] asked, having just arrived and trying to eat lunch (a chicken sandwich with lettuce, very fancy, gourmet level and all that) as fast as she could so they could go over the inventory again.

“Ben, of course. He likes you a lot”.

Of course. As if there wasn’t any doubt, as if it was so incredibly obvious it should have it her like a brick in the face by now; as certain as the sky is blue and the grass is green.

“He does not, don’t be silly”, she replied. It was too good to be true after all, more like her deepest thoughts and longings but not so much like the truth, even if she wanted to believe it more than anything.

“Uh-uh, but he does though! He really does! I mean. I told you about yesterday. He’s been back in London for like, what, a day? And the first thing he did was come here. He reeked of airport, [Y/N]. When I told him you weren’t here because someone-”, Mia continued, pointing at Lily, currently purring on [Y/N]’s lap and trying to shove her tail under her nose, “just had to be a huge cockblock and go to the vet- Anyways. He looked so sad I thought he-”

“She needs routine check-ups, Mia!”, [Y/N] interrupted, “You know that. Don’t you, Lily darling?”. The cat in question continued to purr, glaring at Mia with a surprisingly menacing look.

“You’re deflecting. This little beast here could have waited just one more day and you know it! The only reason you didn’t let me take her in the first place is that you’re scared of what could happen because you know that lover boy is so crazy about-”

“Hi there! A hello would be nice, I think”. The door made a loud squeaky sound and let Ben in, his hair looking wet and looking way longer than the last time [Y/N] saw him, holding a bag in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other, looking like he was trembling a bit even though it was surprisingly sunny outside.

“And we’re taking our break now!”, Mia exclaimed, clapping in excitement and taking Lily from [Y/N]’s lap and into her own arms, much to the cat’s dismay, before rapidly walking into the back room.

She runs to hug him before she could even think about it, feeling truly warm and at home for the first time in weeks; the water droplets falling from his curls and into her neck.

“I-brought you something”, Ben said, hiding his face under her jaw for a second and then signalling to the presents still hanging uncomfortably in his hands, “Or well, two- various things, actually. I remember- you told me once, that morning that it was pouring outside, remember? I mean- it’s London, of course you do, it rains here all the time. But. That time when Lily was still outside, and it was raining so much you were scared she wasn’t going to come back? And she did, obviously, the little bugger. But- the point is that you told me you named her. And that you chose Lily because you couldn’t come up with anything else and you love lilies, right? Remember that?”. He left the flowers on the table, the bouquet looking fresh and just perfect by the box of wrapped books kept there. “So yeah, I got you these ones? They’re all the colours they had at the flower shop; I think. Anyways. I- that’s not my favourite part, actually. Just- look”

The bag, of course, was full of books; so old that their covers were almost crumbling and the pages, sewed together at some point, so delicate that just a rough touch could break them. “I- the old lady selling them was very nice. They’re really old, holy fuck, but listen. I know they’re some of your favourites. See, there’s a Madame Bovary somewhere in there and I know you love The Little Prince, so I found this french version… I guess, what I’m trying to say is that- I like you a lot, obviously, and I was wondering if you wanted to go out, maybe? But I got to be honest first, I-I don’t really like lattes that much?”

“These- these are some of the first editions, Ben”, he nodded, biting his lip in order to stop his smirk from growing when he noticed her getting closer and closer, her cheeks impossibly red by now, until their noses were almost touching, “ And I prefer tea, by the way”.

[seanbutlermarketing-blog]

A Look At The Brick Pointing Process

If your brick wall is old and worn down, it probably needs a thorough restoration and brick pointing is often a part of this restoration process. Brick pointing or repointing is the process of replacing the old and crumbling mortar between bricks with fresh material. https://uberant.com/article/591640-a-look-at-the-brick-pointing-process/

[hook-line-and-anarchy]

@bodhisattvawithoutorgans

So caveat that I was born and raised in a suburban-ish city with a population of a little over 100,000. I’ve spent some time in Los Angeles and to a lesser extent in some other big cities but other than that my experience is limited.

In terms of the pros:

The food was consistently incredible. Probably some of the best I’ve had in my life, and there’s an incredible variety of it. Sushi, Indian, Mexican, seafood, ramen, British pub food, Italian.

I’m a big fan of brick architecture, and there’s not a lot of it where I’m from. But Minneapolis has it in spades. Lots of really cool and differentiated brick styles (I'm not super knowledgeable about architecture styles tbh). St. Anthony main has a neat brick road running all along the river bank. There are also a bunch of other cool buildings, fountains, parks, churches, etc.

I think bikeability rankings overstate the extent to which the city has a solid network of protected bike lanes, but it nevertheless does have a fair number of them, as well as multiuse paths. It also has really wide sidewalks, especially downtown. I saw a lot of people riding their bikes around the city which was reassuring (I'm sure that changes in the winter months).

I don't have any lightrail where I'm from and I'm pretty sure I've never ridden a city train up to this point, so I can't compare to other cities. I have some cons to speak about here too, but in terms of pros, I liked using the lightrail way more than using the bus. There were constant announcements about which station was next, and it was never overcrowded, unlike the buses. My friends and I bought a week-long metro pass to use for public transportation. It was a little unclear whether we activated them properly or not, but nobody ever stopped or inspected us, so I assume we did alright. We also were able to use the buses to get where we needed to, for the most part. There's a big long street that runs through downtown that's only open to buses and bikes, which I thought was cool. We did a shit ton of walking on top of using the public transit, and at least in the places I went, walking was very viable. A lot of stuff is pretty easily accessible from downtown, and by the end of the week I started to have a pretty decent mental map of the place (granted, my brain is very bad at 3d maps and my standards are probably low).

The natural environment, namely the parks and ponds and lakes, were very pleasant. There was a pretty fishing pond about a 15 minute walk from my hotel, and the little park admin building next to the pond had borrow-able fishing poles and tackle. They recognized me immediately as the guy who had emailed to ask about the borrowing program a week or two earlier, and they seemed kind of surprised that anyone knew about it, so I get the impression that it doesn't get used very often. It was very useful though, since my friends don't fish and don't own their own equipment. We even caught a few tiny catfish.

We rented some kayaks and canoes on one of the lakes, which was a lot of fun. We also rented a surrey (one of those multi-person bike karts) to ride around a park near the mississipi river. It was billed as being suitable for 6 adults, but it really didn't have the leg room to accommodate someone over like 5'6 feet tall or so. That park also had a little disc golf course but it wasn't terribly well marked and it folded back on itself in some not-terribly-safe ways.

My understanding is that the weather in Minnesota gets extreme in both directions, but during my week stay it was pretty mild and pleasant on the whole. It got a little humid and mildly hot (like 88 degrees F), but nothing unbearable for me. At one point there was a thunderstorm in 80 degree humid weather. There are thunderstorms once in a blue moon where I'm from but nothing where you can see lighting strike on the horizon once per second for an hour straight. I thought that was really cool. I bet the winter weather would kick my ass though, at least until I got acclimated. I noticed that the train stations had heating.

Mall of America is probably one of the great monuments to American capitalist resource waste, but I have to admit that my friends and I had a fun time playing mini golf and doing escape rooms and roller coasters there. Plus we were able to ride the lightrail straight to it.

A lot of strangers were nice and conversational. A girl sitting on the dock at the pond asked me what I was fishing for, a tea shop lady asked how long we were in town, and a waiter at a sushi place jokingly asked why she wasn't invited to join us on our trip. The people at the park admin building were also very friendly. Actually, a lot of people seemed to wonder why we were visiting.

Cons

There's a lot graffiti everywhere in the city, which tbf isn't really a concern to me but it is something I noticed.

I was staying in a hotel in the downtown area, which was convenient, but I don't think a day went by where someone didn't ask us for money. That by itself I wouldn't mind ofc, but a lot of them were kind of forceful and persistent in a way that made me feel uncomfortable. For example, after my friend gave a guy that walked up to us some money, he called his friend over, and his friend followed us as we walked. Another time a guy yelled at my friend as we walked past. Those people kind of crowded around on the street outside the hotel and by the lightrail and bus stations, so it wasn't really avoidable.

I'm glad the lightrail was there, but sometimes it wasn't very clean inside. Puddles in seats, trash on the floor, mysterious sticky substances.

There was also an incident on the train when we were leaving the Mall, where what I presume to be a mentally ill homeless man was being kicked out of the mall, presumably for existing while being homeless and mentally ill. He got into the car with us and, even though there were a ton of empty seats, took a seat right next to my friend, locked eyes on me, and began loudly repeating a series of nearly incoherent phrases over and over again. Place names, mostly, from what I could understand. He made a motion of shooting a gun at one point. Maybe he was telling his life story or something. I felt bad for him, but it was also admittedly uncomfortable, since my friends and I were trying to mind our own business and have a conversation of our own. It was a 40 minute train ride, and we ended up switching to a different train after 10 minutes or so.

There was one time we got on a bus that was full of older school children, maybe middle schoolers, on top of regular riders. I don't know if they were on a field trip and the city couldn't be bothered to pay for a dedicated school bus, or what, but for like 30 stops we were packed like sardines, with no room to sit, and barely room to stand. Some guy behind me was threatening another guy for staring at him or something, too. Unlike the trains, the buses didn't regularly announce the stop names, so it was a lot harder to use the bus without relying on our phones to guide us. There was a time where the bus driver shouted a bunch of times at a guy sitting at the back of the bus, and we thought there was trouble until the bus driver finally walked over to the guy just to hand him his transfer ticket that he forgot to grab.

Another time when we were walking, a guy on a bike was approaching us from the other direction. Instead of slowing as he passed, he shouted "Full speed ahead!" and nearly plowed us down. The guy walking his dog behind us was also dumbfounded.

Fishing bait is ridiculously hard to procure for a city with so many lakes and fishing ponds. We ended up having to walk 40ish minutes to a specific hardware store to get some red worms. Most places close earlier than I expected, too. The downtown skywalks closed at like 5pm, and the department store Target closed at 8pm (where I live it's open until 10pm, and my hometown isn't exactly a nightlife city).

The city in general, and downtown in particular, felt surprisingly empty. Lots of businesses were closed, and there were very few people walking around compared to what I expected for a city of 400,000. A lady at a tea shop told me it was primarily due to Covid and remote work, and I think some people also inevitably brought up the George Floyd protests. Needless to say I probably don't share my opinions on those subjects with most petty-bourgeois/small business owning types, and I wouldn't be advocating to fill the emptiness with a bunch of privately owned mom and pop shops. But nevertheless, the emptiness does lend itself to a kind of uneasiness, a sense that the city isn't very lived-in.

I mentioned that stuff closes early, but that didn't stop people from screaming their lungs out and revving their loud-ass cars at 3 in the morning.

I also mentioned that the train stations have heating, which was a cool feature, but what wasn't cool was that some of the stations had those slanted hostile architecture fake benches that fail to be benches and only serve the purpose of inflicting cruelty. There are, at least, a lot of other places to sit and lie down throughout the city.

For a city that was recently at the epicenter of nation-wide protests against police violence, the Minneapolis government sure seems to be putting a lot of resources into cops still. I swear there were police vehicles on every other corner downtown, and lots of transit cops too. My friend from Portland remarked that Portland is doing more to rebrand toward social workers, compared to what Minneapolis seems to be doing. This probably goes without saying to people who share my politics but the police presence didn't do much to make downtown feel like a safer place.

For the most part I would describe any negative experiences as uncomfortable, but the one time I felt genuinely unsafe was when my friends and I tried to go to a little asia district on the outskirts of Saint Paul. According to the internet, there's an annual festival that happens there over the summer and we were hoping to check it out (we later learned that it would have happened two weeks earlier than our trip, and in any case it was cancelled this year entirely). The district turned out to be one tiny, and sketchy, stretch of street with like 2 restaurants. We walked around for a minute trying to find the event, and when we turned onto a street directly adjacent to the train station, a group of guys standing by their cars immediately started shouting at us, asking where we're from, and making comments that we "looked suspicious". They might have only been making fun of us, but in the moment it was not clear whether they were genuinely angry that we were somewhere they thought we didn't belong. That was uncomfortable enough, but when we walked back to get on the train after giving up on finding the event, another guy sitting on a bench told us not to be there after dark. Needless to say I don't plan on returning to Saint Paul.

Finally, my experience at the Minneapolis-Saint Paul airport on the day I was leaving to go home was a complete nightmare, but I think that deserves to be evaluated separately from the cities.

Overall, I had a great time with my friends, but I definitely felt uncomfortable on some occasions. Maybe that's down to my anxiety-ridden, quivering-chihuahua personality and the fact that I was raised by conservative parents in a kind of sheltered suburban area. However, right now I don't know if I would feel comfortable and safe living in the city, but maybe I just need to suck it up and acclimate myself and unlearn my prejudices.

Spent a week in Minneapolis

[wejoanbaezlove]

Need to repair bricks? We are the best provider of Brick repairs London. We only use bricks that match – our brickwork is purpose made to the requirements of our clients so that everything looks the same including any decorative bricks.

[redstarsecurity-blog]

Retail Security Surrey

Red Star retail security services provides protective services and loss prevention for retailers large and small. The steady rise of online shopping alternatives has forced a significant emphasis on the guest experience for brick and mortar retail locations globally. This translate into an increased focus on both a safe and secure shopping environment. Over the years, Red Star has expanded its presence in the retail industry by providing teams of dedicated, well-trained staff that respond to our clients’ priority needs.

Our retail security officers act as property ambassadors by being visible, open and accessible to assist the public – providing directions to their favourite store or reuniting separated family members. High visibility and tracking proactive customer touch points helps to deter undesirable activity while ensuring that the property can be safely enjoyed by one and all. We provide complete solutions for independent shops, department stores, shopping malls and chain stores. We provide Retail Security Services to a wide range of retail companies including department stores, shopping centres, and retail stores of all sizes. Retail tenants, their employees, customers all need to feel secure and welcome in your facility and safe.

https://www.redstarsecurity.ca/retail-security/

5896 186a Street Surrey, BC V3S 7Z9

(+1) 604-779-6768

[peckhampeculiar]

An inspired idea

EUGENE OFOLIE CODJOE REALISED A LONG-HELD AMBITION WHEN HE OPENED ECAD, HIS GALLERY AND STUDIO IN SE15. 

The Peckham resident explains how he discovered a passion for photography – and what’s coming up next at the space

WORDS: COLIN RICHARDSON; PHOTO: BENJAMIN RICE

It has taken Peckham resident Eugene Ofolie Codjoe years of hard work to realise his dream of owning his own photography gallery. Now, just over a year since the dreaming stopped and reality kicked in, Eugene reckons it’s all been worth it.

ECAD (Eugene Codjoe Architecture and Design) gallery and studio opened its doors in November 2017. It occupies a unit in the White Building, on the corner of Consort and Brayards roads, a short hop from Rye Lane.

Eugene had been looking for the ideal space for quite some time, so when the unit became free, he snapped it up. Two months later, following a thorough fit-out of the space, ECAD announced its arrival on Peckham’s cultural scene.

Eugene’s inspiration is The Photographers’ Gallery in central London, which became the first public gallery in the UK to be dedicated solely to photography when it opened. “It started me thinking, ‘I’d love to have a space like this’,” he says. But the real germ of the idea lies in the fertile (back)ground of his life in architecture.

“The ambition to own a gallery came from my passion for and love of architectural spaces,” he says. “When I walk into a gallery, I don’t look at the artwork straightaway; I look at the space and what the space fills me with. It’s a lovely feeling. Then, when I’ve felt it, I go and look at the images.”

It’s that sense of wonder that Eugene hopes his own gallery will inspire in others – and as a space, it’s just right. It’s small and intimate enough that you can get up close and personal with the work, but large enough to allow you to step back and take it all in. As well as the gallery, there’s a portrait studio behind the scenes.

To date, the gallery has hosted nine exhibitions, starting in 2017 with a show of Eugene’s work. The 10th exhibition, Intimate Waters, by local artist Mark C Long, is open now and runs until February 24. Noel Clegg’s “beautiful fine-art, black-and-white imagery of Venice” is on show in April.

Eugene was born in Queen’s Park in north London. “At school I had a flair for drawing,” he says. “It was always in me. When I got to the end of the sixth form, ready to leave school and go into further education, I remember going to see my careers officer and telling him what I was about, what I had studied, and he instantly said, ‘I see you in the building industry’. And that’s how it started.”

Eugene went on to study at Willesden College of Technology (now the College of North West London), where he learned to build as well as draw. “My technology tutor was a bricklayer by trade and he happened to be having a rear extension built on his house,” Eugene says. “He got me to do the drawings and then, because he knew I had DIY skills, he asked me and a friend if we’d like to learn how to build an extension. He taught us how to lay bricks and we ended up building the whole thing from start to finish.”

That experience stood him in good stead. From Willesden, he went to Kingston Polytechnic (now Kingston university) to study architectural technology for five years. Upon graduating, he could have gone on to complete his studies as an architect. Instead, he decided to get a job.

“That was in 1987 and I’ve never looked back,” he says. “I’ve got a solid 30 years behind me of construction technology and design technology, planning, working on site – I can speak the lingo of the contractors.

“My first job was at Baltic Quay at Surrey Quays. I did the drawings for it and was the site architect. That was when I started taking photographs. I started to record the evolution of the build.

“I’ve never studied photography; I’m self-taught. I found it very rewarding. As well as photographing my projects I started photographing my mornings; what I call my ‘urban serenity’. When I worked full-time as an architect, I was out of the door at five in the morning. At that time of the day, the city is yours. There’s no one else around.”

Eugene resigned from full-time employment in 2016, when the architectural practice he was working for at the time underwent a restructuring.

“There was definitely a glass ceiling,” he says of his time as an employee. “I chose to refuse that it was there for a long time. I worked for at least eight very established and well-revered architectural practices and I’ve been the only black person at every single one of them. I’ve held my ground, I’ve done a really good job at all of them, they know that. But I was the only one. So, if my experience is representative of black people in architecture, that’s a sad fact of life.

“I didn’t use that as a chip on my shoulder, though. I’d just got to the point where I was tired of working hard and not really getting the recognition that I thought I deserved.”

Eugene, a Peckham resident of 20 years, lives off Queen’s Road with his wife, a ceramicist who works for the nearby Kiln Rooms. He still works as an architect, fitting in freelance commissions around the demands of the gallery. He has to. It takes time to establish a gallery, especially one as out-of-the-way as ECAD. His friends think he’s mad.

“They think I should be somewhere with more footfall,” he says. “I disagree. On holiday, isn’t it nice when you go off the beaten track and find a little place you didn’t know was there? That’s what I want this place to become. I want people to say, ‘I was in Peckham the other day and I came across this great gallery on Consort Road.’”

[architectnews]

Fletcher Crane Architects creates compact brick house on former garage site

Fletcher Crane Architects has completed a two-bedroom house on a brownfield plot in west London featuring grey-brick walls that are left exposed throughout the living areas and sunken bedrooms.

Named Tree House, the dwelling was designed by London studio Fletcher Crane Architects for a former garage site in a conservation area in Chiswick that is bounded by rear gardens.

Fletcher Crane Architects has completed a grey-brick house in London

The studio was challenged to design a house that makes the most of the compact plot while also meeting strict local planning criteria including a limit to the building's parapet level.

To provide the necessary spaces, this required embedding the house in the ground using excavations extending to a depth of 3.2 metres below street level.

It occupies the site of an old garage

"Building on a brownfield site with a series of constraints ultimately created a special home," project architect Harry Reid told Dezeen.

"The resulting massing straddles the boundary over a split-level arrangement of four floors," Reid added. "This configuration means no floor is really disconnected from each other and makes the 85-square-metre home feel bigger than it really is."

The brickwork is exposed inside

Tree House is designed to fit unobtrusively in the terraced street, although its geometric form and grey-brick walls mark it out as a contemporary addition. Its name nods to a tree situated on the pavement outside.

"The street scene is mature and repetitive, with a significant row of historic villas which are all set back from the road," Reid pointed out. "Our site sits on the street front and we used brick boundary walls to ensure this stitched into the prevailing materiality."

Exposed brick is teamed with ash joinery and terrazzo flooring

The cubic volumes are built using load-bearing brick with flush-jointed lime mortar. The brickwork is left exposed both inside and out to highlight the construction method.

A secluded passage along the western boundary leads to the house's entrance, which opens onto a kitchen-diner and a circulation spine connecting several split levels.

The house enters into a kitchen-diner

The main living areas are located on the upper floors to make the most of the available natural light. Two bedrooms with adjoining bathrooms are situated within the semi-sunken levels below.

A courtyard adjoining one of the bedrooms is lined with stepped brick planters and is accessed from the driveway via a paddle stair made from black cobble setts.

Read:

Phillips Tracey squeezes brick-clad Jupp House onto site of a former garage

Externally, the grey brick contrasts with black timber and tubular metalwork, forming a simple and raw material palette that extends inside the house.

The internal brick walls are complemented by ash joinery, terrazzo tiles and metal balustrades. Windows and skylights wash the rooms with natural light while curved elements, including a railing that wraps around the staircase, soften the overall aesthetic.

A sunken bedroom leads out onto a courtyard

Fletcher Crane Architects was established in 2010 in Kingston upon Thames by Toby Fletcher and Ian Crane. The studio's previous work includes a house built on an infill site beneath a high-rise building near London's Hyde Park.

Elsewhere in London, local studio Phillips Tracey Architects also created a compact brick house on the site of a former garage.

The photography is by Lorenzo Zandri and the video is by Ben Tynegate. 

Project credits:

Architect: Fletcher Crane Architects Contractor: Project 1 Design + Build
 Structural engineer: MDA Structures
 Approved inspector: MLM
SAP Consultant Surrey Energy Management
 Joinery: Bee9, Holte, Creative Edge Furniture
 Metalwork: AF Metalwork Fabrication

The post Fletcher Crane Architects creates compact brick house on former garage site appeared first on Dezeen.

[seanbutlermarketing-blog]

A Look At The Brick Pointing Process

If your brick wall is old and worn down, it probably needs a thorough restoration and brick pointing is often a part of this restoration process. Brick pointing or repointing is the process of replacing the old and crumbling mortar between bricks with fresh material. This improves the structural integrity of the wall and helps it withstand different weather conditions. It is important to hire a qualified professional for repointing because they use the best techniques and materials for the job. Here’s a look at the brick pointing process:

 1. Preparing the Wall

 The workers will first remove surface mortar from the wall and clear out all damaged mortar. In most cases, they will remove around 3/4th of an inch to one inch of a regular pointing width. If more than half of the mortar is damaged, the worker might remove the bricks, clear the old mortar, lay a new bed, and place the bricks on top of it. This process lays the foundation for further brick repairs.

 2. Mixing Mortar

 Once the damaged mortar is cleared, the worker will prepare a fresh batch of ideal mortar mixture. They will use good-quality materials and ensure the mix can withstand different weather conditions well. In most cases, experts mix one part Portland cement and two parts lime in nine parts of sand. This is a reliable mixture that provides superior waterproofing, flexibility, and moisture permeability. You can add colour to the material to improve the appearance of the final product.

 3. Preparing the Wall

 The wall should be prepared before pointing to ensure the mortar sticks. Experts will first brush away all loose material from the surface and the gaps. They will then moisten the wall thoroughly. This ensures the brick doesn’t absorb moisture from the mortar mix and compromise its integrity. A wet and clean wall is the ideal surface for the repointing process.

 4. Pointing

 Once the wall is ready, the pointing expert will carefully push the mortar into the gaps between bricks. They will press the material firmly to ensure there are no trapped air pockets and the mortar fills the gap between bricks. Air pockets can compromise the structural integrity of the wall as the air in them can expand and contract with the weather.

 5. Finishing

 Once the workers have pushed the mortar into the gaps, they will carefully shape the surface of the mortar according to the client’s preferences. There are different kinds of pointing techniques and finishes. You can choose between flush, recessed, struck, grooved-in, tuckpointing, v-pointing, and other such options. Consult with your contractor to understand the different styles and determine which one is the best option for you. There are many brick pointing techniques and finishes available so you can customize the appearance of your wall according to your requirements.

 The mortar needs to dry and cure for around 72 hours in 5°C to 30°C temperatures to harden fully.

 If you want to know more about brick pointing service, don’t hesitate to reach us through our website today. We’ll be happy to help.

 Original source:- https://uberant.com/article/591640-a-look-at-the-brick-pointing-process/