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mxstellatayte · 22 days ago

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pretty please: chapter three.

pretty please masterlist.

chapter three contents: these hoes being in LOVE love, a lot of plot but it makes sense just wait, 2020 turkish grand prix, very brief sex but it's vanilla bullshit, love confessions, lewis' private jet, ROSCOEEEEEE

chapter three word count: 4.8k

taglist (crossed out means i could not tag you/no blog was found): @pear-1206 @vivi-81 @irishmanwhore @lucycowr @benstormy

@anat33-blog1 @Xoscar03 @tremendousstarlighttragedy @nenamalenaa @champagneproblems17

@marknolee @toby33b @theendofthematerialgworl @soloqualcosa @sassyinchident808

@slutmeoutsworld @itsgrlalmghty

join my taglist here!

she on an ego trip, baggage in the trunk

lewis sent emails.

a month later, you get an email from one of the mercedes pr representatives, the subject line reading "turkish grand prix invitation." you roll your eyes, already knowing exactly who arranged your visit to the grand prix. as expected, should you accept the invitation, you'll be receiving premium treatment from mercedes, equal only to a vip paddock pass. when you send lewis a text about it, he simply responds by asking if you'll be there.

your reply? "if nothing comes up, i'll be there."

when you receive the email in late september with your november assignments, you breathe a sigh of relief when you don't have any traveling on the roster for the whole month. after a brief phone call with lewis and a lot of insistence on your part that, seriously, you'll survive a four hour flight on commercial, you giggle and roll across your bed, squealing like a teenager. the day of your flight can't arrive soon enough.

tuesday, 10 november, 2020.

the timing of your flight to istanbul is, admittedly, less than ideal. you land at almost ten PM local time, so by the time you've made it through customs, your eyelids are heavy and you want nothing more than to hit the pillows of the hotel bed that awaits you. thankfully, it's relatively easy to spot the driver that mercedes has sent for you. you find the well-dressed employee- melek, her name tag reads- who holds a tablet with your last name on it, and greet her with a smile beneath her mask. "i trust you had a good flight?"

"yes, i did. thank you. how have things been here?"

"they've been good. i'm sure you know that when mr. hamilton wins this weekend, he'll secure the championship. please, let me take your bag." you nod, handing her the handle of your suitcase but keeping your backpack slung over your shoulder. "will we be heading to the hotel or another destination, ma'am?"

"i think i need to head to the hotel tonight. i'm exhausted. thank you" melek nods, tacking her tablet under her arm. "lead the way." the car ride to the hotel isn't long by any means, but despite the flight from london to istanbul being just under four hours, you still feel the exhaustion that only exists in the depths of your bones, and it's an exhaustion you only feel after a day of travel. frankly, you don't know how the drivers, mechanics, engineers, lawyers, and team principals regularly do this, sometimes traveling to upwards of twenty races each year.

"i am staying in this hotel, as well, and my phone number is on my business card so that you can call or text me. i am at your service for the week." melek fishes around in the pocket of her blazer, then pulls out a crisp white business card. you accept it gratefully, remarking with a smile that she won't have to be driving you anywhere for the rest of the day-you're completely and entirely drained of any energy from traveling. "in that case," melek says, matching your own smile beneath her mask, "good night."

you nod and bid her the same, smiling when you open the small pack melek had handed you with her business card, indicating that you're bound to stay on the twenty-second floor of the luxurious hotel. the elevator takes painfully long to climb to the floor, but once you stagger through your door, ditch your suitcase somewhere along the way to your bed, and barely manage to untie your shoes, pull off your jeans, and yank on a pair of loose, star-printed sleep shorts, you shimmy under the duvet and fall fast asleep.

one thing that you've considered about visiting the middle east multiple times has been the dress code. sure, there isn't any explicit dress code, per se- it's not like school where you had a specific uniform that you had to obey every day lest you'd get a talking to from one of your teachers or, god forbid, detention. no, it's much different, but it's still a dress code you're going to obey. in fact, in the middle east, it's much more like a social norm than a dress code. since islam is the most commonly practiced religion in turkey, you've opted for some of the more modest items of clothing in your closet, even packing a dress that goes past your knees and reaches your wrists for the race.

today, you're going to explore istanbul. after arranging your flights and lodging, you'd been asked what you would want to do in your two free days before the race weekend. normally, you'd only have one free day, if any, before needing to report for your media duties, but, since you're a guest to this race, the first time you'll set foot in the paddock is friday, for the free practices. another reason melek is your guide for this weekend is because she was born in istanbul and knows the city like the back of her hand.

it seems that you beat melek to her first comment, which is that of modest clothing and keeping your wallet close to you. today, instead of the professional attire she wore last night, she wears a simple long dress in a beautiful dark purple (an abaya, she says,) and the same black hijab she was wearing yesterday, but today she wears a white undercap as opposed to the black one from yesterday.

"do you have any ideas for what you want to do for the next two days?" she says, smearing paprika butter onto her toast. you both have ordered the same meal, although you just followed her lead when her eyes lit up upon seeing that her favorite breakfast was on the menu. çilbir, she said it was called.

you shake your head, swallowing the bite of poached egg and toast, the rich flavors of the garlicky yogurt sauce the egg had sat on remaining in your mouth. "not really. the only idea i had was to follow your lead, honestly. i saw that you were born here and figured it would be best to see what someone who knows the city as well as you do would do with a free day." melek's eyes light up once more, smiling broadly.

"i was kind of hoping you'd say that." her voice is filled with glee, and you know you're in good hands when she pulls out her phone and shows you a list of ideas she'd come up with the night before. "if you're up for it, the first thing i'd like to do is a bit of shopping. the grand bazaar is absolutely incredible and, if you'd like, we can find you an abaya and a hijab for you to wear this weekend." when you nod eagerly at her idea, another bite of your breakfast in your mouth, she continues. "i'm not sure if architecture and culture is your thing, but the blue mosque and the hagia sophia are the most iconic mosques in istanbul, so those are definitely also ideas for places we could visit. they're also right next to each other, so we can definitely see both if you want."

you finish your breakfasts making relatively loose plans for the day, and you can tell that melek is overjoyed that you're excited to learn more about istanbul. as she'd suggested, your first stop is the grand bazaar, and you really underestimated it. it's loud, crowded, and hot, but it's beautiful in its own unique way. the first shop that melek pulls you into is a clothing shop, and your jaw drops. the fabrics that line the walls are in colors so rich and beautiful you almost think you're viewing the post-editing photographs of it, yet you somehow know that it's real.

"it's beautiful, isn't it?" melek's voice snaps you out of your trance, and you nod.

"it's stunning. thank you for bringing me here."

"this is just the beginning. what colors do you normally wear?" after telling her, she rattles something off to the stall owner, a kind-eyed woman wearing an abaya and hijab similar to melek's, though she doesn't wear an undercap and her hijab is much more opaque. "oh, look at that." when you turn, seeing what she's referring to, you're starstuck. a dark blue abaya lays in the stall owner's arms, and something uneasy stirs in your stomach. you attempt to quell it, though, instead accepting the dress from the owner and scurrying behind a curtain to try it on. when you emerge and face the full length mirror, a sheepish grin spreads on your face when melek gawks at you. "oh, my goodness. you look stunning."

"really?"

"absolutely. do you want to try on a hijab, too?" the uneasy feeling returns in your stomach, and this time, you're able to pinpoint what it is.

"wouldn't it be appropriating your culture, though? i don't want to offend anyone."

"oh, nonsense," melek says with a wave of her hand. "i'd say you're appreciating it more than anything. here, try mine on. pull your hair back?" she unfastens the magnets that hold the fabric together at her chin and drapes it over your hair, securing it with the magnets below your chin and styling it how she had it on her own head. when she moves away from the mirror and you're able to look at your reflection, you're... slightly shocked.

somehow, despite your typical style being jeans that hug your body and shirts or blouses that end before your elbows, you feel beautiful in a full-length dress and a headscarf.

you feel beautiful, confident, and, most of all, you feel strong.

you don't notice it initially, but tears are brimming your eyes, and melek jumps forward, dabbing at your eyes with the sleeve of her abaya. you laugh, tilting your eyes upwards to avoid letting the tears fall. "you look absolutely beautiful."

"i feel beautiful."

by the time you collapse into your bed that day, your smartwatch has logged more than 30,000 steps throughout the streets of istanbul, your camera roll has increased by nearly 500 photos, your stomach is full of delicious street food, and you've purchased two abayas, a white undercap, and three different hijabs. you travel to the middle east several times a year- why shouldn't you have some outfit variability?

before parting ways for the day, you'd made plans with melek to visit some museums tomorrow, the first of which is the rumeli fortress and the second being the topkapi palace museum. you just hope your phone has enough storage to hold all the photos you're going to take.

so pretty and you know it, my heart goes hammer time

soon enough, friday rolls around, and you can't help but admit that you're a bit nervous. knowing the media, they'll tear you to pieces for simply adhering to the cultural norm, but you push down your anxieties in favor of smiling at yourself in the mirror- you really look gorgeous. you're wearing the dark blue abaya you found on wednesday with a simple white chiffon hijab. the juste un clou necklace sits just below your collarbones, and you'd laid your hijab in such a way that it'll be visible, but only if you're really looking for it. knowing lewis, though, he'll see it instantly. after tying the ribbons into a bow at your back, giving your silhouette a fitted waistline to contrast the otherwise fully modest outfit, you make sure everything you'll need is inside your clutch, including two extra masks, and head to the elevators. once you arrive in the lobby, melek greets you with a smile below her mask and hands you a vip guest pass.

"you look beautiful," she assures, almost as if she could read your mind once you sit in the car.

"thank you. you do, too." she's wearing a white shirt and pants set below her lilac jacket-style abaya with a black undercap and hijab, and her converse match the abaya. honestly, it bugs you a little bit how she's so effortlessly beautiful and stylish.

when you step out of the car at the paddock, you slide the pass over your head and hold your clutch tightly in order to stop your hands from shaking. the nerves are starting to settle into your bones, but they're immediately banished when you catch a glimpse of dark tattooed skin, and you instinctively call out his name.

"lewis!"

he'd know that voice anywhere.

before he can fully register your voice, he's whipping around and scanning the crowd for you, almost skimming over your figure. "hey!" he approaches you, and, as is the standard now, brings you in for a hug. "you look amazing. where- when did you buy this?"

when you turn, attempting to find melek in the crowd, you realize it's purely in vain- she's ducked away from the cameras and is making a beeline for the turnstiles to enter the paddock while somehow still avoiding every single camera. "well, she's disappeared now, but melek and i went shopping in the grand bazaar on wednesday. it was absolutely beautiful. you need to go sometime." you've started walking toward the turnstiles with lewis, and you fish your pass out from the folds of your hijab. "you feeling ready for this weekend?"

"a little nervous, but you know how it is."

"i don't, in fact," you quip, making lewis laugh, and, oh, how you missed that laugh. it's high and bubbly and fills you with so many stupid emotions that you really don't want to process right now, so instead you try to turn your dumb smile into a sly smirk. "why don't you tell me?"

"it's... difficult to put into words." he pauses, fist bumping sebastian vettel and giving him the signature 'bro pat' on his arm before returning to his conversation with you. "there's different feelings for each event. for practice sessions, there's less pressure and you're just trying to get a feel for the track, the conditions, learn which corners you're over- or understeering in, that kind of thing. for qualifying, though, it's a waiting game for the first bit, and then, on your flying lap, the world goes quiet. i learn the car get a feel for it and how it responds to everything in the practice sessions, and then in qualifying, i boil all of the mental notes i gathered during the three hours of practice down into one or two notes per corner and send it. i put everything into the car like it's the last lap of the last race and the championship is purely based on this lap." by now, you've made it to the mercedes garage, and you're handed a headset to slip over your neck before smiling and fist bumping a majority of the mechanics and hugging bono quickly. as soon as you've ducked out of view of the cameras, lewis' hand grasps yours tightly, and you quietly thank whatever gods are watching over you that you haven't taken your mask off yet, because you're positive that the heat seeping through your cheeks is incredibly visible.

"when i'm in the car for the race, though, it's a whole different feeling. i feel every minute detail, every time the tires slip or lock up in the slightest bit, how the car gets snappier with each lap as the fuel burns off, every tiny pebble or piece of debris that i run over." you don't let lewis continue talking, instead unhooking your mask from your ears, reaching up to undo his, and kissing him softly. your hands, still holding both masks, rest on his chest and his arms wrap around your waist, caging you in safely.

"you should be a poet," you say, smiling softly against lewis' skin while he continues peppering feather-light kisses to the corners of your lips and cheeks.

"oh yeah? what makes you say that?"

"the way you explained that was... beautiful."

within the next hour, your phone is being blown up with notifications. to be fair, most of them are from amelia saying how absolutely stunning you look and encouraging you to "go get that driver dick, baby!" the others are mostly instagram and twitter notifications, and although the majority are praising you for respecting the modest culture, the ones that you remember the most are the ones critiquing and berating you.

"don't go looking through that bullshit," lewis says, prying your phone from your hands. you're laying on his couch after the first practice session, your feet kicked up onto one armrest and your head resting against the other. "they're just jealous because you look so pretty."

on saturday, lance stroll takes pole, excelling in the rainy conditions. the internet goes up in flames when you arrive at the paddock wearing an abaya and a hijab yet again, but today, you remember lewis' words, and your nerves calm a bit. in the post-qualifying interviews, though, you're surprised when sebastian, daniel, carlos, lewis, and valtteri all come forward, defending you and condemning any fans that have been criticizing you for dressing in a culturally sensitive manner.

it's sunday. you had seen the abaya you're wearing today on your walk to the topkapi palace on thursday and it remained in the back of your mind the whole time you browsed the museum. on your way back, you'd nudged melek and gone into the shop with her, and, after standing behind melek slightly awkwardly as she conversed with the shop's worker in turkish, you paid for the dark teal abaya and moved on to the rumeli fortress. a dubai abaya, melek had called it. "it's more dressy- see the embroidery on the sleeves? it's typically for more luxurious or glamorous occasions."

what's more glamorous than the pinnacle of motorsport?

when you find lewis and valtteri in the garage, their faces light up and lewis brings you in for a hug quickly. "you look stunning, as always," he whispers, and a rush of butterflies flood your stomach once more.

"thank you."

"can i get a spin?" valtteri says, and you happily oblige, the abaya twirling at your feet. "it suits you." you beam below your mask. valtteri is a very reserved person, but you've quickly learned his mannerisms. he isn't the person to hand out compliments for the heck of it, so when you do get a compliment from him, you know he really means it.

"thanks, valtteri. you ready for today?" he nods and is about to respond when his race engineer notifies him that he needs to review some strategy ideas, so he excuses himself from the conversation and you're left with lewis. "what about you, soon-to-be seven-time world champion?"

"nervous. with the track being such a high-speed circuit and the rain, it's going to be hard to not spin out."

"aw, come on. you'll do great."

and he does. after multiple rain clouds, fluctuations in temperature, and so many close calls that could've resulted in spins or crashes, you're clapping in the mercedes garage, hugging every mechanic that's overwhelmed with glee alongside you. your headset is over your ears, and you tear up a little bit hearing lewis' voice over the radio.

"what a way to win your seventh world title," bono says next to you, and you laugh when you hear lewis squealing with joy. "mate, you have got to be proud of that. what an awesome drive."

lewis has tears in his voice when he replies, and you can't tell if he's breathing heavily because of the race or because of the fact that he just equalled michael schumacher's record for seven world titles. "thank you so much, guys! woo! that's for all the kids out there that dream the impossible. you can do it too, man. i believe in you guys. thank you so much, everyone, for your support." sebastian is the first person to congratulate him, running over in parc fermé after pulling off his own helmet, brushing away a scarlet team kit-clad ferrari employee trying to bring him to the weigh station in favor of kneeling just in front of the halo, reaching his hand through, and clasping it tightly with lewis' own. when he manages to climb out of the car and run over to the crowd of mercedes employees waiting for him, he's absorbed by arms and hands patting him on the back, jumping up and down with glee. you're hanging back in the crowd and doing your best to avoid the cameras, but when lewis pulls away from the giant hug and spots you, wearing his colors supporting his team, he's struck by an abrupt realization--one he's been deliberately avoiding admitting to himself for months, instead opting to shift his focus to any other topic.

yeah.

he's in love with you.

the love we make is poison, it's like my only vice

you don't see him again until after the podium ceremony. he stands between sebastian and sergio, and the crowd roars when he steps out onto the platform, the words "seven-time world champion" ringing in your ears as the british national anthem begins to play. you giggle when you notice that the wrong digital flags hang above sergio and sebastian's heads despite the drivers standing on the correct steps, and you're pretty sure it's a laugh to stop yourself from crying because if you stop smiling you will cry.

after he's handed the trophy, he steps forward off of the podium and tosses it in the air as the crowd below cheers. following the remaining three trophies being handed to their respective recipients, champagne sprays, the toreador march plays, and you couldn't be happier. as soon as lewis steps off the podium, you're the first person he looks for, but he's herded towards the media pen where he's held captive for the next hour, but all he wants to do is get back to you and celebrate his victory. when he does find you, hours later, you're curled into a ball on his couch, a pile of teal fabric and your hair splayed out behind you, and lewis is pretty sure his heart melts.

he sets his phone down on the massage table next to your hijab and squats in front of the couch, laying a gentle hand on your shoulder and shaking slightly. despite the only light in the room being the glow from the light outside the door, your eyes still briefly struggle to adjust to it, and lewis has to hold your hands to stop you from rubbing at them- your eyeliner looks especially perfect today.

"hey there, seven-time world champion," you murmur, sitting up and taking his face in your hands. "how was media?"

"agonizingly slow, as always. but i'm here with you now, and that's what matters." you smile, leaning in to kiss him softly, and lewis gladly accepts, kissing you softly. all too soon, though, he remembers the realization he had after the race, and pulls back, a pout finding your lips in response. "can we talk about something?" your heart rate spikes upon hearing the words, and lewis must see how your eyebrows rise slightly and your lips part in confusion, because he's quick to quell your anxieties. "it's nothing bad, don't worry. it's just... weird to think about this conversation."

"i've got time," you reply, patting the spot next to you on the couch and shifting so that you're looking directly at him when he takes his seat. "what's on your mind?"

lewis hesitates, his eyes shifting uneasily and his hands fidgeting in his lap. on instinct, you reach forward and take his hands in yours, stopping him from picking at his nails the way he does when he's nervous. "i don't really know why i haven't asked you this before, and it's really weird saying this out loud because i don't think i've ever had to do this, but do you... do you want to go out on a proper date?"

you're a bit gobsmacked, if you're being entirely honest. of all the things you'd expected him to say, that was probably the last thing on your list. your jaw drops open a bit, and lewis looks like he's about to backpedal, but your reflexes, in this one instance, are faster. "i'd love to, lewis." relief immediately floods his face, and you laugh, watching as every tense muscle in his body releases and he exhales a dramatic sigh of relief.

"oh, thank god. i don't know what i would've done if you'd said no."

"lewis, are you crazy? why would i ever say no?" you lower your voice just slightly, still aware of the open door, and, despite most of the team having already returned to their hotels, some people are still milling about, and you don't exactly want the entire paddock hearing what you're about to say. "not only are you the most kind and attentive person i've ever met, you're incredibly attractive, and i'd be lying if i said that the sex with you hasn't been the best in my entire life." lewis laughs, leaning forward and resting his head on your knuckles where they still clutch his hands.

"how does dinner sound?" he sits up again, still smiling brightly.

"dinner sounds lovely. i'm not sure when we'll be in the same area next, though."

"why not tonight?"

"i'm hardly dressed for getting dinner with the lewis hamilton," you begin, but lewis cuts you off with a kiss.

"you look stunning. i couldn't outshine you if i tried." it's your turn to hide your face in your hands, a dumb, teenager-in-love smile spreading across your face. "let me shower and get dressed, and then we'll head out?" you nod, and lewis leans forward to kiss you quickly before standing and heading towards the door to his bathroom.

you're wearing nothing but your perfume it's one hell of a view

"you're absolutely beautiful." you aren't sure how many times lewis has murmured those words in your ear since you left the mercedes motorhome, but this time, it's your chance to say it. you've both removed every article of clothing you wore out to dinner, your abaya and hijab abandoned somewhere on the floor and, dropped between them somewhere, lie lewis' shirt and slacks.

when he pushes into you, your mouth falls open in a breathy moan that lewis swallows greedily, his lips a comforting touch on your own, and your arms wrap around his broad shoulders to hold him as close as possible. his thrusts are slow and deliberate, pressing against every spot deep inside of you that makes you see stars. "you like it deep like that?"

the only response you're able to form is a whiny "yeah" that just sounds downright pathetic to your ears.

lewis tucks his head into the crook of your neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin there, kissing and licking softly, letting his teeth occasionally graze gently. you're engulfed in the smell of his cologne, a delicate mix of rose, cumin, and cedarwood that you wish you could bathe in. his thrusts take a slow pace, one that has your orgasm creeping up on you slowly but surely, and when it hits you, your fingers dig into his shoulders as you cum with a cry of his name on your lips, the faint sting of tears in your eyes.

the next morning, you're curled up against lewis' side in his jet, looking out onto istanbul as you fly out of the beautiful city. roscoe's head is laid in your lap, and your fingers idly scratch along his head. if dogs purred, roscoe would be doing just that. lewis' left hand holds your right, his thumb gently running along your own, and your head rests in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

for the first time in a week, you feel peaceful. you don't have to keep up appearances for anyone, you don't have to worry about running into any cameras, and you can just... exist. the fact that lewis is by your side, his form protective over you, only brings you further comfort.

it's you who speaks up first. "what're you thinking about?"

"hm?"

"you've got something on your mind. you need to talk about it?"

"just thinking about you."

"what about me?"

"will you be my partner?"

your kiss against his lips gives him a very enthusiastic answer that he can only hope to assume means yes. when you part, your cheeks burning from smiling and tears stinging your waterline, you laugh lightly.

"you made me an offer i can't refuse. i got it bad for you, baby."

and that's a wrap! i hope you guys liked the story <3 as always, all my love to every single one of you that stuck around to see this through. i know i'm over a month late on this final chapter but it took me forever to find an ending that i actually liked. thank you for reading and pls pls check out my other stories.

all my best,

stella

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years ago

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2023's public domain is a banger

40 years ago, giant entertainment companies embarked on a slow-moving act of arson. The fuel for this arson was copyright term extension (making copyrights last longer), including retrospective copyright term extensions that took works out of the public domain and put them back into copyright for decades. Vast swathes of culture became off-limits, pseudo-property with absentee landlords, with much of it crumbling into dust.

After 55-75 years, only 2% of works have any commercial value. After 75 years, it declines further. No wonder that so much of our cultural heritage is now orphan works, with no known proprietor. Extending copyright on all works – not just those whose proprietors sought out extensions – incinerated whole libraries full of works, permanently.

But on January 1, 2019, the bonfire was extinguished. That was the day that items created in 1923 entered the US public domain: DeMille's Ten Commandments, Chaplain's Pilgrim, Burroughs' Tarzan and the Golden Lion, Woolf's Jacob's Room, Coward's London Calling and 1,000+ more works:

https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/publicdomainday/2019/

Many of those newly liberated works were forgotten, partly due to their great age, but also because no one knew who they belonged to (Congress abolished the requirement to register copyrights in 1976), so no one could revive or reissue them while they were still in the popular imagination, depriving them of new leases on life.

2019 was the starting gun on a new public domain, giving the public new treasures to share and enjoy, and giving the long-dead creators of the Roaring Twenties a new chance at posterity. Each new year since has seen a richer, more full public domain. 2021 was a great year, featuring some DuBois, Dos Pasos, Huxley, Duke Ellington, Fats Waller, Bessie Smith and Sydney Bechet:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/16/fraught-superpowers/#public-domain-day

In just 12 days, the public domain will welcome another year's worth of works back into our shared commons. As ever, Jennifer Jenkins of Duke's Center for the Public Domain have painstaking researched highlights from the coming year's entrants:

https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/publicdomainday/2023/

On the literary front, we have Virginia Woolf's To The Lighthouse, AA Milne's Now We Are Six, Hemingway's Men Without Women, Faulkner's Mosquitoes, Christie's The Big Four, Wharton's Twilight Sleep, Hesse's Steppenwolf (in German), Kafka's Amerika (in German), and Proust's Le Temps retrouvé (in French).

We also get all of Sherlock Holmes, finally wrestling control back from the copyright trolls who control the Arthur Conan Doyle estate. This is a firm of rent-seeking bullies who have abused the court process to extract menaces money from living creators, including rent on works that were unambiguously in the public domain.

The estate's sleaziest trick is claiming that while many Sherlock Holmes stories were in the public domain, certain elements of Holmes's personality were developed in later stories that were still in copyright, and therefore any Sherlock story that contained those elements was a copyright violation. Infamously, the Doyle Estate went after the creators of the Enola Holmes series, claiming a copyright over Sherlock stories in which Holmes was "capable of friendship," "expressed emotion," or "respected women." This is a nonsensical theory, based on the idea that these character traits are copyrightable. They are not:

https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/publicdomainday/2023/#fn6text

The Doyle Estate's shakedown racket took a serious body-blow in 2013, when Les Klinger – a lawyer, author and prominent Sherlockian – prevailed in court, with the judge ruling that new works based on public domain Sherlock stories were not infringing, even if some Sherlock stories remained in copyright. The estate appealed and lost again, and Klinger was awarded costs. They tried to take the case to the Supreme Court and got laughed out of the building.

But as the Enola Holmes example shows, you can't keep a copyright troll down: the Doyle estate kept making up imaginary copyright laws in a desperate, grasping bid to wring more money out of living, working creators. That's gonna be a lot harder after Jan 1, when The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes enters the public domain, meaning that every Sherlock story will be out of copyright.

One fun note about Klinger's landmark win over the Doyle estate: he took an amazing victory lap, commissioning an anthology of new unauthorized Holmes stories in 2016 called "Echoes of Sherlock Holmes":

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Echoes-of-Sherlock-Holmes/Laurie-R-King/Sherlock-Holmes/9781681775463

I wrote a short story for it, "Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Extraordinary Rendition," which was based on previously unpublished Snowden leaks.

https://esl-bits.net/ESL.English.Listening.Short.Stories/Rendition/01/default.html

I got access to the full Snowden trove thanks to Laura Poitras, who jointly commissioned the story from me for inclusion in the companion book for "Astro noise : a survival guide for living under total surveillance," her show at the Whitney:

https://www.si.edu/object/siris_sil_1060502

I also reported out the leaks the story was based on in a companion piece:

https://memex.craphound.com/2016/02/02/exclusive-snowden-intelligence-docs-reveal-uk-spooks-malware-checklist/

Jan 1, 2023 will also be a fine day for film in the public domain, with Metropolis, The Jazz Singer, and Laurel and Hardy's Battle of the Century entering the commons. Also notable: Wings, winner of the first-ever best picture Academy Award; The Lodger, Hitchcock's first thriller; and FW "Nosferatu" Mirnau's Sunrise.

However most of the movies that enter the public domain next week will never be seen again. They are "lost pictures," and every known copy of them expired before their copyrights did. 1927 saw the first synchronized dialog film (The Jazz Singer). As talkies took over the big screen, studios all but gave up on preserving silent films, which were printed on delicate stock that needed careful tending. Today, 75% of all silent films are lost to history.

But some films from this era do survive, and they are now in the public domain. This is true irrespective of whether they were restored at a later date. Restoration does not create a new copyright. "The Supreme Court has made clear that 'the sine qua non of copyright is originality.'"

https://www.law.cornell.edu/supremecourt/text/499/340

There's some great music entering the public domain next year! "The Best Things In Life Are Free"; "I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream for Ice-Cream"; "Puttin' On the Ritz"; "'S Wonderful"; "Ol' Man River"; "My Blue Heaven" and "Mississippi Mud."

It's a banger of a year for jazz and blues, too. We get Bessie Smith's "Back Water Blues," "Preaching the Blues," and "Foolish Man Blues." We get Louis Armstrong's "Potato Head Blues" and "Gully Low Blues." We get Jelly Roll Morton's "Billy Goat Stomp," "Hyena Stomp," and "Jungle Blues." And we get Duke Ellington's "Black and Tan Fantasy" and "East St. Louis Toodle-O."

Note that these are just the compositions. No new sound recordings come into the public domain in 2023, but on January 1, 2024, all of 1923's recordings will enter the public domain, with more recordings coming in every year thereafter.

We're only a few years into the newly reopened public domain, but it's already bearing fruit. The Great Gatsby entered the public domain in 2021, triggering a rush of beautiful new editions and fresh scholarship:

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/01/14/books/the-great-gatsby-public-domain.html

These new editions were varied and wonderful. Beehive Books produced a stunning edition, illustrated by the Balbusso Twins, with a new introduction by Wellesley's Prof William Cain:

https://beehivebooks.com/shop/gatsby

And Planet Money released a fabulous, free audiobook edition:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/18/peak-indifference/#gatsby

Last year saw the liberation of Winnie the Pooh, unleashing a wild and wonderful array of remixes, including a horror film ("Blood and Honey") and also innumerable, lovely illustrations and poems, created by living, working creators for contemporary audiences.

As Jenkins notes, many of the works that enter the public domain next week display and promote "racial slurs and demeaning stereotypes." The fact that these works are now in the public domain means that creators can "grapple with and reimagine them, including in a corrective way." They can do this without having to go to the Supreme Court, unlike the Alice Randall, whose "Wind Done Gone" retold "Gone With the Wind" from the enslaved characters' perspective:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wind_Done_Gone

After all this, you'd think that countries around the world would have learned their lesson on copyright term extension, but you'd be wrong. In Canada, Justin Trudeau caved to Donald Trump and retroactively expanded copyright terms by 20 years, as part of USMCA, the successor to NAFTA. Trudeau ignored teachers, professors, librarians and the Minister of Justice, who said that copyright extension should require "a modest registration requirement" – so 20 years of copyright will be tacked onto all works, including those with no owners:

https://www.michaelgeist.ca/2022/04/the-canadian-government-makes-its-choice-implementation-of-copyright-term-extension-without-mitigating-against-the-harms/

Other countries followed Canada's disastrous lead: New Zealand "agreed to extend its copyright term as a concession in trade agreements, even though this would cost around $55m [NZ dollars] annually without any compelling evidence that it would provide a public benefit":

https://www.newsroom.co.nz/nz-agrees-to-mickey-mouse-copyright-law

Wrapping up her annual post, Jenkins writes of a "melancholy" that "comes from the unnecessary losses that our current system causes—the vast majority of works that no longer retain commercial value and are not otherwise available, yet we lock them all up to provide exclusivity to a tiny minority.

"Those works which, remember, constitute part of our collective culture, are simply off limits for use without fear of legal liability. Since most of them are 'orphan works' (where the copyright owner cannot be found) we could not get permission from a rights holder even if we wanted to. And many of those works do not survive that long cultural winter."

[Image ID: A montage of works that enter the public domain on Jan 1, 2023.]

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youthnighttarot · 2 years ago

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What if you were a Celebrity? (Pick-a-card) 🏆🎭🎬🎤🩰🎹

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Pile 1

Tarot Cards: 3oWrv, 8oCrv, QoS, Strength, High Priestessrv, 10oWrv, 2oCrv, 4oPrv

Fans: Your fans would be tough critics on you. You may leave your fans disappointed in you and, the outcome for your career. Or they may be disappointed with where you are in your career. You and your fans may be into luxury items.

Celebrity Friends: They will be a bit judgmental of others or of you. They may view you as lacking confidence/having low self worth. They see you as not being truly happy just being yourself. You may feel used…like you can’t say no. Or you’re having a hard time adjusting to fame.

Career Path: Artist/Painter…something where you use your intuition and problem solve. -> Architect, Lawyer, Public Speaker, Judge, Therapist, Comedian, Tech Industry (mogul), Journalist

How GP Views you: The GP sees you as having a quiet inner strength. They see you as brave and an unwavering truth teller/exposer. They see you as having overcome a variety of obstacles.

How will you become famous: You determination alone will be the main reason. The vitriol you have for lack of truth. You will become famous for airing out someone who wronged you and/or you fell out with. You will speak about how you doubted yourself because of them. This may be a family member, friend, lover, business partner, etc…someone close, you thought you could trust withholding secrets, lies, and money. This being why you fight for honesty and truth.

Love Life: There will be many, many, many ups and downs as well as turmoil in your relationships. Due to public perception I heard. You will find yourself with many suitors who you’re incompatible with. There may even be a divorce or break up that happens in the public. You may have suffered abuse.

Where you will be famous: Santa Domingo, Places often known for the damp dryness. Places where the people have suffered many betrayals. South Africa, London(UK), Angola, U.S.A, Gambia, Central South America

Awards/Achievements: Many of the Awards you receive center around your giving nature…helping out people financially….humanitarian awards ( This was a mistake my bad 🤧)

How you feel: You will fell stable and grounded financially. You will wish for more tact and diplomacy within your profession…especially when it comes to authority. You will be reclaiming the power stolen from you.

Pile 2

Tarot Cards: The Foolrv, KnoPrv, 3oP, The Emperor, 5oP, 8oC, AoCrv, 4oP, 9oP

Fans: Your fans may viewed as reckless and careless where it concerns you. Especially when you or them comes under attack. They’re viewed as irrational. Your fans may view you as having distractions in your life. They view you as hopeful.

Celebrity Friends: A lot of your celebrity friends will be financially well off, stable, rich, or wealthy. They will help you in your career. They are quite generous; They have power/control but use it for good. They see that you love what you do and, they look forward to working with you.

Career Path: Doctor(Obstetricia), you may deal with negligence with other people in your chosen path…Model Agency, Actor, Performer, Singer, Dancer. You may deal with unskilled people who you out-perform yet play second fiddle to. Try not to overwork yourself when you don’t have to. Fashion Industry(Designer) & Police officer. Which ever it is you WILL SUCCEED!!

How GP views you: They feel like your aggravating but, they don’t really know you. This is just how you come off. They may see you as aggravated all the time. They see you as independent and extremely wealthy. You may have a pregnancy(To those who can) or the birth of a business which has brought you great success. They see you as having a high standing within your industry as well. You could be everywhere Billboards, commercials, TV, movies. That may be where the annoyance is coming from.

How will you become Famous: Through apprenticeship, or studying under someone, or at an institution. Your hard work and skill will be notice by someone important in your industry or by and agency. Your level of commitment shows within you work and your ability to show up. You may team up or collab with a group of people and that project will shoot you to stardom. Immediately!! You’re extremely determine but will have the help of others.

Love Life: There may be minor hiccups with some relationships you have. A lot of your partners may be un-empathetic to you and your life. They could view you like forbidden fruit, 1 bite and there done for. For a time many suitors may be invested with you only for sex or your body. They may be selfish only interested in what they can get out of you or from you. Some may see you as an unattainable beauty they want to conquer. However pile 2 you will meet the one for you and you will feel worshipped and adored by them. You may have to call off a few (oop) engagements before you find your one. (This may happen publicly) You could be constantly in the media for your relationships. You will be forced to look deep within yourself and find love son you may be loved. (This was way too long 😭)

Where will you be famous: places that have had many financial losses but used this to cultivate art. Where beauty and femininity are the focal point. (For masculines your masculinity) Places where people felt left in the cold. U.S.A, Brazil, Columbia, Senegal, Korea, Japan, Europe, Scotland, Montreal, Canada, Baltic States, Bolivia

How you will feel: You may feel this is a blank slate to start over. You will feel you need to work through past traumas and hurt. You will want to forgive and move on from your past in light of your new future.

Pile 3

Tarot Cards: The Hermitrv, AoP, PoW, Temperancerv, 9oSrv, Strengthrv

Fans: Their gonna be rooting for you success for sure. They will be pretty chill and laidback. A lot of them will be attractive? ✨💋 Or they will find you attractive. They feel like you heart in no longer in it or you feel discontent with your work…or within your field. They see you as stagnant. Their rooting for you to make a comeback.

Celebrity Friends: They see you as being the master manifestor. They could use you for your clout or recognition. They see you as stable within you career/finances…to the point where they feel you can take bold chances and not be held back. They may feel like your constantly trying to reinvent yourself. Some may steal your swag or ideas from you but fail to replicate. (You cannot compete where you don’t compare) Most will be fake towards…you will see this and cut them off ASAP! You will have few celebrity friends because of this. Those that are real friends of yours will actually help you even financially if you need it. They may want to invest in you. For some of you…you may even have an affair with one of them.

Career Path: Your career path will be a part of your destiny. For some of you, this is how you meet your soulmate. Aesthetician, Fashion Blogger, Beauty Guru, MUA, Stylist, Museum Curator, Art Auctioneer, Agent, Manager, Business Owner, Model, Actress (Feminines), YouTuber,Magazine Editor. A place where your allowed to be a free thinker, playful and confident. You may be the youngest there for some of you.

How GP Views you: They see you as a hard worker, the kinda “pull yourself up by the boot strap” mentality. They believe you worked for everything you own. They see you as a role model for kids and adults alike. They feel at times you a bit immature because of your playful nature…like you don’t take things seriously often. They see you as lacking balance, you often get into arguments because of your one-sided beliefs or because your beliefs are so out of the ordinary. Some of your actions are seen as reckless and stupid. They feel you should do better because of you being viewed as a role model.

How you become famous: Viral Video…overnight success. By being vulnerable about self doubt you’ve experienced. This may be after a huge scandal that shot you to fame. But you used it as a stepping stool. (Some of you may resonate with pile 2) This was at a time where you were letting go and beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Love Life: “Through the darkness I saw you”. You will go through a lot of nostalgic connections. Where you are the center of your suitor’s attention. A lot of your relationships you’ll want to keep low key (For obvious reasons) but that never ends up happening. A lot of ur lover’s emotions run deep with you. Some may not be able to handle the spotlight or you having the spotlight. Your like a dream for many of them…gone as soon as you came. You may cook or they may cook for you. There is a lot of empathy for your feelings and passions.

Where will you be famous: Norwegian, Iceland, New York, Bronx, Chicago, Mexico, Russia, Yugoslavia, Prussia, New Zealand, Newfoundland, Australia, Phoenix, California, Gambia, Mozambique, Madagascar, France. A lot of colder areas or places with higher levels of heat.

How will you feel: You may feel like everyone’s always trying to find out/know tea about you. Due to this you’re careful about who you give your energy to. You are quick to energetically block someone. You don’t change for others you just walk away from them

Call me beep me if you wanna reach me…💃🏾🎤🎹📱📞☎️🤳🏾

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New PAC posted for night fairies check it out

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bloodandhedonism · 5 months ago

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RAPID-FIRE QUICK OPINIONS OF CITIES I'VE BEEN TO IN RECENT HISTORY

Rochester, New York (and other upstate NY cities in general) : Feels generic, but perhaps not necessarily in a bad way in this case. A resident said it's rare to see and live a place where kids still play in the front yard these days, so take as you will. New York, New York: What you'd expect these days. Allentown, Pennsylvania: Lots of industrial traffic as you'd expect, but cute town and good people. I made multiple and different kinds of friends here, which I consider very good for this sort of thing. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: Homey. Don't go too far west, though or you'll run into Pennsylvanians. Remember James Carville! Baltimore, Maryland: Cutesy, gives vibes of home. Funny to see products from businesses by people I grew up with in places there. Washington, DC: It really does try to be a commercial with everyone perfectly chosen from central casting. Bad vibes, avoid, avoid. Get out if you live there. Imperial capital though, what does one expect. Norfolk, Virginia: Military city as you'd expect, and by far the most "Southern" feeling city in this list. Interesting contrast between the attempted beachiness and the dominating military stuff. St. Augustine, Florida: The best city in Florida by far, but losing its soul over the years and I'm very worried. Flagler College students will be window dressing for the upscale middle-aged tourists coming there. Tampa, Florida: Genuinely horrible. Worst city on this list, one huge slum posing as a 'regular' city. Unfriendly people. Telling every other billboard is for a lawyer promising to get you big money. Bad sign of the future. Orlando, Florida: Better than Tampa I suppose, but leaning way too hard into being Red State America's family vacation Mecca, which will lead to issues for it in the future. This city isn't for me. Denver, Colorado: People there like me, at least one person recognized my face from before, and mountains are cool. Las Vegas, Nevada: Very middlebrow, which I don't say as a compliment. Seeing middle aged people in cosplay out in public in non-convention contexts was embarrassing. Only interesting bit was seeing where Balrog's Street Fighter II stage was IRL. Reykjavik, Iceland: Neat place. Felt like the USA but cold and barren, of course. Icelandics are a unique people, and a small part of me almost wants to classify Iceland with North America than Europe since the society just feels different from regular Europe. I always thought it was worth noting the tectonic plate cleaves through the island. London, England: Honest with itself in that it's big, very big, and touristy too, which for said honesty reasons I respect it. I liked it. British people really are the Americans of Europe. I shouldn't, but I like the UK. I will visit the midlands soon, so I hope to see a fun contrast. Brussels, Belgium: Also an honest city, in this case in that it's a transnational confederal capital for a lot of places. Mons, Belgium: Lovely. Friendly and great people. Taking the train to it and seeing the scenes of rural life reminded me of the countryside I'd see back home. Paris, France: Genuinely lovely, and my favorite city of this list. More cities should be like Paris. I didn't see or deal with any of the bad stuff I heard about it. Friendly people. I need to go back here. Frankfurt, Germany: Definitely generic. Lisbon, Portugal: Touristy because it's warm and honest with itself about it in that case, which is also fine. I like warm weather so I liked Lisbon. Warsaw, Poland: Likable. Quite a nice city, and Poles are a very welcoming people. (Be proud of your country, @aomitois.) A friendliness emanated from the city which I liked. Has an optimism which I find intriguing. Budapest, Hungary: Strangely, I was reminded most of Salisbury, Maryland with this one: there was an odd familiarity driving and walking through the city. Like with Warsaw, it's legitimately trying hard, but that makes sense for Eastern Europe in this era.

I'm sure there's more cities that can go on here, probably a lot more, but this is off the top of my head and the entry is big enough as is. COMING SOON: The Middle East and East Asia! Maybe Latin America. Africa is more likely than Australia. Watch as I wind up in Antarctica for some dumb reason.

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justforbooks · 24 days ago

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Sir John Nott

Defence secretary in Margaret Thatcher’s cabinet during the Falklands war

The reputation of John Nott, who has died aged 92, will for ever be linked with the Falklands war of 1982. Nott was the defence secretary in Margaret Thatcher’s first administration and was extremely fortunate politically to survive one of Britain’s gravest postwar crises – yet it effectively ended his ministerial career.

Although the British taskforce retook the islands from Argentina after just 10 weeks’ occupation, Nott could not escape responsibility for his part in the government’s earlier decisions to reduce the islands’ protection, which had convinced the generals in Buenos Aires that they could launch their attack with impunity. Nor did he ever live down his ill-disguised pessimism about the taskforce’s chances of success. From being one of the Tories’ rising rightwing hopes and a prospective future chancellor, he left parliament for good a year after the war, with a knighthood; he was never awarded a peerage.

Nott was a somewhat forbidding figure with the air of a disapproving bank manager, a waspish tongue and a self-righteous and partisan manner – none of them attributes likely to inspire either the nation or its armed forces in time of national emergency. He had in fact calculated on an intermittent political career, sandwiching stints as an MP and minister between spells making money in business. Instead, his political career was over by the time he was 51 and he retired to the City, becoming chairman and chief executive of the merchant bank Lazard Brothers.

In that sense, his most memorable television appearance, a live interview with Robin Day in 1982 when he flounced out in an undignified huff on being referred to as a “here today, gone tomorrow” politician, was apposite. Indeed, 20 years later he entitled his autobiography Here Today, Gone Tomorrow (2002).

Born in Bromley. south-east London, John was the son of Phyllis (nee Francis) and Richard Nott, a rice broker from a West Country military family. On leaving Bradfield college, Berkshire, he served as a subaltern with the Gurkha Rifles during the Malayan emergency and was for a period the ADC to the commander-in-chief of British far east forces, before going to Trinity College, Cambridge, to study law and economics. He became president of the Cambridge Union and, on graduation, was called to the Bar, although he never practised as a lawyer. Instead he joined SG Warburg, the merchant bank, and remained there for eight years.

At Cambridge he met Miloska Sekol, a Slovenian refugee, who was studying English. The story went that Nott told her at their first meeting, in 1959, that he intended to marry her – a remarkable gesture from such an apparently staid and undashing figure, and an approach that appears to have taken her by surprise. She wrote in her diary that night: “What a cheek, how preposterous!” They married the same year.

Nott entered the Commons at the 1966 general election as MP for St Ives in Cornwall. He spent the rest of his life living in the county and promoting what he saw as its interests, calling for improved rail links west of Plymouth, and opposing incursions by French fishermen and the Anglo-French Concorde project. But it was as a bone-dry, rightwing economist, suspicious of the EU and pro-Commonwealth, that he made his mark: serving as an opposition economics spokesman and, after the Conservatives returned to power in 1970, becoming a junior Treasury minister, focusing on matters such as tax reform.

After Edward Heath’s 1974 defeat, however, he refused to become an opposition spokesman. He returned to the City as a consultant and to his Cornish estate, where he grew flowers commercially. Thatcher’s leadership was more to his liking and the rising Tory tide in favour of monetarism more ideologically congenial. “The party has almost found its soul again,” he told readers of the Daily Telegraph. He returned to the opposition frontbench, harrying the chancellor Denis Healey with a sharp wit.

Thatcher saw him as a kindred spirit, identified him as a rising star and, when the Tories returned to power in 1979, rewarded him by making him trade secretary. He naturally enthusiastically supported cuts in public spending, but also supported the expansion of London’s airports: a fourth terminal at Heathrow, a second runway at Gatwick and expansion at Stansted formed his most tangible legacy.

Then, in 1981, as the prime minister turned against the wets, Nott was moved to defence, to shake up the department and cut without squeamishness. He quickly decided that the priority was defence against the Soviet Union, not the promotion of worldwide, post-imperial pretensions, which was unfortunate in the light of what was to happen the following year in the South Atlantic. “Our first priority had to be credible deterrence from Soviet aggression on mainland Europe, decidedly not equipping ourselves for another Suez or post-colonial war,” he wrote later, and he proceeded to strengthen the army at the expense of the Royal Navy, targeting the service’s last aircraft carrier for closure.

Among the lesser cuts was a plan to scrap the gunboat Endurance, which guarded the Falklands. That, and the ruminations of his fellow rightwinger and Thatcherite rising star Nicholas Ridley that the islands were dispensable, sent a clear message to the junta. Had the Argentinian generals been a little more patient, Nott might single-handedly have made the taskforce that was subsequently launched impossible. As it was, he lost the navy minister to resignation and earned the lasting hostility of the first sea lord, Sir Henry Leach, who later wrote that he despised Nott’s performance.

Accordingly, when some Argentinian scrap metal merchants landed on South Georgia Island, sparking conflict, the government was taken by surprise. Nott later confessed that he had to look up where the Falkland Islands were on the globe in his office and he was immediately pessimistic of the chances of recovering them: it was Leach who seized the initiative to prove the navy’s worth and urged the prime minister, against her defence secretary’s advice and instincts, to mobilise an immediate taskforce to retake the islands. Nott’s insistence to MPs during that weekend’s emergency Commons debate that “no other country could have reacted so fast and the preparations have been in progress for several weeks. We were not unprepared” was therefore at best being economical with the truth.

When, 10 weeks later, the islands were retaken, albeit at considerable human cost, Nott received little of the credit and none of the glory within the party – that all went to Thatcher – or in the country, which was more inclined to credit the bravery and resilience of the troops than the triumphalism of politicians. His pretensions to succeed Howe as chancellor, or indeed any ambitions he might have harboured one day to follow Thatcher as prime minister, a possibility that had been occasionally mooted by some of the party’s zealouts, were at an end.

Before Thatcher’s post-Falklands general election landslide victory the following year, Nott chose to stand down as an MP. He could see the way the wind was blowing: the naval cuts were reversed. “The admirals have got their fucking gin palaces back,” he told friends. There was a certain degree of bitterness, too, even towards the prime minister herself. “The full cabinet was never more than a rubber stamp,” he said in a later BBC interview, accusing Thatcher of fostering a cult of personality: “Like all ambitious women, she thinks all men are feeble and that gentlemen are even more feeble.”

Back in the City, he accumulated directorships and money: chairman of Lazard, director of Royal Insurance, chairman of the food company Hillsdown Holdings, and of the clothing retailer Etam, and an adviser to the law firm Freshfields. He only occasionally intervened in politics: vociferously opposing the euro from an early stage and calling for early intervention in the 1990s Balkans crisis.

And he continued his battle with the pretensions of the navy: “Today’s defence policy has not been assisted by the Falklands experience,” he wrote in the Daily Telegraph in 2012. “It is still designed to prepare the Royal Navy for another Falklands … when technology, particularly air power, has moved into a new era … The Royal Navy’s future lies in a substantial number of well-armed modern frigates and destroyers, not two carriers, which are far too expensive to build, service and protect.”

He is survived by his wife and their children, Julian, William and Sasha.

🔔 John William Frederic Nott, politician, born 1 February 1932; died 6 November 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

#just for books #Sir John Nott #in memoriam

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tomblomfield · 7 months ago

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Taking Risk

I just spent a week talking with some exceptional students from three of the UK's top universities; Cambridge, Oxford and Imperial College. Along with UCL, these British universities represent 4 of the top 10 universities in the world. The US - a country with 5x more people and 8x higher GDP - has the same number of universities in the global top 10.

On these visits, I was struck by the world-class quality of technical talent, especially in AI and biosciences. But I was also struck by something else. After their studies, most of these smart young people wanted to go and work at companies like McKinsey, Goldman Sachs or Google.

I now live in San Francisco and invest in early-stage startups at Y Combinator, and it's striking how undergraduates at top US universities start companies at more than 5x the rate of their British-educated peers. Oxford is ranked 50th in the world, while Cambridge is 61st. Imperial just makes the list at #100. I have been thinking a lot about why this is. The UK certainly doesn't lack the talent or education, and I don't think it's any longer about access to capital.

People like to talk about the role of government incentives, but San Francisco politicians certainly haven't done much to help the startup ecosystem over the last few years, while the UK government has passed a raft of supportive measures.

Instead, I think it's something more deep-rooted - in the UK, the ideas of taking risk and of brazen, commercial ambition are seen as negatives. The American dream is the belief that anyone can be successful if they are smart enough and work hard enough. Whether or not it is the reality for most Americans, Silicon Valley thrives on this optimism.

The US has a positive-sum mindset that business growth will create more wealth and prosperity and that most people overall will benefit as a result. The approach to business in the UK and Europe feels zero-sum. Our instinct is to regulate and tax the technologies that are being pioneered in California, in the misguided belief that it will give us some kind of competitive advantage.

Young people who consider starting businesses are discouraged and the vast majority of our smart, technical graduates take "safe" jobs at prestigious employers. I am trying to figure out why that is.

___

Growing up, every successful adult in my life seemed to be a banker, a lawyer or perhaps a civil engineer, like my father. I didn't know a single person who programmed computers as a job. I taught myself to code entirely from books and the internet in the late 1990s. The pinnacle of my parents' ambition for me was to go to Oxford and study law.

And so I did. While at university, the high-status thing was to work for a prestigious law firm, an investment bank or a management consultancy, and then perhaps move to Private Equity after 3 or 4 years. But while other students were getting summer internships, I launched a startup with two friends. It was an online student marketplace - a bit like eBay - for students. We tried to raise money in the UK in 2006, but found it impossible. One of my cofounders, Kulveer, had a full-time job at Deutsche Bank in London which he left to focus on the startup. His friends were incredulous - they were worried he'd become homeless. My two cofounders eventually got sick of trying to raise money in the UK and moved out to San Francisco. I was too risk-averse to join them - I quit the startup to finish my law degree and then became a management consultant - it seemed like the thing that smart, ambitious students should do. The idea that I could launch a startup instead of getting a "real" job seemed totally implausible.

But in 2011, I turned down a job at McKinsey to start a company, a payments business called GoCardless, with two more friends from university. We managed to get an offer of investment (in the US) just days before my start date at McKinsey, which finally gave me the confidence to choose the startup over a prestigious job offer. My parents were very worried and a friend of my father, who was an investment banker at the time, took me to one side to warn me that this would be the worst decision I ever made. Thirteen years later, GoCardless is worth $2.3bn.

I had a similar experience in 2016, when I was starting Monzo, I had to go through regulatory interviews before I was allowed to work as the CEO of a bank. We hired lawyers and consultants to run mock interviews - and they told me plainly that I was wasting my time. It was inconceivable that the Bank of England would authorise me, a 31 year old who'd never even worked in a bank, to act as the CEO of the UK's newest bank. (It turned out they did.) So much of the UK felt like it was pushing against me as an aspiring entrepreneur. It was like an immune system fighting against a foreign body. The reception I got in the US was dramatically different - people were overwhelmingly encouraging, supportive and helpful. For the benefit of readers who aren't from the UK, I hope it's fair to say that Monzo is now quite successful as well.

___

I don't think I was any smarter or harder working than many of the recent law graduates around me at Oxford. But I probably had an unusual attitude to risk. When we started GoCardless, we were 25 years old, had good degrees, no kids and supportive families. When fundraising was going poorly, we discussed using my parents' garage as an office. McKinsey had told me to contact them if I ever wanted a job in future. I wonder if the offer still stands.

Of course, I benefitted from immense privilege. I had a supportive family whose garage I could have used as an office. I had a good, state-funded education. I lived in a safe, democratic country with free healthcare. And I had a job offer if things didn't work out. And so the downside of the risks we were taking just didn't seem that great.

But there's a pessimism in the UK that often makes people believe they're destined to fail before they start. That it's wrong to even think about being different. Our smartest, most technical young people aspire to work for big companies with prestigious brands, rather than take a risk and start something of their own.

And I still believe the downside risk is small, especially for privileged, smart young people with a great education, a supportive family, and before they accumulate responsibilities like childcare or a mortgage. If you spend a year or two running a startup and it fails, it's not a big deal - the job at Google or McKinsey is still there at the end of it anyway. The potential upside is that you create a product that millions of people use and earn enough money that you never have to work again if you don't want to.

This view is obviously elitist - I'm aware it's not attainable for everyone. But, as a country, we should absolutely want our smartest and hardest working people building very successful companies - these companies are the engines of economic growth. They will employ thousands of people and generate billions in tax revenues. The prosperity that they create will make the entire country wealthier. We need to make our pie bigger, not fight over the economic leftovers of the US. Imagine how different the UK would feel if Google, Microsoft and Facebook were all founded here.

___

When I was talking with many of these smart students this week, many asked me how these American founders get away with all their wild claims. They seem to have limitless ambition and make outlandish claims about their goals - how can they be so sure it will pan out like that? There's always so much uncertainty, especially in scientific research. Aren't they all just bullshitters? Founders in the UK often tell me "I just want to be more realistic," and they pitch their business describing the median expected outcome, which for most startups is failure.

The difference is simple - startup founders in the US imagine the range of possible scenarios and pitch the top one percent outcome. When we were starting Monzo, I said we wanted to build a bank for a billion people around the world. That's a bold ambition, and one it's perhaps unlikely Monzo will meet. Even if we miss that goal, we've still succeeded in building a profitable bank from scratch that has almost 10 million customers.

And it turns out that this approach matches exactly what venture capitalists are looking for. It is an industry based on outlier returns, especially at the earliest stages. Perhaps 70% of investments will fail completely, and another 29% might make a modest return - 1x to 3x the capital invested. But 1% of investments will be worth 1000x what was initially paid. Those 1% of successes easily pay for all the other failures.

On the contrary, many UK investors take an extremely risk-averse view to new business - I lost count of the times that a British investor would ask for me a 3 year cash-flow forecast, and expect the company to break even within that time. UK investors spend too much time trying to mitigate downside risk with all sorts of protective provisions. US venture capital investors are more likely to ask "if this is wildly successful, how big could it be?". The downside of early-stage investing is that you lose 1x your money - it's genuinely not worth worrying much about. The upside is that you make 1000x. This is where you should focus your attention.

___

A thriving tech ecosystem is a virtuous cycle - there's a flywheel effect that takes several revolutions to get up-to-speed. Early pioneers start companies, raise a little money and employ some people. The most successful of these might get acquired or even IPO. The founders get rich and become venture capital investors. The early employees start their own companies or become angel investors. Later employees learn how to scale up these businesses and use their expertise to become the executives of the next wave of successful growth-stage startups.

Skype was a great early example of this - Niklas Zenstrom, the co-founder, launched the VC Atomico. Early employees of Skype started Transferwise or became seed investors at funds like Passion Capital, which invested in both GoCardless and Monzo. Alumni of those two companies have created more than 30 startups between them. Matt Robinson, my cofounder at GoCardless, was one of the UK's most prolific angel investors, before recently becoming a Partner at Accel, one of the top VCs in the world. Relative to 15 or 20 years ago, the UK tech ecosystem is flourishing - our flywheel is starting to accelerate. Silicon Valley has just had a 50 year head start.

There is no longer a shortage of capital for great founders in the UK (although most of the capital still comes from overseas investors). I just believe that people with the highest potential aren't choosing to launch companies, and I want that to change.

___

I don’t think the world is prepared for the tidal wave of technological change that’s about to hit over the next handful of years. Primarily because of the advances in AI, companies are being started this year that are going to transform entire industries over the next decade.

It doesn't seem hyperbolic to say that we should expect to see very significant breakthroughs in quantum computers, nuclear fusion, self-driving vehicles, space exploration and drug discovery in the next 10 or 20 years. I think we are about to enter the biggest period of transformation humanity has ever seen.

Instead of taking safe, well-paying jobs at Goldman Sachs or McKinsey, our young people should take the lead as the world is being rebuilt around us.

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scotianostra · 1 year ago

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18th August 1773 saw Samuel Johnson and James Boswell set out on their three month tour of the Highlands and the Inner Hebrides.

Boswell enticed his famous English friend Samuel Johnson to accompany him on a tour through the highlands and western islands of Scotland.

James Boswell, 9th Laird of Auchinleck was a Scottish biographer, diarist, and lawyer, born in Edinburgh, like many young men he longed to visit the bright lights of London and in 1760 he deserted the family home to live in the English capital for a few months. It was during his second stay in 1762-63 that he met his literary hero and model, the poet, essayist and dictionary maker Dr. Samuel Johnson. In August 1763 Boswell embarked upon a 2½ year Grand Tour of Europe, during which he met many notable men and women, including Voltaire and Rousseau. On returning to Scotland he practised law as an advocate. During this time he made occasional visits London to spend time with Dr Johnson and others of his circle, including Oliver Goldsmith, Sir Joshua Reynolds and Edmund Burke. He was also on familiar terms with David Hume, Adam Smith and other leading figures of the Scottish Enlightenment.

Johnston and Boswell set off less than 30 years after the '45 Uprising, when whisky was still distilled illegally, roads were scarce and travel was by foot, bone-jangling carriage, horseback or over very turbulent seas in a rickety boat.

Their extraordinary journey to the Highlands and the Hebrides during an autumnal season of relentless rain and storms, took Johnson - plump, partially deaf and blind and who had rarely travelled outside of London - on a grand Scottish tour which led to two of the earliest travel books and paved the way for centuries of tourists who would also explore the nation’s wild islands and highland

While for the then 32-year-old Boswell there was a chance to witness Johnson up close for nearly three months, providing a wealth of material for his admired biography, Life of Samuel Johnson. The travel journal was a massive hit and a humorous account of their journey.

Boswell was Scots to his roots and is very defensive about the Scots and Scottishness, while Johnson has this very English take on it all. These two things fuel the humour, Johnson is like this English bulldog and Boswell is like a Scottish terrier. Together they are a hoot! Add to that the facts that as you would expect from a Scotsman, Boswell was a heavy drinker and Johnson was teetotal, which leads to all kinds of escapades. It’s like 18th century Laurel and Hardy.

Boswell, quoted their first conversation in the biography, Life of Samuel Johnson, saying: “Mr Johnson, I do indeed come from Scotland, but I cannot help it”. To which Johnson replied: “That, Sir, I find, is what a great many of your countrymen cannot help.”

It set the scene for a friendship driven by verbal sparring, with Johnson’s deprecating remarks about Scots robustly foiled by Boswell’s defence of homeland.

Their travels began in mid-August at Boyd’s Inn in Edinburgh, where the cleanliness dismayed Johnson. Boswell wrote: “He asked to have his lemonade made sweeter; upon which the waiter, with his greasy fingers, lifted a lump of sugar, and put it into it. The Doctor, in indignation, threw it out of the window”.

The pair then travelled up the east coast, stopping at St Andrews to indulge their interest in John Knox and Mary, Queen of Scots, Following the coast towards Aberdeenshire, a bit like today’s NC500 tourists plotting their route, they took an anti-clockwise course along the Moray Coast to Inverness and then to the Western Isles.

At times their journey resembled a lengthy pub crawl as they noted the quality of the inns and the food.

In Montrose, Johnson noted: “At our inn we did not find a reception such as we thought proportionate to the commercial importance of the place; but Mr Boswell desired me to observe the innkeeper was an Englishman, and I then defended him as well as I could.” Dundee, it was noted, was “dirty, despicable”. They even recorded their first taste of Arbroath smokies.

Having travelled through Glen Shiel, the pair arrived at the inn at Glenelg. Often praised today, Boswell and Johnson gave it the equivalent of a one-star TripAdvisor review. Having arrived “wearing and peevish”, they discovered “no meat, no milk, no bread, no eggs, no wine. We did not express much satisfaction.”

The Highland terrain posed even greater stress. Dangerous and often impassable except on foot, they were often in remote spots, miles from inns or shelter or ankle deep in a peat bog. Nevertheless, they trudged on through stormy weather and with Johnson often suffering from colds, increasing deafness and seasickness on the journeys between the islands.

The trip from Coll to Skye was undertaken during a vicious storm, with Boswell fretting over whether the boat might sink or explode, and troubled that he couldn’t understand the sailors’ Gaelic! Johnson was no great fan of the language, describing it as “the rude speech of a barbarous people, who had few thoughts to express, and were content, as they conceived grossly, to be grossly understood”.

But in Skye, they were delighted to meet Flora MacDonald, and slept in the same room that Bonnie Prince Charlie had slept in. “Both were over the moon because they were besotted with the story,” he wrote.

Don’t judge Johnson on his dislike of the Gaelic language though, the pair told of finding the Highlands still occupied by military garrisons, cleared by immigration and spoke of the suppression of Highland culture and oppression of the clans.

The isle of Raasay turned out to be a favourite spot, where the pair enjoyed the clan chief’s hospitality and a raucous ceilidh, with Boswell dancing a jig on the flat summit of Dun Caan. Both felt that in Raasay they had come close to authentic old Gaelic culture and way of life.

By October 1773 they were in the Saracen Head Inn in Glasgow’s Gallowgate, revelling in a roaring coal fire and conversation with professors from Glasgow University.

The trip would come to a sorry end, however, at Boswell’s family’s Ayrshire home at Johnson and Boswell’s father had an enormous row; they were total opposites in religious and political beliefs,

Johnson was a kind of father figure to Boswell. He knew Boswell could be a bit out of hand, but he also knew he was a real literary talent.”

Johnson’s A Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, was published in 1775, followed a exactly decade later by Boswell’s The Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides with Samuel Johnson. Both wrote their own versions of their tour differently. They go to the same places but see things differently.

#scotland #scottish #English #road trip #history #Diarist

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